#i promise someone will have voted having done less research than you

[shootwithintenttokill]

Why don't young people vote: A hypothesis

In the 2019 UK General Election just 47% of 18-24 yos voted, compared to 67.3% across the country, and over 80% of over-65's (House of Commons Library). The 2020 US Presidential election did slightly better, but still only 55% of 18-29 yos voted in comparison to 66% turnout. With just a few days until the General Election, where low expected turn outs mean every vote will count, and the Presidential and French Elections looming, I came up with a hypothesis why.

Long post so under the cut, the tldr is that young people are taught in schools to believe that right and wrong answers are the only answers that exist, and being wrong has a larger penalty than doing nothing, and that young people don't feel the direct affects of policies in the same way older people with families or mortgages or taxes do, partly because policies never target them because they don't vote.

IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU HAVE LOOKED PASSED THE HEADLINE SO ARE PROBABLY MORE INFORMED THAN THE AVERAGE VOTER. VOTE FOR YOUR FAVOURITE POLICY. VOTE TACTICALLY. VOTE AGAINST A PARTY YOU DONT LIKE. VOTE FOR THE PERSON WITH THE LEAST STUPID HAIRSTYLR. VOTE.

(Also, if you are UK and voting on the 4th, remember to bring ID.)

Note: I do NOT study politics as anything more than an interest in current affairs. I am NOT aligned with any political party, and this is a hypothesis based on a very small sample size that has NOT been reviewed or tested in any way. This is simply me, speaking as a young person in the UK whose talked to other young people, both those interested in politics and not.

A lot of people theorise it's to do with dissatisfaction among younger voters, who feel their voices don't get heard, or they don't like any of the candidates so don't want to vote for any of them. But talking to my friends, of those I spoke to who said they didn't think they would vote, most said it was because they didn't know how politics works to an extent that made them feel informed enough to vote, rather than any kind of dissatisfaction with the system itself.

However, with young people in general having more access to social media, the Internet, and the wealth of resources both provide, it doesn't ring true that they would be generally less informed of politics to such a greater extent than the average informed voter (defined in British Parliamentary Debate as a person who reads the headlines) to skew the statistics this much.

So here are my two theories that together influence a young person to feel uninformed enough to not want to vote:

School and the education system teaches you not to vote. Work and adult life teaches you to.

When you are at school, you are taught there is a single right answer. It is correct in every aspect, and schools reward you for using the right methods, and finding it, while penalising you for not. You therefore begin to see the world in the same black and white way: every decision you make has a correct method, leading to a correct answer. A mistake can be penalised worse than not answering at all - either by losing marks in tests, or embarrassment in front of you peers for making a mistake out loud. The average person's first job, mostly part time with low experience requirement and lower pay, is the same, often having a list of rules or instructions with little free reign to get you used to a working environment while ensuring you don't make any blunders.

When you reach adulthood, and the world of work, this all but gets thrown out the window. For most people, their job isn't "i can't ever make a mistake". In a job you do get worse penalties for doing nothing than making mistakes, and decisions are no longer so black and white, often less 'what's the right way' as much as 'what's they way that will get me the answer my boss/customer/I will be happy with'.

Politics is the same way. It is making an, often fairly uninformed, desicion based on unkeepable promises and outright lies, where the decision isn't "who is right" or even "who do i agree with the most" so much as "who do I disagree with the least". It's doing exactly what you were always trained to never do in school: feeling uninformed or unsure or unhappy with an answer, but making it anyway, because this time, not making it will be worse.

The older generation sees short term effects more clearly, making them feel more 'informed'

Everyone is affected by politics and the policies the government make. I am not even trying to deny that. But individual policies, the shorter term changes the government makes in the interest of a longer term plan, are more keenly felt the older you are.

Mortgage and tax hikes, cuts to benefits, and other monetary effects are felt generally by over-35's, who are more likely to be homeowners, pay more tax, or are trying to raise a family on benefits, compared to younger people whose monetary problems tend to be less affected by government whims, (excluding cost of living crisises, of course). Meanwhile, longer term things, like investing in green infrastructure, or keeping hospitals running (sorry America), generally don't get noticed or felt on an individual basis unless you actively work in the public sector, so people in general feel less informed on, even of they have the interest in them.

This is also a failure on the part of candidates. Because young people don't feel like policies affect them so much, they are less likely to vote. Because they are less likely to vote, campaigners don't bother targeting them so don't make any policies that will really affect them, one way or another. So young people feel less 'informed' because politics doesn't seem to affect them, so they are less likely to vote....

What can you do as a young person?

Vote. Bring up the statistics and remind parties young people care, so they should care about young people too. Remember that there is no right answer. This isn't school. No one will ever know for certain who you voted for, nor why. Don't worry about reading all the 100-and-something page manifestos or watching all the debates or reading every news story if you don't want to. Your vote still matters. Pick a policy you care about and decide who says they'll solve it the best. Vote tactically if you are in the UK or another First Past the Post system and just don't like the current government (search tactical voting for more information). Decide who you like the least, and vote for the party most likely to beat them. If you really really can't bare to vote for any of them, spoil your ballot to make sure the statistic is recorded, so maybe next time, someone will have a policy you care about.

Most of all, remember that an election everyone thinks will be a landslide, is an election no one actually bothers to vote in. Your vote becomes all the more important.

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio - Min Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 9.8k words

Genre: fluff, smut, mild angst

Rating: 18+

Hello my little raspberries! Here we go with Yoongi’s studio one shot. I’ll try and explain as briefly as I can for those new to this: Kitten is the nickname Yoongi has given to the reader (read more about the nicknames here), so basically this is a readerxYoongi.

To sum up the context of the fic quickly without reading all the rest (including some stuff which hasn’t been published yet [if you wanna read it vote for Illicit Affairs *wink wonk*]), Yoongi and Kitten have been dating for months but Yoongi kept postponing stuff with her (much to Kitten’s dismay — more like utter desperation) until their schedule in Japan was done. When they do reunite, they basically live joined at the hip — pun intended — but unfortunately, since tour is approaching, Yoongi has to take a week to focus on his job, promising Kitten the weekend. As Friday nights falls, Kitten decides to come claim her prize, and she comes carrying a lethal weapon.

Description and trigger warnings: Lots of swearing. As usual there is unprotected sex (these two got tested before going bare, please be like Yoongi: be smart, get tested). Female masturbation (with bullet vibrator), Kitten acts up since Yoongi acts oblivious and indifferent (surprise: He. Is. Not.), Trauma from past relationship (Kitten has had a pretty shitty ex who ignored her needs and made her very uncomfortable about having someone go down on her), Male masturbation, Oral sex both male and female receiving, Sensation play and slight foot fetishism, cum play and cum eating (it was necessary), lowkey spanking, multiple orgasms, hinted squirting.

Word count: 9.8k

Here is my updated Masterlist!

The receptionist led you through a daedalus of rooms and glass doors. After a few turns you spotted the sign of the Rkive, nothing but darkness coming from behind the glass door. He was probably already at home, maybe with his girl. From what Yoongi had told you, Namjoon had been working from home for the last few days, only coming in for rehearsals, leaving shortly before dinner. You had crossed her on the lift once as she carried a weekender, smiling at you, before you both headed for the same corridor, stopping at neighbouring doors, both ringing the doorbells and waiting.

"You must be Kitten, uh?" She said, using Yoongi's nickname. You asked yourself how she knew that.

"Vixen?" You replied, guessing that she was the woman that Namjoon told Yoongi about.

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, I guess you can call me that too. Pleased to meet you." She said, introducing herself with her full name. Just as you shook her hand, introducing yourself, Namjoon came to the door in a pair of loose grey sweats and a white t-shirt, greeting her with a "hey babe" before he spotted you, waving cutely at your form before Yoongi opened the door for you, with a way less appropriate "fuck, I'm starving, come here" which had the couple next door secretly giggling as your needy partner dragged you past his threshold and smashed the door closed.

That was just two weeks ago. You went from a week of daily sex — with multiple rounds — to a complete caresty. You were almost ready to hump a streetlight like a stripper pole, however you thought you'd much rather surprise your man and knock at his door like a discreetly civilised young woman.

Lost in your thoughts you didn't even realise you had reached his door.

"Here we are, shall I ring?" The receptionist asked.

"Yes, please." You said with a polite smile.

"I think I've already seen you."

You nodded. "My firm works for yours. I have come here before." You confirmed.

"Oh, that makes sense."

Yoongi opened the door, his mouth composing a surprised expression, and then his signature gummy smile, which you mirrored. "You're here."

You nodded, mirroring his expression.

"Thank you, Mr. Kang." He said, holding his hand out for you. You caught it immediately as he led you through the door.

"That's okay, boy." The older man, quite surely a member of security greeted both goodnight and headed back for his spot.

"He's my favourite. Sometimes when his shift ends we eat dinner together. He's amazing." He said with a soft smile. He brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "How's the weather outside?"

"Not too cold, but the air is pretty damp, I just hope it rains. It's very foggy tonight." You said, taking off your coat.

He grabbed your face as both your hands were still caught in your sleeves, planting his lips on yours. "Lemme finish a couple things on this one then we're all set and we can head home."

"Are you the only one left?" You asked.

Yoongi nodded. "Normally it's me and Joon working late and heading back home together, but lately he's been going back home to Vixen. I've heard he's trying to get her to move in."

"Haven't they been dating for a couple months?" You questioned.

"So what. We've also been dating for a couple months but would you say no if I asked you to move in with me?"

You thought about it.

"Seriously?" He asked, scandalised at your hesitation as he headed back to his chair.

"I mean…!" You complained, trying to win him back. "It's just a couple months. I would take it easy, maybe first I’d start with staying for the weekend and then see if I can handle it during weekdays too, gradually. A bit at a time."

He acted as if he weren't listening.

"Yoongi!"

"Busy." He replied.

"You cannot not listen to what you don't like." You said, with a curious giggle.

"Call me when you're ready to say 'If you asked me to, I would move in tomorrow'". He typed, but it sounded more like a dramatic gesture than some actual typing. "Plus, I will unlisten to whatever you say that doesn't respect the I-love-you-I'm-a-sucker-for-you-Yoongi agenda."

You moved closer to his chair, standing behind him, bending down to his ear. "What if I put my lips, right here." You teased, "would you listen to me?"

He shivered and you snickered like a vicious predator.

"Uh?" You urged him.

"You won't distract me like this." He said.

"Not even if I said 'I love you, I'm a sucker for you, Yoongi'," you moaned in his ear, "not even then?"

He shifted in his seat, his lips parting. "No." He said, but his voice was extremely unsure, not even a glimpse of firmness in it.

"Don't lie to me." You murmured. Your hands spreading over his pectorals. He might not be as buff as some of the other guys, but he was secretly well built, especially on the chest area. You had personally tested that out.

He withheld a moan. "I'm not distracted."

"You're getting hard, Yoongi." You commented, noticing his bulge. You let your hands crawl lower, down his stomach, where his sweater met the waist of his slacks. "I missed you so much these past few days." You whined, trying to find the button of his trousers.

He slapped your hand. "Let me finish and we can head home. There you can tell me how much you missed me." He said, his voice almost sounding like a warning. "In detail."

"But I want you now."

"Stay put and wait."

You tutted and stood up. "Cockblocker." You snarled under your breath, sitting on the sofa.

"How can I cockblock you if you don't even have a cock?" He argued back.

You chuckled. "Shut up." You rummaged in your bag, smirking when you found your little personal pouch. "Plus, why would I need a cock when you can share yours with me?"

It was his turn to chuckle. "You, shut up." He said back at you. "If you were smart enough, you would keep quiet and be good, so I can finish my job and take you home."

The fact that you immediately thought of his place scared you a little. You absolutely understood Vixen and Namjoon's position at this point. With the guys' schedule, which includes working hours, trips, shootings, TV and radio appearances, then briefings and their own meetings and the oncoming tour, you started fearing how it would end up with you and Yoongi: your relationship had blossomed in fits and starts through Yoongi's determination and commitment, and your curiosity towards him. It had kept going because of the incredible attraction, the sense of balance and the sacred quiet and respect that you could reach in each others' company.

"Home where?" You asked, shutting up your mind.

He turned with his chair. "This should be enough to show you that Namjoon is right about having her move in. And that I would be right too if I wanted you to."

He wanted to. After he'd come back home from Japan, you had spent the rest of the week going back to his place after dark, having dinner, taking care of each other, sleeping together. The week after that you basically went back home only to grab a few things before going back to his. Then on Sunday he told you he had rehearsals at BigHit, and usually those go on till late, so he would be staying at the dorms, promising you he'd spend whatever free time he had with you and that he would see you in the weekend, when the rehearsals finish earlier and they have less disturbing timetables.

That's how you found yourself in his studio, on Friday night at 10pm.

"How long do you have left there?" You asked.

"Mh, maybe twenty minutes. I was just doing a little bit of fact checking and research for some references. Almost done."

"No listening?" You asked, testing for any catch in your plan.

"No, i don't think so, why?" He kept scrolling on his screen.

As you quietly took off your trousers, you chirped out a "nothing" shedding your jacket too in the process. You sat on his sofa in nothing but a formal shirt, an undershirt and your bra, your lacy panties doing little to protect your skin from the cold bite of the leather. You grabbed your disinfectant gel from your pouch and poured a dollop on your palm. After that you passed a wet wipe on your hands, carefully inspecting the underside of each nail. Once you were satisfied, you neared the bin by the door and got rid of the used wipe.

You sat back on the sofa and bit your lip, hesitating before moving to the next step. You still forced yourself to ignore your pouch, focusing on cupping your crotch and staring at the back of Yoongi's head. His place smelled amazing, something like patchouli and lavender and amber and pine. It was very male. Sometimes you could even catch a whiff of scotch.

You were wet.

It felt uncomfortable and somehow disappointing that he was there but he hadn't yet looked for you. Uncertainty made you desperate and eager for confirmation on his side. Maybe that's why you were here, acting like this.

The moment your finger slipped against your clit you huffed out a heavy breath, trying to keep quiet and making sure that Yoongi couldn't hear you quite right yet.

You did it again, trying to arouse yourself fully, until the wetness became unbearable. Not only it needed to feel wet, but to sound like it too. It took little, especially considering that you had accidentally deprived yourself because of a combination of work and stress and waiting for Yoongi. On the brink of sanity, you slipped your panties to the side, the sound of typing stopping for a second, which had you stopping your finger with the tip hovering at your entrance.

Yoongi started typing again, slow but completely absorbed in his work. You pushed your finger in, your mouth opening in a breathy sob, which Yoongi didn't hear — or that maybe he ignored.

Crooking your finger, you teased your g-spot, immediately flinching as you realised how it felt almost too good. The sofa creaked underneath you.

At his desk, Yoongi was going on with his work, completely oblivious of the misbehaving happening on his couch, however he almost started thinking of working from home.

Oh, so you'll be in the same house as Kitten, with a bed, a sofa and a bathtub, and you're gonna lock yourself in the studio and ignore her. Yeah, right. He thought.

Therefore, on with his work.

In the meantime you had surreptitiously taken off your panties, your legs still open just barely enough to fit your wrist. The process had been an exercise in control, since the leather seemed to have glued to your naked backside, which made it creak at every single inch of skin trying to part from the surface. Your hand was now free to roam on your pubis, cupping the skin and parting the labia, dragging two fingers along the slit, wetting them properly before inserting them. This time you did moan a short staccato sound, it lasted maybe half a second before you regained control of your vocal cords.

Yoongi's ears immediately picked that up, however he deemed the sound a sign of impatience or tiredness and dismissed it altogether.

Licking your lower lip, almost expecting him to turn around, you waited a couple more seconds before moving your fingers inside, crooking them. You bent forward at the precision with which you managed to find your sweet spot, the seated position simplifying the operation. Your mouth parted in a silent cry and your hips buckled, once more making the sofa crackle underneath you.

Yoongi started getting suspicious: he knew you had something going on, but he decided against asking. Ignorance is bliss.

He went on with his work.

You started getting seriously upset at his lack of recognition. With insufference and discontent coursing through your veins, you fished out a smaller pouch from your bag, quickly undoing the strings with your clean fingers. You extracted one of your favourite gifts to yourself, a small vibrator, a rather practical one you had taken from your bedside before you came to see him. You were almost sorry it was a pretty quiet one. You switched it on, enjoying the light buzzing it emitted. It was like listening to a mosquito fly around your ears. You seriously doubted Yoongi could hear it.

You placed it on your mound, without even letting it close to your folds or your clit. You teased the outline of your intimate parts, gently drawing the lines of your labia. You were very careful when you reached your clit, still a whimper escaped your lips.

Yoongi placed it immediately. He could recognise that sound instinctively. Usually it was connected to his tongue curling around your clit when he started eating you out. It was the first-lick whimper. The other circumstance was when he slid inside you particularly good, with that smooth, all-in-in-one-go kind of thrust. You were probably touching yourself.

He didn't know what to do with that information. He wanted to turn around and look at you, of course, but he thought that if he ignored you, you would probably get louder, needier and messier, and he was all in for that.

In the meantime you had started drawing circles on your clit, your breathing erratic and your spare hand going up to cup your breast. Your eyes were still glued to the dark mass of hair emerging from the chair right before you. "Yoongi." You called.

"Almost done, baby." He replied. He wanted to smash his head against the table. No man in his right state of mind would do this. He wasn't a genius. He was a masochistic fool and the worst part of it all was how disgustingly lucid he was in his reasoning. How he was trying to get you so desperate that you would scream and beg for his attention.

You were fuming: you turned the power of the toy to the loudest setting you had, the buzz now propagating in the room, your cunt so slick it was almost too loud for your taste.

"Yoongi, please." You cried out, your juices dripping on his sofa. And then you snapped, your whole body bending forward as you moaned "so good, Yoongi", your body too weak to remove the vibrator from your overstimulated nerve endings, your orgasm too sudden and overwhelming.

Still, no sign from Yoongi. The back of his chair was the first thing you noticed as soon as you recovered from your small black-out.

You switched off the toy, laying it on your thigh as you laid back against the back of the couch. "Yoongi." You called again, upset by his indifference.

"Mh." He acknowledged. That was suspicious. Quietly you parted from the sofa, kneeling down and starting to crawl towards him, not entirely trusting your legs to not give out beneath you; however your crawling had a limping pattern, your soaked hand close to your chest, clutching the toy in your palm.

You were perfectly quiet as you closed up on him, hiding behind the back of his chair as you listened. He was making a noise similar to a low purr, groaning under his breath. Your eyes closed as you listened to him carefully. You knew that purring moan, the rushed pattern of breaths. You moved to the side of his chair, peeking at his lap.

He was touching himself, his other hand combing his hair back and moving down the side of his neck, lingering on his chest. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his hips jerking up just a fraction of an inch with the tiniest thrusts. His hand looked glossy with spit and precum as he dragged it roughly from base to tip, where he gave two rolls of his wrist before heading down again.

It was his technique, milking upwards, double roll the palm around the tip and back downwards. It was the way he used to do it before you came around. Since then he had slowly grown accustomed to finishing by thrusting up into his fist, usually laying on his belly before cumming on your navel or kneeling, straddling your waist and spilling on your chest. He loved pressing his face between your boobs when he touched himself hovering over you, but he also enjoyed the view when kneeling over you.

Thinking of you like that had his lips parting in a slow, heavy breath that got you even wetter.

"Yoongi." You whispered delicately.

He didn't even get scared, he just opened his eyes and smirked. "You done with your little scene on my sofa?"

Cocking an eyebrow you sat on the balls of your feet, observing him. "Maybe I should go back home, where I can comfortably make myself cum on my plush bed without judgy, undeserving people around." You said with a petty tone.

He looked taken aback by your comment. "I had told you to stay put, still and quiet."

"Buy yourself a doll and she can do that for you. I've been staying put, still and quiet all week. I can assure you it's pretty boring." You reprimanded him, a bit upset.

"Are you horny?" He asked, slowing down his motion.

"I was." You clicked your tongue, catching his hand mid-stroke. "You lost your chance."

He chuckled mischievously. "You've had just one. You need minimum another." He ripped his hand from your grasp and started moving again.

"You were busy. How come you're jerking off instead of doing your fact check?" You asked, snarling a little.

"I finished my fact check but I didn't want to interrupt you. I reckoned I could use your little solo for selfish purposes." He said, groaning a bit as his slowed down movement reached a sensitive spot.

You wanted your mouth on him. You were ready to make him pay for it.

He stopped touching himself and moved his hand to your mouth to draw the line of your lips. You immediately opened up, slipping your tongue out to lick at his finger.

"Kitten." He breathed out.

You ignored his plea and sucked at his finger. His strong, slender, beautiful finger. He was enraptured by your expression: eyes closed, lips puckered around his knuckle. You looked peaceful. And beautiful. And well, erotic.

"Kitten, love." He murmured, turning his chair slightly, enough so that you could be more comfortable in your position.

You were finally facing his lap, his cock laying in front of you, covered in slick, so thick and delicious. He wasn't that long, but it balanced his body beautifully, the thickness and modest length making it the best dick you had ever taken in your mouth, which obviously made you twice as willing to suck him. All the time — not like frequency mattered.

With a bit of resistance on your behalf, he pushed his finger out of your mouth. "Are you that in love with my hands, Kitten?"

You pouted. "Tell me one good reason to take it away from me."

"I thought you'd like my cock better." He said, honest.

You frowned. "As if you deserved to get some after making me cum all alone, while you took advantage of my loudness."

“Are you angry at me, Kitten?” He asked. He knew it was a bastard move when he started it, but he hadn't thought it would affect you this much.

“A bit.” You admitted.

It was sort of hilarious to have this conversation while you were naked from your waist down, a bullet vibrator in hand and his erection laying out of his pants.

“Why are you angry at me?” He asked, being absolutely neutral about his state of undress. Unfortunately you weren’t an ounce as neutral as him.

You dragged the back of your hand up his calf, your knuckles grazing the soft stubble of his legs.

“I have been unfair to you, haven’t I?” He asked, caressing your head with his clean hand, tipping your chin upward. “I’m sorry, Kitten.” He said, holding your gaze. “I’ve missed you too, love.” He traced your lips. “I’ve missed making love to you.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” Your hand reached his crotch, scratching his thighs through the fabric of his trousers. “I’ve been wanting you all week, but i didn’t want to bother you. I kept reminding myself that you were busy, that I just needed to last a few days until it was the weekend and you could be all mine.” You bent down and kissed his knee. “But it took a toll on me, not hearing from you. Not having you near.” You pressed your face to his lower inner thigh. “You didn’t even say you love me.” You mumbled under your breath, feeling a knot in your throat.

“Oh, ____, love.” He bent down, trying to drag your face away from his knee, keeping you from hiding yourself. “I love you, ____. I love you, Kitten.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell remind you.” He cupped your jaw and pressed your mouth to his. “I love you, Kitten. I’ll tell you as many times as you need it, baby.”

“I love you too, Yoongi.” You murmured against his lips. “I’m sorry for being like this.” You said. It was a flashback to all the times you had to beg your ex to declare his feelings to you, to all the times you had had to ask him to love you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Kitten. Absolutely nothing, my love.” He whispered close to you face. “I’m not your ex, baby. I’m here for you.” He kept stroking your cheek. “If we keep going here we’re gonna make a mess, Kitten.”

“Is there any reason why we shouldn’t?” You asked, quiet and mischievous.

“I usually meet the guys here to record demos.” He objected.

You frowned. "It's not like I'm going to cause irreversible damage."

He pouted and nodded. Fair enough. “So…"

"Yoongi, please, I need to feel you in my mouth." You whined, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, sitting upright. "You sure, Kitten?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, now stand up and take off your trousers please." You said, tugging at the fabric.

He snickered and pushed his chair back enough to stand in front of you and roll down his slacks. He sat closer to the edge of the chair and you tugged at the hem, finally removing his trousers completely. Now you were free to make him open wide and kneel between his legs.

You suckled the skin of his inner thigh, your hands skimming his calves. At the moment, your toy was laying between your thighs, switched off as you waited for the best moment to bring it into the picture. "Do you want me?" You asked, looking at him from under your eyelashes, batting them slowly, your lips curled up in a cute pout.

"Of course I do, Kitten. I'm so hard for you baby." He moaned, stroking himself. He lowered the tip so that it was closer to your lips.

"Can I?" You murmured, almost desperate.

"Yes, Kitten. It's yours, love, you know it." He said gently, longing for you so ardently and so composedly.

You licked his slit with delicate manners. You looked like the elegant cat you had reminded him from day one. And then your lips wrapped up around him, sucking his bulbous head into your mouth, your cheeks wrapping so tight around him with the pressure of your sucking.

"Fuuuuck, Kitten, that's amazing, love. ____, you're gonna make me cum."

Grinning like the devil, you took the chance to swallow him almost entirely, leaving only an inch out, and making him roar with pleasure. "Yes, yes. That's one hell of a mouth, Kitten. That's so fucking perfect, ____. I fucking love you so fucking much, babe." You loved when he started to swear during sex, it turned you on in a manner you couldn't quite understand.

When you felt him start to pulsate in your mouth you pressed two fingers at the base and pulled him out.

"You good, Kitten?" He asked, panting, trying not to cry at the vulnerable situation you'd left him in. He was on the very edge, one more second and he could have cum. But he didn't press you, you just came up for air.

Little did he know it was absolutely intentional. And you intended to do it again. You played a poker face. "Yes, I'm good, why?"

"Just checking on you." He explained, stroking himself at the base.

This couldn't do. You caught his wrist gently, blocking it. "Lemme take care of it all, babe." You licked his tip seducingly. "You know I won't leave you hanging."

He smiled and threw his head back. "I am at your mercy, ____."

He had all the power in the world when he spoke your name. You eagerly returned to your ministration, this time blocking his palm on his tight, underneath yours, while his other hand kept toying with his neck and chest. Not that you noticed: you were too eager bobbing your head on his length, focusing on the lewd moans he emitted, on the swear words he growled against the headrest of his chair, where he was currently pressing the side of his face.

"Kitten." He whined, almost endearing in the delicate inflection of his voice.

He was going to cum. You pulled him out as fast as you could, quickly heading to his underside to lay the softest kisses of affection.

"Kitten." He growled, but this time it was no joke. He was getting worked up. A bit angry.

"What?"

"Stop teasing."

"Me! Teasing! How could I? My priority is my boyfriend, Yoongi, and his well-being”. You grinned, delivering a long lick from the base to his tip. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Kitten, I swear, if you’re edging me I’m going to make you pay for it.” He growled, fighting your grip on his hand.

You gripped his wrist harder. “This can go two ways, Yoongi. You let me do my thing on my terms, or I’m going to leave right in this second and go back home by myself tonight. Pick.” You used a tone so calm it sounded like the most sensual of threats.

He twisted his wrist gently, looking into your eyes, and lacing his fingers with yours, moving your joined hands to the armrest. With the other hand he gripped the edge of the chair behind his head. “Do your thing, Kitty cat.”

Smiling lasciviously, you placed open mouthed kisses to his inner thigh, moving from the left to the right side. You lifted your hand, previously on his lap, letting the edge of your nail draw a thin line from his hip to his knee to his ankle, where it met his sock. You were almost tempted to take it off and tease him there. Why not? You had the wipes to clean it afterward… Fuck it.

You caressed his ankle, teasing it with your nails.

“Kitten, that feels very good, love.” He moaned, squeezing your hand in his. “Want me to let go of your hand?” He asked.

“Maybe later.” You whispered, leaving sucking kisses at the base of his shaft. You blindly took off his sock. “Are you cold, baby?” You murmured softly.

“No, I’m shivering because it’s so good, love.” He praised you. “You are amazing, Kitten. Thank you so much for this, babe.”

You parted from his skin. “No need to thank me, Yoongles.” You licked his length. “I do it because I like it. Because it’s so good.” With your spare hand you tickled the underside of his foot, which had him tensing the muscles there, his whole leg jumping, trying to escape your sweet torture. “Too much?”

“Just… unexpected. Sensitive.” He hissed.

You removed your teasing fingernails.

“It’s– No, I liked it.” He clarified, his pretty face scrunched in a confused expression.

You smiled darkly. “I was thinking of this…” You placed your toy under his foot, switching it on on the lowest setting.

“Kitten. Fuck. Shit.” He growled. “What the hell!” He pressed his head against the back of the seat.

“Too much?” You asked, distancing it from his skin.

"No, good. God, Kitten. Just, please, your mouth." He begged.

You kissed his tip and swallowed him.

His back arched and his lips parted in a gasp. "Yes, love. Oh god."

The slight buzzing moved up towards his calf as you absentmindedly followed the outline of his leg. You were completely absorbed in pleasuring him with your mouth, squeezing him with your lips and tongue and stroking him with the tender skin of your cheeks.

"Please." He moaned, struggling under your assault. "Love you." He whined. "Let me." He was so hopeless, his broken thoughts exiting his mouth unfiltered.

You pulled him out, taking a deep breath, opening your eyes to look at him. "You look so pretty, Yoongi. You look so fucking high, babe.”

“Please,” he breathed, trying to grind up into your mouth.

“Come on, wait for me, Yoongi. I’m not done with you yet, baby.” You cooed, bringing the vibrator up to the inside of his knee, which made his leg start bouncing. Ever so gently, you brought the head of the bullet even closer to his inner thigh, making him swear under his breath. “I feel so good making you look like this,” you groaned, kissing his navel. “I know right now your head is so empty you’re only thinking about me. No drama going on inside your pretty head when I’m giving you head this good. ”

“Kitten, for the love of God.”

Just when you had reached his crotch with your toy-accidentally-turned-instrument-of-torture, you started again on the other side, from his knee. His hand was gripping yours viciously, his strong fingers constricting your knuckles with so much pressure you worried about him getting cramps right when you wanted him to feel only pleasure coursing through his body.

“I am begging you, Kitten. I ain’t too proud, please.” He howled, as you saw a glistening pearl of precum blossom on his slit. You immediately caught it with your tongue, using the occasion to suck his tip.

“Such a good boy. Lemme take care of you.” Your head lowered on him once more, this time not sparing an inch of him. Just as he quieted down from the deep moan he had just released, you moved the vibrator to the tender skin of his testicles, placing it there without pressure, which made the stimulation even more intense.

He growled your name. It was the most virile thing you had ever heard. You were ready to commit murder to hear him say it like that everyday for the rest of your life. The hand once tightly gripping the back of his chair was now hanging midair, as if ready to touch you. He caressed his sweaty fringe, combing his hair back and deciding on gripping the armrest instead of the back. You slipped him out once more and removed the vibrator.

He opened his eyes with the most pitiful expression he had ever made. “Kitten.”

“I know, baby, I just need to know if you want to cum in my mouth or if you have anything else in mind.” You said, tracing small circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

He noticed that you were still wearing your nice shirt from work. “Chest.” He murmured.

You grinned. You had never allowed any man to do that to you. You hated the idea of it, but when you did it with Yoongi for the first time you just saw him lose his mind at it, stare at you in admiration, like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and you just decided that the look on his face was a great prize for a relatively small sacrifice. Little did you know you would come to like it, the warm, sudden feeling of his semen sprinkling your naked skin, rolling down gently in the most erotic sort of massage you could ever dream of. Quickly, you let go of Yoongi’s hand, offering him the vibrator. “Hold it for me, baby?”

He simply nodded with a confused pout, his brain so fucked out that you giggled at how cute he looked. You undid a few buttons of your shirt to your stomach, then you stood up and took off your undershirt, slipping the thin straps off your arms through the hem of each sleeve and dragging the lower hem down from your waist, until you stepped out of it like a skirt. Yoongi looked a bit more lucid as you undid the clasps of your bra and removed the straps just like those of your undershirt, gripping the front of the bra and pulling it off from the opening of your shirt. Covered only in your white work shirt, you regained your vibrator from Yoongi’s obedient hand and joined your hand with his once more.

“Open it nice, I don’t wanna mess up the shirt.” He said, ever the caring, attentive one.

You slipped the shoulders off, the fabric slipping under your breasts and supporting them like some sort of a corset.

“Like this?” You asked.

He nodded. “Will you let me this time, please?” He said, his voice so fragile and broken that if you hadn’t already decided, he would have convinced you to offer him relief.

You let your actions speak. You started working the first few inches of his shaft, gently toying with the vibrator at the base, where his cock met his balls. His moaning soon became desperate, so incoherent that you doubted having one of the most talented rappers and songwriters in front of you. He looked like he didn’t know a word, like the best he could do were baby gurgles.

When you felt him begin to pulsate, you let him take the lead a little, choosing how deep he needed to go and how long he could keep going. You started teasing the underside of his cock with the side of the vibrator, running up and down the thick tendon there. “Kitten, I’m close.” He warned with a timbre so husky it almost scared you

You started going a bit faster with the up and down pattern of the toy. Your eyes were fixed on him when he started slowly moving his hips toward the edge of the chair with weak thrusts. He started opening and closing his mouth, gaping. His short groans became more frequent, getting higher and higher, his knuckles going white with how hard he was gripping his armrest.

“Now.” He said, letting go of the armrest, using his hand to pull out of your mouth while you scooted closer, offering him the skin of you bosom. Your inner walls began pulsating as he pushed his tip against the skin of your nipple, rubbing it while at the same time he gently pushed your hand and the toy aside to stroke the base. He kept licking his lips, delivering those small thrusts into his fist just as you moved the tip of the vibrator to the head of his cock, teasing the frenulum. He groaned and began moving faster, his grunts getting quicker until he finally screamed your name.

The first shot was usually the messiest, the pressure so high it often reached your neck and chin, but this time it stayed on your breast, probably because Yoongi was pressing up into you and the toy. You moaned yourself when the vibrator touched your nipple, Yoongi laughing gently and calling your name when he realised you were paying for this too, that you too were vulnerable, and that probably you were turned on enough to let him eat you out and possibly cum inside you before you both headed to his place for a hot meal and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

He spilled twice more on your breastbone and your other breast before he calmed down, reaching for the toy and switching it off. “Kitten. I swear to God, I’m gonna die because of you.” He panted, heavily gasping for air.

Still no trace of the mighty rapper, just one very normal, very lovely young man.

With a fingertip you collected a drop that was dangerously rolling down towards your shirt. “A good way to go.”

“It would be sort of embarrassing to explain.” He blushed, looking at you sucking at his cum on your fingertip. “Come here.” He murmured, patting his thighs. “Can you straddle me?” He asked.

“Why don’t we move to the sofa?” You asked.

He nodded, using your still joined hands to help you up on your feet. As you both stood up, you found yourself face to face, however his eyes moved downwards, to the wetness on your boobs. Bending his head, he cupped both with his palms, cradling the underside in his hands before pushing his lips to your nipple, his tongue lashing out to lick away at his release. Still needy, he moved to the other side, cleaning the other stain too.

Your knees wobbled. He smirked. “Sofa.” However when he reached the black leather piece he noticed the mess you had left behind. “You’d better fix it. Immediately.” He reprimanded.

You hang your head low between your shoulders, hiding from his scolding. You put your toy on top of its pouch, fishing a couple wet wipes to clean the cushion properly, as you bent at the waist to check for the results, you felt his hand smack your ass heavily. “You’re lucky it’s not suede or you’d be fucked by now.” He stood behind you and bent over your spine, adhering to your backside. “And not in the nice way.” He stood up again. “Stay like this, Kitten, don’t you dare move.”

You heard the sound of the lid of your wipes coming off, then the sound of fabric. You didn’t dare move. Yoongi was very likely to look for revenge now, and you already had a high price to pay. In your peripherals you noticed him rubbing the wet wipe all over your vibrator, cleaning it up.

You knew it was your turn now. You just had to hope he was feeling merciful. He bent over you. “Stay put and it’ll be okay, love.” He said with lethal kindness. You heard a gentle thud to the floor, shorty followed by another. “I am kneeling behind you, Kitten. Are you okay with me eating you out like this?”

He was so attentive: it felt like he had a list of all your triggers memorised in his mind; he was always so careful when it came to your potential traumas and insecurities. You weren’t new to receiving oral sex, however to you sometimes it felt very intimate and your worries kept you from freeing your mind and enjoying the experience fully.

“It’s okay.” You mewled.

“You can stop me anytime, love.” He said softly, kissing the back of your thighs, licking the thin stretch marks there. He loved all those small signs, the way they showed the tide of your skin, the way it made sense, the way you looked realer than anything he’s ever dreamed. He was in love with all your freckles and moles, wrinkles, the squishy part of your belly and waist and hips, the little hairs on your navel. He felt real when with you. He felt a little bit less surrounded by that artificial, polished world that looked like a simulation. He felt like he was allowed some small chance of normality, of reality with you. No skinny models with made-up personality, no fame or ego, just being two people facing each other, telling each other how it feels to be human.

Throughout all of his meditation he delivered small bites and kisses on the skin of your thighs and ass, tracing the outline of your labia, enjoying the plush softness.

You moaned out his name, pressing into him. “I know I’ve been bad, just… Please.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” He murmured, kissing your slit. “I deserved it.” He licked you slowly, from your mound to your entrance, the tip of his tongue digging in and collecting the wetness oozing out of you. “I neglected you.” He licked you again, nuzzling the raw skin of your inner labia with his lips. He kept his lips there, breathing softly through his mouth. “I love you, Kitten.” He kissed you there. “Love you so much, baby.” He murmured before you heard the buzz of the vibrator. He wasn’t toying around with you: he wrapped his arm around your leg, nuzzling the toy against your folds until he heard you whine. "Found it?" He asked, referring to your clit.

"Right there." You moaned.

He flattened his tongue against your folds, rolling it until they were spread wide, exposing your most tender nerves to the violent vibrations.

"Yoongi, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered, pressing yourself into him.

He wanted you to. He didn't care, couldn't care less of the amount of times you edged him earlier: he wanted to see you undone. He wished he could tell you, however he felt like it was more important for his mouth to stay on your cunt. He wanted you to know that you were allowed, that he wasn't going to deny you. He simply reached for your hand, placing his on top of yours on the cushion. Suddenly you started grinding your hips, riding his tongue, your free hand wrapping around his wrist, helping him place the bullet where you needed it. The fact that you were almost silent, holding your breath and gasping every time he spread your slick to the apex of your labia, so that the vibrator could slide more comfortably.

Your high hit you like a tide, your knees buckling underneath you, Yoongi's hand leaving yours so he could use his arm to stabilise you. Your hand on his wrist invited him to remove the toy, your position not safe and steady enough to allow any type of overstimulation, meanwhile his tongue battled with the contractions of your inner wall as he slipped it in just enough to stimulate the small muscle at the back, where you were always most responsive. He felt proud at knowing these small tricks, these little details that he had discovered with keen exploration and observation. Every body has their shortcuts to pleasure, though not all people are the same. He had learnt that some things that set his exes on fire to you were completely indifferent, meanwhile stuff that his exes refused could turn you into putty in his hands.

"Yoongi, that's okay.” You moaned, slipping away from him. He parted from your skin, gently pressing a kiss to your labia.

"Are you okay, Kitten?" He asked before running his hand to your breasts, cupping one softly, secretly searching for your heartbeat.

"I think I'm a little shook." You giggled. "It was… Very intense." You exhaled and laughed.

He kept kissing your thighs. You knew that that meant something. "I wanna try something but if it's too much we can stop here." He spoke delicately, his lips tickling your skin.

"Now I'm curious." You said, tired but mischievous still.

"Lemme show you." You heard him shuffle around a bit as he removed his sweater and placed it on the floor. He just hoped he wouldn't make a mess. From his kneeling position he shifted and sat on the oversized garment, thanking God that it wasn't as cold as he expected. He reclined his head on the seat of the sofa as your gaze met his.

"Am I going to ride your face?" You asked with a knowing smirk.

"Smart kitty." He said, mirroring your expression. "Knees on the cushion. Come on babe."

Shaking your head and smiling, you followed his order, your hands looking for support on the back of the sofa. "I'm afraid I'm gonna crush you." You said, even though you loved looking at him like this. His hair was a mess around him, his eyes so dark and intense that it felt like he was ready to drag you to hell and back with himself.

“It’s okay, you’re small. I can help you.” He said, placing his hands on your butt, squeezing. “I’m happy to help.” He grinned and you grinned back at him. You loved that both your brains shared the same perverted paths following the same dirty cues. “I wanna suck your clit, but I don’t know if it’ll work for you since you had the vibrator there.” He said, spreading small bites on your thighs.

“It’s okay. No need to make me cum.” You reasoned, openly refusing that a sexual experience can be successful only if culminating in an orgasm.

“I hate how you’re always ready to give up on your pleasure.” He said, getting argumentative. “I’m doing this to please you.”

“You can please me without making me cum.” You argued back. “It’s not like— Holy fuck!” You screamed, your shoulders giving out. His arm holding your ass up while his other hand held the tip of the vibrator against the underside of his tongue. “You’re fucking wicked.” You swore as your clit disappeared between his upper lip and his pink, filthy tongue. “Fuck Yoongi, you’re the best.”

He exhaled through his nose in some sort of a snicker, pushing on the small button to increase the vibration.

“Oh God. Yoongi— Fuck, like that.” You squealed as you felt him suck you in with wet, slurping noises. “Love.” You said, worry veining your voice. “I’m gonna make a mess.” You warned before raising your hips, parting from his mouth. “Wait.”

He removed the vibrator, opening and closing his mouth quickly before speaking to retrain his tongue muscles. “It’s okay.” He breathed, brushing his cheek against your thigh.

“You’re gonna get wet and smell like sex on the way back home.” You reminded him.

“I can rinse in the bathroom quickly, plus we’re driving by ourselves in the car.” He murmured. “We can if you want to.” He said, reassuringly.

“Get back in place then.” You teased, gently pressing yourself down on his pout and grinding coquettishly. He laughed with his mouth close, digging his fingers into your ass, which made you raise your hips with a small jump.

“I love you so fucking much, Kitten.” He murmured. “Don’t you dare forget that, ____.” He switched the vibrator on, all the way up. “Ready, kitty cat?”

“Bring it on, mister.”

He laughed and got to work. You were pretty sure that the moans you were emitting, joined with the wet, sucking sound that came from Yoongi’s tongue on your drenched clit would probably expose the two of you to the whole floor, and possibly more.

If you had been any more lucid you would have thought of poor mr. Kang guarding the building from the reception, but probably — hopefully — he was far enough not to hear a thing.

Yoongi sped up his game, willing and ready to bring you to the edge once more. He reduced the pressure on your clit, allowing the vibration to travel faster, with less resistance and more power. He shifted his grip from his plush upper lip to the edge of his front teeth, simply grazing your nub as he caressed it with his tongue.

“Yoongi. So sensitive.” You gasped through a muffled moan, your hand pressing against your mouth as you lowered your gaze. He was there, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of you, focusing on each movement, on the taste of you, on your sounds, your heat. Opening his eyes, he winked, realising that he had one last trick up his sleeve. He started brushing the vibrator up and down the underside of his tongue, the act mildly resembling a thrusting motion that had your hips undulating, your breath stopping in your throat.

The high built and built so that when it snapped, you didn’t even realise it, submerging you like a tide, like a small boat in a maelstrom: you felt each roll of your hips, each movement of the vibrator in that straight line underneath Yoongi’s tongue. The high was there, but you still hadn’t felt the peak. You were ready to give up when he slid the bullet off his tongue and into your entrance, pressing it against the tender spot of your vagina, rubbing it as his lips latched to your clit.

“Fuck. Cumming.” You whined before biting your palm. His hand smacked your ass, repeatedly, delivering four or five slaps as if spurring you into riding his face. When he felt your release spill, he stretched his tongue, trying to collect as much wetness as he could, using the bridge of his nose to tease your clit while his mouth was busy. You gushed two, maybe three times before you removed your hand from your mouth, squealing his name and a string of swear words, your hand reaching down, trying to slap his toy-holding hand from between your legs. He understood your gesture and parted from your cunt entirely, letting you recover from the experience while he shut the buzzing device.

“I need in, sweet thing.” He murmured, climbing up clumsily and a little bit helplessly. You rose to your knees, letting him sit on the cushion, helping him fit against your body. “I’m gonna slide in, Kitten. I just need in. Promise.” He kept his sentences short, both for his urgency and your almost shut down brain. Gripping himself steady, he slipped in flawlessly, your drenched walls welcoming his shape, clinging to it and making him swear with how tight you felt right after an orgasm.

“Kitten, so tight.” He groaned, his face falling forward, hiding in the crook of your shoulder. His hips thrusted up while his hands toyed with your breasts, sliding into the shirt you were still wearing. His whole face felt damp against your neck, and you didn’t know if it was sweat or your juices or his saliva as he began drawing a pattern of hickeys on the top swell of your boob. “I can’t hold on.”

“Cum inside, please.” You murmured into his ear, licking the shell and biting the lobe, your hand gently cradling his skull as you enjoyed his grunts and pants against your throat.

As he hammered into you from below, you felt him reaching your cervix, your inner contractions making him come undone, his hands gripping your waist and angrily pushing you onto his lap. The squelching, crude sound, mixed up with his deep groans and the smacking of skin made you close your eyes as you registered every detail. You would come back to this night, when he would be gone, and you would relive it entirely, from start to finish, from the loneliness and coldness of being alone on the sofa, to the anger and revenge of the armchair, to the selfless, devoted attentions you had received twice on the sofa again, and finally this boy-man, hiding against your chest as he vulnerably withered before you.

“God, Kitten.” He breathed out chuckling. “Thank you so much, love. You’re perfect.” He murmured, caressing your back.

“Thanks to you too.” You spoke softly.

“I’m sorry for the last one. I got carried away, I didn’t make you—”

“If you say the verb ‘cum’ I am going to slap your pretty cheeks.” You threatened weakly. “You can do that in a few hours. Wake me up at three am and make sweet love to me.” You propositioned. “Though if I fall asleep, I might sleep for the next ten hours with no chances of being woken up.”

“We need sleep. Both of us.” He hugged you, searching for your hand, twining your fingers together. “But first we need a shower. And we need to rinse before we leave.”

“Closest toilet?” You asked, groaning a little at the idea of getting up, cleaning yourself and all the rest.

“Two rooms away.” He mumbled, his eyes droopy, his head leaning into your shoulder. “Are you feeling okay about everything? I know I pushed it when I left you alone and when I went down on you.” He commented.

“I think we cleared up the air about you ignoring me. It reminded me of when I was with my ex, which is exactly the reason why I bought the toy. He wasn’t happy I used it, but he never said anything or kept me from searching for my own pleasure. Sure though, this was my first time using it with someone. I’ve had a few people before as I said, but it was never… this.” You said, referring to your whole situation with Yoongi.

“How did you feel about how I went down on you?” He asked, always sympathetic.

“I loved it. But that vibrating tongue thingie was sooo kinky. How the hell did you come up with that?” You complimented him.

He chuckled. “I wanted to suck you and I wanted it to be a bit hardcore. It tickled like hell though.” He kissed your cheek. “I didn’t know it would work for you. I had never tried it before.”

“The vibrator was a big ally tonight.”

“Definitely the highlight of the night.” He conceded.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip in your mouth, releasing it with a snap. “I love tasting myself on your mouth.”

He cupped your cheek. “You were amazing on that chair, love.” He praised you, making sure that he gratified you for something that your previous significant other had awfully taken for granted. “I’ll never forget these two covered in me.” He said, bending down to kiss each of your breasts.

“Is your neck okay?” You asked, worried about the way he had reclined his neck before while you sat on his face. “Are you cold?”

“My neck is a bit sore, but some hot water and stretching will solve it. And yeah, I’m a bit cold but it’s okay. Let's fix this place, get dressed and head home, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"Then get up, lazy cat." He teased, poking your sides.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight." You murmured, teasing him as you raised your hips, getting off him.

“You’re sleeping in my bed and we both know it.” He helped you on your feet.

Your lips bent downward as you nodded. “I hate it when you’re right.”

As you turned and bent to gather your wipes he stared at his cum dripping out of your hole, staining your thighs. “Such a shame you’re in love with me,” he replied. His hands gripped your hips, blocking you while his tongue moved between your folds, delivering tiny licks with the tip of his tongue before covering your labia in soft kisses. "All clean, Kitten." He murmured, caressing your naked legs.

"You're the worst." You teased, before his short nails caused goosebumps on your skin.

He stood up behind you. "Fuck, look at this mess." He said, looking at the sofa. "Do we have enough wipes?"

"Oh God."

"No one's gotta know." He commented, and once more you were partners in crime, hiding your thousandth mischief.

You headed for the chair, throwing him his underwear and trousers.

He caught them.

"Bottle of water?" You asked.

"Fridge." He pointed as he slid his boxers on.

You picked up your undershirt, glad that it was a cheap deal, and headed to the small fridge, where you found the water, opening the bottle and pressing your balled up garment against the rim, wetting the fabric.

Next you knelt by the sofa, getting to work.

Yoongi lit a scented candle on the low table, spraying some perfume with a certain desperate motion. "Jeongguk will know. He can smell anything."

You shook your head while you poured some more water on your improvised rag. "Dammit we fucked up."

"Shut up, it was your idea." He taunted you while he found his sweater on the floor, checking it quickly before putting it on with a shiver. "Freezing. Shit."

Once you deemed the damage mostly solved, you grabbed your wipes and used one to eliminate the traces of the water. Checking that no stain remained, you moved on to dressing yourself.

"Have you seen my bra?" You asked.

"No." He murmured, offended, just as you noticed a familiar frill coming out of his bag.

"Why is my bra in your bag?"

"Your bra is not in my bag."

You raised an eyebrow, hooking said frill with your finger and fishing the garment out of his personal tote. "What is this?"

"A fancy hat." He said, barely holding back a laugh.

"Oh, so you're gonna wear that later when we head home?" You asked as you pressed one cup onto his head, the other hanging from the side while you clasped it around his face.

He simply shook it off, bending to kiss your lips. "Don't wear it." He whispered on your mouth.

"I won't." You replied, kissing it once more before placing it back in his bag.

Wearing your panties and buttoning your shirt, you left a couple buttons undone for his viewing pleasure.

He fixed the last few things, opening your coat and helping you wear it.

He fixed his own jacket and caught hold of your waist, placing you in front of him and wrapping his scarf around your neck and face. He kissed your forehead sweetly.

"Get your shoes, I'll do a quick checkup."

While you exited the room, he noticed a small glimmering coming from the crevice between the two cushions. Pushing his fingers in, he managed to pinch the object and pull it out.

He snickered, placing his small treasure before his eyes. "You served well, soldier. You deserve a night of rest. I'll recharge you and keep you safe until next time."

"Who you talking to?" You asked from the corridor.

"Nothing." He placed the vibrator in his pocket. "Coming." He blew on the candle and closed the door.

———————————————

"Hyung, you look well-rested." Jimin greeted him the following morning as he entered the training room.

"I bet he does." Namjoon quipped.

"HE FUCKED KITTEN IN THE STUDIO!" Hoseok announced. "Sorry, couldn't hold it in, you know I can't handle secrets." He said with a sad face, looking at Namjoon.

"Good for him." Taehyung replied.

Jimin looked amused while Jin shook his head, “Is that a good reason to be late, Yoongi? We've been waiting fifteen minutes–"

"Hyung, you arrived two minutes ago." Taehyung replied quietly while Jin shouted, "Shame on you! The disrespect!"

Jeongguk neared Yoongi, patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry I rat you out. I came in last night because you weren't at the dorms. I didn't know. I accidentally said it to Namjoon, Hoseok heard, everyone knows." Guk shrinked in his shoulders. "Sorry." He chirped.

However it was still too early and Yoongi was still too fucked out to care. "Let's just kill this choreo. We better finish soon 'cause I've got Kitten home in my bed to go back to."

Namjoon smirked. "Let's get it."

[grubbyduck]

No Man’s Land - an essay on feminism and forgiveness

I have always proudly named myself a feminist, since I was a little girl and heard my mum proudly announcing herself as a feminist to anyone who would listen.

But I believe the word 'feminist' takes on a false identity in our collective imagination - it is seen as hard, as baked, severe, steadfast, stubborn and rooted. From a male perspective, it possibly means abrasive, or too loud, or intimidatingly intolerant of men. From a female perspective, though, these traits become revered by young feminists; the power of knowing what you think and never rolling over! My experience of being a feminist throughout my life has been anything but - it has been a strange and nebulous aspect of my identity; it has sparked the familiar fires of bravery, ambition, rage, sadness and choking inarticulacy at times, sure, but at other times it has inspired apathy, reactionary attitudes, bravado and dismissivness. And at other, transitive times, it caused me to rethink my entire outlook on the world. And then again. And then again.

In primary school, I read and re-read Sandi Toksvig’s book GIRLS ARE BEST, which takes the reader through the forgotten women of history. I didn’t feel angry - I felt awed that there were female pirates, women on the front line in the world wars, women at the forefront of invention, science and literature. I still remember one line, where it is revealed that NASA’s excuse for only hiring six women astronauts compared to hundreds of men was that they didn’t stock suits small enough. 

When I was 13, I tried to start a girl's rugby team at my school. I got together 15 girls who also wanted to form a team. We asked the coaches if they would coach us - their responses varied from 'maybes' to straight up 'no's. The boys in our year laughed at us publicly. We would find an old ball, look up the rules online, and practise ourselves in free periods - but the boys would always come over, make fun of us and take over the game until we all felt too insecure to carry on. I shouted at a lot of boys during that time, and got a reputation among them as someone who was habitually angry and a bit of a buzzkill. Couldn't take a joke - that kind of thing.

When I was around 16, I got my first boyfriend. He was two years older (in his last year of sixth form) and seemed ever so clever to me. He laughed about angry feminists, and I laughed too. He knew I classified myself as a feminist, but, you know, a cool one - who doesn't get annoyed, and doesn't correct their boyfriends' bulging intellects. And in any case, whenever I did argue with him about anything political or philosophical, he would just chant books at me, list off articles he'd read, mention Kant and say 'they teach that wrong at GCSE level'. So I put more effort into researching my opinions (My opinions being things like - Trump is a terrible person who should not be elected as President - oh yeah, it was 2016), but every time I cited an article, he would tell me why that article was wrong or unreliable. I couldn't win. He was a Trump supporter (semi-ironically, but that made it even worse somehow) and he voted Leave in the Brexit referendum. He also wouldn't let me get an IUD even though I had terrible anxiety about getting pregnant, because of his parents' Catholicism. He sulked if he ever got aroused and then I didn’t feel like having sex, because apparently it ‘hurts’ men physically. One time I refused sex and he sulked the whole way through the night, refusing to sleep. I was incensed, and felt sure that my moral and political instincts were right, but I had been slowly worn down into doubting the validity of my own opinions, and into cushioning his ego at every turn - especially when he wasn't accepted into Oxford.

When I was 17/18, I broke up with him, and got on with my A Levels. One of them was English Literature. I remember having essay questions drilled into us, all of which were fairly standard and uninspired, but there was one that I habitually avoided:

'Discuss the presentation of women in this extract'

It irritated me beyond belief to hear the way that our class were parroting phrases like 'commodification and dehumanisation of women' in order to get a good grade. It felt so phony, so oversimplified, and frankly quite insulting. I couldn't bear reading classic books with the intent of finding every instance that the author compares a woman to an animal. It made me so sad! I couldn't understand how the others could happily write about such things and be pleased with their A*. As a keen contributor to lessons, my teacher would often call on me to comment in class - and to her surprise, I think, my responses about 'women's issues' were always sullen and could be characterised by a shrug. I wanted to talk about macro psychology, about Machievellian villains, about Shakespreare's subversion of comic convention in the English Renaissance. I absolutely did not want to talk about womb imagery, about men’s fixation and sexualisation of their mothers or about docile wives. In my application for Cambridge, I wrote about landscape and the psyche in pastoral literature, and got an offer to study English there. I applied to a mixed college - me and my friends agreed that we’d rather not go if we got put into an all female college. 

When I was 19, I got a job as an actor in a touring show in my year out before starting at Cambridge. I was the youngest by a few years. One company member - a tall, handsome and very talented man in his mid-twenties - had the exact same job title as me, only he was being paid £100 more than me PER WEEK. I was the only company member who didn’t have an agent, so I called the producers myself to complain. They told me they sympathised, that there just wasn’t enough money in the budget to pay me more - and in the end, I managed to negotiate myself an extra £75 per week by taking on the job of sewing up/fixing any broken costumes and puppets. So I had more work, and was still being paid 25% less. The man in question was a feminist, and complained to his agent (although he fell through on his promise to demand that he lose £50 a week and divide it evenly between us). He was a feminist - and yet he commented on how me and the other woman in the company dressed, and told us what to wear. He was a feminist, only he slept with both of us on tour, and lied to us both about it. He was a feminist, only he pitted me against and isolated me from the only other woman in the company, the only person who may have been a mentor or a confidante. He was a feminist, only he put me down daily about my skills as a performer and made me doubt my intelligence, my talent and my worth. 

When I was 20, I started at Cambridge University, studying English Literature. Over the summer, I read Lundy Bancroft’s book ‘Why Does He Do That’ which is a study of abusers and ‘angry and controlling men’. It made me realise that I had not been given the tools to recognise coercive and controlling behaviour - I finally stopped blaming myself for attracting controlling men into my life. I also read ‘Equal’ by Carrie Gracie, about her fight to secure equal pay for equal work at the BBC in 2017-2019. It was reading that book that I fully appreciated that I had already experienced illegal pay discrimination in the workplace. Both made me cry in places, and it felt as though something had thawed in me. I realised that I was not the exception. That ‘women’s issues’ do apply to me. In my first term at Cambridge, I wrote some unorthodox essays. I wrote one on Virginia Woolf named ‘The Dogs Are Dancing’ which began with a page long ‘disclaimer for my womanly emotions’ that attempted to explain to my male supervisor how difficult it is for women to write dispassionately and objectively, as they start to see themselves as unfairly separate, excluded and outlined from the male literary consciousness. He didn’t really understand it, though he enjoyed the passion behind my prose. 

The ‘woman questions’ at undergraduate level suddenly didn’t seem as easy, as boring or as depressing as those I had encountered at A Level. I had to reconcile with the fact that I had only been exposed to a whitewashed version of feminism throughout my life. At University, I learned the word Intersectionality - and it made immediate and ferocious sense to me. I wrote an essay on Aphra Behn’s novella ‘Oroonoko’, which is about a Black prince and his pursuit of Imoinda, a Black princess. I had to get to grips with how a feminist author from the Renaissance period tackled issues of race. I had to examine how she dehumanised and sexualised Imionda in the same way that white women were used to being treated by men. I had to really question to what extent Aphra Behn was on Imionda’s side - examine the violent punishment of Oroonoko for mistreating her. I found myself really wanting to believe that Behn had done this purposefully as social commentary. I mentioned in my essay that I was aware of my own white female critical ingenuity. For the first time, I was writing about something I didn’t have any personal authority over in my life - I had to educate myself meticulously in order to speak boldly about race.

As I found myself surrounded by more women who were actively and unashamedly feminist, I realised just how many opinions exist within that bracket. I realised that I didn’t agree with a lot of other feminists about aspects of the movement. I started to only turn up to lectures by women. I started to only read literary criticism written by women - not even consciously; I just realised that I trusted their voices more intrinsically. I started to wish I had applied to an all female college. I realised that all female spaces weren’t uncool - that is an image that I had learned from men, and from trying to impress men. The idea that Black people, trans people, that non binary people could be excluded from feminism seemed completely absurd to me. I ended up in a mindset that was constructed to instinctively mistrust men. Not hate - just mistrust. I started to get fatigued by explaining basic feminist principles to sceptical men.

I watched the TV show Mrs America. It made my heart speed up with longing, with awe, with nerves, sorrow, anger - again, it showed me how diverse the word Feminism is. The longing I felt was for a time where feminist issues seemed by comparison clear-cut, and unifying. A time where it was good to be angry, where anger got stuff done. I am definitely angry. The problem is, the times that feminism has benefitted me and others the most in my life is when I use it forgivingly and patiently. When I sit in my anger, meditate on it, control it, and talk to those I don’t agree with on subjects relating to feminism with the active intent to understand their point of view. Listening to opinions that seemed so clearly wrong to me was the most difficult thing in the world - but it changed my life, and once again, it changed my definition of feminism. 

Feminism is listening to Black women berating white feminists, and rather than feeling defensive or exempt, asking questions about how I have contributed to a movement that excludes women of colour. Feminism is listening to my mother’s anxieties about trans women being included in all-female spaces, and asking her where those anxieties stem from. Feminism is understanding that listening to others who disagree with you doesn’t endanger your principles - you can walk away from that conversation and know what you know. Feminism is checking yourself when you undermine or universalise male emotion surrounding the subject. Feminism is allowing your mind to change, to evolve, to include those that you once didn’t consider - it is celebrating quotas, remembering important women, giving thanks for the fact that feminism is so complex, so diverse, so fraught and fought over. 

Feminism is common ground. It is no man’s land. It is the space between a Christian housewife and a liberated single trans woman. It is understanding women of other races, other cultures, other religions. It is disabled women, it is autistic women, it is trans men who have biologically female medical needs that are being ignored. It is forgiveness for our selfishness. It feels impossible.

The road to feminism is the road to enlightenment. It is the road to Intersectional equity. It is hard. It is a journey. No one does it perfectly. It is like the female orgasm - culturally ignored, not seen as necessary, a mystery even to a lot of women, many-layered, multitudinous, taboo, comes in waves. It is pleasure, and it is disappointment. 

All I know is that the hard-faced, warrior version of feminism that was my understanding only a few years ago reduced my allies and comrades in arms to a small group of people who were almost exaclty like me and so agreed with me on almost everything. Flexible, forgiving and inquisitive feminism has resulted in me loving all women, and fighting for all women consciously. And by fighting for all women, I also must fight for Black civil rights, for disabled rights, for Trans rights, for immigrant rights, for homeless rights, for gay rights, and for all human rights because women intersect every one of these minorities. My scoffing, know-it-all self doing my A Levels could never have felt this kind of love. My ironic jokes about feminists with my first boyfriend could never have made any woman feel loved. My frustration that my SPECIFIC experience of misogyny as a white, middle-class bisexual woman didn’t feel related to the other million female experiences could never have facilitated unity, common ground, or learning to understand women that existed completely out of my experience as a woman.

My feminism has lead me to becoming friends with some of those boys who mocked me for wanting to play rugby, and with the woman that was vying with me over that man in the acting company for 8 months. It is slowly melting my resentment towards all men - it is even allowing me to feel sorry for the men who have mistreated me in the past. 

I guess I want to express in this mammoth essay post that so far my feminist journey has lead me to the realisation that if your feminism isn’t growing you, you aren’t doing it right. Perhaps it will morph again in the future. But for now, Feminism is a love of humanity, rather than a hatred of it. That is all. 

[bluekaddis]

Today is 11/11 which marks 101 years of Poland regaining independence and I thought it is a perfect time to publish a post that I’ve been working on for a while. 

Ferelden from Polish Perspective aka Why We Can Relate to Dog Lords So Much. 

This is a sort of compilation of my own thoughts I had while playing the games and various talks with my Polish friends. It is not supposed to force any ideas or teach others how to interpret the game. I just thought it could be entertaining for anyone interested in history and culture. I was trying not to elaborate too much on the subject here but it still ended up being A Very Long Post TM. To make this post a little neater to read, I divided this post into 4 sections:

1. History

2. Fashion and Food

3. Politics

4. Relationships with Other Countries

I will be very happy if you find a minute or two to read some of my points. If you have any additional questions or comments feel free to leave me a message :)

And once again - enormous thanks to @aeducanka​ for proofreading. I would be a poor mess without you. 

DISCLAIMERS

1. Yes, I know that Ferelden is based mostly on Anglo-Saxon England and I have no problem with that. True, I may be a little disappointed that the game includes references to so many European cultures and countries (France, Byzantine Empire, Venice, Roma culture etc.) and yet practically ignores Central and Eastern Europe completely, BUT this post is not meant to be a “Where is my representation?!” rant. If I wanted a game with Slavic culture vibes, I could always play the Witcher trilogy again. We are doing alright. 

2. I am in no way an academic specialist on culture or history, even these of my own country. I did some research, but most of facts and figures can be easily found on wikipedia. You can treat this as just some observations and headcanons of a 29 y/o Polish woman, who has grown up and lives in Poland. 

3. The main focus of this post is Poland in different moments of history. However, when talking about fashion and political system I will mostly refer to Polish culture between the 16th and 18th century. During that time Poland and Lithuania formed a dual state known as The Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. So, whenever I refer to this particular period, I will use the term “Commonwealth” instead of “Poland”. 

PART 1 – HISTORY

The country’s name origin

Ferelden means „fertile valley” in Alamarri tongue [WoT vol. 1], Poland most probably comes from the Slavic word „pole” meaning „field”. They both refer to land that can be cultivated.

History of unification

Ferelden lands were divided between many tribes until they were unified by Calenhad Theirin. He fought and defeated other Alamarri tribes’ leaders, proclaimed Andrastianism as the new official religion of his kingdom and started the Theirin dynasty.  

A similar story can be told about Mieszko I of Poland – the leader of the Polans tribe (one of many Slavic tribes of that time) who, by means of war and diplomacy, united many Slavic tribes and created the Polish country in 965. In the same year he was baptised, abandoning native paganism in favour of Christianity. Mieszko started the Piast dynasty which ruled Poland for over 400 years. He never officially became a king, though – his son, Bolesław, was crowned king in 1025.

Also, Ferelden is a relatively young country compared to countries like Orlais or Tevinter. Even if Poland has over 1000 years of history as a country, it has to be noted that some Western European countries have a longer history (eg. the Carolingian Empire or the Visigothic Kingdom). Polish lands have also never been a part of the Roman Empire. 

Fun fact – the half-legendary sword of the first king of Poland, Szczerbiec, was stolen by Prussian troops during their invasion on Poland in 1795. Calenhad’s sword, Nemetos,was lost during the Orlesian invasion on Ferelden [WoT vol. 1].

Ostagar

Now, I will tell you a story. It is about a young king (in his twenties), a little reckless, wanting to be the leader who stood against the great invading threat to his country, a little blinded by the perspective of glorious victory. Just before the battle one of his allied forces betrayed him and did not provide the promised aid. The enemy army was too strong, too large. The king’s army was defeated, the king was killed in battle and his body was taken by the enemy. The king did not have children and his younger brother had succeeded him.

No, I’m not talking about Cailan, this is the story of Władysław III of Poland.

PART 2 – FASHION AND FOOD

Fashion

All cultures in Thedas have their own style and fashion. Ferelden is supposed to be this “We like fur and warm fabrics” culture, opposite to the extravagant Orlesian style. However, I have few problems with how Fereldan fashion is shown in the game.

1. It is too early-medieval looking. I know, it is a fantasy, you can mix ancient Egypt with steampunk and nobody should care. But we see, from cultural and technological perspective, that Thedas in Dragon Age is more renaissance/baroque than your typical medieval. Heck, some elements, like the infamous Formal Attire, look like clothes from 18th or even 19th century! In comparison, outfits like Arms of Mac Tir or Robes of the Pretender (though good looking) look like something from the Vikings era.

2.  We do not see many good looking Fereldan outfits in the games. I like Alistair’s royal outfit and some of Fereldan armors and clothes from DA:2 but remember this?

Or this?

Yeah, Dog Lords can do better :/

And that’s why I like to headcanon Fereldan fashion as something more resembling the Commonwealth fashion between the 16th and 18th century. It was an interesting mix of European and Asian influences and I think it would work perfectly with canon Ferelden because:

1. People LOVED fur elements in their clothing. Fur lining on coats, fur caps decorated with feathers, pelts of wild carnivores (lions, wolves, bears, etc.) on armour  - fur was everywhere.

2. It is simple but regal. The quality of materials and patterns were more important than volume and the number of layers. A typical male noble outfit consisted of a long garment (żupan), a long, ornate sash, one of two types of cloak (delia or kontusz) and a fur cap decorated with feathers and jewels. If you compare it with the baroque fashion from France it is less extravagant and more practical. No wigs, no flounces, no man tights. 

Compare these two dudes – the older one is dressed Commonwealth style, the younger – in French style. 

The Deluge, 1974

Of course some wealthy noblemen who spent a lot of time in France or other Western countries tended to adapt their style, but from what I know it was not that common. Women, on the other hand, tended to dress more similar to their Western counterparts (especially when they wanted to look fashionable) but their everyday dresses were not that much elaborate. They also wore kontusz (though the female version was shorter) and fur caps when outside. 

Below I post some more costumes to better illustrate my point. They all come from Polish movie adaptations of H. Sienkiewicz’s novels (I looove both the books and the movies).

With Fire and Sword, 1999

The Deluge, 1974

Fire in the Steppe, 1968

And I could not NOT to mention the wonderful interpretation of Fereldan armor and clothing for my OCs drawn by @ankalime​ - I still can’t get over how beautiful they look :3

Food

From what we know, Fereldan food is very similar to traditional English cuisine (lamb and pea anyone?), HOWEVER, I can totally see some traditional Polish dishes on Fereldan tables. Let us look at this part of Alistair’s banter with Leliana:

“Now here in Ferelden, we do things right. We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when I know it's done.”

Dishes like bigos, flaki or goulash (mostly associated with Hungary but also present in various forms in Slavic countries) totally fit this description. Tasty and hearty but I know some foreigners see them as totally unappetizing :P

Poland is also culturally more into beer than wine  (high five, British Isles!), so Fereldan ale fits this image, too.

PART 3. POLITICS

When I first played DA:O and heard about choosing the new queen/king on Landsmeet I was like “omg, they have wolna elekcja!”

The canon Ferelden is a feudal country, however, there seems to be less focus on the king's absolute power – instead, the nobles can choose the king they like, the hierarchy inside this particular social class is also less striking than one can expect. 

And this brings me to the concept of Golden Liberty. (I will quote Wikipedia here, I am not that smart to explain this well in English on my own).

The Golden Liberty was a unique political system of the Commonwealth – a mixture of monarchy, oligarchy and democracy. The most distinctive elements of that systems were:

- All nobles regardless of rank or economic status, were considered to have equal legal rights (and you did not have to own a town or two to be considered a noble – a large part of the nobility owned nothing more than a farm, often little different from a peasant's dwelling, and some did not even have that much). The rights were, for example:

-  Neminem captivabimus ("We shall not arrest anyone without a court verdict").  

- right to vote – every nobleman, whether rich or poor, could vote. Of course if someone was rich, they could bribe others to gain more political influence, but it is the same as today. 

- religious freedom – unlike many other European countries of the time, people in Commonwealth were legally free to follow any religion. The Commonwealth became a common refuge for people who were persecuted for religion in their homelands. The religious freedom was not restricted to nobility but to all social classes. 

- rokosz - the right to form a legal rebellion against a king who violated nobility freedoms.

- the monarchy was elective, not hereditary, and the king was elected by the nobility. That “democracy” was not, of course, perfect, as only male noblemen had the right to vote and elect the king. However, it was still between 10-15% of the population who could vote. In comparison, “in 1831 in France only about 1% of the population had the right to vote”

The Landsmeet in DA:O is basically the free election (well, maybe minus the duel :D) and I would say the Fereldan nobility does not feel obliged to be obedient 100% of the time. 

PART 4. RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER COUNTRIES

Orlesian occupation

We know from the game that Orlais invaded Ferelden in 8:24 Blessed and occupied it for decades. The Fereldan forces were rebelling against the occupant and finally, under the command of Maric Theirin, they won their freedom.

Again, it is a huge topic, so to summarize: Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth suffered a similar fate in 1795 as it was conquered and divided between Habsburg Austria, the Kingdom of Prussia and the Russian Empire. For 123 years Poles have been trying to regain their country, have started several uprisings and lost many lives in their fight for independence. Finally, at the end of WW1, independent Poland reappeared on the map of the world. Then came the WW2, probably the most tragic event in Polish history – the cities were razed to the ground, a vast part of national heritage destroyed or stolen, and over 6 million people (1/5 of the pre-war population) were killed.

So yeah, a country invaded and occupied for decades by its neighbour sounds way too familiar to be ignored. 

Ferelden in the eyes of Orlesians

The Fereldans are a puzzle. As a people, they are one bad day away from reverting to barbarism. (...) They are the coarse, wilful, dirty, disorganized people [DA:O Codex Entry: Culture of Ferelden].

Yeah... this, unfortunately, sounds familiar. I fear that the stereotype of a drunk, stupid, poor, thieving Poles (and other Slavic nations), which originated from WW2 propaganda, is somehow still alive in the West. I will not dive deeper in this subject because I want to believe my followers have their own brain cells and I do not need to explain how hurtful and offensive those stereotypes are.

My point is – I could identify easily with a fantasy country that is located east from the “centre of culture and civilisation” and is unfairly believed to be more barbaric.

So – for all two of you who bothered to read the whole thing - thanks for coming to my TED talk.I really appreciate the time you spent here :)

[mediaevalmusereads]

Master of Crows. By Grace Draven. Self Published (?), 2009.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: fantasy romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Master of Crows #1

Summary: What would you do to win your freedom? This is the question that sets bondwoman, Martise of Asher, on a dangerous path. In exchange for her freedom, she bargains with her masters, the mage-priests of Conclave, to spy on the renegade sorcerer, Silhara of Neith. The priests want Martise to expose the sorcerer's treachery and turn him over to Conclave justice. A risky endeavor, but one she accepts without hesitation--until she falls in love with her intended target. Silhara of Neith, Master of Crows, is a desperate man. The god called Corruption invades his mind, seducing him with promises of limitless power if he will help it gain dominion over the world. Silhara struggles against Corruption's influence and searches for ways to destroy the god. When Conclave sends Martise as an apprentice to help him, he knows she's a spy. Now he fights a war on two fronts -against the god who would possess him and the apprentice who would betray him. Mage and spy search together for a ritual that will annihilate Corruption, but in doing so, they discover secrets about each other that may damn them both. Silhara must decide if his fate, and the fate of nations, is worth the soul of the woman he has come to love, and Martise must choose continued enslavement or freedom at the cost of a man's life. And love.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: sexual content, blood, magical violence

Overview: After being a little lukewarm on Radiance, I decided to give Grace Draven one more try, mostly because her books seem to be popular on tumblr. I picked up Master of Crows on a whim, and though I think it has more plot than Radiance, the main characters were really not to my taste. For me, Martise was too passive and Silhara was too much of a jerk to be likeable, and the massive power imbalance between the two meant that I didn’t really root for their relationship to succeed. Thus, this book only gets 2 stars from me.

Writing: Draven’s prose is fairly straight-forward. It’s easy to get through and it flows well, giving the reader just enough to know what’s going on. I don’t really have any criticisms for its simplicity because Draven is writing within romance, and the point isn’t to be poetic. Rather, it gets the job done, and I think most readers will appreciate that.

Where I do think I can criticize this book is in the repetition of phrases. More than twice, I saw the term “half mast” used to convey when a character’s eyes were half open, and I think I saw “tattoo” used multiple times to describe a rapid rhythm or tapping. It’s not the biggest deal, but I was definitely pulled out of the story when I noticed these things.

I also think I can criticize Draven for telling us some things that should have been shown. We’re told, for instance, that Silhara isn’t a noble man, that he’s selfish and ambitious, etc. but we’re never really shown scenes of him acting out of ambition or being actually tempted to give in to Corruption’s influence. I would have liked to see Silhara be put in positions where he is making choices or doing things that make the reader think he was susceptible to Corruptions influence. Maybe we see him researching spells for making himself more powerful. Maybe something happens on page with Conclave that is so bad, he starts seriously considering Corruption’s offer to give him revenge. It could be argued that we do get some of that, but it felt like everything was told to us, or happened in the past, and we were expected to absorb it.

Plot: Most of the non-romance plot of this book revolves around Silhara trying to figure out how to destroy the god Corruption while Martise acts as a spy, trying to get some dirt on him so the Conclave (a collection of priests/mages) will have an excuse to kill him. To be honest, I thought the initial premise was a good one; I liked the idea of conflicting loyalties and the eventual shift from enemies (of a sort) to lovers.

However, I do not think this plot was handled well, mainly because Corruption seemed to be a background threat. Multiple times throughout the book, we see Silhara be more or less tormented by the god, whether through dreams that keep him up at night, through disrupting Silhara’s magic abilities, through manifestations, and through temporary possession. While scary, I don’t think these scenes had much lasting impact, which didn’t make Corruption feel like a real threat. If Silhara is being kept awake at night, for example, I want to see scenes where his sleep deprivation gets him in trouble. If his magic is out of control, I want to see scenes where he has to decide whether he wants to risk using it or if he should go through his life without his powers. Something other than Corruption just being a lurking boogeyman that occasionally pops up and becomes a nuisance rather than a real, omnipresent force.

I also think Martise’s plot was a bit weak, mainly because we’re never really shown her having conflicting feelings or arguing with herself about whether or not to give Silhara to the Conclave. Martise is a slave, and her master promises to free her if she can get dirt on Silhara. While fine, the desire for freedom never seemed like a driving force for Martise; we never see her digging through Silhara’s study for potential dirt, of trying to eavesdrop or do other things that would show her actively trying to achieve her goal. Instead, Martise is rather passive, waiting for information to come to her, and she never really wrestles with her life as a slave, not the decision of whether or not to report Silhara once she falls in love with him. I would have liked to see more angst or at least more of an evolution where it felt like Martise had an arc independent of her service or usefulness to Silhara.

Characters: Martise, our heroine, is rather passive and seems to exist mainly to be used. I really didn’t like that she seemed to have no ambition or agency; she mostly waited for things to happen to her, and only shows agency towards the end, when the big showdown happens. Even her “gift” - the magic ability which lays dormant in her until Silhara awakens it - seems to be built around her being a tool to be used, and I was extremely disappointed that her arc didn’t seem to be about empowering her as a woman or as an ex-slave.

Silhara, our hero, is the type of love interest I absolutely hate. He’s extremely powerful, but is a complete jerk to the heroine and commits random violence towards other people out of jealousy. While we’re told over and over again that Martise loves him because he’s a good person at heart, I really didn’t see it. He not only beats up someone who speaks poorly of Martise, but he also seems comfortable ordering her around and treating her as a servant until the very end. The only redeeming qualities he had seemed to be that he doesn’t like people treating women poorly (which, ok, I guess) and he’s kind to his servant, Gurn. Other than that, he’s not an alluring figure.

Side characters were fun, if under utilized. Gurn is Silhara’s mute servant who uses a kind of sign language to communicate. I really liked this character because it inserts some disability representation, and I liked his relationship with Martise. The two seemed to bond over their shared status as servants, and I honestly wish there had been more of an arc or exploration about class with these two. Other characters served their purposes. Cumbria, Martise’s owner, is largely absent, but manages to look bad in every way. He’s not a super compelling antagonist just because he’s not on the page too often, but when he is, I think Draven did a good job not making him over-the-top evil. He’s mostly just greedy and petty, and I wish he had been used more deliberately in conjunction with Silhara’s exile as a commentary on corruption within religious orders. Corruption, the god, is a different story. As I explained in the plot section above, Corruption isn’t much more than a boogeyman, and I got really tired of him really fast.

I’m not sure how to feel, however, about the Kurman people in this book. The Kurmans are a nation/ethnic group/tribe/society with some rather odd gender dynamics. Women can apparently own property and vote, and they are supposedly respected, but they are kept separate from men much of the time, wait on men at feasts, can’t meet men’s eyes unless they want to communicate sexual availability, and so on. It was rather bizarre to me, and I seemed to be getting conflicting ideas about whether or not this society was feminist or not. I also wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be modeled on any real-life ethnic groups or societies; they are described as wearing pointy shoes, having swarthy/dark skin, having multiple wives, etc. so I got the impression that they might have been like Arabs, Mongols, or Ethiopians (due to the food they eat, etc), but if so, I didn’t quite like how Silhara refers to them as “barbarian,” even if it was in jest.

Romance: I couldn’t get on board with this romance. At all. Martise was already too subservient as a character, and while I get that some of this could be a survival technique, it didn’t make sense that Silhara would fall for her based on the ways in which she surprised or challenged him. Because she barely did. She never called Silhara out in any meaningful way and seemed to go along with whatever he wanted until the end.

Most of my discomfort, however, comes from two main issues: 1.) Silhara never seems to put Martise’s well-being first, and 2.) there is a huge power imbalance between the two that isn’t corrected until the very end, and Silhara never seems to be interested in leveling the playing field. First, Martise’s well-being: Silhara constantly offered comments that seemed to tear Martise down or, at the very least, be a back-handed compliment. He never seems to want to find ways of making her happy, and he centers his own desire and well-being even after big things happen. For instance, in a scene where Silhara is temporarily possessed by Corruption, he hurts Martise so badly that she cannot speak (as in, he chokes her almost to blackout). When he is freed from possession, he never seems to care about what he did to Martise or how she might be in pain. Instead, the first thing he does is order Martise to get away from him, then he orders Gurn to look after Martise to make sure she’s ok. All the while, he focuses on his own pain and jokes about his balls (which Martise kicked in order to free herself from his grasp). I was flabbergasted - why wouldn’t you want to make sure for yourself your lover is ok after something like that?

Second, the power imbalance. Even though Silhara doesn’t know Martise is a slave for the majority of the book, he does take her into his household as a servant, and has no qualms about ordering her about or taking advantage of her gentle nature. You’d think that if someone fell in love with a servant, much of the romance would be about overcoming class barriers or finding some way to put the two characters on equal footing. Sometimes, this is done by the lower class person having a sharper wit or calling out the upper class person on things that make them change for the better. Martise and Silhara never seem to have that arc. Martise calls Silhara “Master” throughout the whole book, and Silhara didn’t seem uncomfortable with it except when they were having sex. He never stops presuming to give Martise orders and expecting she obey them, not even at the very end when the question of her freedom gets resolved. And there are books out there where this class barrier is done well (Jane Eyre comes to mind), so I think Draven could have put more work into exploring the dynamics and how Martise is a match for Silhara, even given her status and lack of magic (at least, for a while).

TL;DR: Master of Crows has a good premise, but ultimately suffers from unlikeable or passive protagonists, a weak plot, and a romance with uneven power dynamics.

[quakerjoe]

You know how “I told you so” isn’t polite? Sanders supporters, warning you about how this is going to be a repeat of 2016, won’t be so civil about it.

Choosing Biden because you find him “electable” is a coward’s out. You’re no better than a conservative. You’re feckless and ball-less. Clearly, you fear change or have that good ol’ #Murican attitude of “I got mine, so fuck the rest of y’all!”

Going back to “normal” is Biden’s only real promise. Normal? You mean, like the era that led up to trump being elected because he was the outsider? You dumb fucks. Seriously. You’re all that fuckin’ STOOPID. Trump won because the nation wanted a radical; an outsider promising change to the nation- someone who was going to clean house. All the polling data back then reflected that Sanders would have kicked trump’s ass, but no... Y’all chose HRC; the woman funding and running the DNC back then. So, we got what we deserved. Now we’re paying for that ignorance, and even I swallowed a bit of pride and voted for her and, not unlike some of you today, I scorned and tried to shame 3rd party voters and those who chose to abstain. Well, I recant all that. I now see the light, and it’s shit-brown.

To defeat a radical like trumpnuts, it’ll take an actual, HONEST radical to counter him. Sanders’ record over decades has been the same. He’s been consistent. He’s been unbought and honest. If that’s not “electable” then I don’t know what the fuck is. Yosemite? You think Sanders didn’t achieve much? Clearly you didn’t bother to do ANY research. You probably heard the word “socialism” in there somewhere and peed yourself. “He’s not a REAL Democrat!” NO SHIT! That’s not the bug, sunshine, that the fuckin’ FEATURE! What has the Democratic Party done for YOU lately?

Has the DNC done ANYTHING to make Election Days holidays so we all get it off from work?

FUCK NO.

Has the DNC been open and vigilant about gerrymandering, exposing those who do it, and made serious attempts at stopping it?

FUCK NO.

Has the DNC been fighting to ensure safe elections?

FUCK NO.

Has the DNC been on top of making sure that there are enough polling stations for everyone in their districts and that they’re not being closed down?

FUCK NO.

Have they been vigilant about making laws to ensure that the minimum wage keeps up with inflation and the cost of living?

FUCK NO.

Where the unholy fuck were all of you sanctimonious motherfuckers during Obama’s tenure? You handed BOTH the House AND Senate to the GOP and fuck-all NOTHING got done. I was at the voting booth. Where the fuck were YOU?

This last election with this “Blue Wave” everyone was ranting about that won the House... AND... What about the Senate??? Nope. Still run by the GOP and they’ve been cock-blocking practically ALL legislation. The Democrats are SO feckless that they’re trying to offer a bill for table scraps during this epidemic while the GOP is offering 4X MORE. Well done, Pelosi- make the GOP look like heroes just so you can keep your own cashflow issues at bay. You jerkoffs couldn’t even do an impeachment right and you only made trump MORE popular because you allowed yourselves to be pushed around and defeated even though you had Rule of Law on your side. What a bunch of useless twats.

NOW you expect us all to just fall in line and back you up and vote for Biden? Screw that and screw you.

Not all of Sanders’ supporters will help you. More of US backed Clinton last time than did HER supporters did Obama- they backed McCain and that twat Palin. We didn’t forget that. Clinton supporters BACKED McCain!!! Did you forget that?

We are also well aware of how you look down your chicken beaks at us and what is going to happen either way here; let’s be real. If, or likely WHEN Biden loses to trump, you’ll blame us. If, by some miracle, Joe DOES win, you won’t mention us at all or give any sort of “thank you, Sanders supporters, for coming on board” and share that victory with us.

Many of us will hold our nose and vote for the turd of a babbling idiot candidate, but admit it; you’re not sure who I’m talking about really, do you- trump or Biden?

Many of us will go and vote downballot and just NOT vote for potus because we’re sick of being force-fed a hot plate of shit by the Democrats who are even right NOW, pushing for we voters to get sick and catch COVID-19 INSTEAD of postponing the primaries a month or so to keep us all safe. They KNOW some of us will get sick and die, but it’s a sacrifice the Democrats are willing to make to keep Joe’s head of steam going and keep a social democrat from recovering and maybe even winning the nomination.

Some of us won’t come out to vote at all for many reasons, but that you and your spineless party lost the faith of the people, and that’s on you and your establishment, bought-and-sold attitudes towards us. The growing numbers of Independents and the shrinking numbers of Democrats is telling, but party politics and cash flow and power are more important than actually fighting to help those you claim to represent. That’s on you, Democratic Party. You’re weak, you’re toothless and you’re spineless. The GOP knows this and so do many of your voters. Like the GOP, you offer nothing but platitudes and condescension, only the GOP will fight like a schoolyard bully to get what they want you and just sit around in your civil circle-jerks, sipping tea while you tell each other how great you are. 

We Sanders supporters are also well aware that if things come down to it being a brokered convention that the ‘superdelegates’ have ALREADY vowed to NOT vote for Sanders and they’ll just screw him anyway. So, clearly you neither need nor want our support, so remember that before even thinking about running your cowardly mouth. Clearly, you don’t want any real change in the US. You’ll push for yesterday’s news while risking 4 more of trump. That’s on YOU fuckwits; not us. Take some goddamn responsibility for once; your GOP is showing out of your fly. You may want to zip up.

When the General Election comes, I’ll be voting for actual CHANGE. If it’s not on the ballot, then there’s fuck-all for me to vote for, is there..? 

Lastly, for all the shit-talk people like to throw around about ‘unity’ and ‘vote blue no matter who’ and how anyone disagreeing with anti-Sanders snowflakes because “Boo-hoo! Someone was mean to me on the internet!”, y’all can pucker up and suck my ass. You’re uneducated, toothless bullshit has revealed that you “Biden Bros” are every bit as mean; the difference being that MY team wants change and to save us ALL. Your team is in it only to save your own asses, and you don’t realize that the people you’re trying to save it from is yourselves. 

So, to conclude, if you’re pushing for Biden and not Sanders, you can go get fucked. I’ll be standing by watching it all Bern to the ground while YOU are the ones actually stoking the fires higher. God, you people are weak, stupid, and chicken-shit.

[robert-c]

Obstacles to Real Health Care Reform

I’m not interested in detailing the pros and cons of any specific version or proposal of the health care reform debate.  Partly because they change so often and mostly because I don’t think that’s the real problem with getting support for reasonable reform. I do have some ideas of what is essential for real health care reform. But first, why is this so hard to discuss intelligently?

For 40 years we have been on a trend of political and cultural thinking that emphasizes personal self-sufficiency and glorifies personal enrichment. These ideas attach themselves to some very old and long running American beliefs and, when not pushed too far, they are responsible for very good things in our country. However, as you might have guessed, I think they have gone too far, and the health care reform “debate” is just one example.

There is a certain level of hypocrisy in the scare stories that are circulated. One of which is that care will be rationed. Anyone who thinks care isn’t rationed now just hasn’t been seriously ill lately, or isn’t paying close attention. Even if you are lucky enough to have affordable insurance, the insurance companies have their own rules about what sort of care you can receive under your coverage; the diagnosis you must have in order to get this treatment, the treatment you must try first, the drugs that will (and won’t) be approved for your conditions. So is it really rationing that’s being opposed, or who’s doing the rationing? Or maybe rationing is OK as long as you’re rich enough to get around it? This belief certainly plays to the well to do, and more importantly, the “well to do wannabes.” And finally, if there is to be rationing of care, should it be done by an entity with a profit motive that incents denying care, answerable only to the largest bloc of shares, or by doctors at most reviewed by an entity subject (at least in part) to the will of people?

Then there are the supposed solutions that warm some hearts – savings plans with tax credits etc. It strikes all the right chords, people pay for their own medical, they have to take responsibility (and the tax payers don’t), the missed taxes from the credits are more efficient than a government plan (because “everyone knows” private savings and investment is better than government spending). The problem with this approach is that it ignores several fairly obvious facts.

The first and most critical is that the median income in the US is about $32,000 per person or about $61,000 per household (median household is just under 2 people). At that level of income after necessities (let alone putting something away for retirement) there would not be much left over for a health savings account. But even if the household could put $6,000 a year aside for health care savings (almost 10% of their pretax income) it certainly wouldn’t reach the levels needed for even a short trip to a hospital for many, many years, especially when it would also have to pay for doctor visits and prescriptions. And let’s recall what the word “median” means. That’s the income where half of the people are below and half are above. If the ‘half level’ isn’t enough it should go without saying that those below it have it even worse.

The second fact it ignores is that pricing for everything from doctor and hospital visits to drugs at the pharmacy is a rigged game. There is hardly any other word for it. Outrageous prices are established for those with no insurance and heavy discounts are provided to various insurance companies’ insureds. It isn’t a “free market” economy it is a set of nested vested interests. But even if the pricing were fair and uniform, no savings/tax credit plan will provide anywhere near enough money when needed to pay for medical expenses. And let’s look at this: the 2 person household with $64,000 in income will pay $4,367 in income taxes for 2019. They will still have to pay Social Security taxes and state and local taxes. Their total federal income tax liability is less than the “credit” they are supposed to get from putting aside money for medical expenses. In short, this so called solution is a “feel good/feel right” answer only for those making 6 figures or more and who can put $10,000 or more into such an account each year even with regulated prices.

Recent information from the industry says that in 2017 the average cost for family coverage under group plans (those large employers provide their employees) was about $20,000 a year. Even if the average family covered consists of three people that’s almost $7,000 a year per person ($10,500 with a median size of 1.9, as in the above example). Clearly outside the reach of a significant number of people, unless subsidized by someone like an employer or the government.

Those who have been fortunate enough to always be covered by employer provided benefits have no idea what the costs of health care are, or the costs of trying to find health insurance on their own. To these people it is easy to imagine that some minor belt tightening in the budget should be enough to take care of medical expenses.

If we are honest about our “free market” system we will have to conclude that in the case of health care it works more to prevent competition and improvement in any way that benefits the consumer of health services. It is a case of where the profit motive (with its inherently short term outlook) is at odds with fair and reasonable behavior.

When looking for the problem the insurance companies are good place to start because they are selling a “fictitious” product. It’s not an apple, or a car, or anything you can hold or examine, it isn’t even like a share of stock in a company which at least entitles you to a share’s worth of vote at a stockholder’s meeting, and some share of the profits. The health insurance companies’ product is “coverage”, a promise to pay for some medical expenses in exchange for your premiums. However, there are huge gray areas in that promise, which they get to interpret. Part of this is unavoidable – no contract could possibly list every possible outcome. Yet, buried within phrases like “reasonable and customary” and “standard medical practices” are the “loop holes” that allow the insurance companies to essentially tell you what the product you bought, “coverage”, actually means. It’s a little as if you bought an apple, but then seller got to decide what sort and what quality of apple you got. Or maybe you bought a car, but only got to determine that it was one of the following: luxury, SUV, full size, compact, or economy. The brand and the model as well as how often you got to use it, would all be at the discretion of the seller.

Now it is true that most of the income and profits for health insurance companies come from group plans and that their cost to the employer is essentially claims paid plus administrative expenses. Most of these administrative expenses are a fixed fee plus a percent of the claims paid. So some people would argue that they make more money when more claims are paid, and so they couldn’t possibly be a problem in restricting health care.

Let’s clear this up right now. It is obvious in the case of private insurance that they would prefer to sell their “coverage” to people who will never use it or at the most use it sparingly. In the case of group employer plans there is a similar dynamic going on. Their fees for administering the plan, which easily include plenty of profit, are a relatively small percentage of the total cost to the employer, because that total cost includes claims paid. Likewise, in competing for the group business their best selling point to the employer is that they will hold claims down to a ‘reasonable’ amount.

They talk in terms of fraud detection and prevention, and in terms of “reasonable and customary” costs and treatment periods, as if all doctors were out to bilk the insurance companies of money for unnecessary treatments. Thus the competition between the carriers has become one of who can hold down claims paid, and not about the relative fees for administering the plan – which is where all of the profits of the insurance company come from.

Attempting to remove coverage for pre-existing conditions is a very subtle piece of power play. Clearly it lowers claims paid for the insurance company and in the case of their group plans it is beneficial to the employer as well. But there is another more subtle benefit to the employer. Companies have always wanted the upper hand over their employees. Given that anyone who lives long enough is likely to have some sort of medical condition, the ability to refuse coverage for such a pre-existing condition leaves the employee essentially at the employer he had when it occurred. Now, no matter how uncompetitively they’re paid, no matter how unfairly they’re treated, they dare not seek new employment or their health condition will not be covered. Now they are at the mercy of their current employer, who knows that they can’t afford to quit but still can be let go at a time of the company’s choosing because of “employment at will”, still the law in most states.

Although not directly an issue in the universal healthcare debate, the cost of drugs does play into the insurance companies’ projection of costs. And that brings us to “big pharma”. No reasonable person wants to stifle the innovation that has brought us so many helpful drugs. However, the idea that businesses unfettered by regulation can do no wrong has allowed things to get more than a little out of hand. It is that profit motive which can deliver us good or ill depending on how it is allowed to be used. It should take no leap of imagination to see that for a drug company marketing treatments is much, much more profitable than cures. Treatments need to be continuously purchased, where a cure is a one only sale. Drug companies will tell us about the enormous research and testing costs just to bring a single drug to the market, and to a point that is true. Except that decades of “pro-business/anti-regulation” sentiment have allowed these companies to lower those regulatory costs quite a bit, often having the regulators take the company’s word for the results of safety tests. Then there is what can only be called an abuse of the patent laws that was intended to allow them to recoup their investments in a new drug.

Follow along closely here, because this could be a tiny bit technical. Let’s say there is a whole class of drugs that you can see developing, but all of them would have this one new process in common. So you keep that process secret or maybe you patent it, and then patent one of the drugs you want to market. Now you charge whatever you want for this new drug and just before its patent runs out you tweak the basic process and create a virtually identical drug but one which has its own patent period, and you start the process over again. There may be dozens of variations on the original drug, into which all of the research and testing money was poured. But now add to this a business friendly regulatory environment that allows the testing and safety trials from the original drug to be used for the newer variation and like magic, you’ve used the same research and development dollars as an excuse to recoup them many times through this family of drugs. The only ethics in which this is not repugnant is one that says profit, no matter how made, is good and justifies all. And there is still that matter of cures not being pursued as ardently as treatments.

But wait! There’s more! (As the TV ads always claim.) I’ll bet you didn’t know that a lot of basic research is performed by the government and non-profit organizations, hoping to shed light on diseases like cancer etc. in the hopes of finding a cure. This research is freely available to others, like the drug companies. So a portion of the research dollars they claim they need to recoup with higher drug prices came from donations and taxes already paid by others.

On a moral spectrum this puts the drug companies only slightly better than insurance companies, and only because they at least produce a real product.

The arguments against universal health coverage boil down to two inaccurate characterizations. The first attempts to exploit fears that health care won’t be available, either through rationing or though untimely or otherwise unavailability of services. Such fear mongering ignores the very real fact that such is happening right now, but no one seems to care since it is primarily happening to those below the middle of our socio-economic ladder. In other words, as long as you can buy yourself a place near the front of the line, all is good and right with the world. BTW these stories were built upon bad experiences from decades ago with other countries’ initial experiments (like Britain) – they in no way represent what is happening in most of the developed world, or what must necessarily happen with universal health care.

The second argument against complete coverage is that those who don’t take care of their health (or other responsibilities) will be paid for by “the rest of us” (“the good people”). Of course that again is both a myth and a contradiction. First there is no factual basis to believe that there is a significant segment of the population “deliberately” not taking care of themselves just so others can pay for it, and secondly, who actually decides what that is? Smoking is a health risk, and education and restrictions on where it can be done has reduced it significantly. But as far as risk goes, barbecued red meat isn’t a lot better, and the virtually nationwide addiction to salty, fatty snacks is at least as big a health risk as smoking by itself. But we don’t regulate that largely because there is no “second hand” risk as there is with smoking. But those who are so sure that they will be paying for those who are irresponsible with their health ignore this because it is a “personal choice”.

So we are back to the fear that someone, somewhere is “getting away with something”, while imagining that “we” (“the good people”) will never be in that situation. Hopefully the most reasonable among us can see that this is completely unrealistic and born of a naïve belief that only bad things happen to bad people.

I spent my education divided between the sciences and literature. From the literature side I discovered that this idea that “bad things only happen to bad people” has been around for several thousand years. It is demonstrably not true, by even the most casual examination, yet it has a strong hold on people’s beliefs, largely because it makes them feel safe. And if I’ve learned anything from association with people who feel this way, it’s that they like to feel safe (and often even “better than” others). Of course what they don’t say out loud, even to themselves, is that underneath all of that is a fear. Fear that their “goodness” isn’t enough to protect them, maybe even that their goodness has nothing to do with what happens and that they’ve been denying and limiting themselves for no good reason all this time; while those they think of as “bad” are getting all of the things they wanted without having to pay the same dues. Thus they really like the idea of making those “bad” people pay.

From the sciences side, I learned that to get to the truth, all of the facts had to be examined, and that “double blind” experiments were needed to help us overcome our natural emotional biases, so that we could see what really is, and not what we want to see, what we are “sure” the answer should be.

Whether it is healthcare or even basic welfare, I puzzle over this obsessive concern with the “undeserving” getting something. I certainly agree that there is an element (though I think it a small percentage) of the population that would happily let the rest of us take care of them for their whole lives. And I am happy to support measures to legitimately limit fraud and other misuses of these programs. At the same time, I can’t endorse the idea that it is better to help no one, than to risk helping someone who could and should be doing more for themselves. And yet this is exactly what most of the opposition to proposals for some form of universal healthcare boil down to.

I understand that for the majority of human beings’ existence nothing was guaranteed and life was hard and survival certainly went to the strongest, and often even to the most ruthless and vicious. But it doesn’t have to be that way any longer. We have progressed and we can do better for all of us. If you just want a practical, science based reason, how about this: in a world where travel and transport of goods has put the far flung reaches of humanity close to the most densely populated, can we really afford to just let people die of disease and other ill health? Isn’t there a huge risk to us all in that? When a disease can start in some remote place then spread all over the planet in weeks or months isn’t it a little foolish to believe that we don’t have to worry about folks being ill on the “other side of the tracks”?

Let’s return to the issue of the “free market” and the pricing of insurance coverage. In the lore of the free market, competition is supposed to keep prices from becoming outrageous, or at least as low as they can be given supply and demand. For example, if the demand for something like soy beans increases suddenly, the price will go up, but that higher price will lead to an increase in the supply of soy beans as more people plant them to cash in on the higher prices, and the price will fall again. Exceptions to this pretty picture occur when the supply cannot be increased easily or quickly. But coverage is a fictitious product, it can easily be increased, all that is required is to “print” more ID cards. So why doesn’t competition work in the health insurance business?

All insurance is based on the idea that we collect money (premiums) from a group of people and that only a portion of the group will need money back to pay for the risk we are covering. Let’s say the chances of your house being hit by a tornado this year is 1 out of 50,000. Now let’s suppose that repair of the damage if you are hit is going to cost $250,000. So if I have a group of 50,000 people, all with the same risk of being hit by a tornado, and all with a similar replacement need if they are hit, then if I collect $5 a year from each of these 50,000 people I’ll have enough to pay for the one person likely to need replacement. Of course it can get more complicated; we are only talking about insuring against one risk (a tornado), and if we get lucky and no one is hit how much should we hold over to next year in case two people get hit (since these are just averages and estimates), and of course how much do we keep for profit and for administering this plan.

When it comes to health insurance we come face to face with the idea that the risks may not be equal, and this is where the idea that somehow we should all be personally responsible gets involved. All other things being equal, older people are going to have more health problems as a rule than young adults. Children are going to have more health issues than young adults. Then there are the those with “unequal” risk – people who smoke, vape or do illegal drugs, clearly have higher risk of health issues. As we mentioned before, there are other risk factors we don’t seem to care about as much, even though they are just as risky. If we can get past the idea that everyone else is out there just waiting to cheat the system we might be able to examine this in a more rational manner.

So let’s focus first on the unavoidable and more or less inevitable facts of life risk. In this example no one is doing anything that would reasonably impact their health negatively. Over the course of a whole life, we all might expect to experience the same pattern of health expenses, high in childhood (typically NOT during our parent’s peak earning years), lower when young to middle-age adults without children, and then high again when we reach our senior years, where again we might more likely find ourselves with only retirement income. This pattern alone should suggest a rate that is supportable over the whole of a life is the most appropriate. But remember, we’re talking “free enterprise” and price competition, so here’s one of the ways that works out. I offer coverage at low rates hoping to attract those lucrative childless adults who pay their premiums and almost never have claims. To ensure I’m not picking up any potential claims expenses I either rate up or refuse coverage to people with pre-existing conditions. Next year when it is time to renew, the good rates only continue to the people who haven’t had any claims, and higher rates apply to others. In this way, I am continually cultivating a core group with low claims and therefore high profit to me, while collecting more from those whom I might have to pay out claims. Now what is especially pernicious about this, is how free enterprise competition doesn’t work. If I, as an honorable insurance carrier, wanted to use “over the whole life” rating my rate would be higher for the childless young adults and lower for the children and seniors. I won’t attract any of the high profit childless young adults and all of the high claims expense families with children and seniors. This won’t work because as a company/group we need to collect at least as much in premiums as we are going to pay out. Only regulation prohibiting certain rating practices can keep this on a level playing field where everyone has an opportunity; where the competition is really about service and efficiency reflected in rates, not just a way to put all the “bad risks” in a pool to pay more.

Since we are still talking about a scenario where no one is taking unreasonable risks to harm their health, and we’re appealing to a conservative point of view, perhaps we should point out that “traditionally” this is how humans have organized their societies; where the able bodied young adults carried extra burden for the children and the old – for the children because they are our future and for the old because their experience and knowledge are valuable and because of their past contributions.

Now to the issue of choices that may increase risk. Surely a certain amount of rating up for behaviors can be supported, against the overall whole life rating. But going too far in this direction merely becomes the sort of intrusive “micro-management” most of us, conservative or liberal, would like to avoid. Once we get past this “blame game” of presuming everyone else is out to get a free ride, the priorities can be put in proper perspective.

One of those perspectives was mentioned earlier in this article; there is a risk to us all for simply letting others die “in the streets” because of their neglect of health issues. Add to this the fact that waiting until these health issues are acute, i.e. serious enough to get you into an emergency room, is more expensive than preventative care, and we have a case for saying that we need a simple rating scheme that takes into account your whole life, and that we may need to subsidize the rate for those with incomes below a certain level. As for the well-off paying “more”; those with more, have more to lose when disease brings down most of the society and the people whose efforts make their lifestyle possible.

The next issue of choice masquerades as religious freedom. “Why should I have to pay for someone’s abortion when I believe it is wrong?” “Why should I have to pay for: birth control, blood transfusions, vaccinations etc.” There is a rather elegant answer to these questions.

The very same conservative forces who want to raise these questions and issues now have already done so, in another form. They were quite persuasive during the Viet Nam war that religious objections to war did not mean you could avoid paying your part of taxes that went to the Department of Defense. Legally the argument is something along the lines of the representative form of government already allowed your input to the decision. And your personal religious objection allows you to perform alternate service, as opposed to killing.

Now, once again, some people have confused religious freedom with the freedom to impose their personal moral views on others. Or perhaps they have confused intolerance of others who believe differently with a measure of their sincerity of belief. Since most of these groups like to identify themselves as Christian, I’d like to ask just how much of their judgmental positions come from the New Testament versus the Old? I’d like to spur them to give some serious thought to how to reconcile their view points with statements like: “love your enemies”, “let he who is without sin cast the first stone”.

But I know that is pointless, those questions will not be raised by the followers of the religious right. They won’t come up because despite all the rhetoric, this isn’t really about religion or spirituality – it’s about following charismatic leaders, who tell their followers what to believe by playing to their fears and sugar coating their memories of the past, as if it were somehow near perfect.

The last element of choice really depends on the exact nature of the plan adopted, but the one choice that shouldn’t be allowed is to opt out completely. Here again a certain level of inconsistency in the opposition shows up. The main opposition to mandatory coverage comes from the same folks who are usually afraid that someone is “getting a free ride”. Yet, those without medical coverage (whether because they can’t afford it, or because they don’t think they’ll get sick) will not get treatment for conditions until it is serious. Then they will go to county hospitals where emergency treatment will be more costly to taxpayers in the long run. Or maybe their idea is to let them die without treatment at all? But then, that’s a good way to ensure the spread of epidemics. The reason everyone must participate is to spread the risk, and the cost over the largest possible group so as to keep the costs reasonable. It is also the best way to protect everyone.

While this represents a change from the “way things were”, it is in line with other aspects for the general good. Public schools are funded by taxes you pay whether or not you have children who will be in school, because we are in an age when education is not a luxury, and an ignorant citizenry is as much a threat to liberty as an unchecked tyrant.

While it is a different issue all its own, it seems only fair to mention that the opioid crisis is not entirely the fault of big pharma and super addictive drugs. The health insurance companies have certainly played their part. I personally know of a case where in order to avoid, or at least delay, the payment for a needed back surgery, the insurance company continued to request more review and information, even after their own prior approvals of the surgery. This went on for a year with the patient taking ever stronger doses of opioid pain medication. When the surgery was finally done, weaning off the opioids was extremely difficult.

The purpose of the above anecdote is to point out that the free enterprise method of dealing with this fictional product called “coverage” is more like a game of “hot potato” than it is anything resembling competition for the best quality and service.

Here are the basic features I think universal coverage should have:

·         Everyone is covered,

·         Individuals can pick their own doctors (because all doctors participate),

·         Coverage does not contain exceptions for “pre-existing conditions” or excluded services to appease various religious groups,

·         Premiums are set considering all ages, races and genders together,

          o   Some lifestyle choices (e.g. smoking) might be rated up in premium,

          o   Low and no income people would have little or no premium to pay out of their own pocket.

          o   How much of the overall premium is paid by individuals and how much out of general revenue of the government is an issue to be determined with other specifics.

Now the big question is who provides and administers this insurance; the government or the private insurers? To be honest I have concerns about both. Large government programs can become inefficient. I don’t believe that is inevitable, but it does happen. As a pragmatist, I also know that such a proposal would fire up opposition without even bothering to examine the pros and cons.

On the other hand, I have an even harder time with the profit motivated businesses having control over this. They still have the motivation to hold claims down through every available means, as they do now; letting delaying tactics masquerade as vigilance against fraud or abuse.

If all of the private insurance companies had to have the same rates for the same situations then larger insurers have an advantage, since they would have a mix of insureds more nearly representative of the national demographics that were the source of the rating. A small insurer could have a windfall or a crisis depending on whether or not their group of insured had more or less claims than the national average.

If everyone had to use the same rating methods for premiums, but were allowed to go above or below the “national standard”, then the illusion of competition would exist, but because the product is this fuzzy thing called “coverage” there is little to no way for the consumer to evaluate it.  The biggest factor determining the insurance companies’ rates and profits would still be claims paid versus premiums collected and the easiest way a company can positively influence those numbers is by lowering claims paid. (In today’s world they also get to do it by denying coverage to those they believe will have high claims.)

Based on the above, perhaps a standard rate for all private insurers, with reimbursement from the government if claims paid exceed premiums collected. This would be covered by taxes on insurance company windfalls when premiums collected go too far above claims paid. This is only a starting point for ideas on how to make this work with private insurers. Unfortunately the debate never gets down to these issues; it stalls around the generalities and clichés the sides have locked into.

While attempting to get to some sort of plan, let’s please keep in mind that the profit motive is at best a two edged sword; it does not encourage only the best behaviors. While it can produce better quality goods and services at better prices, in some cases it can do just the opposite. Recall that greed was designated as one of the “seven deadly sins” and the phrase “love of money is the root of all evil” is not entirely wrong.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Lonely, Dark and Deep - ao3 link - Chapter 4

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Madara/Tobirama, background others Summary:

Hashirama was always going to have to leave Konoha behind one day, but no one was expecting for it to happen so soon.

Tobirama falls apart without his brother.

Madara, mad and bitter and preparing to leave himself, finds that he’s now without his best friend and responsible for a village he’d just about given up on.

And now it seems like there’s something not quite right with the forest…

———————————————————————————–

Tobirama is an amazing Nidaime.

Madara is increasingly convinced, watching him, that it was a role he was always meant to play, no matter how everything else might have panned out. Oh, he's still not charismatic in the way Hashirama was or Madara is, still grumpy and off-putting and inclined to tread all over people, but he's devoted to the well-being of their village with a ruthless single-minded intensity that wins him respect and loyalty from every shinobi and kunoichi and civilian in the village.

They don't love him the way they loved Hashirama, but they need him. He knows the institutions of the village better than anyone else, having thousands of facts at a moment's recall; he remembers everybody’s names and their problems and actually follows up on them; he turns their village from a good idea with promise into something so concrete, so obviously lasting, that the children growing up have started forgetting there was ever anything else.

(Madara's heard some genin talking of what people have started calling, rather dismissively, the warring clans era; they ‎sound almost envious, complaining about the rules that restrict them to D-rank missions rather than fighting in the wars. Of all ridiculous things to resent, the rules that keep them alive..! How quickly people forget the pain of the past.)

Tobirama started working furiously the second they returned to the village, setting a pace that made his previous efforts seem sedate, and no matter how much got done he never seemed to be finished or have time to stop.

Of course, when asked, there was always a good reason for it.

First, the election - Madara, who'd been certain that Hashirama's election had been little more than a ploy designed to exclude him from the position of Hokage, is surprised‎ when Tobirama insists on another one, and on putting Madara's name on the ballot beside his own. Apparently Tobirama actually believes in the principles of democracy, explaining when Madara asks that leadership by appointment or inheritance alone is a recipe for disaster when the inevitable day comes when the wrong person takes up a position to which they are not suited - a disaster that, inevitably, someone would have no choice but to take it upon themselves to fix. 

(There's an old pain in Tobirama's eyes when he says it that he never explains,‎ and Madara wonders again how it happened that Hashirama inherited his position so quickly after Madara took his, when to all appearances Butsuma had appeared to be still going strong. The official story was that he'd died an illness from some hidden injury in battle, and certainly Madara knows that such things are eminently probable, but the timing has always been deeply suspicious.)

They hold the vote and Madara can see, this time, that there is no trickery the way he had been so certain there was the last time. Hashirama's sway over the village is as strong as it ever was, and though a few other clan leaders put their names on the ballot as well - mostly led by the Hyuuga, arrogant little snots that they are - ‎Tobirama wins easily.

And then the work really begins. 

Tobirama has students that he refuses to neglect, three assigned to him by the Academy system he himself set up and three more that he inherited when their ‎own teacher died too early. He trains with them every morning and evening, with occasional training trips, and the rest of the time he handles the work of the village.

Managing to achieve peace and get decisions made while having to pass his ideas through a council composed of all the clan heads would by itself be a full time job, but Tobirama does that and far more – and not, as Madara had always feared, at the expense of his clan.

The Uchiha are given the power of police, tasked both with internal order - unpopular but necessary, particularly in a village where most peoples' primary trade is in blood - and external security, which wins them accolades as heroes. The Hyuuga and Senju are by necessity given a share in the latter, along with the other smaller clans, but the role is clearly subordinate. The face-saving reason given is benefits of coordinating of their security forces under one clear line of authority, but Madara sees his clan toasted as the village's hands, the highest honor a shinobi can give, and knows that it is Tobirama's way of trying to do his best by them.

(External security is easier than it might be - Tobirama is not wrong when he says the forest protects them, and while their location ‎is only technically secret, no foreign army or assassination squad ever seems to reach them. A few individuals with bad intentions slip through, yes, but only the ones who come through the main roads - those who try to cut through the forest are often just found dead, throats ripped out by animals or drowned in quicksand traps that no one had known were there.) 

Security aside, though, there's still everything else to be done, ranging from finances to sanitation to zoning to diplomacy to making sure there's always plenty of food available. And all of that is aside from the brewing strife with Kiri – a would-be war that is only limited to minor skirmishes because of their opponents’ fear of facing shinobi with the combined reputations of Madara and Tobirama together.

(Madara tries not to think of how differently it might have gone if he wasn't here by Tobirama’s side. Having just one shinobi of their caliber available means that the enemy has a target to focus on to the exclusion of all else – having two is much safer, because if they really needed to, they could take shifts in order to keep watch at all times of day and night. They don’t need to, not yet, but they could, and that’s its own form of deterrence.)

Yes, Tobirama is an amazing Hokage.

But he's not a happy one.

He works too much, for one thing.

Part of the reason for his endless work is that what used to be divided between Hashirama and Tobirama is now borne by Tobirama alone, but that’s not the only reason. Madara might not be great at paperwork, but neither was Hashirama, and the administrative system that Tobirama creates – levels of review, committees composed of experts, trained secretaries to assist them – ensures that while there’s a lot more paper than there ever was before, most of the village could continue to function even without constant review by its Hokage. 

But Tobirama is not just the Hokage; he’s on every committee, an expert in every subject or forcing himself to learn about it, and where there isn’t enough work to justify staying late, he makes more – village work, his own work creating new jutsus for the village to use, or even personal matters.

Once a week, he meets with Madara to work on their mutual project, as he’s taken to calling Madara’s ‘quest’ for the Rinnegan; twice a week, he devotes a full afternoon to researching new jutsu and seals; three times a week, he visits with Mito and his nephews, who he never abandons the way Hashirama did.

Whether he gets any pleasure from any of it, though...

“Falling apart,” Senju Touka opines, watching him leave the office on the urgent request of one of their infinite committees. She’s helping out in the office while on medical leave between front-line postings – she's easily one of their best scouts, capable of great subtlety but strong as a bear and with the short temper of one, too, and Madara sometimes thinks that Izuna might have liked her a great deal. He can think things like that now, without wanting to kill the entire world and then himself. "I told him not to put his trust in people."

Madara looks sharply at her. He'd been under the impression such things were as little discussed among the Senju as the curse of hatred was among the Uchiha.

She meets his gaze without flinching. "I know you know," she says. "You're his right hand."

"I am not!" Madara exclaims immediately. "We fight all the time!"

She snorts. "Of course you do; doesn’t mean you aren’t. It's a precedent now, don't you realize? Two times at the beginning is enough to make for a tradition. Our village’s system of government now officially consists of a Hokage and his one advisor whose job it is to yell at‎ the Hokage when he makes mistakes - just as Tobirama was for Hashirama. People are already wondering who will fill that role for you." 

Madara stares at her, a chill going down his spine. "For me?" 

"You must know that you’re the obvious next candidate -"

"I know that. But why are people speculating about me at all? Tobirama is doing a fantastic job. They can’t possibly want to vote him out." 

Touka looks at him pityingly. "Surely you know."

“Know what?”

“Do you think he’s working so hard to set up a stable system of government for fun?” she asks. “He’s making sure that the village will continue to function no matter who gets appointed as his successor. The second he thinks he’s fulfilled all of his obligations – the village stable and prospering, his students graduated, whatever that project is that he’s working on with you finished – he’s going to go to join Hashirama.” 

Madara flinches.

Yes. He did know that. 

He’d just…been trying not to think about it. Part of it was the traditional discomfort with shinobi suicides – common, far too common, though less now that they had a semblance of peace – and part of it is the distinct feeling that he’d be letting Izuna down if he permitted his brother’s best rival to die by his own hand.

(In his rage and madness he’d somehow forgotten that for however much Izuna distrusted the Senju as a whole, he’d always been rather fond of Tobirama personally – my greatest challenge, he used to say, eyes sparkling with life as he thought up new ways to fight him, an excitement that put a smile on his face in a way nothing else could during those terrible winters when they were living off of little more than dreams of the future. My eternal rival, as those awful Maito people like to say.)

“That’s what happens when you put your trust in people,” Touka concludes, looking back down at the work she’s been doing. “Take those people away, and what do you have? Nothing. The only reason he’s not dead already is because Hashirama’s last request was for him to care for the village.” 

This is probably true.

“Is there any way to stop it?” Madara finally asks. 

Touka looks amused. “Rethinking your position on my little cousin?”

“No! Just…”

“He’s growing on you? Not unlike mold on bread?”

Madara is not going to laugh. He’s not. He’s being serious.

“I have an ongoing project with him,” he says instead. “I don’t want him to disappear before that’s done.”

They’re making ridiculous amounts of progress, actually; Madara’s not a scientist the way Tobirama is and he hadn’t realized the difference it would make. At the beginning, he thought Tobirama took too many notes, but as they continued experimenting (Hashirama’s amazing recuperative abilities had apparently been a subject of significant scientific interest for years, which meant that Tobirama had lots of his brother’s blood hidden away as samples in his labs, enough for dozens and dozens of experiments without even making a significant dent in the pile) they were able to cross-compare that data and let it lead them wherever it could go.

Sure, Tobirama also vetoed any plan that involved Madara testing their results on himself, but given that the first test they’d done on a sample -

(eyeballs are mostly water, Tobirama said dismissively, give me three weeks and I can make a jutsu to create temporary – albeit imperfect – replacements to use in the experiments, and terrifyingly enough he actually had)

- had caused the sample eyes to literally explode, Madara thinks that was probably a good idea.

Tobirama’s also been making noises recently about wanting to see the stone tablet even though he won’t be able to read the text itself (he extracted more of the details from Madara by arguing that there might be hidden clues in the precise text about the Rinnegan, though obviously Madara hasn’t explained the exact nature of the Infinite Tsukuyomi), which Madara is very strongly against due to his sincere belief that Tobirama will find a way to read it even without a Sharingan because the man is just like that, but which he is starting to think might be inevitable.

Unless Tobirama dies first, of course.

“He won’t stick around just for a project,” Touka says disdainfully. She doesn’t ask what they’re working on; she clearly doesn’t give a fig for science except for the edge it gives her in battle, which is a position Madara can respect. “No matter how interesting. Listen, it’s practically the unofficial Senju clan motto: ‘on this point we do not bend but only break.’ He put everything he had to live for in Hashirama, and Hashirama is gone. He’s broken. That’s it. There’s nothing else to it.”

“Even the curse of hatred can be broken,” Madara points out. He doesn’t need to point at himself as a walking, talking example; he feels that’s pretty much implied. “I understand that his principle is his brothers’ happiness, which he can’t achieve anymore, but still! There must be something that can save him from himself.”

“Sure. Find him a new brother.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I mean, maybe not a brother, but something like it; I’m pretty sure he was smart enough to make his principle something more like ‘loved ones’ rather than ‘brothers’ to avoid having to deal with an unexpected sister or something...shouldn’t this be clear to you? Your own grief about losing your brother persisted until you were hit with the shock of losing another one, right?”

That’s not exactly how Madara would have put it, given how complicated and sometimes not-entirely-fraternal his relationship with Hashirama was, the way there was always an unspoken sense of anticipation that there could be much more between them, but – yes. Basically.

“That’s the problem with people,” Touka says. “People die. Ideas live forever.”

Madara looks at her sidelong. “What’s your ‘idea’, then?”

“None of your fucking business is what it is.”

Right. Not talked about, got it.

A long few moments of silence.

“…where would you even get someone a new brother?”

“That’s it!” Touka exclaims, standing up. “I give up!” 

Madara frowns as he watches her storm out. No wonder Izuna was always so annoyed when he did that – she didn’t even answer his question! 

(The idea that maybe there isn’t an answer – that maybe Tobirama is going to die sooner rather than later, and it was even odds whether it would be by his own hand or if he’d go the traditional route of volunteering for a mission with low odds of success – isn’t worth thinking about. 

Why the death of the man who killed his last brother isn’t worth thinking about…is just going to have to be something else he’s just not going to think about.)

[thepurebredking]

BY THE WAY, YOU’RE SCREWED w/@DhestroyLegacy

Wrath: Tonight was going to be a long night. Not only did I have a full schedule to begin with, we had squeezed this Brian O’Neal kid in near the beginning of it. I was still unsure of how that conversation was going to go. I guess it would depend on how much he had already learned about his great-grandsire, and what he was going to be satisfied with. How much information was he looking for? The meeting could go in so many directions. I wasn’t sure I was ready for some of them, but we would see when he got here.

Caroh had fit Brian in somewhat early on it the evening, due to the fact that our early was his late. So, V had directed one of the doggen to pick him up in one of the blackened out towncars. Yes, he had found his way here once, but no need for him to remember that if we didn’t need him to. I had directed V to only tell Brian what was necessary to get him to agree to meet with us. Seeing as V had wiped him, I wasn’t sure what he was aware of at this point, and didn’t want V to give him any more information than was needed to get him in that car. He would find answers to his questions once he arrived.

Once again, I made sure that V was present with me. It had actually been V’s night for rotation, but a slight adjustment to the schedule and V was switched to be at the Audience House with me. Any other night, he would have fought tooth and nail to be out on rotation, as opposed to being here, at the Audience House. But, knowing that Brian was coming in tonight, he wanted to be here. He was just as thrown by the whole discovery as I was, and as much as this was going to be an answer session for Brian, we had questions for Brian, as well.

Brian: I was surprised to  the black car outside of my home. I told them to leave, but whomever was driving insisted I had an appointment somewhere. Why the fuck couldn't I remember? Shaking my head, I grabbed my phone, and my jacket. I also grabbed my gun, if I'm going to an unknown location, I was going to fuck someone up and take them down with me. I put the muzzle down the back of my pants, and pulled my shirt over it. Putting on my Jacket, I walked over to my niece and kissed the top of her head and left a note for my sister. No need to even try talking to her, I was a fucking ghost.

Wrath: The night started off with a couple looking for a blessing on their youngs’ mating. A mating that the young in question did not want. Thankfully, both young involved were at the appointment and could stand up to oppose the mating. Had they not been there, or submitted forms in advance, I might have had to grant match. There had definitely still been some people that were not thrilled with the fact that I had won the vote and obtained the throne. This pair of parents were among them, and they made it blatantly clear what they thought. V abruptly reminded them of their stature in the court, and they less than graciously left. The young thanked me emphatically.

Checking with V on the time, I knew it was close to time. I had one more appointment before Brian would be here, a couple that had been mated 250 years ago and were looking for my blessing on it. At the time of their mating, there was no one sitting on the throne to bless their union. They figured seeing as this would be their 250th anniversary, and a king sat on the throne, what better time. Beth would love this shit! I called for Micah to bring them in.

Brian: I chilled in the back of the car, my fingers twitching, I honestly couldn't remember a damn thing and it was eating away in my gut. Something was wrong,  that's what my cop instinct told me. As we slowed at a red light, I looked out in the night. The windows were tinted black, but I was still able to see. Rolling my neck, my fingers itched. I leaned up, and asked if we could make a quick stop. They said sure, and stopped me at a gas station. I promised I'd behave and bought a pack of cigs, and popped one in between my lips and smoked the whole damn thing before crushing it on my jeans. Feeling a bit more calm. I slid back, and off we went to see the wonderful wizard of assholes. Swallowing, I put one behind my ear as the car stopped.

Entering the building, I seen eyes widen in shock before a doggen darted into the back. Quirking a brow, I ignored the reaction as I studied the surroundings by me before putting a smoke to my lips,  not lighting, yet.

Wrath: *****

Micah was at the front again, tonight. He had been read in on the whole Brian sitch. It was evident that the King and V didn’t want anyone else to know about this guy until they were able to square things away. It wouldn’t go over well if someone like Marissa was to find out about him before Wrath and V were able to research all the details. So, a small staff of doggen, as well as Caroh at the front desk and Micah standing guard, were there for the night. Caroh and Micah had both already seen Brian, so there wasn’t a concern of them talking. They had both been told the seriousness of the situation.

Caroh saw Brian the second he stepped inside and immediately greeted him. “Brian, correct?” she questioned as she checked him off the appointment book. “Micah will bring you in, in a moment, if you’d like to take a seat.” She motioned to the set of chairs off to the side, and nodded to someone just down the hall, out of Brian’s site.

Micah caught the nod from his position, just outside the Meeting Room, and patiently waited for the couple inside to come out, all the while keeping his eyes on Caroh for protection. He would be at her side in a flash if needed. A couple of minutes later the doors swung open and an elated couple emerged, hand-in-hand. Micah escorted them back out front and wished them well on their anniversary.

Turning to Brian, he nodded and spoke, “If I search you, am I going to find any weapons on you?”

Brian: Watching everyone scurry around,  I  against the wall instead of taking a chair. I saw the couple coming out, freezing as they look at me. Quirking a brow,  I hear the word, “Human” but everything else was gone. Shaking my head inwardly at the odd word and moved passed them only to come up to the other guy. I reached behind me and pulled out my gun before letting it hang from my finger. “Safety is on, I wasn't planning on shooting myself in the ass.” I smirked, but looked at him seriously, “The gun stays on me, I may be a cop, but I'm not stupid enough to walk into a trap. Other than the gun, I got nothing else on me.” Setting the gun down close to me, I held my arms out for him to search me.

Wrath: *****

Micah thought to himself, ‘Respect to the guy for not trying to pull a fast one on me, but…’ unfortunately, Micah knew he was going to have to unburden the guy of the gun before letting him in the room with the King. “I’m sorry. I appreciate you being honest and all, but I can’t let you in that room with the gun… and trust me, you want to go in that room. If it makes you feel better, Caroh will lock it up in our safe, but you can’t take it in.” He waited, to see how the guy would react.

Brian: I growled between clench teeth as I stepped into the guy’s personal space. “Anyone jacks that gun, or I get my ass killed, or beat. I will hold you responsible. No, that's not a threat. It's a damn promise.” I hissed before handing him my glock. Normally, I would have walked when someone told me that, but my gut was telling me he was right. I was meant to be here, even if my cop instinct was telling me to tell them to fuck off. Narrowing my eyes, I looked down the hall, as if waiting for something before I shook it off. “We got a deal?”

Wrath: *****

Without responding, or taking his eyes off of Brian, Micah passed the gun to Caroh. Once Caroh took the gun and was on her way in the other direction, Micah turned on his heel and started walking toward the Meeting Room. “This way.” He had no patience for Brian’s sense of self-worth. He was here at the request of the King. Did he not even understand what that meant?

Stopping at the door, he reached an arm out as if to direct Brian into the room. “The King awaits.” He made sure to emphasize the word ‘King’, in order to remind the guy of who he was here to see. Once Brian was fully inside the room, Micah spoke clearly enough for the King to hear him, “Brian O’Neal, my sire.” and quietly backed out of the room, closing Brian in behind him.

*****

I listened as the kid cautiously moved forward. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure you have questions.”

Brian: The emphasis was not lost on me. However, I didn't know who the hell anyone was. My eyes snap up at the voice, holy shit! My adrenaline snapped and it made me jump back. In front of me, I was staring down two giant fuckers. Swallowing hard, and reached behind me, only to realize my gun was not on me. Mother fucker! Sitting down on the chair.

“Yeah, let’s start with an easy one, who the hell are you? And what the hell do you want with me?”

Wrath: I could hear the apprehension in Brian’s voice practically before he started speaking. He had absolutely no memories of our last meeting. Good, actually. The less he knew starting off, the better. The last time we met, he had preconceived ideas of who we were. Most of them, I’m sure were incorrect. This time, I could tell him without other ideas clouding up his vision. “Actually, you sought us out, and now that we’ve done a little digging and found out who you are, we have asked you back here so we could give you the answers you seek, as well as answer some of ours.” I paused for a second to let that sink in, but before he could start asking questions, I continued, “I believe you are looking for your great-grands… father? We have some answers for you, about him. Now, we can tell you about his life, who he spent it with, how he lived it, and who he was. However, I will tell you, the more information you want, the further down the proverbial rabbit hole you will go. So, ask yourself this, how much do you really want to know about your great-grandfather? You may find out some truths about yourself, you don’t want to know.” I knew that wasn’t going to make a shit ton of sense to the kid. But, I couldn’t put it more plainly. There were things here, that if the kid dug too deep, he may not want to know. I had found out he was a cop, so I was assuming digging was the kid’s second nature. However, in this situation, he needed a warning.

Brian: Sitting up straight, I listened to his words. I been here before? When?  Why couldn't I remember? Bowing my head, I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged gently. It was a habit I had picked up whenever I got stressed out. Sighing softly, I looked up at the guy. “Why…” I was cut short at the mention of my great-grandfather. My eyes widen, sitting closer to the edge. “You knew him?” The warning was grave, basically, I could end up six feet under, but honestly? I could care less. Besides, although these fuckers were huge, I felt...odd sort of hope. Licking my lips, my mind was made. I did what no one else could, I found his other life. “Tell me, I don't care if you end up killing me, just please. Tell me.”

Wrath: I knew this kid was going to want it all. However, I was only giving him as much as he asked for. I found it interesting though, that he was willing to die for information. What good could it possibly do for him to know, two minutes before dying? No matter. The kid wanted answers, I had them. “Your great-grandfather was an honorable man. I know you have had your doubts about that, but let me assure you, if he had known about your grandfather’s existence, your life would be extremely different. He would have been a part of his life, as well as your father’s, and yours. He lived life hard, and he loved hard. He was fierce with protecting and loving his family. He was a cop, just like you, and later a warrior, protecting a race. To us, he was family. From what I’ve learned about you, he’d have been proud of who you’ve become. Don’t get me wrong, he had his faults, but they were far outweighed by his good points.” How much more to tell him, without blowing the kids mind. That was about my limit, without the kid actually digging for more. The kid would have to ask some pointed questions to get more than that. “How long have you been searching for him? And by the way, don’t be so quick to die for answers. They won’t do you any good in the Fade.”

Brian: Listening to his words, my heart ached in my chest. It sounded like he had a good life, a strong one. Swallowing back emotion,  it took me awhile to get what he was saying. It was mind boggling, it was odd. Shaking off the sense of dread before looking at him. “I just needed to know what happened, now I can put my dad at peace. That's why this information is worth my death. WillI tell him where he was, no. That would be up to you guys.  Myself? Been looking for information about him for fifteen years. My great-grandfather's friend died looking for him, grandfather was killed trying to find him, got caught in a crossfire, my dad hates him because he thought he abandoned us for another family. Wouldn't you want to put those restless spirits, souls, whatever you want to call them, to rest? To be at peace?” I shrugged, “If I can do that, then it's worth it if you send me to a pine box afterwards.”

Wrath: Listening to Brian’s story about his family, I could see how the events could have unfolded that way. “Trust me, if he had known about your grandfather, he would have been there for every moment. There would never have been any question that his heart was with you all. But none of that is any reason for us to put you in a pine box.” I got the implication. I knew how humans buried their deceased. “I am only trying to help you make peace with the… “ I tried to come up with a way to get my point across with the weight I intended, but came up short. “Unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Waving a hand, I motioned to V to show Brian the folder of pictures we brought. I had asked V to make sure none of them gave away anything about us, as a race, or our locations. But, I wanted Brian to be able to see that his great-grandfather had lived a happy life. I also made sure none of them had either V or myself in them. Having pictures of Cop looking as young as he did, next to us, also looking young, would definitely freak this kid out. After I heard a shuffle of paperwork being passed, I spoke up. “We brought some pictures of your great-grandfather that we thought you might like to see.” I gave him a minute to peruse through them and let everything he has heard and seen sink in.

Brian: Sitting back, I narrowed my eyes.  Something wasn't right here. What he was saying, was true. I understood that, but something was...off. An earlier statement rung inside my head. “You may find some things out about yourself,’ then him telling me that I wasn't going down in a pine box for wanting to give peace to my family, then why make that innuendo? Snapping out of those thoughts, I caught the last part of his statement before sitting up. Unfortunate misunderstandings, that's one way to accurately describe this cluster fuck. A folder was slammed in front of me, and eagerly I opened it. Scanning each photo, each one held emotion. Whether it was love, lust, happiness, joy. Something about them was off though, and that's when I came across my grandfather holding a child, a girl. “I...I’m a nephew?” Well, I guess that shouldn't be a surprise, although it stung deep in my chest. I never did look up as I continued to look through them, the girl was growing up, but...Butch never changed. His appearance never got older. Now, I wasn't one to believe in the supernatural, not personally anyway. I was more thinking of them being myths that people created out of boredom, or as something that happened aeons ago. Something twisted as I looked up, “What are you?”

Wrath: A nephew? What fucking pictures did V put in that envelope? I raised my wraparounds with my thumb and forefinger as I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “No. Your great-grandfather had no young. He had many in his life, but none were of his own blood.” Dropping the shades back on my nose, I looked back up. Shit! What had I said that would have led him to that question? I thought back, hard, on everything I had said. Nothing. There was nothing I could come up with that would have steered him in that direction. That meant someone fucked up and put something in that envelope that didn’t make sense to the kid. I diverted away from the question. “However, you do have more family than you know about.”

Brian: I compiled the photos in front of him, pointing to each one, watching one of the guys pale slightly. “Someone put photos of the child growing up, everyone is tight lip smile, but their lips are sealed. I’m a detective, not an idiot.” I knew he avoided my question, and would avoid. That statement had me halting. What? “I know most of the O’Neal kids, and you said that he didn't have kids, how could I have more family?” Were they lying to me? Did he have a kid? I sat down, rubbing my temples. I seen the goatee guy leaning over, but I couldn't hear what was said, but by the guy's face, I knew it wasn't good.

Wrath: The sound of shuffling photos hit my ears and I waited, knowing that V would explain. “Fuck!” came the muffled response from V off to my right. As he leaned down to my ear, he whispered an explanation that several of the photos happened to have Nalla, Bitty, and LW in the background, growing up. I shook my head thinking, ‘First off, I’m going to kill the idiot that put the photos together, but more importantly, I’m going to beat the fuck out of V for not looking through them more thoroughly.’

Once again, I ignored the basic question. How to explain to a human that you, yourself aren’t? Most won’t believe, and I wasn’t sure I had the patience for the whole ‘Fucky you, you are!’ argument. "You have family on your great-grandfather’s side… behind him in your family tree. I am one of those relatives, as is my son and one of my… associates. It’s distant, but blood, all the same.”

Brian: I noticed, that once again, he ignored my question again, fine. As the saying goes, the less you say, the more that's revealed. Or something like that. I almost fell backward at his words, he was a relative of mine? Grabbing the desk to keep me up right, I stared at the black wraparounds, “Say what now? You telling me you are my….distant cousin or some shit?” Honestly, I didn't know what to think as I stood up and began to pace. Shit....”Wait…” I stopped and stared at him, “Does that mean I'm related to grease ball behind you?” I was flipped off at that, but I shrugged.

Wrath: Not knowing this kid from Adam, I had no understanding of how he would take any more information. However, we couldn’t let him go with only half of it. If he left now, he might be satisfied in knowing what he found out about his great-grandsire, but he would be back, and I couldn’t have him coming back and forth, drawing attention to our world. However, if we wiped him again and let him go, he would surely be back. Maybe not in a few days, or even a few weeks, but he would be back. This was going to have to be an all or nothing deal.

“I have an offer for you. If you would like to learn more, I can arrange for you to meet the rest of the family. But, you would have to come tonight and be ready to spend a few days with us. Should you chose not to, you will likely never get the chance again.” I paused for a second before adding. “I will warn you, this is the proverbial rabbit hole.”

Brian: Sitting back, I stayed quiet, lost in thought. I had what I needed, the proof of his life, where he was, and how things came to be, however it didn't feel like I accomplished anything. Stuck in the same damn rut, being cursed at. All because of a decision none of us made. I scraped my hand through my hair, ‘proverbial  rabbit hole’ he says. I wanted to snicker at the reference, but didn't.  According to this big guy, I was family. His family. I couldn't help looking back through the tears of my life in thought, was this what Butch was looking for? Sitting up, I grabbed the photos again, and looked through them, by the looks of it, he found what he was looking for, was I going to? Something in me vibrated at the idea of it, another part warned me at the ominous warning. Once I make this decision, there was no going back. Part of me wondered why I was about to say what I was going to say, until my niece’s face popped in my head.

“I come along, my  family gets left alone?” I asked, “And I put my dad at peace. As I said before, and Mr. Broody there can come if he wish to prove that I didn't break my word, not a word of this gets mentioned.” Was I asking a lot, yep. Did I expect him to okay anything? Nope. A small sliver of me hoped he would though.

Wrath: Letting out a heavy sigh, this kid was going to be the death of me. “Don’t worry about your family. They are in no danger. We have no intention of hurting them, or you, for that matter. However, you can put your father’s mind at peace /after/. You come with us tonight, give us a few days, then you can go back to him and put his mind at ease, then.” I couldn’t tell the kid that I couldn’t have him leave, knowing what he did. I wanted him to know it all before making a decision about the rest of his family and life. As it was, if he agreed, we were going to have to keep him here tonight, I was going to have to cancel my appointments for the night, and then I was going to have to go back to the manse and let everyone know what was happening. If he decided against it, we would have to wipe him again and send him home. That might even require moving the Audience House, and I did not want to do that. I sat back and waited, trying not to show how much I had riding on his decision.

Brian: I sat for what felt the longest time in my life. Turning everything over in my head. Everything just, overtook me, and had everything in me split between two parts. One was getting up and running as far as I could, or the other....taking this guy up on his offer. Learning more about him, about my...distant family. God, that was the hardest part to wrap my mind around. Rubbing my face, before rubbing my palm over my jean clad thigh, I lifted my head, looked at him, and answered, hoping like a mother fucker I wasn't going to regret this shit.

“May God forgive me, but yeah. I'll go with you.” I said, my eyes flickered on the other guy, and thought I saw a bit of relief on his face, and that amped my heart rate even more, what the fuck did I just agree to?

Wrath: A wave of relief washed over me, as all concerns about finding another property for the Audience House. There were so many things to consider… the whole race knew of this property now, switching it would be a nightmare! Not to mention, which property would work, and how would I make sure that people didn’t come to this one and think it was no more… But, that whole idea got a stay of execution for the time being, at least until we gave the kid a chance to meet everyone and decide which road he was going to take.

“Perfect. V and I need to make a few preparations at the house before you come by. So, we will go ahead of you and Micah can bring you over in a couple hours. Make yourself comfortable until then. Micah can bring you to a room to sleep for a bit if you’d like. If not, there is a kitchen. The staff will be happy to make you anything you’d like.” I grabbed the phone on my desk and dialed the front desk. “Caroh, can you move my appointments for the next three days? Yes, including tonight. Tell them all I’m sorry. Something important has come up, and send Micah back in, please.”

Micah wasted no time in making his way back into the meeting room. “Micah, make our friend comfortable. We will be calling for him in a bit. Until then, make sure he wants for nothing.” Turning back to the kid, “We’ll see you in a few.” And then Micah escorted the kid out.

I picked the phone back up and called back to Caroh, “Caroh, make sure Micah and the kid don’t leave the house until I call for them. Then one of the doggen is to escort them both straight to the manse, no diversions of any kind.”

“Yes, sire,” she replied.

“And call ahead to the manse. I want every one of the Brothers, and the shellans in my office when I get there.” I added.

“Yes, sire. Anything else?” She questioned.

“That will be all. Thank you, Caroh.”

“Of course, Sire,” she replied and hung up the phone.

Turning to V, I commented, “Well, this is going to be a long night.”

All I got was a grunt in return.

#BTWYoureScrewed #ISBDBRP

[generationsocial]

Canadian Election: A Youth Perspective

So it’s officially been over a week since the 2021 Canadian Federal Election was called, and not much has changed. Sure, the left won a few extra seats through the Liberals and NDP, even the Bloc gained a seat, and Trudeau secured himself at least an extra four years in office, but essentially we’re left in the same place we were after the 2019 election. Pretty uneventful for the last election I’ll watch as a minor. Next term I’ll be voting, and I sincerely hope the social climate changes by then. Fair warning, I’ll do a lot of shameless Trudeau-bashing in this article, but please do not mistake that for any support of the right, I’ll judge them even more harshly.

Overall, I think we can all agree this was a pointless, and frankly selfish, vanity grab by Trudeau and we’re lucky the consequences weren’t catastrophic. To call an election just to prove you can still win, in the middle of a deadly pandemic with rising case numbers and an ever growing party of idiocy to rival Trump’s (yes, the PPC) was quite possibly the most dangerous thing Trudeau has done for Canadians during his time as PM. This election could have very easily gone to the Conservatives, a party who would no doubt give in to their far-right supporters and loosen up pandemic measures, putting us all at risk. I shudder to think of the thousands of lives that would have been lost to a government who cares more for made up “rights” and economic gains than the health of its citizens. So while I could never imagine supporting Trudeau myself, and in a perfect world I would have basked in an NDP win, I’m still glad he won. (Shoutout to the PPC’s insanity for splitting the Conservative vote).

I also know that a lot of left-leaning voters were put off the NDP because of Singh’s criticism of Trudeau. Personally, I fully support judging moral wrongs wherever you can even without having all the answers (after all, pointing fingers may not be a solution, but you can’t find the answer without identifying the problem). Let he who is with sin throw as many stones as he pleases. But, I don’t think that’s the case with the NDP. In fairness, I have taken the time that many haven’t to research the Liberal’s downfalls and the NDP positions and plans that weren’t shared during debates, so I know Singh’s criticisms aren’t baseless. Nonetheless, there’s nothing more frustrating than someone who wants to appear to make strong statements but cannot back them up, so let me share my reasoning for where I fall on the political spectrum.

Firstly, I won’t validate the PPC enough to even share my reasons to not support them, although the list is long. They shouldn’t even be considered a party, and if you vote PPC I unapologetically have zero respect for you. As for the conservatives, I’ll give a little leniency. Growing up in the era right before this generation’s social justice boom, my parents were realtors so I heard a lot about conservative views on the economy, from housing markets to inflation, and I won’t discount them all, not when small businesses are suffering through the pandemic. I can understand the draw to their economic push. That being said, I still prefer the leftist economic policies, such as higher taxes for the rich, more investment in social programs, and fairer wages, and there is no scenario in which I could ignore the flip-flopping human rights beliefs of the Conservatives. Especially not when they push to create a country more like our gun-ridden, anti-choice, American neighbours.

Now for the hot-topic Liberals. I used to like Trudeau, after all, I was only 10 when he was first elected. I obviously wasn’t doing any research beyond hearing adult’s opinions. As a little native kid, it sounded great to have a Prime Minister who made all these grand promises to end water advisories on reserves and focus on reconciliation. He was quite literally born and raised to be in office and handled himself on the global stage with such confidence that my young brain couldn’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t respect him. Now, I’m almost finished high school, and I can’t stand Trudeau. He has failed on every promise to Indigenous peoples and continuously dismissed any criticism of his broken promises during the election by attempting to guilt-trip us with the “hard work” of his task force. I’m not falling for it, sorry not sorry if he doesn’t feel validated in giving my people clean water if he isn’t being praised for it. Frankly, while it’s great that they’ve ended some advisories, it’s not enough, as long as there are children who have spent their entire lives on reserves where they can’t drink water without boiling it, it will never be enough. It is especially not enough while he actively fights residential school survivors in court. Even further, I cannot comprehend - never mind support - the level of arrogance it takes to call a pointless election during a pandemic. So, liberals are out of the question for me as long as Trudeau and his in-crowd lead them.

While I admire the persistence of the Green party on environmental issues, they don’t seem to have strong enough opinions on other issues and, just like the Bloc, they are too much of a fringe party with not enough of a chance to ever win to earn my support. They mainly just succeed in splitting much-needed left votes.

As for the only party I would vote for if I could, the NDP. Canada is in desperate need of a leader who, to put it quite plainly, isn’t an old white man. While he himself is quite privileged, Singh is a person of colour who would understand the trials of POC in this country better than the other main parties. I’d hope that a personal understanding of these issues would lead to a far greater push from the NDP to solve humanitarian problems than parties led by white men pretending to care for anything other than votes. Additionally, while some POC feel that Singh is just as out of touch because of his wealth, I think that might actually draw some of the less progressive left supporters (who like NDP policies but are still internally racist enough that they wouldn’t support a poor person of colour in politics) to support him.

In the end though, my opinions don’t matter to the federal government yet. I’m only seventeen and until I can win them a vote, I’m just another voice in the crowd. Still, I encourage any young followers I have to start using your voice now, even without voting. Breakthrough the crowd, put a crack in their façade. This will be our country, our opinions matter too.

[stepphase]

Make easy money with very little effort your monthly income

Can you imagine being able to complete your monthly income with easy money? A small amount that is added month after month to your salary without having to do practically anything. Well, this is not a dream, it is a reality. I'm going to explain how to get it, as well as the scams you should avoid.

All that glitters is not gold if you want to earn quick and easy money

Surely on some occasion you have come across a website, a blog, or a comment in a forum from someone who promises you that you can earn thousands of euros a month without doing practically anything .

I have also seen them and I have thought the same as you, "this cannot be true . " But unfortunately, there are people who are going through a bad time and need to believe that this is true, which makes them potential victims for scammers.

There are hundreds of examples of scams online that want to make you believe that you are going to make money. If you fall into them, hopefully you will only lose some time , but it is quite possible that you will also end up losing money .

Here are three examples:

Remote jobs that don't exist

The modus operandi is almost always the same. You find a job offer that allows you to earn money from home, usually a very interesting amount. You do not need any type of training or experience and they practically do not explain what the position consists of.

What they do tell you is that in order to access the job, it is necessary that you pay an amount for management expenses, training, etc. If you take the hook and pay, you will never hear from that supposed company or job again.

The binary options scam

The binary options are an investment system tightly regulated and legal. But there are always scam artists willing to take advantage of the ignorance and situations of need for others.

This investment system is somewhat complex and is not suitable for people without knowledge. But they sell it to you as if it were the easiest thing in the world. And urge you to seize the opportunity and earn a lot of money.

You put your money for that supposed investment and it goes directly into the pocket of the scammer who, logically, is not going to make the investment that he has promised you .

Receive easy money in your checking account

There is a scam in which someone contacts you by email and asks you to use your checking account as a platform to make money from one country to another. All this accompanied by a more or less credible story about why you need to move the money. And the reasons why you need an intermediary.

Of course, in exchange for doing nothing and putting your checking account, it offers you to keep a percentage of each transaction . And here comes the scam. In the best of cases, they access your account and keep your money.

Do you want to know what happens in the worst case? That they use your account to move money, they don't pay you anything for it and you also become an accessory to a possible money laundering crime.

Beware of rare emails to earn money! They can be scams.

I could go on and on, but I think with these examples you get the idea. In the end, What all scams have in common is that they offer you to earn a lot of money quickly. Plus without doing practically anything.

Now, this does not mean that you cannot earn quick and easy money online and even offline. What happens is that you have to have a head. Money does not fall from the sky . There are formulas with which you can effortlessly get a little extra, but they are not usually large quantities.

Before going on to see how to earn easy money, admit me some advice so that you do not end up being the victim of a scam: if something is too good to be true, it is a lie .

Earn easy money in your spare time

Do you have a computer or mobile with an Internet connection? Do you have a little free time? Well then you already have everything you need to complete your income with a few more euros.

Paid surveys

They are precisely what their name indicates. Through any of the platforms that I will tell you about later, you receive surveys prepared by brands that seek to obtain information from consumers . You spend a few minutes filling them in and in return you receive a small payment.

Some of the ones that work best are Toluna, Lifepoints, and i-Say. Let's see them in a little more detail.

Toluna

Toluna is one of the most famous survey websites and accepts users from both Spain and abroad. It has a simple, pleasant, and intuitive interface, and it will not take you more than 20 minutes to answer each survey.

You accumulate points that are later transformed into money, And that you can collect by bank transfer, through PayPal, or by gift vouchers. In addition, it has a referral system with which you earn money for each person you invite to participate.

You earn points for completing surveys, but also for other activities such as visiting certain websites, completing registrations, making purchases or voting for sponsored content.

Lifepoints

Although it is a relatively new platform, Lifepoints is actually the sum of the experience of two classic survey panels, GlogalTestMarket and MySurvey.

Once you register they send you surveys to your email. The points you earn depend on the time you have to dedicate to them. Some last only 10 minutes, but others can exceed 30.

The points you get can be exchanged directly for gifts, but also for a check to spend on Amazon or for a balance that you will collect through PayPal (you can request payment from 600 points, which is € 5).

i-Say

The i-Say platform is managed by Ipsos, a market research company that has been active since 1975. In this case, it is aimed exclusively at the Spanish public.

You can register for free in just a few minutes. And once you have filled out your profile you start receiving surveys.

For each completed questionnaire you receive points that you can later exchange for Amazon checks or gift certificates for other stores. Typically, you receive between one and two surveys per week.

In addition, it has a referral system with which you can increase your earnings by adding points for each of your friends who join the platform.

Mysterious client

Companies need to know if the attention they are giving to customers in their establishments is really good, and for this they usually resort to the figure of the mystery or ghost customer.

This is someone who pretends to be an ordinary customer , but who is actually in charge of examining important aspects such as the treatment that the shop assistants give to the public, if the store is tidy, if it is accessible, etc.

Both on online job search platforms (Infojobs and similar) and on specific websites such as clienteindiscreto.com or International Service Check you can find offers to work as a mystery client.

You just have to spend a few hours and then present a report telling your experience . In case you have to buy something in the investigated establishment, the company will pay you for it.

It is a simple and even fun activity that I have done myself. 

The mystery shopper is not here to buy, but to watch.

Monetize your social media

You don't have to be a famous influencer with thousands of followers. If you have a medium-sized account (over 1,000 followers) you can earn some income by posting sponsored content.

On platforms such as Publisuites, SocialPubli or Coobis you can find advertisers who will pay you a few euros to put a tweet or a message on Facebook talking about them. Logically, the more followers you have, the more money you can earn.

Make easy money with your skills

Sure there are a lot of things that you are good at. We all have some (or several) skills that make us stand out a little bit.

Maybe you speak several languages, or you take beautiful photos, or you are good at math. Well, thanks to the Internet you can take advantage of these skills.

Somewhere in the world, there is someone right now who needs those special abilities that you have and is willing to pay for them.

You can create your own website or blog and offer your professional services as a translator, editor, photographer, etc. But if you don't want to complicate your life so much, you can go directly to platforms that will help you find clients.

Image banks

All the content that is uploaded to the Internet is usually accompanied by images. Those of us, like me, who have a website, are always in constant search of royalty-free photos that we can use legally and have quality.

What I do is go to repositories or image repositories, but these files need to be constantly renewed. Well, if you are good at photos, you can upload them to these platforms and charge each time someone downloads one of your images to use it .

Here are some examples:

Pixabay

Pexels

Unplash

Picography

MiniJobs

Minijobs are a trend in the digital world. There are specialized platforms where you can offer others your online or offline services : create a website, write a text, make a logo, walk and take care of dogs, etc.

There are a lot of variety of professional markets. Among the most prominent I cannot fail to mention Upwork, Freelancer and Toptal . If you handle English well, you can try the well-known Fiverr .

How to make easy money with what you have

The alternatives that I just showed you in the previous section can help you earn a few extra euros, although they could also help you find a new way to earn a living, since you can professionalize your skills.

But if you are happy with your job and you don't want to have to work on anything else to earn money, a very good option is to take advantage of what you have.

Sell ​​what you don't use

If the crisis has had something good, it is that now we are more aware of our resources. And we are no longer afraid of buying second-hand things. According to this article in elPeriódico, buying and selling second-hand also helps us to achieve a more sustainable world.

Thanks to pages like Milanuncios or apps like Wallapop, it will be very easy for you to sell all those things that you do not use: books, clothes, tools, etc.

Not only do you get extra money, but you also take advantage of it and put your house in order. Having less things will help you see life with more perspective and escape the consumerism that may be causing you to spend more.

Do you have used books? Sell ​​them and you'll make yourself some extra money.

Rent your house

If you have a second home that you hardly use, or you are going to spend a season away, you can consider renting your house, either for long periods of time or through vacation rental platforms such as AirBnb.

Another way to get money with your house without having to go live somewhere else is to rent a room that you have free . You can get an average of € 200 to € 300 or even more, it depends on where you live.

Here you can check what you could get .

Advertising in your car

If you own a car there are several ways you can earn money with it. The simplest is to rent it as an advertising space . Companies such as Impacto Dual or Serbecar are specialized in these services.

All you need is that your car is in good condition. It should be live in an urban area and travel several kilometers every day. For the rest, you do not have to worry about anything, just to charge the amount agreed for advertising.

Rent a car

If you have a car but don't use it every day, you can also earn money with it. The platforms car rental particular are a very interesting novelty. They take care of everything, including insurance.

In this Mapfre article, you can answer your questions about how this system works, whether you want to rent your car or if you want to rent a vehicle from a private individual.

There are many specialized platforms in this sector. You can have a look at SocialCar or Drivy .

Monetize a website

If at any time you have created a web page or a blog, you can also get money from it. And If you do not use it, you can directly consider selling it.

If it is an active website with traffic, you can get extra income. Moreover, if you include advertising through Google AdWords, sell advertising space on your site, links, or sponsored articles.

Getting money with your website will involve a little more effort on your part. Since you must work on it so that it is positioned and attractive to potential advertisers.

Conclusions

You've seen it, there are many ways to earn easy money. Forget the false promises to earn thousands of extra euros and focus on more realistic options. With a little effort, or using the things you already have, you can end the month with a few extra euros in your pocket. Surely they are not bad for you. Follow these keys that I have given you and I am sure that the end of the month no longer seems so terrible.

Photos: Pixabay

#Stepphase #technologies #technology #tech #technews #techworld #techtrends #smartphone #apple #techupdates #futuretechnology #newtech #techgeek #technologynews #technologythesedays #smarttechnology #technologylover #technologytrends #technologyblog #gadgets #smartphone #gadget #marketing #digital #india #technologyisawesome #amazing #repost

[strawberry-poison-frog]

A conversation between @strawberry-poison-frog and @artistic-arborealist, after Rivik

Arbor, I heard about what happened to Camellia and Hibiscus.   You were a good friend to both of them, and I'm so sorry for your loss.

artistic-arborealist

I Thank you It's not fair.

strawberry-poison-frog

No, it's not.

artistic-arborealist 

They didn't do ~anything wrong~. They did ~everything right~. And Rivik Why. Sorry, I know why. It's because Rivik should drown.

Just let the seas rise up and swallow the whole putrid place

strawberry-poison-frog

I've never really understood why people hate us so much.  I guess it's useful to the system.   The whole thing is just so convenient.

It feels like a violation of the natural order, doesn't it?  That something so evil can exist.

artistic-arborealist

Yeah, it's not right. ~It's not okay.~ They just destroyed the only good thing their awful island ever produced. I had always thought that most everyone was mostly good. That they were ~trying.~ I think maybe I've been horribly wrong my whole life.

strawberry-poison-frog

I...never really got to believe that.  Not in the way green kids might get to.  I think a lot of people are trying.

But also the next time someone says they're sending their reds to Miolee we offer their blues some all expenses paid vacations.

artistic-arborealist 

I hope they are. I hope this is ~all some horrible anomaly.~ It can't happen again, it's Oh shit Niyau's cleaning That was less than a week from now They're not going to want to get on the boat Oh shit my countries blues can't be planning something please

strawberry-poison-frog

They were reintegrating, right?

artistic-arborealist

Yes, I was looking into tutoring someone for green when

Well, you know.

strawberry-poison-frog

If they're funding things like your tutoring program and extra housing or you can see the adult-education system gearing up it's probably not fake.   They'll still be afraid to leave their districts, but...

This just made it so much harder for everyone.  Once they're on our boats they're fine!  Before the boats-excuse me for this-FUCKING GREYS.

artistic-arborealist

I hope it isn't fake. It can't be fake. Please let it not be fake

Okay, it's not fake they're funding everything and they've been hashing it out for literally years

~I am not going to panic~

strawberry-poison-frog 

Your country is probably not Rivik

artistic-arborealist

[Arbor giggles to themselves hysterically.] Ha! My country is definitely not Rivik! Corpsing ~psychotic~ Rivik!

But no one's going to want to get on the boats. And I don't blame them. And yes, fucking greys. Fucking ~Rivikni greys~.

strawberry-poison-frog 

We'll figure something out.   We did before.  Blues might not like it but we will.

artistic-arborealist

This is going to delay it so long.

Everyone in Niyau was supposed to be ~clean and safe and happy~ by the end of the summer!

And now I don't even know whether it'll happen before my brother's grown.

strawberry-poison-frog

I think it'll happen before then.

Does your country have a camera program?

artistic-arborealist

You know, I don't know So let me ~look it up~!

We sort of adopted an ~Anitami style~ camera program? But it happened when I was really small!

strawberry-poison-frog

Good. Anitami style is the gold standard.

artistic-arborealist

Oh wow, but the politician who brought it to the vote ~really didn't do well with their career~ afterwards, though. Apparently Rusalva doesn't like them??? I-Am-Not-A-Blue. (What a confusing article!)

strawberry-poison-frog

Camera programs protect reds and embarrass policegreys who lie about pollution violations, it's no surprise they don't always do well.  

But they protect people in districts.

artistic-arborealist

So that sounds good But I guess if it embarrasses greys that's why Rusalva doesn't like it. Rusalva has an unusually high grey population. It's to ~keep peace in the protectorates~, don't you know. And Rusalva isn't Rivik, I don't think But they're

Um

strawberry-poison-frog

It's....not.  The way they treat their reds isn't okay, but it’s not Rivik.

artistic-arborealist

Yeah, ~it's not Rivik~. And when did that become a hopeful statement? Pondwater, it hurts I miss them

strawberry-poison-frog

I know.  It's almost easier to deal with the political side of things, isn't it?

artistic-arborealist

Yeah, I had almost managed to distract myself for a splash (Thanks for giving me research to do, that helped) What in the depths of a tainted pond were they ~thinking~ All they had to do was wait thirty more minutes It's not fair!!!

strawberry-poison-frog

I know.  He was kind and  nurturing and he loved art.    He was a good parent and alloparent  and he should have had the chance to be a grandparent too.

artistic-arborealist

Oh wastewater

The last thing we talked about was how they were going to ~meet their grandchildren~ for the ~first time~

They never got to meet their grandchildren

strawberry-poison-frog 

Hold onto those messages.  I’ve heard rumours that one of the Anitami universities is collecting them but if they don't we will.

artistic-arborealist

I'm not deleting a thing.

So actually, give me one minute?

[Arbor has a shell program they use to back up their own tumblr once a month.] [They bring up a command line prompt, and point it at Camellia's blog.] [They're doing something at least.]

Okay, I just ran a local backup of Camellia's blog. No matter what shit Rivik tries to pull, they won't get that.

strawberry-poison-frog

Good for you.

Make sure to take care of yourself.

artistic-arborealist

I will.

Doing something that helps, ~even a little~, is So it doesn't make it hurt less. But it is ~something to do~.

strawberry-poison-frog

Just try and hold together.

artistic-arborealist

I just I wish there was something I could do I wish I could run to my lab, and bring them back But there's nothing I can do about that. And there's nothing I can do to make sure Rivik pays for it's crimes.

strawberry-poison-frog

Yeah.

We wish we had an army and could go marching on the world but we don't.

You do get to pressure your politicians and donate to the decontamination fund and write to your tutoring person and say that you're watching what happens to them.

artistic-arborealist

They would deserve an army on their doorstep.

And then line them up like Oahk did to Voa. ~That would be a sight~. I'm not sure if Niyau's politician's need any pressuring. Rivik's basically kicked us into the stormgutter here.  [Arbor means: "stabbed us in the back"]

strawberry-poison-frog

Thank the stars Isel's castehopping cousin just got elected in Anitam.

But I have to be going, I promised I'd help my mom at her school this afternoon.

artistic-arborealist

Gosh, give those poor kids a hug for me.

And I'll try to find something to keep me busy.

strawberry-poison-frog

Done.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT ADVICE

Would it be so bad to add a new application to my list of known time sinks: Firefox. If you consider exclamation points as constituents, for example: after the founders graduated from college, they borrowed $15,000 from their friend's rich uncle, who they give 5% of the company in restricted stock, vesting over four years, and the living expenses of the founders quits. And I don't think there's any limit to the number of startups per capita is probably a 20th of what it might have been.1 I'd sacrifice a large percentage of the income for the extra peace of mind. And it only does a fraction of them.2 9998 Subject free 0.3 Ask anyone who's done it. Their unconscious mind decides for them, it's a vote of no confidence. Some angel investors join together in syndicates.

An optimism shield has to be tuned just right. How do you learn it? The best way to explain how it all works is to follow the case of a hypothetical very fortunate startup as it shifts gears through successive rounds. And while startup hubs are as powerful magnets as ever, the increasing cheapness of web startups will if anything increase the importance of startup hubs, but the title of one: James Salter's Burning the Days. You're not all playing a zero-sum game. Fortunately there's someone you can ask each for advice about the other. But perhaps worst of all, the complex sentences and fancy words give you, the bullshit that sneaks into your life by tricking you is no one's fault but your own. 8 books to choose from, the quantity would definitely seem limited, no matter how finished you thought it was. The most dangerous thing about our dislike of schleps is that much of it is unconscious. Few legal documents are created from scratch.4 Err on the side while working on their day jobs, but which never got anywhere and was gradually abandoned.

The angel deal takes two weeks to close, so you start to lie to yourself. The effort that goes into looking productive is not merely that it's longer. There are theoretical arguments for giving these two tokens substantially different probabilities Pantel and Lin stemmed the tokens, meaning they reduced e. Promising new startups are often discovered by developers. It's not what they originally set out to do—in the process of innovation. After my mother died, I wished I'd spent more time with her. Of course, looking at multiple token sequences would catch it easily.5

So verbs with initial caps have higher spam probabilities than they would in all lowercase. No one proposes that there's some limit to the number of people who want to work for them. A month later, at the end of month six, the system is starting to have a new kind of stock representing the total pool of companies they were managing. If anything major is broken—if they sense you're ambivalent, they won't give you much attention. 7 uncle 50 4. What would be a good heuristic for product design, and others where it would help to be rapacious is when growth depends on that. 5 million from angels without ever accepting vesting, largely because we were so inexperienced that we were appalled at the idea.

Partly the reason deals seem to fall through so often is that you know you're making something at least one has to make money.6 The danger of the second paragraph is not merely annoying; the prickly attitude of these posers can actually slow the process of innovation. Indeed, the whole concept seemed foreign to them. What's wrong with having one founder, like Oracle, usually turn out to be good, because it was some project a couple guys started on the side.7 Founders at Work. We have three general suggestions about hiring: a don't do it if you let them. For example, everyone I've talked to while writing this essay felt the same about English classes—that anything can be interesting if you get deeply enough into it. But what if your manager was hit by a bus? You can no longer guess what will work; you have to take enough to get to the next step is.8 But even factoring in their annoying eccentricities, the disobedient attitude of hackers is a net win. Then you'd automatically get your share of the returns of the whole economy.9

I wasn't paying attention, I didn't know what they'd be like.10 Way more startups hose themselves than get crushed by competitors.11 This is what real productivity looks like. And because this is what I call degeneration. Our ancestors were giants. We can of course counter by sending a crawler to look at the instruments. When they demo it, one of the motives on the FBI's list.

They would just look at you blankly. And the hardest part of that is often discarding your old idea. And don't write the way they are because that is how things have to be smart too, right?12 It used to be aware of this problem.13 But you can't browse the web. There's a whole essay's worth of surprises there for sure. It's the concluding remarks to the jury.

This may work in biotech, where a lot of pain and stress to do something that would otherwise seem too ambitious.14 I remember going through this realization myself. So if our group of founders have something they can launch.15 This is no accident. The spirit of resistance to government, Jefferson wrote, is so valuable on certain occasions, that I wish it always to be kept alive. If life is short, we should expect its shortness to take us by surprise. I feel as if someone snuck a television onto my desk. This had two drawbacks: a an expert on literature need not himself be a good heuristic for product design, and others wouldn't.16

Notes

If an investor? Maybe that isn't the last round of funding rounds are bad news; it is very common for startups. If Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the US.

Mayle, Peter, Why Are We Getting a Divorce? The word suggests an undifferentiated slurry, but if you hadn't written it?

Most of the fatal pinch where your idea is to be very hard and doesn't get paid to work not just the location of the reasons startups are ready to invest in your own time, because software takes longer to close than you expect.

This is an understatement. VCs aren't tech guys, the best approach is to be hidden from statistics too.

For example, the switch in the sense of the twentieth century, art as brand split apart from art is not much to generalize. This technique wouldn't work for us! Their inexperience makes them overbuild: they'll create huge, overcomplicated agreements, and mostly in Perl.

Vision research may be overpaid. For the price of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. But try this thought experiment: If they were.

And since there are only doing angel deals to generate revenues they could attribute to malice what can be said to have moments of adversity before they ultimately choose not to make fundraising take less time, is a trap set by evil companies for the same work faster. Which is not so much on luck. This flattering distinction seems so natural to the home team, I've become a function of their predecessors and said in effect what the startup eventually becomes. The danger is that you decide the price of an official authority makes all the East Coast.

One-click ordering, however, you need to raise money on the spot, so x% usage growth predicts x% revenue growth, because the danger of chasing large investments is not yet released. Some blue counties are false positives caused by blacklists, I was a refinement that made it possible to bring corporate bonds to market faster; the crowds of shoppers drifting through this huge mall reminded George Romero of zombies.

Surely no one knows how many computers the worm infected, because some schools work hard to imagine how an investor seems very interested in us! Oddly enough, maybe they'll listen to God.

Don't be evil.

I was there when it was more rebellion which can vary a lot of startups where the richest of their upbringing in their closets. Perl. What they must do is leave them alone in the past, it's because other companies made all the potential magnitude of the most, it's shocking how much they liked the outdoors, was no great risk in doing something that conforms with their decision or just outright dismisses it and make a formal language for proofs in which you want to lead.

Applets seemed to Aristotle the core: the quality of production. Because the pledge is deliberately vague, we're going to give up, and unleashed a swarm of cheap component suppliers on Apple hardware. Actually, someone else to lend to, so we also give any startup that wants to the World Bank, the owner shouldn't pay me extra for doing badly and is doomed anyway.

The reason not to like uncapped notes, VCs who are weak in other Lisp dialects: Here's an example of a safe environment, but in practice money raised as convertible debt, so it's conceivable that the lies people told 100 years will be big successes but who are both. But wide-area bandwidth increased more than they have to preserve their wealth by forbidding the export of gold or silver. This plan backfired with the bad idea the way they do on the software business.

Fortuna! Algorithms that use it are called naive Bayesian.

A Bayesian Approach to Filtering Junk E-Mail. Currently the lowest rate seems to be delivering results.

You know what kind of protection is one you take out order.

[dxmedstudent]

A lot of people talk about various cuts and changes that negatively affect doctors and nurses, often in a 'the government are killing the NHS so they can privatise' thing, but there's one thing I don't get. Do the government and higher ups not realise that of there aren't any doctors or nurses there... Aren't any doctors and nurses? For anyone?

Well, that’s a question and a half! I apologise in advance that this is going to be a long and rambling answer, but I do feel that a bit of background on the NHS would help it all make sense. I guess the answer would depend on just how much into conspiracy theories you are, and what your overall view of the government there is. We all differ in what we think, and just how much we trust politicians, but I urge each and every person to just take their time and consider what ANY person’s motivations may be. Politically, financially, personally, when thinking about their actions. Never assume people intend to do the worst, but neither assume people are always trying to do the best, either. Because people are complicated. Obviously, I think most sensible people would agree that less doctors and nurses are a problem. However, I doubt that most people could agree exactly what to do about it, especially if they had to spend money to make it happen. The way that our workforce changes is complex, and governed by a lot of different things going on with the NHS...Short Term GoalsSee, the government is only usually in power for 2-3 terms, then it becomes the opposition’s problem to sort out. So politicians are incentivised to focus on short term ratehr than long term solutions. You’ll notice politics is all about fiddling around with stuff, but it appears that we keep having to reform everything; reforms to health, reforms to education; politicians are frequently announcing that their party are gonna revolutionise and fix things. Every party wants to be able to say that they’ve delivered some of the promises they made to be voted in during the last election, and fiddling around with stuff seems like an innate part of that. Some people feel that politicians prioritise this part too much. You’ll also probably notice that politicians might not have much real world experience outside of politics. Many of them even studied politics at uni, and proportionally a smaller number of them had real world jobs before politics. So your politician in charge of health won’t have been a doctor, nurse or paramedic, probably never had any experience in running a hospital, and hopefully listens to the people who advise them on what it is actually like. You hope.  Anyhow, you’ll also notice that things called cabinet reshuffles occur; so the politician in charge of say, education might be moved to foreign policy. Or someone might be moved from prisons to being in charge of healthcare. Now, we all use healthcare. But that doesn’t mean everyone can agree on what the best thing is to do. And arguably, many of us believe that politicians tend to be motivated by making a point that they’ve done something for the past few years, rather than setting up a longer term plan that they may not get a chance to finish. Doctors and Nurses and demoralisation I personally believe imposing contracts on doctors was a BAD idea. You might finger wag and tell us it’s better for us (uh, we can do maths... we know some of us really lost out), but even if it genuinely was better for us, people don’t do well with being ignored and having their terms of employment changed. It breeds resentment. We feel more vulnerable to being overworked, some of us get paid more, others less, the system is more confusing, and this feeds into people’s general burnout and resentment, meaning people who were on the fence about remaining in the NHS are more likely to leave. Same for the ridiciulous pay rise caps for staff in general ( which have all been below inflation for the past several years, meaning that we are, in real terms, paid less every year) which I really don’t think helped in retaining nurses and other staff like paramedics. Nurses, HCAs, physios, paramedics and many other hospital staff are really paid modestly for the work they do, so not even making sure that their pay is in line with inflation was a really sucky move. I think they are finally relaxing this, but for many nurses it might be too little, too late. The nurses who long decided that they can’t afford to do their job any more? A tiny pay rise may not be enough to get them to stay. I promise you that most nurses aren’t earning bucket loads; I’ve met uber drivers who used to nurse. I don’t think the government have any real idea how to fix demoralisation, and really it’s generally just been made worse by lots of the changes. Calling our BluffWhat’s a word you associate with doctors and nurses? Caring? Vocation? Commitment? We’re seen as staff who are highly passionate about what we do. And because of this, it’s believed that we’ve bought into the jobs we have. And we generally do; it’s part of our identity. It changes how we think, how we live, and to a huge degree, who we are. I’m not the same person I was in school; I’ve learned to think more analytically, to assess things more coolly, and to think more carefully before I speak. But I think it’s true that it becomes a part of your very identity, and that we’re very, very emotionally tied to our jobs. Also, we’ve put our eggs in one basket. We’ve spent years or even decades training to do this one thing, so we’re kind of stuck with it. Some of us have other talents and hobbies, but on the whole medicine kinda ties you down and takes away all your free time. And politicians know this. They know we’re emotionally attached to our role, and tied into medicine. So do journalists, if the papers were anything to go by last year.  I suspect that when we protested, a lot of people said “yeah, as if they are all gonna quit!”. People know we care about patients. They also know we put up with a lot of crap already, and that’s why people assume we’ll just put up with lots more. And we do put up with so much. And  many of us will keep putting up with things if things get worse; I’ll be honest with you, we won’t all quit, because people need to put food on the table and because we like helping people. But many of us staying isn’t always enough. Even if some of us leave, the rest will really struggle to cope. Most rotas have empty slots; people have been leaving for some time, and there’s a real need for doctors and nurses to fill those gaps. I’m talking about most (if not every hospital) being short of significant numbers of doctors and nurses. Not just the odd one here and there. But of course, the politicians don’t see how this affects us. If a hospital is standing, patients still get care, and they are understaffed, someone might think “well, they seem to be coping”, not realising that this means everyone is more stressed and working harder, staying late, and fighting to keep patients safe. Being overworked increases our risk of harm to patients, because we don’t have the same amount of time to check things are done right, so missing things is more likely. And I think some people use this against us. People throw the vocation card at you. “But it’s a vocation!” they say. You should be motivated by your sheer passion for helping people, alone. And it frustrates me, because if we want to improve working conditions or patient care, how dare you imply that we lack vocation?! I’d like anyone who thinks this way to come and see what we do, before they say something like that. Although docs and nurses aren’t motivated by money, it’s true to say that we can’t live on fuzzy feelings and altruism; even though we may not want pay rises, the things we’d suggest to make the NHS better (like better staffing, more equipment etc) would all cost money. I don’t think I have many suggestions that are free. And that’s why we fear that things won’t get better; even if we have suggestions on how to improve things, there probably won’t be the funds to make it happen. We actually do a lot of small audits and quality improvement projects on what we can do to improve healthcare that we give in our departments, to try and make things better (on a budget; we do this research all for free and for portfolio points), but there’s only so much you can do for free. How do you get more staff?You’ll notice that governments are fond of annouincing that they will find more nurses or doctors. Sometimes they even use the words ‘train’ more. But ALWAYS ask yourself; are they going to pay for it? How long will it take to train them? Have they actually increased med school/nursing school places to accommodate this? Can universities even accommodate those figures? Because a lot of the figures coming out just seem implausible. No, you won’t get X thousand more GPs very fast, because it’s areal struggle to recruit to training, and it takes 10 years to get someone through med school and to become a qualiffied GP. And that’s assuming people want to do the job and are staying in medicine, which they may well not. I’m not a fan of the idea of forcing people to stay, which is occasionally floated. People like to raise large scary figures of ‘how much it costs to train a doctor’, but those figures also include things like our tuition fees, the costs WE pay towards exams and training, and our actual salaries. The money the government pays hospitals to train us just seem to to into the general hospital pot. The only official training I’ve ever got since I graduated med school was 1 hour of weekly teaching by a consultant. And a couple of simulation courses now and again. The rest of our learning is from my own reading, preparing for exams, and talking to our colleagues. Most of the learning we do is informal, due to the good will of our peers and our seniors. We teach each other; I’m not paid any more for instilling my advice into my peers, it’s just part of our job to educate each other.  So I personally get mad when these figures are used to justify forcing people to stay. Because having talked friends who were really, really having a bad time with medicine off metaphorical ledges, I really don’t agree with the idea of forcing people to stay. I’m not an indentured servant, and the government isn’t tying all its other graduates to their supposed jobs, so I don’t see why a workforce with a worse than average risk of  burnout, mental health problems and suicide should be tied down against their will. It’s a very, very bad idea, and it’s one of the things that will completely evaporate any remaining goodwill between us and our employer. We put in blood sweat and tears, but if that’s not valued then our relationship with our employer will change. It’s hard to care about someone who doesn’t care about you. Don’t force us to stay. Make us not want to leave. We’re passionate people. We went into this because we loved it and wanted to dedicate our lives to it. If we’re leaving, it’s not a poorly thought out decision; medicine is part of our identity and nobody discards that cape so easily. Let’s poach doctors and nurses from other countries!And this is kind of what we’ve been doing. The NHS owes a huge debt to countries like India. I’m not talking about my British Asian colleagues who, like me are from immigrant backgrounds; we have a lot of colleagues who were born, educated and medically trained abroad who have come over here to work as (most often) doctors and nurses. And this is cheap for our country because somewhere like India trains a doctor, who comes over here effectively for free and works for us. Or all the nurses trained by the Phillippines, or Spain or Romania etc. This is much cheaper than training more staff here (who might then go abroad themselves), but it’s not sustainable and it’s not ethical in huge numbers to brain drain other countries. So you can argue that the government (to go back to your original question) are probably hoping that if current staff leave, they might be able to replace them with new ones. Perhaps even new ones who are willing to put up with worse conditions because they are used to worse. Perhaps I’m being cynical, but that’s often the case when you bring in foreign workers. Always think about the working conditions that workers are being asked to tolerate. I really personally think the government aren’t taking retention of qualified seriously enough. I don’t know why that is; some people might believe it’s deliberate, others might just believe politicians are inept. Maybe they just don’t know how to keep us. I suspect that it’s a balance for them; between keeping staff and trying to ‘find savings’ and ‘deliver promises’ of a 24h NHS (hint: we already have 24h emergency care, but you don’t need a routine appointment at 3am). The contract debacle makes me suspect that they want to claw back some money from the NHS, because the way they treated us doctors certainly wasn’t to make US feel better. There has to have been a financial reason for it, and most of us think that the reason was to make it cheaper to roster us for more hours or more antisocial/oncall hours. Effectively a pay cut, but by another name. Because if you do more difficult work for the same money, that would have paid more, then your pay is effectively cut, even if it technically stays the same. I have no trouble believing that the government could want to get more out of us. Because we’re a resource that provides a service. I don’t know if people at the top see me as more than a machine; I believe actions, not words, and it’s been a long while since most of us have seen actions that suggest otherwise. I think THAT’s what really demoralised many of my colleagues; feeling like we’re just being treated like robots that provide care. At any rate, they suck at retaining staff. The system is stressful, they keep mucking us about with our contracts and our training, and it’s just a big extra headache on top of the whole saving lives kinda thing. You have so many trained, passionate people who are already highly skilled, and you let them burn out and they leave medicine or nursing and never come back. And people keep talking about bringing in mroe, but nobody talks about what is causing us to leave. because the real answers would cost money; better staffing, better funding, better organisation. And politicians don’t like spending money, because there’s never enough to go around. It’s cheaper to poach trained staff than it is to train your own. And it’s trickier to retain the ones it is than it is to just offer to bring in more. Let’s Talk about MoneyArguably, most people would support paying more for the NHS, if any tax rise was guaranteed to be for that. Most people on the street value healthcare. So people in general are quite sceptical; why do politicians not do this? It seems straightforward. Obviously, people don’t like tax rises, and there’s always arguments about who should be taxed more, where it should go, etc, but I think healthcare is one of the few things people are generally supportive of. And they’d be even more so if they realise we’re paying less than most Western contries for healthcare. Only, there’s a lot of misinformation being spread. I routinely read comments declaring the NHS ‘inefficient’ and ‘bloated’, but we pay less than many countries per head, and bodies like the King’s Fund or even more independent bodies usually rate the NHS highly on efficiency. This narrative suits people who want to argue that the NHS needs more cuts and reorganising (hint: people who work in the NHS hate reorganising because it makes no difference at the frontline level and it wastes time and money hospitals don’t have), and the idea that we don’t need more money to offer improtant services, we just need to be better with the money we have. Which passes the blame from the government (whose NHS budgets have not been meeting recommended amounts) to hospitals, who should just be expected to make do with what they’ve got. Interestingly, hospitals aren’t just handed money for existing and having patients that need care, they have to meet targets to actually be funded. So if they are struggling, and miss targets, they get penalised, get less money or the coming year/s. Which most sensible people would realise is a problem; how can they do better if they have less money with which to improve? When hospitals get declared really bad and put in special measures, they get some more funding and attention (and more CQC visits) to help put them right. But the penalty system can appear a bit flawed because most hospitals are already struggling and many are ‘overspending’.  I don’t know what we would replace this with, but I’m a little uneasy about how it all works at present. Aaand in Summary, People Just Don’t Trust PoliticiansGiven that it’s sensible to assume we’d want to keep doctors and nurses on board, people come up with all sorts of reasons why politicians choose the choices they do. Why impose contracts? Why freeze pay? Why not train more? Why not improve working conditions? And people come up with all sorts of interesting answers. Some people believe politicians are just inept; perhaps they don’t know how to run healthcare. Perhaps treating us like robots is backfiring. Perhaps they’ve just assumed we’d put up with crap, but they overestimated how much crap we’re willing to put up with. Perhaps they are trying to think of ways to force us to stay, but they just aren’t working, or can’t be implemented. People are fallible; running a health service is hard. All parties mess up; I don’t believe in laying all the blame on one person or one party alone. Others believe politicians are deliberately running the NHS down for political or financial reasons. Because certain companies (hint: private healthcare) would benefit hugely if the NHS was privatised. It would be huge. And companies are powerful and good at lobbying, and many of us fear how much of a role they may have behind the scenes. It doesn’t help that Hunt co-authored a book about dismantling the NHS. Many people are afraid of who politicians might be lobbied by; because politicians are human with their own personal interests. Many have stakes in private healthcare companies, so arguably some politicians are financially better off if the NHS struggles as more people will go private. Companies tend to look after their own vested interests first and foremost; the way corporations run is built around making more money for themselves, and whilst I wouldn’t say they never act ethically, most people are wary of them. Some people think this is all deliberate. Some politicians gain financially from private healthcare companies, but there’s a general fear of whether others are being influenced by lobbies. Large companies are very, very powerful, and they are motivated to protect their financial interests at all costs, so it’s very sensible to be afraid. Many are particularly afraid that we’d get a US style of healthcare if things were privatised here, and US healthcare is incredibly costly and inefficient; they pay something like 3-4 times more per person for healthcare than we do. And lots of people still can’t afford basic treatments. For many of us working in the NHS, that’s a nightmare scenario. We’re motivated by doing our best to help people, and part of why we try so hard with the problems we have, is because it’s for the NHS.It’s a very popular theory that the governent want to run the NHS down to privatise it, and therefore sell it off to private companies. And it’s hard to argue with something like this, when it happened in the past with rail. So it’s hard to argue against such a conspiracy theory. Because yeah, they would make a ton of money from selling it off. And yeah, they’d have someone else to blame when it all goes wrong, which is something people love because suddenly they arent technically responsible. In terms of politics, that’d be a huge change, and in some ways advantageous to politicians. Arguably, politicians have access to private health care, or at least the funds to access it, so many people are wary because they know that politicians are likely to be OK regardless. I personally hope politicians don’t feel like that, but I know little about what they think or feel so I don’t wish to make assumptions either way. This certainly isn’t eveything about healthcare, but I hope it at least gives you a few ideas of the theories going around, and what it’s like from the inside.