#corruption of the innovator

[gensational]

Our answer is my truth.

,,sort of a rough mockup of a cover idea.

[arcanilumia]

I saw a thing in Arknights while playing it last night, had a vision and this happened. Pretty happy with it ngl

Thanks to @gensational for both making this AU and helping me out with some things during the making

[loneranger0369]

This Video explains a lot.

Nikola Tesla was a Genius, a Wizard. He pushed for a World with Free Energy. He was neither greedy nor selfish, yet he died alone in a Hotel.

Another Genius, Thomas Henry Moray, was never successful, because his Inventions were never patented.

Watch the Video.

I guess USA only patents stuff, through which the greedy corporate Companies can suck the Blood of every person. Take Insulin for Example. Patented free of Cost by the people who discovered and invented a way of using it. Now it is being horribly exploited in America, the "greatest" Country of the World.

Almost 100 years later, people are coming up with same Ideas as Nikola Tesla, but not sure if the motherfucking, greedy, rich Bastards will allow them to develop these Ideas and help the Population of Earth.

The Lady in the Debate, in the Video, says that she wants to see the Companies compete against each other IN THE MARKET. Why? Why compete? This stuff will need money for initial Setup and then occasional maintenance Charges, other than that it can produce Energy free of cost! But you wouldn't get rich from that. Now would you?

If these are implemented, then the world will not need to depend on horrible Countries of the Middle East, like Iran, for fossil fuels. Europe will no longer need to dependent on Russia for Natural Gas and Fossil Fuel.

That is where these Countries get their Power from. Money from Fossil Fuels and Natural Gas.

Develop technology > need for this Stuff to produce Energy is turned off > these horrible Countries lose their power and importance.

But we are the public. Right?

We are too dumb and should only follow the "leaders". Right?

Yeah.....

On another Note, Greta Thunberg was in Davos. I am pretty sure that she did not bring these Facts up at the World "Economic" Forum. Just a collection of rich people, flying on their private Jets for a Fancy, make-believe Meeting....

After watching the latest Developments....

- Pfizer's plans to mutate Corona Virus and cause another, much horrible Pandemic in 2023.

- USA Patent offices silencing people coming up with Inventions towards Free Energy.

- USA being the reason for strengthening of Taliban and for origin of ISIS.

- Provoking Russia, adding fire to the already unstable Relationship between Russia and Ukraine and then sending Weapons as "Defense".

- USA being the reason of uncountable, unimaginable, horrible Deaths.

And many other horrible things...

I can honestly say that I hate the USA.

Please die soon, USA.

The world would then surely be a safer, more peaceful and much more environment-friendly Place.

Please watch the Video.

Please share.

[jeddara-of-jasoom]

I really hope that President Zelensky's optimistic vision for Ukraine in the end of Servant of the People comes true. That they rise from the ashes stronger and more united and secure, moving forward into a shining future

[monetizeme]

"Google search is in the toilet, getting worse every year, but rather than taking reduced margins and spending more fighting spam, the company did a $80b stock-buyback and fired 12,000 skilled technologists, rather than using that 80 bil to pay their wages for the next twenty-seven years"

[farmerstrend]

Ways to Help Tea Farmers for Sustainable Tea Farming in Kenya

Explore the challenges and opportunities in Kenya’s tea industry as smallholder tea farmers face rising costs, corruption, and the need for sustainable practices. Discover how government support can revitalize this vital sector. Kenya’s tea industry is a key player in the global market, but smallholder farmers are struggling. Learn about the impact of rising costs, corruption, and the potential…

[hexhomos]

Jayce/Silco mirroring & other stuff Ive noticed

Starting with the big season 2 opener as pointed out by sage-nebula:

Zaun/Piltover figureheads rushing to save a loved one with their respective creations (Shimmer/Hextech); said creations leading to corruption and a loss of control. Silco frequently referred to as the Industrialist, leading Zaun into a new age, Jayce is posited as the Innovator, making Piltover more profitable than it's ever been. Misery following both choices.

Jayce's endgame look shares a lot of visual aspects with Silco's main coat, incl. the red gilded lapels and all those straps. His body is also being corrupted by hextech into unnatural scar tissue. Scars are more prominent in the wild rift model even if the colors are a bit off from the show itself (2nd pic)

(Text referring to Jayce's new legendary skin, dealing with arcane act3)

And if you remember, these two actually had a pretty big scene in season 1, which echoes the above sentiments and has Jayce pushing a negotiation for Zaun's independence - at this point in time, it's the closest we got to Silco's dream being realized before the big meltdown:

This feels like a really interesting scene now in the context of how he was asked to sacrifice jinx. And now jayce's entire world outlook is shaped by constant sacrifices to avoid impending doom.

There are a few more twisted parallels to this too; silco killing vander, jayce killing viktor in the name of preserving their ideals - vander being mutated by singed, again singed mixing viktor's blood with vanderwick in the act 3 teaser.

Previously I had compared the ep6 jayvik kill circumstances with vander's blinding rage leading him to try and drown silco in the river but I don't think the parallels are so clear anymore. It's looking like the further we go into the story, the more jayce/viktor change into a blur that mixes vander/silco's motivations together - viktor's weird, corrupted peacekeeper front inside the cult and how he connects to vander's memories admiring the man that he was in life. Jayce feeling in the flesh that the only way forward demands firsthand pain and power and sacrifice, not placidity.

Interested to see where act3 viktor goes. Vander working with enforcers = Viktor working with noxus I guess 😭😭 well I just hope they beat eachother 1v1 style. and I hope he ends up following through with his pledge for Zaun's independence

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ITS EVOLUTION, BABY !

pairings ⸺Yandere! Justice League! x Inmortal!Fem!reader.

couple of today! ⸺Yandere! Kal-El x Inmortal! Fem! Reader

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ You had seen it all. From the first whisper of life in the primordial oceans to the deafening buzz of the modern era. Every advancement, every innovation, a heavier burden on your shoulders. Nothing surprised you anymore; everything was predictable and monotonous, so you found refuge in a small apartment in the heart of Metropolis, away from the bustling human nonsense.

Until one day a flying bus crushed you.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, War, Street Fights, Gaslight, Suicide, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Kidnapping, NSFW, Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N — Bah, just another story pulled from my imagination after dancing all afternoon to Pearl Jam songs while cleaning the house.

This land is mine, this land is free

I'll do what I want but irresponsibly

▪︎Your immortality is neither epic nor glorious. You were not born from the stars or from scientific labs. There was no cosmic ray, no magic potions, no caped heroes to save you. Your existence is simple, without ornamentation.

▪︎You are water.

▪︎Or, to be more precise, you were a microscopic being living in a drop of water attached to a wandering meteorite that roamed through the void, in the infinite silence of space, before arriving on Earth. In that tiny liquid bubble, you were happy, surrounded by other beings who knew neither pain nor time. Everything was calm.

▪︎Until one day, your home plummeted toward the planet you would come to know as Earth.

▪︎There your true evolution began.

▪︎Millions of years passed, and you witnessed it all. You observed the first spark of life in the primordial oceans, the giant reptiles crawling across the continents, and the hominids standing upright on two legs. With each evolutionary cycle, you adapted, but you always remained, indifferent to the passage of time. Nothing truly affected you… Until Martha appeared.

▪︎Martha was your youngest daughter, for now. At eighty years old, Martha was the only thing you had left in this world that no longer mattered to you. Time, that relentless enemy that did not touch you, was wreaking havoc on her. Wrinkles adorned her face, her hands trembled as she knitted. But she made you feel something you thought you had forgotten: humanity. Martha kept you anchored to a world that had become irrelevant to you.

▪︎You did not live in Metropolis with her because she had her own life, and you spent your time wandering to every corner of the earth. Aimless and without a home to sleep in.

▪︎But you decided to visit her when you learned from her husband that she was in the hospital. It wasn’t serious, but she was the most important thing you had, and even at eighty years old, she would still be your little sweet baby.

▪︎Your journey was calm; listening to rock bands and old songs relaxed you. Nothing could disturb your zen state.

▪︎But then came the bus. The fucking bus.

▪︎An empty bus flew out from a nearby building, a flash of blue and red, and chaos erupted in the streets. Superman, facing Lex Luthor, knocked a bus right onto you. One second of distraction and you were crushed, like a puppet torn to pieces.

▪︎Your blood spilled onto the pavement and the broken glass of your car, which was now nothing more than scrap metal.

▪︎Superman, the defender of justice, landed right next to your car, using his infrared vision to see your mangled body inside the vehicle.

▪︎His face filled with horror.

▪︎Why always an innocent person? A choked sob, his eyes full of remorse as he saw you, a pool of blood and broken bones.

▪︎It was not the first time he had a lapse, but it was the first time it cost a human and innocent life.

▪︎The worst part was that you were young, with a long life ahead of you, and his carelessness took that gift away. What would happen to your family when they found out? How would they feel knowing that Superman, the so-called greatest hero, couldn’t save you?

▪︎He was devastated.

▪︎Until, to his surprise, you got up. Your body began to regenerate, bones rejoining, skin closing over the wounds. Superman watched you in disbelief, his hands trembling.

▪︎“Can’t you really be more careful?” you said, your voice filled with exhaustion, brushing off the dust as if nothing had happened. The hero was left speechless. You were immortal.

▪︎That was where it all began.

A/N - And well, this is just a little Headcanon that might turn into a series (hopefully not, because it would be way too long)

I’ll upload more soon, as well as another DC Yandere series. I’ll also post a few updates to explain some things—no need to read them, but it would be app

P.S.: If you’re a reader of the Silly Little Bat series, don’t worry. I’ll upload chapter three soon.

Don’t forget, if you want to request something, the shop is open

Take a bath!

[dearlyya]

TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Chapter One-Persistence; When a coward turns hero.

Warnings; Angst, pre-canon, hurt/comfort, Zaunites, Piltians, revolution, violence, blood, gore, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex, brothels, drugs, slow burn, the reader is a coward at first, original character (Wynn), strangers to lovers, bittersweet, Old Silco being weirdly sentimental, Jinx being noisy, and major character death.

A/N; I don’t do taglists, sorry. I also want to thank my friend for supporting my writing, proofreading, and character creation of Wynn. Love you, bro.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

Undercity is considered an industrial stain nestled beneath the grand city of Piltover.

With air that hangs heavy, and its people feral. Towering smokestacks belch black smoke into the already smog sky, casting long shadows over the cramped alleyways and buildings. The streets are strewn with discarded scrap metal, chemical waste, and other debris of the relentless production that drives the Undercity's economy. 

The warm green glow of the gas lamps casts an eerie, shimmering light over the buzzing market stalls and their wares. Cautious eyes dart about, gripping the crate tightly, as your knuckles white with tension. You trudge through the damp, uneven cobblestone path. Your heavy boots thud, but the market muffles the sound. Wynn strides ahead of you, his boysenberry hair reflecting the green making his hair almost black.

Both of you carry large, sloshing crates of alcohol that clink and bounce with each jostle from the crowded lane. Your tattered cloak draped your form, the hood pulled low to fight against the season's coldness and obscure your face from the lingering enforcers.

You instinctively glance at the enforcers standing near a stall, their voices raised in angry conversation with the stall’s owner, who appears equally irritated. They are likely issuing citations for illegal imports or contraband. Detailed by the other armored man holding up a list and pointing at the merchandise. However, when the vendor suddenly shoves one of them, you quickly avert your gaze, choosing to ignore the escalating commotion and focus on navigating the crowded marketplace.

Fighting wasn’t something you could do against the enforcers unless you’d want a hefty prison sentence or killed. So, you allow them to conduct their inspections and searches, gritting your teeth if their hands linger on your body for far too long.

You did dream of something better, a fictional land where all is peace and harmony, but that's wishful thinking. Life gave the Undercity people the short end of the stick, so now all you want is to keep your life, provide some aid to wanders, and of course keep the tavern: The Last Drop. Afloat.

Some vendors attempt to grab your attention, but you politely shake your head. Keep your eyes trained on Wynn who glides through the people with ease. You stumble and slip between people straining to keep up with your friend. Cursing under your breath at the fact that you could’ve gotten your supply runner to fetch the cargo, but no. Coins have been getting slimmer and slimmer at the drop. One of the many reasons why your resentment, once directed at the enforcers, began to shift towards the rebels who fought against them. While their cause was just, their tactics often made life even harder for the ordinary citizens of the Undercity. Strikes, protests, and their thievery disrupted supply lines which left families and businesses like yours struggling to make ends meet. Of course, this is only rooted in fear. 

Fear of losing more.

The mines that delve deep into Runeterra. Extracting precious minerals to fuel the insatiable demand. Workers in harsh conditions, their health and safety were often sacrificed for the sake of profit. Stark contrasts the cutting-edge innovation of Piltover ‘coexisting’ with the rampant corruption and exploitation they cause the city below them.

Down in the fissures, where deep cracks in the earth have split open, a treacherous underground network of tunnels and caverns caused by the relentless mining and drilling operations. Was bustling with the activity of workers, faces smeared with grime.

You and your father worked in those mines, and many families did. Your life narrowed down to one moment. A vivid horrible memory. You knew you should’ve put up a fight, and struggled against the enforcers alongside the others. When the tears finally spilled over, streaming down your face in hot, bitter rivulets. You couldn’t help but cower. You remember his body and the way the world seemed to tilt and spin around you.

When you pushed yourself up, letting go of a rusty pickaxe. A strong arm shoved you roughly back to the ground. It sent shockwaves through your malnourished body. Your coal-covered glove scraped against the unforgiving, rocky ground as you trembled uncontrollably, shaking like a frightened animal.

A cacophony of screams and desperate cries pierced everyone's ears like shards of glass. Through ‘The Gray’ smog you saw people–workers–were fighting against the enforcers with a fury born of desperation, their voices raw as they tried to reach your father, who was knelt on the ground, clutching the back of his head. Blood, vivid red against the rocks, drips steadily from his fingers, staining the earth beneath him. A macabre work of art. The sight of it sears itself into your mind, something you still see to this day.

Your wide eyes locked onto your father, drinking in every detail of his face, committing it to memory, as the screams and shouts faded into a distant, muffled hum.

He met your gaze, his expression was steady and calm despite the chaos that raged around you. He's trying so hard not to look frightened, putting on a brave face for your sake. He gulped, and in that tiny gesture, you saw the truth of his fear reflected in his eyes. But there's something else there too, a silent message of love and reassurance that told you that everything will be okay, that he'll protect you no matter what happens to him. 

But the man behind him, the one through the smog, the one who raises his gun high above his shoulder–tells a different story. The gun glints harshly reflecting off the gold on the enforcer. Quick to get to your knees, a firm kick sends you forward along with a harsh boot on your back keeps you in place. You cried out at the pressure, as you squirmed to get closer to your father. 

It's a swift blow, brutally efficient in its execution. The butt of the gun connected with the back of his head with a nauseating crack, and he crumpled to the ground. He fell face-first onto the unforgiving rocks. His body would twitch, but the last sliver of life drained away in an instant. You barely heard the final, choked-off words that he never got to finish. His last confession of "I love you" was stolen away by the cruel hand of fate.

Your breathing gets heavy when you remember, each intact a painful reminder of the life that still flows through your veins, even as everything else feels cold and numb. You shakily grip the case. It takes a special kind of strength, and true courage to stand up despite others bringing you down, to crush your hopes and dreams beneath the weight of their fears and insecurities.

You're not sure what you believe in anymore. That day the foundations of your world were shaken when the very ground beneath your feet shifted and crumbled, leaving you feeling lost and adrift in a sea of uncertainty before you were taken by the hand and brought up to a raft. You’ll always be grateful to Wynn. Though, all you know is that life is rather unfair, especially in the Undercity, and all you want to do is survive. Is that selfish? 

Perhaps you are one of those pushovers.

You were too lost in thought when you got pushed to the side, sending you to your left, and letting go of the crate to catch your fall, gritting your teeth you look up but notice it’s those same enforcers now carrying off that vendor's supplies. The one that shoulder checks you, gives you a look, and even with its helmet on you can tell that they’re testing your reaction. You look down at your crate. It’s open and bottles–thankfully not broken–have rolled out.

Maybe you've always been that way, content to let others make the decisions, to follow the path of least resistance rather than forging your way forward. But with the aftermath of your father's lifeless body that laid before you and the weight of powerlessness bearing down on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder if there isn't more to you than that.

Maybe, deep down, buried beneath the layers of fear and self-doubt, there is a spark of courage waiting to be ignited, a flicker of determination that just needs the right circumstances to flare into life.

You carefully lift each bottle to the crate, ensuring they are securely packed. Reaching for a bottle of scotch, your hand accidentally brushes against its neighbor, sending the bottle rolling away. It clicks and clanks across the cobblestone path before disappearing into the shadows of a nearby alley.

You pause, considering whether to retrieve the wayward bottle, but the risk of Wynn ringing your neck for wasting good money has you sighing. A broke bitch during inflation is someone you don’t want to mess with. You continue to pack the remaining bottles and get back to your feet, crate in arms.

No one notices you entering the alley, with your head hanging low. 

The ground is littered with discarded metal scraps, used needles, and unidentifiable substances. Peering from beneath your hood, you scan the area for any sign of the missing bottle, but your search becomes useless. Instead, you hear labored breathing and pained grunts from further down the narrow way. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the scene before you. The glint of gold and blue uniforms mingles with the tattered red of the man's clothing. The sight is all too familiar. The enforcers’ figures huff up and down, laughing at each other in cruel satisfaction as they rain down blows on the man. Their boots connected with sickening thuds against his bloodied body. You can’t tear your eyes away from them. 

The right circumstance is all someone needs.

“Look at you, pathetic like the rest of those revolutionaries. You’re nothing but a filthy rat scurrying in the gutters and trash of refined people.” One of them coo, tilting their head at the body, you step closer.

You should move on, and let them take this man’s life if need be, so you can slip by unnoticed. It would be far more understandable than helping someone out of the kindness of your heart, but you have never felt such a surge of emotion before. The impending doom that bloomed in your gut yelling in your ear with a booming voice telling you that if you didn’t help this man you’d truly be the vermin that topside thinks you are. You can’t explain it to yourself, all your bitter-laced words and morals clashed when you heard them throwing those humiliating remarks. 

The right circumstance is all she needed.

The enforcers continue to beat him. You don’t think very much, the few thoughts that pass your mind are typically about personal survival, so thinking about beating these men into a pulp like they are with your fellow scum has you dropping the crate and racing towards them. Your heart is in your ears, bile backing up in your throat, as your coat flies off you. The knife you grip sinks into the nearest Piltie. Into their exposed armor between the helmet and chest plate. An honest, lucky blow to the neck.

He yelps, stopping his assault to cradle the wound that spurts blood between his gloved fingers. He staggers away as the other enforcer finally grasps the situation. With your dagger in the side of the other guy's neck, you quickly skimmed around the alley looking for a possible weapon, you spotted the bottle but you weren’t quick enough. The intact enforcer rushed at you and slammed you against the brick wall of a building. Your head hits it roughly dazing you. Your windpipe closes up when the enforcer pushes your throat with his forearm. His metal suit cuffs dig into your skin. You're frantic now. 

Shit–you didn’t think this through. Death was now a concrete possibility, and dying next to the man you tried so hard to save felt like the greatest irony. The pain shooting through your neck grew unbearable, causing tears to well up and cascade down your cheeks, despite the insults being thrown your way.

On this final night alive, you admit to yourself that you might have cared about the revolution after all. Your body was lifted off the ground, dangling up near this blue and gold-clad man. Both of your hands grip his gloves, trying to cause any damage by digging your nails into him. More tears roll. You weren’t crying because your own life was flashing before your eyes, but because you couldn’t save a symbol. A figure of hope.

The enforcer that you stabbed lays slumped against a gross dumpster, his hand weakly clawing at the stab wound in his neck. Crimson blood seeped through his armor, staining it a dark, glistening red. He twitched and spasmed as blood continued to spurt from the exposed injury. Despite everything a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. You had never taken a life before. Your gaze drifted to his neck, and realization dawned on you–your dagger was missing. As you slipped in and out of consciousness, the grip on your neck loosened.

The enforcer collapsed on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight as he sank to the ground his body took you with it. You coughed and gasped, and with a wave of nausea rising in your throat and bobbing pain around it you pushed the body off you. Looking up, you met the gaze of the man you had ‘saved’. He was huffing heavily, his eyes wide and wild mixed with shock on his pale face. 

Drenched in blood, sweat, and sporting bruises all over. His long hair clings to his face, some falling out of the low ponytail. His dark red tunic under a dirty gray cut-off vest. His body quivering on the brink of exhaustion. His gaze was glossy, only fueled by the last dose of adrenaline. With a final stumble, he crumpled to the ground. The knife in hand slipped away as he fell. You stare. Watching him lay defenseless, a newfound courage stirred within you, and for once in your life you know your stance. Now not cowering and licking the boots of those higher than you. You own up to the consequences, yet you still tremble. Your chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your heightened adrenaline as the footsteps of additional enforcers echoed.

You crawl to him, lowering yourself to his chest, and pray you still hear a heartbeat, and you do, it’s faint. Now kneeling, you carefully hoist his right arm over your shoulder, providing support for him to lean on. He was heavy, but his weight wasn’t overwhelming, allowing you to walk slowly with him. It was clear that he needed medical attention, and so did you. You can feel the cold blood dripping down the back of your head and the tight, painful bruise forming around your neck. You aren’t some hero, a normal citizen in a position of life and death—you’ll never become a foundation of hope in your city like in your childhood. 

And she never does. 

Your experience as a kid had given you an edge, as you used to steal from stalls and run away as they tried to chase you. Now, at the age of twenty, you thank your young self for your knowledge of the best shortcuts. It comes in handy when you hide with the unconscious man by your side, evading the enforcers who finally notice their dead brothers. From around the corner, you watch a group of them trek down the main street. You make your dash to the other side, going unnoticed.

“I got you, we’re almost there” Your voice croaks, not sure if you are trying to reassure the blacked-out man or yourself, probably the latter. There's a sign, not from Janna, but from The Last Drop. Dipping into the alley next to the tavern you head around back. Your arm that is wrapped around his slim torso is drying with his blood. More blood pools on your shoulder from his broken nose. You have to prop him up on the wall to open the cellar doors, and you both descend. 

Storage racks and unopened boxes flitter the basement. However, in the corner is a cot and stool. It’s the small medical area that you would use to aid people, usually, it was for small wounds like someone with a busted lip because they got into a fight in the bar.

So, with an injured rebel who hangs on your shoulder, you are well below practice. You manage to push the battered man off you and onto the cot. He slumps halfway off the bed, so you gently roll him back, carefully lifting his legs one by one to fully position him on the cot. Your hands tremble slightly as you work, the adrenaline running thin. 

You run a hand over your hair, feeling the back of your skull. As you bring your hand back to your eyes, you’re met with deep red staining your fingers. Your wound hits you, and you finally grasp the pounding headache you have. You slowly sit on the stool beside the cot.

“Shit” You mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, despite your possible concussion your priority is the very wanted rebel to your left. Take a deep breath to steady yourself and assess him.

His chest heaves in sparse, and uneven breaths through his busted nose. He’s still grasping onto the little energy his body has left to give. You rub up the bridge of your nose. The gravity of harboring a wanted revolutionary is not lost on you. Though at this moment, all that matters is saving his life, and not falling over while doing it. 

You lean onto your elbows while sitting, glancing at the empty bucket and washcloth, getting ready to work.

[gensational]

Reap what you sow.

[robertreich]

Should Billionaires Exist? 

Do billionaires have a right to exist?

America has driven more than 650 species to extinction. And it should do the same to billionaires.

Why? Because there are only five ways to become one, and they’re all bad for free-market capitalism:

1. Exploit a Monopoly.

Jamie Dimon is worth $2 billion today… but not because he succeeded in the “free market.” In 2008, the government bailed out his bank JPMorgan and other giant Wall Street banks, keeping them off the endangered species list.

This government “insurance policy” scored these struggling Mom-and-Pop megabanks an estimated $34 billion a year.

But doesn’t entrepreneur Jeff Bezos deserve his billions for building Amazon?

No, because he also built a monopoly that’s been charged by the federal government and 17 states for inflating prices, overcharging sellers, and stifling competition like a predator in the wild.

With better anti-monopoly enforcement, Bezos would be worth closer to his fair-market value.

2. Exploit Inside Information

Steven A. Cohen, worth roughly $20 billion headed a hedge fund charged by the Justice Department with insider trading “on a scale without known precedent.” Another innovator!

Taming insider trading would level the investing field between the C Suite and Main Street.

3.  Buy Off Politicians

That’s a great way to become a billionaire! The Koch family and Koch Industries saved roughly $1 billion a year from the Trump tax cut they and allies spent $20 million lobbying for. What a return on investment!

If we had tougher lobbying laws, political corruption would go extinct.

4. Defraud Investors

Adam Neumann conned investors out of hundreds of millions for WeWork, an office-sharing startup. WeWork didn’t make a nickel of profit, but Neumann still funded his extravagant lifestyle, including a $60 million private jet. Not exactly “sharing.”

Elizabeth Holmes was convicted of fraud for her blood-testing company, Theranos. So was Sam Bankman-Fried of crypto-exchange FTX. Remember a supposed billionaire named Donald Trump? He was also found to have committed fraud.

Presumably, if we had tougher anti-fraud laws, more would be caught and there’d be fewer billionaires to preserve.

5. Get Money From Rich Relatives

About 60 percent of all wealth in America today is inherited.

That’s because loopholes in U.S. tax law —lobbied for by the wealthy — allow rich families to avoid taxes on assets they inherit. And the estate tax has been so defanged that fewer than 0.2 percent of estates have paid it in recent years.

Tax reform would disrupt the circle of life for the rich, stopping them from automatically becoming billionaires at their birth, or someone else’s death.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing against big rewards for entrepreneurs and inventors. But do today’s entrepreneurs really need billions of dollars? Couldn’t they survive on a measly hundred million?

Because they’re now using those billions to erode American institutions. They spent fortunes bringing Supreme Court justices with them into the wild.They treated news organizations and social media platforms like prey, and they turned their relationships with politicians into patronage troughs.

This has created an America where fewer than ever can become millionaires (or even thousandaires) through hard work and actual innovation.

If capitalism were working properly, billionaires would have gone the way of the dodo.

[litnerdwrites]

Rhys being the 'most powerful hl' ultimately hinders the story. If SJM wanted the nc to be underdogs, it should've been the smallest, most unstable court.

Historically, objectively bad or unmoral people can sometimes be the best rulers while objectively good or moral people can be terrible rulers. Take advantage of this.

Make Rhysand need to wear the mask of the cruel, ruthless high lord in order to prevent the CON and Illyria from rebelling. Make both of those places have a certain amount of political and militaristic power over him that would explain why he can't just force them to do as he pleases.

Have the NC be the court with the highest crime rates, and poverty rates and Rhysand be considered a ruthless ruler. One who 'lets' amren out on the prowl to steal wealth (preferably from greedy rich nobles) but they don't know that it's redistributed into running the NC, and looking after the people.

Have Mor actually help woman but drinking and visiting the con or other cities under the guise going there to flex her power and act tyranicle, but secretly leave money, medical supplies, tickets to boats/carriages, etc. Or even instructions to their library where sa survivors heal (maybe not in the how, but somewhere else, hidden or warded).

Have Azriel and Cassian push the limits of the Illyrians, not enough to incite war, but to keep them in line. If men clip wings, have Azriel either assassinate them or Cassian publicly punish or beat them but not reveal the reason why, so it comes off as tyranny.

Make them act like villains for a damn reason, and actually accomplish things in the process, even if it's small. Perhaps even have the land itself be dying (like the dusk court centuries ago), making food harder to come by too.

Maybe even have the concept of Velaris be a legend, of the Night Court's former glory, but in the current story, be a shell of itself. This would give the so-called court of dreams something to dream about and work towards.

Have the previous rulers of the nc be objectively moral people, that were bad at ruling and created the unstable political climate Rhysand needs to navigate, while Feyre gives him new perspective. Have Elain and Nesta come in later, and help teach Feyre about politics based on what they knew from their mortal lives. Give them dreams and aspirations of their own.

Give each of the Archeron Sisters something in the NC that would cement it as their home, if that's what you want to do. Have Feyre speak with the Illyrian women, teach them to hunt, learn of their issues, etc. Have her repair her relationship with Nesta over helping them, with Nesta using the training of her childhood to help the Illyrian women overthrow the corrupt lords that insist on treating them as lesser than.

Give Feyre and Nesta a chance to learn about each other, their childhood, how neglected Feyre felt and how abused Nesta was, before coming together to reach a common goal. Then, Nesta could become a diplomat that helped the nc repair their foreign relations, giving her the chance to travel that she always wanted.

Make the humans have innovative methods of agriculture, given they don't have magic. Have Elain want to help the people of downtrodden villages and towns, teaching them about those innovative methods, to help rejuvenate the land. Still let her have trauma, but let them have their own reasons to want to stay in the nc or not stay in the nc.

Making Rhysand 'the most powerful hl' doesn't make him unique or interesting. It makes it too easy to wonder why he won't do something when he sits in a seat of power and privilege, to do it. So, take away that power. Give him something to earn. Give the entire IC a dream/vision for what the NC could be and work to it, throughout the books, instead of handing it to them on a silver platter. Make them work for it.

[astrolovecosmos]

Aries - Libra Axis: Tells a story about taking action vs. indecision, inaction, and procrastination. Tells a story about selfishness but also giving to the detriment of self, lack of boundaries, assertion, charm, persuasion, force, peace and war, leadership and cooperation, independence vs. partnerships, passion, romance, self-awareness vs. shallowness and detachment, insensitivity vs. tact, cheating and deception, winning and losing, honesty and bravery. Tells a story about lovers and fighters.

Taurus - Scorpio Axis: Tells a story about control, power, jealousy, resentment, stubbornness, indulgence and sensuality, comfort and thrill, safety and danger, possessive behavior, materialism, emotional strength and influence, inner security or contentment and inner empowerment and passion, willpower, revenge, grudges, manipulation, obsession, seduction, self-destruction, transformation and rebuilding. Tells a story about self-mastery and self-esteem.

Gemini - Sagittarius Axis: Tells a story about communication, learning, knowledge, teaching, exploration of mind, body, and the world, trickery, con artists, betrayal, support, lies and truth, versatility, duality, variety, curiosity, superficiality vs. depth, philosophy, morals, logic, spontaneity and fickleness, symmetry vs. asymmetry, restlessness, carelessness, freedom, exaggeration vs. factual, movement, cunning wit and intellect as well as wisdom, optimism vs. skepticism, dissembling, analyzing, deception, schemes, gossip, boasting, charm vs. tactlessness, and promises. Tells a story about storytelling - lessons and adaptation.

Cancer - Capricorn Axis: Tells a story about protection, self-preservation, endurance, practicality, emotions and rationality, defense vs. offense, vulnerability, attachment, clinging vs. self-reliance, sentiment, nostalgia, home and family, ambition, purpose, clans, tribes, societies, private world vs. external/outer world, moods, cycles, authority, parents/mothers and fathers, caution, responsibility, duty, patience, compassion vs. cruelty, intuition, shrewdness, strategy, contentment vs. dissatisfaction, security vs. insecurity. Tells a story about needs and being uninhibited, as well as control and discipline.

Leo - Aquarius Axis: Tells a story about leadership, charisma, confidence, individuality, self-expression, creativity, innovation, the power of one vs. the power of the many, attention, compulsion, pride, ego, play and discovery, experimentation and rebellion, drama, curiosity, socialization, influence, dignity, generosity, benevolence and/or common good, chaos, destruction, passion vs. dispassion, humanity, divinity, fellowship, organized groups, separation or standing apart, control or tyranny, strangeness and what's rejected vs. what's accepted or even celebrated. Tells a story about the king/queen/politician and anarchist/rebellion/revolutionist.

Virgo - Pisces Axis: Tells a story about the spirit and body, healing, helping others, service, caring for others, listening to your body or your intuition, purity vs. corruption, compassion, sensitivity, impressions, flexibility, logic, imagination, being receptive, mysticism, confusion, illusions, clarity, distillation, categorizing, researching, analyzing - a thorough search for facts/truth. Tells a story about sacrifice, empathy, saving others, discernment, efficiency and productivity vs. procrastination and rest, modesty, free and flowing energy vs. precise and predictable energy, perfectionism vs. admiring flaws, realism or skepticism vs. idealism, details vs. big picture. Tells a story about the dreamer and the worker, the ability to make our dreams come true.

[bugflies00]

cTommy is SO fucking persuasive he gets people he gets emotions. during the debates Wilbur comes across as condescending, frightened by and stuck in the past, and like hes advocating for violence and harsh control. He doesn't seem very. aware? of how to deal with the people in the debate. Quackity paints Wilbur as elitist and corrupt and Wilbur ends up playing right into it. Karl is very open to bribery and Wilbur doesn't notice. Tommy is trying to buttress his arguments and criticize Q and Wilbur shushes him only to do the exact same thing. He loses the support of his own fucking son. He pulls rank and starts shushing his opponents when he gets annoyed. He worries about even bringing Tommy because he thinks George will wipe the floor with him (for some fucking reason) while Quackity is trying to prep George for how overwhelming of a debater Tommy can be.

Meanwhile Tommy does things like:

-suggest that they encourage Fundy to run because he'll be inconsequential and shouldn't have attention focused to him instead of Quackity

-telling Wilbur to stop killing George and Quackity

-saying that they shouldn't interrupt during the debate, and saying that when George is up they just need to wait him out (which is a good strategy because George is good at arguing but doesn't have much substance to his actual points)

-identifying Bad and Karl as the people to try and bribe out of anyone in the court

-Bringing up the material and emotional losses of the War for Independence (the embassy, the discs, Eret) and George's part in it when debating him, which makes the walls and laws seem more sympathetic and reasonable while casting doubt on SWAG2020, while Wilbur only referred to "laws written in blood"

-immediately obfuscating when he's accused of bribery and then trying like five different strategies to defend himself and going with what sticks

-portraying George as impatient, violent, and petty after the first half of the debate, letting him talk before down talking him when he's finished which progressively irritates him which further benefits Tommy

-following George on an arguably irrelevant tangent about youtube titles, yes anding it, and guiding it back to how L'Manberg is innovative

They have very similar talking points, but Tommy seems a lot more fluid and like he's recognizing his opponent's strengths and weaknesses and changing how he acts accordingly where Wilbur acts more like those things are an issue to be bulldozed.

P.S. I forgot that Dream showed up mid debate to get in a shouting match over the originality of Minecraft Manhunt its so fucking funny. Man does not give a fuck about anything else happening

LITERALLY!!!! LITERALLY THIS IS WHAT I MEAN. also when he came up with the idea of letting everyone who votes for them pick 1 policy. he absolutely won them that election !!!

the thing about cwil is he gets sooooo in his head about this stuff that it completely shoots him in the foot. he’s so tripped up about people’s expectations of him and whether he should adhere to them that, like you said, he ends up playing into them. he cares about lmanberg in a really desperate way, and it makes him way too emotionally unstable to actually lead a debate in a productive way lmao. essentially he puts too much of himself into lmanberg and the election and he ends up being really clumsy and single minded.

whereas ctommy doesn’t!!! ctommy also cares about lmanberg obvious but his entire self identity isn’t on the line. he’s much more level headed, he knows how to play along with these people bc he Knows them, he knows how to subtly undermine them. he’s not obsessed with his own shortcomings like cwilbur is and he’s actually a great fucking debater

[mapsontheweb]

Which countries have officially registered pirate party?

Pirate Party is a label adopted by political parties around the world 🌍. Pirate parties support civil rights ���, direct democracy (including e-democracy) or alternatively participation in government, reform of copyright and patent laws ⚖️ to make them more flexible and open to encourage innovation and creativity 🌈, use of free and open-source software, free sharing of knowledge (open content and open access), information privacy 🔒, transparency, freedom of information, free speech, anti-corruption, net neutrality and oppose mass surveillance 📷, censorship and Big Tech.

by very_useful_maps

[deadsetobsessions]

The Gotham City Planning and Building Committee might not be the best in terms of new or innovative designs (listen, they’re called Gotham for a reason) but at least they’re not the Metropolis City Planners. Those poor schmucks who think they’ve got it so good. Any employee who’ve worked at both would choose Gotham, any day. Well, not the city, but the Committee.

Why?

Well…

1) They’re the most well funded committee in the entire city (thanks, Brucie Wayne!), both officially and unofficially funded. This is impressive, considering the amount of bribes (see: unofficial funding) the GCPD gets from the local crime bosses and occasional Rogue.

2) Is the GCPBC probably led by a Court of Owl member? Probably. But the employees get Talons for body guards and no one fucks with them.

3) Metropolis has to deal with sky scrapers, ground gouged out by Superman’s strength, and the holes Superman and Co. puts through buildings. They’re frantically adding emergency supports and replacing cars. But in Gotham? The preliminary demolition is done for them. They save so much money on demolition when everyone and their mothers know how to bomb a building. The occasional sky scraper and mansion suffers either shattered glass and smaller property damage but they don’t have to even worry about it too much! The streets only have to stay functional. The damage is part of the Aesthetic.

4) They have a villain hazard pay- something Metropolis doesn’t have on the account of Superman saving the day before things get blown up. Lame.

5) Their local billionaire isn’t a massive sleazy supervillain who probably underpays his employees. Brucie Wayne is Gotham’s Baby Himbo dammit, and Lex Luthor can go suck the rgg his heads trying to imitate. Brucie Wayne respects women and wants to pay for the betterment of the city because their taxes are going to corrupt politicians. Lex Luthor’s got a hate boner for an alien and causes massive property damage to his own city.

Also Bruce Wayne is hot and Lex Luthor is very much not.