Warning: Spoiler Alert.
(Edit: OK. I put a wrong title, without giving it a much thought. The movie is not "underrated", so I would like to retract this word. It's just a movie that I enjoyed and I liked how it depicted an abusive relationship that can form between two people especially when power dynamics are involved greatly in one's favour. )
I think this movie is underrated. First I want to say that in my opinion this movie is the best acting that Steve Carrel and Channing Tatum have ever did. They usually play same dumb characters in not very sophisticated comedy movies, but in this one they went for something completely different and the result is unexpectedly very good.
Steve Currel as a manipulative, powerful and abusive, sociopathic rich man named du Pont, and Tatum as a simple minded, trusting young man named Mark, that gradually becomes du Pont's victim, falling for his subtle psychological manipulations and sexual harassment.
In my opinion this movie manages to show how sexual predators operate, in slow, gradual, insidious ways, and the effects that they have on their victims, how their sense of self is gradually eroded, the feeling of helplessness, isolation and humiliation.
First du Pont establish a relationship of authority with Mark. He offers Mark a generous contract to come join his wrestling team, he takes care for Mark's needs, provide him a place to live in on his property. du Pont positions himself as some kind of coach and a mentor for Mark, and obviously as a very generous financial provider.
Du Pont gradually brings Mark's brother and his other wrestling friends to join the club and live on the property.
Gradually, using wrestling as disguise, du Pont starts to sexually harass Mark. Occasional fondling and groping during training, and late wrestling sessions of just two of them in the gym.
Du Pont gradually but steadily erodes Mark's sense of self, not just by sexual harassment acts, but also by psychological manipulations. Making Mark to constantly reaffirm his commitment to the club and to Du Pont personally in needless personal talks, interfering in all kind of small and trivial details of Mark's daily routine only to assert dominance and authority and just to make Mark comply.
You can see that Mark gradually becomes aware of what is going on, that he allowed himself to be drown in into Du Pont's trap. Mark feels completely helpless and isolated, too ashamed to speak out, and not knowing what to do. He feels guilty that he allowed Du Pont to slowly take advantage of him like that, day after day, month after month. He can't even prove anything, Du Pont would simply deny any allegations. "It's just wrestling, it's all in his head"
And you see that even when Mark becomes aware of the situation, and despite being much more physically stronger, he still doesn't confront Du Pont, as the authority that Du Pont had established is still too strong to overcome. Instead Mark tries to avoid Du Pont as much as he can, harboring anger inside waiting to errupt.
Mark starts to have rage attacks, he loses interest in wrestling, becomes secluded from other wrestling teammates, and eventually leaves the club.
"The Foxcatcher" reminds somewhat of "Behind the Candelabra" movie, only that in Foxcatcher the abuse and manipulations are much more explicit.

Chapter 21:【Tales of Fire and Ice】
“Well, well well!” Crowley triumphantly announced. “Wu Zeitan has stolen Tsukuyomi’s precious scabbard and thus made him very angry! Will he get it back? Will he win? Will the fight turn out to be rigged in order to sell Tsukuyomi-themed peanut butter? All those questions will be answered!”
Upon seeing the enraged countenance of the young god on the battlefield, the King of Demons grasped his chin in thought silently, before pondering to himself with a smirk, “…Who would have thought that gods could be so attached to toys that aren’t made of flesh?”
“Oh my Nun!” Thoth gasped. “It’s beautiful! I wish I could get a closer look!”
“Ahh.” Crowley sighed. “Nothing like some good old-fashioned Grand Larceny.”
“That damn brat!” Izanagi snarled. “How dare she lay her hands on a divine treasure!” Amaterasu just watched, her smile looking almost amused.
Standing on guard nearby them was a goddess with short brownish hair and an oni mask covering her mouth, lightly armored over her kimono, an equally ornate scabbard at her hip. She put a hand to her waist and looked towards the arena in slight annoyance.
“Jeez, at least treat it with some proper respect…” she muttered, her tone sharp and irritated.
Catching the reflection of light, the sheath was subliminally visible to the entire world. It shone brighter than any platinum, encapsulated by the shadows created by the engraved design on the sheath. Holding it high above her, Wu smiled gently, like a flower amidst blossoming.
On the other side, the emperors of China fumed in various degrees of shock to apprehension.
“That girl! She’s always so materialistic!” Emperor Gaozong scolded, his knuckles white as he clutched the arms of his throne. Meanwhile, his son was almost folded entirely against the short wall between the arena and the stands, looking almost hysterical. Qin Shi Huang himself housed a frown upon his face, his brows slightly scrunched in scrutiny. Dionysus smiled almost knowingly, swirling his wine in his glass as he waited…
Distances away from the distracted empress, the young god let out a final shaking breath. He knew there would be whispers in the audience all around the castle, coming down to berate him, to affront him, to criticize him.
He refused to listen. Instead, he looked forward and sternly demanded, “Give it back! You have no right to—”
The words of the young god woke Wu from her trance and her hands snapped at the young god with such speed that it was shocking she didn’t break her own neck. Zetian rushed towards Tsukuyomi, forcing the disarmed god to instinctively take a defensive stance.
“Hahaha! I’ll beat you to death with this beauty!” The Empress proclaimed, before she swung the scabbard at Tsukuyomi’s head, forcing him to dodge to the side, at which point she delivered another, even faster strike at his waist. The sheer force of the attack knocked the god to the ground, unable to recover..
Or so she thought, before jutting her head backwards to dodge out of the way of Tsukuyomi’s roundhouse kick. “I was given more methods to defend myself than just a sword!” The moon god shouted, as his father’s words echoed in his mind:
‘What if you were to be disarmed? Do not solely rely on your weapons. Make your body itself a deadly blade.’
It was hard for him to adjust to the new style of combat…he could not rely on his innate gifts to help him. Tsukuyomi gritted his teeth, and pressed forward to master his parents’ teachings. His mother had taught him how to harness the flow of power in all things, and his father had taught him the relentless, graceful martial techniques of the angels. And now, he pressed onward, striking with both in tandem. Flowing, ferocious strikes rained down, each strike leading into another, each shift of Tsukuyomi’s feet, another barrage. The rapid offense forced Zetian to put up her guard, an amused grin on her face.
“So you want to try and beat me at my own game, eh?~ Hahaha! Bring it on then, you arrogant little shit!”
“Out of all of our glorious father’s offsprings, Tsukuyomi may well be the best when it comes to hand to hand combat.” Metatron proclaimed from the stands, earning a glorious nod from Michael. A slight, nervous-sounding giggle was heard from next to Lucifer, coming from a goddess in a white and gold kimono- she’d dressed as well as possible for this match.
“Haha…he really is. Both me and your father can attest to that. He’s always worked especially hard on it and his swordsmanship…I’m proud of him.” Izanami said. A soft smile was on her face, clearly more confident than usual as she watched her son fighting in the arena.
Lucifer breathed a deep sigh next to them, gaze glued to his son. “If only Tsukuyomi understood that himself. He focuses so much on what he can’t do that he overlooks what he can…”
Back in the arena, Tsukuyomi dropped low and dragged his foot, attempting to sweep out Wu’s legs from his position. However, the Empress jumped away laughing, having the time of her life. “Hahaha! So fun!” She spun the scabbard in her hand, taunting the moon god further with its presence.
Tsukuyomi looked more determined than ever, raising his eyes from the ground. “I can do this…”
“I can reclaim it,” his conviction echoed. However, mired with the light that shone from the gluttonous eyes of the Empress who had claimed his scabbard, he had forgotten the true purpose of their showdown. A corner of Wu's lips twitched.
Tsukuyomi jumped to his feet and charged to grapple her, opening his arms wide.
“Kyaa!” She yelped, causing several members of the audience to gape in shock. “The pervert is trying to grope me!”
The moon god’s face tinged red. “N-no, I-” He started, abashed. Sensing the release of tension in the god’s arms, Wu struck.
“Just kidding~ You’re mine!” Wu grinned as she bashed the god’s face in with his scabbard, several teeth flying out of his mouth joined with spots of blood. As his senses were clouded, the empress wound her legs back, and sent her powerful knee toward the god’s defenseless stomach. At the last second, Tsukuyomi raised his forearm to block the strike, while his opponent drew distance between them with the tap of her boots as her feet met with the ground.
“E-eh…?!” Izanami stammered, clearly caught off guard and very much concerned. She blinked a couple of times as if trying to process what she had just seen.
Dionysus gorged himself on another glass of crimson wine before letting out a childlike giggle. “Ahh~ Such an intimate fight~ My favorite~ They only lack oil on their bodies~”
Qin Shi Huang raised an eyebrow at him. “This isn’t that sort of fight. But you would wish it was, wouldn’t you?”
“Let's play some more!” Wu exclaimed to the heavens, before rushing at Tsukuyomi with her heart aflame.
The moon god was still flustered. “Is.. is this just a game for you?” Then, his face hardened. “I suppose that's better for me then…”
His life flashed before him as his precious sheath ripped through the air towards his face. The wild empress swang it with an unparalleled, furious desire. Tsukuyomi brought his palm up and directed the blow above him, before he swung his left arm upwards, with the momentum gained- towards the side of Zetian’s disabled arm. His strike landed square on the empress’ jaw; causing her to rip her arm back up and hit Tsukuyomi with utterly explosive force, a force that was much to her surprise, only able to knock him a couple of feet away. Tsukuyomi shoved her back into a clumsy stumble as she looked down at her arm with utter shock. The arm that had performed the whip-like strike had been cleanly dislocated, and despite Zetian’s martial prowess and strength, it wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. This was Tsukuyomi’s chance.
‘No matter how much you dull the pain you receive, you’re still no more durable than usual. You can trick your brain, but not your body…’ A sense of confidence captured Tsukuyomi’s mind for a fraction of a second, before he became focused once more. While Wu stared at her arm with a blank yet curious look, Tsukuyomi jumped forward and brought his hands to the sheath. She snapped out of her dazed state and attempted to grip it further, but the young god did something unexpected.
His hand went to the opening of the sheath, and from it, he drew a pearlescent blade of light into his hands.
“I swear, everyone gets an infinite sword generator nowadays!” Crowley mused.
Izanami smiled, watching her son go back on the offensive. “Umm…You’ve got this! Don’t back down!”
Pushing his leg back and raising the blade, Tsukuyomi then launched himself towards the retreating Wu and sliced down at the remains of her garment with chilling precision. Occasional blows would tear at her flesh and freeze the blood into crystals of dreadful gore. Her movements remained unsteady due to his earlier dazing strike- and Tsukuyomi took full advantage, slashing rapidly with his blade of light. His attacks were precise, intended to land as many blows as possible while Wu’s defenses were staggered, targeting the areas where she was faltering the most.
‘This is going somewhat well, but to think I would fight this sloppily…’ Tsukuyomi chastised himself internally, his sorrowful demeanor resurging. He wanted to end the fight as soon as possible. And he seized the chance to do it at this very moment, he circled behind Wu and brought his foot round to Wu’s hip with melancholy vigor, knocking the empress to her knees, before using his momentum and full strength to swing his blade towards her exposed neck. But just in time, Wu fully recovered from her daze and hastily moved the sheath to stop her foe’s blade. Sparks flashed as Tsukuyomi’s arms trembled. Through the cool air, there was a small noise that resounded, a very distinct crack. As Tsukuyomi gazed up at the place where their blows met, his eyes blew wide with realization.
Where the wings of an Angel were engraved on the sheath, a light fracture began to emerge upon their midline. Sparks fell to the ground in mourning as a burst of emotion encompassed Tsukuyomi’s mind. His vision tunneled, staring solely at that fracture in horror. A shaky breath escaped him. ‘No, no! Father!’ He wished to turn to look through the castle windows at his father at this moment, but he could not let himself move. ‘I’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to—’
A sudden movement caught his eyes, and before he could resolve himself from his uncontrolled horror, Zetian struck at him ferociously. Spinning around as she rose to her feet, her arm arced towards him in a motion new to all in the arena, herself included- a newly created weapon of carnage. Her demonic eyes saw all of the world around her and how it could break, and her body itched to utterly crush it, her bones and muscles moving on their own. Zetian’s enhanced mind and ruthless battle instinct had combined in a stroke of sudden martial genius. The only thing left to do was to swing the weapon that they had given her. The Empress let out a battle cry to the heavens as Tsukuyomi attempted to retreat away, still looking at the cracks of the sheath as he raised his guard. And in that moment…the arm Tsukuyomi had thought unusable swung upwards at him, almost like a life-reaping sickle of flesh and blood, slicing through the air audibly and slipping right past his guard. The god of the moon gasped as his opponent grinned savagely.
WHITE TIGER’S ASSAULT
He tried to dodge backward- to block would be too risky. But even that wasn’t enough. Four claw marks tore Tsukuyomi’s clothes into pieces as they slashed into his chest and stomach, causing the moon god to cry out in shocked agony. Droplets of blood flew towards the face of the deranged mortal, which she licked from her cheek with a gleeful smile.
“Oh my!” Thoth gasped. “Zetian has unleashed a truly horrifying technique!”
The Wine God of Greece spoke out above the confused outrage, “How fancy~! It must have been the wind~ She attacked with such a concentrated force that the air itself sliced into Tsu-chan~ You can even see the cuts on the castle walls”
“Tsukuyomi!” cried out Izanami. Her eyes were wide and panicked. She took a deep breath and clutched the sides of her chair tightly, trembling for a moment.
Tsukuyomi cringed in pain as he looked back towards the horrible, blood-soaked beast before him. Its crimson eyes bore into his soul. “My my~ Perhaps I misjudged you.” It said mockingly as it turned off Demon Mind. “You are quite the skilled fighter yourself. Did your daddy teach you that as well?~”
The capricious mockery echoed throughout Tsukuyomi's very being. His bones recoiled in distress and his blood boiled. Yet his mind remained still. Was it enlightenment? Had he realized something? What had the young god come to understand?
Deep in the wilderness of Helheim…
Since his first venture into the underworld, it was clear to all that Tsukuyomi’s skills had truly blossomed. His blade’s movements were graceful, precise, and true, and the hazy light reflected off it had become just as elegant. Dim yet brilliant, shining gentle within each skillful strike. That was the beauty Tsukuyomi’s blade had achieved.
Yet today, the god of the moon saw no beauty in the light he had honed.
Below him lay a lifeless oni of Helheim, a great and feared devil, but to Tsukuyomi, little more than a milestone in his training. And now, yet another reason for him to be ashamed. Severe, deep, and decidedly inelegant gashes surrounded by ice covered the oni’s corpse, his face frozen forever in a twisted howl of agony. He had died with his eyes open. However, there was a twisted artistry to the slashes that had ended him- the crescent smoothness of those brutal slashes, the way they flowed into and around each other, visible even after the slaughter, had bloomed into a beautiful pattern of icy carnage.
This was what Tsukuyomi had trained for. This was the mastery he wanted to attain.
After all, he had finally managed to properly channel his light.
It was a moment he would remember forever. The moonlight had seared itself into his mind. The writhing, dying screams of the oni, the crackling of flesh, and the hollow sound of his blade striking true. When that massive, once-mighty corpse fell to the ground, his battle-tested club clattering to the ground beside him, Tsukuyomi only felt a rush of relief. Where had the adrenaline of victory gone? Had this been a battle, or an execution?
Tsukuyomi took a few deep breaths and sheathed his sword with a trembling arm, nearly cutting himself by accident, as if he couldn’t stand to look at it or away from the corpse. The reality that it was a weapon of war and not art was sobering. But this was his fault. Neither the blade or the light were stained with blood, rather, it was he who wielded them. He had destroyed instead of protecting, and caused another to die in agony. He had broken his promise, and over something as pitiful as his lack of mastery. For the first time in years, Tsukuyomi’s gentle heart began to ache and waver.
He buried the oni with his club before returning home.
The next day…
The winds of the mountaintop felt harsher than usual, howling like the wails of the damned. But Tsukuyomi simply ignored them. Again and again, without a moment of pause, he swung his radiant sword. The same combinations, the same movements, the same strikes, over and over, with moonlight coursing through each maddening repetition. His usual resolve had given way to almost manic determination. Izanami watched him silently. She had noticed the strange look in his eyes as soon as he’d returned from his battle, but trusting her son, had decided to give him some space to think. Perhaps he’d find some clarity during the day’s training.
Clarity, however, seemed farther away with each swing. Tsukuyomi’s eyes were almost bloodshot. He’d been training for hours before the break of dawn. Everything had melted away long ago, save for the blade and the reason he was swinging it. His own pure and immutable inadequacy. Even keeping a single promise was too much for him, something as simple as fighting to protect. His heart felt like it was about to burst. He couldn’t look away from his task. The oni’s body wouldn’t fade even if he did. He had to do this.
Especially since his father would be visiting later.
He continued to swing the sword. More light began to flow into it.
“I have to master myself.”
The howling wind, Izanami’s words, his own thoughts, they all became unclear white noise, the world drowning in the shine of his blade.
“Master myself.”
His eyes narrowed. He was fully focused. He started to swing faster, brighter. Ice was beginning to spread across his arm, but it didn’t slow him down for a moment.
“Come on. Master yourself.”
He swung the sword again and again. More ice crept through his arm. His sword was beginning to crack and shake. He wouldn’t stop.
“Master yourself, damnit!”
Even his own movements became nothingness to him. He didn’t notice the blinding white light forming around him, or the crystals that already coated his body, or the sword shattering into pieces, flying by and slicing him. It didn’t feel cold at all. It didn’t hurt. He didn’t hear Izanami crying out for him to stop.
“MASTER YOURSELF!”
And then, the world became white and radiant.
Since the beginning of creation, there had never been a moon in Helheim’s sky. The strange, eerie lights in the blood-red sky simply turned to darkness as the hours passed, with no true light ever coming in. That was the law of the realm itself.
But on this day, for ten shining, frightening minutes, moonlight shone down on the underworld.
It was nothing less than a light of calamity. A star of pure, radiant white hung in the sky, erratically, harshly forcing itself into a new form every moment, thrashing violently in the darkness. It was a crescent one moment, a shining fragment the next, and a full orb of deathly light immediately after. An unstable and beautiful calamity. With each sudden shift, wrathful moonlight rained upon the land. The howling tears of the moon fell to and razed the earth in a rain of disaster. Mountains, plains, forests, all were swallowed by that white and chaotic light. It was as if the heavens themselves were punishing the underworld.
This was the chaos that lay within an angel’s light. The light Tsukuyomi had so desperately wished for back then, and yet, hadn’t even begun to fathom. The light he had gained from his father. That sacred light, his greatest desire, was just the same as his blade: all his mastery and divinity given form, a beautiful, graceful, and glorious weapon of ruin.
It was a light that could never truly protect.
Those ten minutes of devastation eventually passed. The moon vanished, and Helheim’s sky returned to its natural gloom. Yet a single shining light remained within it. It slowly floated to the ground, almost gently so, and landed in front of Izanami’s surprisingly unharmed abode. She was waiting in the garden. Lucifer looked up towards her, as she immediately fell to her knees in front of him, tears in her eyes. His eyes twisted ever so slightly in guilt. She had been burned by light, his light, clearly after a struggle. She had done all she could to help.
“I’m sorry…I…I really tried, I shouldn’t have…and even you got hurt…”
Lucifer shook his head, unbothered by the frostbitten wounds on his scarred body. He hadn’t used his radiant armor for even a second, much less his weapon. He put a hand on Izanami’s head to calm her, as he had many times before.
“...Don’t worry about it. It can hardly be called an injury. And I couldn’t risk harming our son.”
The gentle coolness of his voice and the warmth of his hand slowly brought Izanami back to reality. She took a few deep breaths, before taking Tsukuyomi from Lucifer’s other arm. His body had no wounds, but he was clearly close to death, pale and haggard, as if drained of all light. The young god had utterly broken himself under his own light. Izanami almost sobbed looking at him. While Lucifer’s face remained mostly still, as he closed his eyes, the ruler of heaven felt the familiar, ever-present weight of utmost guilt…along with a slight tinge of fear.
Even now, millenia after the fall, with his supreme divine power and command over all of heaven, the greatest of angels still couldn’t protect a single boy. Those he loved and couldn’t save were still falling through the cracks, just as they had back then. It still wasn’t enough.
His, too, was a light that could never truly protect.
“...Take him inside, please. I’ll join you two in a moment.” Lucifer said. He gazed forlornly from the mountain’s edge, quietly observing the destruction his son had wrought upon Helheim. Izanami simply nodded and did as he asked. Right now was one of those moments when Lucifer needed to think alone. Lucifer turned his head briefly, and gave an almost regretful glance towards Tsukuyomi as he vanished behind the front door. It was in that moment that the mightiest among divinities offered a silent prayer for forgiveness.
“You haven’t failed, Tsukuyomi… You never did... As a father, a mentor, and a god…I’m the one who has failed you. The shame of weakness is mine alone to bear.”
He took a slight breath, and turned to join his family inside.
“I’m sorry for always being such a coward. I hope…that this serves as even the smallest compensation.”
Fastened at his hip was a beautiful sheath, adorned with two angelic wings and a jewel that glimmered like the moon.

100 Girlfriends is a series that I think is pretty neat, considering its been my hyperfixation for the past couple of years. It's very much a solid riff at the genre of harem romcoms and takes at lot of time to actually break down each member of its cast and really ask how their character quirks really affect them, eventually transforming into world's weirdest group dynamic, where more attention is given towards how each girl interacts with each other as the cast expands ever further. Though that doesn't stop the showcases of sheer love and dedication that Rentarou is willing to convey every time he gets the spotlight. Also its funny as hell.
Hardly means its perfect though, as people have pointed out the many flaws of the story, including its pacing, the questionable nature of its relationships due to the age gaps and familial relations, as well as a general dislike of the whole 100 soulmates plot device. I'd love to discuss and refute these point in a later post (particularly the last one boy do I have counterarguments to certain objections) but this prelude is long enough as is, so let's get talking about the main subject of this rant: Chapter 119 aka Fondle Festival 2.
Momiji Momi is the 15th girlfriend introduced, and she has a naturally contentious main quirk. She is a training masseuse with a fascination for soft things, a fascination that spreads specifically to the body parts of others. This results in a penchant towards groping both the girls and Rentarou alike, usually with no direct ask to do so from Momiji.
This is a questionable trait and runs the natural risk of turning her into a Mineta, but a few different factors keep it decently justifiable. The main point here is she is constantly giving out massages to Rentarou's Family and others, usually before any sort of inappropriate gropage. Hell, her first interaction was Rentarou finding her after massaging the school's entire tennis team, who had literally collapsed from the sheer pleasure and relief of the massage, and in her introduction to the group proper she straight up offers to massage the rest of the cast first and foremost, and only after is the cast willing to offer up their bodies for feeling up. It takes on a sort of transactional exchange, the cast gets free massages from Momiji, and Momiji gets to indulge in her urge to touch where she wants (sans probably the d and the v). And the entire cast seems pretty fine with it, not really reacting after a while most of the time.
Momiji also isn't just focused on the fanservice bits; her penchant for soft things stretches to bouncy house, hot buns, bread dough, and Nami boob mouse pads. Even just looking at the human body she is interested is far from boobs and butts, going to cheeks, stomachs, hands, arms, and backs. While she still is there to highlight the goods when the time comes, Momiji comes off much more than a character exclusively meant to justify fanservice, even if she is debatably the simplest and flattest girl of the main cast so far.
Enter Fondle Festival 2, generally considered one of the series few actual misses chapter wise alongside the obnoxious introductory chapters of Chiyo as well as Beef Tongue, which I could write an entire other rant about so help me god. But Fondle Festival 2 has its status for a reason, as it very much murks up the ideas of consent.
To keep things brief, Momiji ends up swapping bodies with Rentarou through the powers of a convenient drug brewed up by resident ridiculous scenario causer Kusuri, and immediately goes to grope the boobs of every single girl on the rooftop with her new boy hands without the girls realizing its Momiji for a significant amount of time and absolutely without them giving a clear thumbs up.
Consent is a bit of a grey area in 100 Girlfriends more generally, mainly because as a gag series it does have a status quo that it needs to maintain for its cast. Usually most characters are pretty good about their ridiculous demands in terms of directly asking about it, but no matter how many times the characters say no or tell them to stop, such questions and actions will of course continue in the next chapter simply due to wanting to be able to pull out those traits for jokes again. Momiji herself is a perpetrator considering how often her groping is considered a gag in a panel even if it is making the characters uncomfortable, though she is far from the worst offender (looking at you Hahari). For the most part characters are willing to call out stuff that is actively bad and say in pretty uncertain terms that its terrible, but this stuff still does happen due to the nature of the genre and how characters are defined.
In the context of Fondle Festival 2, the girls in question are...mostly okay with it? They acknowledge that this is a weird situation and bunch actually take advantage of said situation to fulfill their less than kosher desires, and by the end its revealed that basically all of them caught onto what had happened and were totally taking advantage of it.
The problems start with only most of the girlfriends being okay with it. Uto completely breaks her chuuni bard persona and is left frozen in shock at such an event, unclear if she was okay with it. Several girls try to get Momiji to stop and get an unwanted grope because of it, and Mimimi straight up slaps Momiji (who Mimimi assumed was Rentarou) and insinuates for them to stop, but Momiji continues undetered. Multiple girls very clearly and explicitly give a sign that they are not okay with this and they need to stop, yet Momiji continues to make them feel uncomfortable.
My largest problem, however, is when you realize that Momiji is using Rentarou's body for this. Rentarou is a bastion of chastity in essentially every regard, going to frankly ridiculous length to prevent any sexual advances from the girls or himself. He straight up does not allow himself to think of the girls in a sexual if he can allow it, as he sees it as demeaning of the girls themselves and that would be a failure on his part. Is it a kind of ridiculous belief? Yes. Is it still his own belief that he holds up to the best of his ability? Also yes, and that needs to be respected.
Fondle Festival 2, in my humble opinion, does not respect that belief in a really frustrating way. I can't say for certain what good body swapping etiquette is, but I don't imagine that going off in someone else body and doing something that stands directly against their characterization, especially since Rentarou was knocked out for most of this, and Momiji even ends up groping Rentarou/her own chest, which makes this even murkier.
Momiji does end up getting some level of comeuppance by the end of the chapter through a taste of her own medicine and she fully apologizes to the girls about the whole incident in the bonus page of the chapter, but I'd argue the damage has been done and it doesn't stop the gross feeling I got when reading the chapter, either the original japanese raws or the translated version.
While I can shrug off a lot about this series, this flagrant ignoring of both the girls and Rentarou in this situation for the sake of a bit did not jive with me. Consent is important y'all.

TW: Discusses SA and stalking, although not graphically in any way.
I want to preface this by saying, I'm new to being a women, I (35F) started transitioning MtF last year. I'm discovering just how scary this world can be for women. Not that I didn't have any idea before, but experiencing it is something else entirely. I started "passing" somewhat recently, and it's made being out in public, especially alone, very stressful. Something I wasn't prepared for tbh. When I didn't pass, or was clocked as trans, men left me alone. So I think being a "pretty woman" has the most to do with it. I'm whistled at, catcalled, told to smile, have unwanted comments made about what I'm wearing or my body. I've been stalked, followed into a bathroom, and groped (separate events, different guys). All within the last 4-5 months. Needless to say, my confidence about handling myself around the general public has been shattered. I honestly didn't see this happening that badly to me, a 6' tall 160lb 35 year old transwoman. Blows my fucking mind.
Anyway, point being is that I've been particularly sensitive to discussions around SA and violence against women. I find it extremely triggering, and a stupid graphic novel I read recently is just living in my head, torturing me. In brief, it's about a young women who is kidnapped and assaulted by a stalker. Why oh why did I read that comic when it's literally a huge trigger for me? Your guess is as good as mine. It was like a train wreck, I couldn't look away. It was stupid of me to do. Something about it kind of broke me, however.
I've been having nightmares about the male antagonist, I feel like I'm actually being stalked to some degree, even tho I know I'm not. I'm paranoid, having trouble socializing, I'm not eating much, I think about that poor fictional woman constantly... I honestly don't know what's wrong with me, but it's honestly kinda embarrassing. It isn't real, but all I can see is myself I her situation. I've never experienced anything like this before, and I hate it. It sounds ridiculous to say outloud, but it's seriously harming me.
My best guess is that reading all of that brought the new fears forward based on my recent bad experiences. But still, I feel like a fictional story shouldn't be tormenting me like this. Has anyone else experienced anything like this? Is there something wrong with me? Should I seek professional help? If so, what kind?
Any advice or support is welcome.

For background context: My best friend of 5 years who I trusted everything with has been dating a guy for 3 years. It’s her second serious relationship and she sees herself marrying him and also he’s the only guy who has been able to satisfy her sexually. He’s a bum who has “a wife” but apparently his “wife is psychotic” so they have to hide their relationship.
We had a party, I got super drunk and so did he. I went to go pee and after I wash my hands and shut the lights of the bathroom to leave… I open the door and her boyfriend IS RIGHT in front of me. He then continues to lead me back into the DARK bathroom. Then proceeds to lock the door. And grope me and put his hands under my shirt touching my back. Saying how he always thought I was so hot. But with my personality when I get uncomfortable I always try to make it light. I then tell him “uhh let’s go back to everyone in the living room I want to drink” but he doesn’t stop. So I just say well I want to go drink and leave. And never speak of it ever again. I wake up the next morning remembering everything… he texts me at 7am and asks me to call him when I wake up and the FIRST thing he says is “what do you remember about last night” I lie and say I blacked out just seeing if he admits to what he did. He says he doesn’t remember anything.. and I don’t know why I didn’t call him out on it and to this day I regret not calling him out.
Fast forward 6 months later, I distance myself from him and my best friend bc I KNOW that my friend wouldn’t believe me I just knew how in love she was. I just took myself out of the picture. Unfortunately a mutual friend of ours gets drunk and tells my best friend the reason I’ve been distancing myself. And she finds out.
To put this story to a close — She didn’t believe me. She thinks I came on to him and thinks that “if he really groped me I would have yelled or screamed” but the fact that I “let it happen” is why it doesn’t make sense to her. The moment she told me “there’s no way he would come on to you because we have an amazing sex life” and proceeded to tell me that moving forward SHE wouldn’t feel comfortable if her boyfriend and I were alone together” … I lost all hope for our friendship.
In that exact moment I knew where she stood and I decided to walk away from that friendship. She’s upset that I didn’t want to hash it out. But there’s nothing to hash out. She’s in love with him and that’s that.
Also Two of my sober friends were witnesses to him pushing himself into the bathroom I was in but she still didn’t believe.
Anyways if you made it this far thank you for listening. This actually happened two years ago. I’m in a lot better head space now. The reason I wanted to share my story is one just for the release but the other is because I recently saw a Reddit post where a woman talked about getting sexually assaulted on a train and she froze and it took her a moment to process what happened and she regrets not reacting.. and it just made me feel like I wasn’t alone in how I reacted. I was reading other peoples replies and they also said that it’s normal to freeze up and be confused when that happens. And just by reading comments I felt this overwhelming support idk it’s weird to even describe like wow so it’s not just me idk so I just wanted to say my peace.
It’s honestly so unfortunate that girl’s siding with their manipulative partners over their friends is so commonplace. Smh.

I tried to post this in japan but automod took it down and the mods haven’t gotten back to me yet. So, this is probably the more appropriate subreddit. For clarification, this happened yesterday night.
I (26F) am traveling with my family in Japan. We were on a very crowded subway train cart on the 丸ノ内線 (Marunouchi Line) in Tokyo around 21:30. This is my third time in Japan and l've taken the subway and public transport many times, but this was a first.
I'm still sort of processing it, but I didn't quite realize what happened until I got off the subway cart. I just don't know if this is common, and l've never been groped before so l didn't realize what was happening until my brain was like wait, that was someone's hand/fingers groping the back of my thigh/butt on the cart....
Just, uh, yeahh. Maybe it's just Tokyo? It's my first time in this city and I have always been in the Kansai region during my previous visits. Never ever have I had issues there.
I still feel it (and a little disgusted/shocked) and I want to know if anyone else has experienced something like this as some form of "I'm not crazy to have experienced this in 2024."
EDIT: Of course being 外人 doesn’t make any difference, I just didn’t know what to do once I fully processed what had happened.
EDIT 2:
Thank you all for your validating responses and those of you who also shared your experiences. I wanted to add a little more information for those who may want to use this post for reference.
First, yes, I know there are women-only cars, and I have used them in the past. They are great and I recommend them for gals to use if they would like a safe space. However, their times can be limited (for instance on the particular line I took, it said designated train cars were women-only before 9:30 during rush hour, and didn’t see any indication it was women-only in the late evening). Furthermore, I’m also traveling with my dad and brother. I’d prefer to stick with them so we don’t get separated, especially during more busy times since men aren’t allowed in the cars during women-only times. (Though young children, 12 and under are acceptable in women-only cars.)
Second, I truly appreciate those who gave advice. From what I gathered, yelling:
“chikan” 痴漢 (groper) “hentai” 変態 (pervert) or “yamero” やめる (stop)
while also clearly indicating who it is (if possible), maybe grabbing their hand and raising it, and making a fuss can get the behavior to stop immediately and provide intervention. Although, it can be hard to identity someone in a packed car (for instance I was groped from behind and I was carrying my backpack in front of me because of the limited space on the train) so I probably should have grabbed their hand first to help identify who it was and then yelled and make a loud fuss. Further, grabbing the culprit/assaulter and taking them to the police at the next stop will ensure they get in trouble for their behavior. They may go willingly after you’ve publicly shamed them and made a fuss. However, try to not physically assault or instigate a physical fight with the assaulter as it could result you landing in jail. I could argue depending on the circumstance they may “deserve it,” but it is probably best to not escalate the situation in a harmful way.

According to statistics from the government tourism bureau, the number of foreign visitors to Japan exceeded 3 million for the first time in a single month in March 2024. Against the backdrop of a weakening yen, which is driving up demand for affordable Japan among inbound tourists, what is the impression of Japan among foreigners?
First, I asked a straightforward question to an American man who has lived in Japan for over 30 years: "What do you dislike about Japan?"
He began by praising aspects of living in Japan, highlighting the sense of security and tranquility that comes with it, mentioning the rarity of serious crimes and the freedom from worrying about entering unsafe areas late at night. He also appreciated the relaxed atmosphere that allows leaving a laptop unattended at a café when going to place an order. However, he pointed out a significant downside of living in Japan: becoming accustomed to life there may lead to naivety and excessive trust in human goodness when returning or visiting foreign countries, potentially making one overly passive.
Another American man echoed similar sentiments when asked the same question. He pointed out unique sexual crimes such as groping and the scandalous behavior of certain politicians, like the panty thief lawmaker (such as Takeru Ōgi, a member of the Liberal Democratic Party). These, he stated, clearly constitute negative aspects of life in Japan.
Furthermore, this American expressed dissatisfaction with the quality of housing in Japan, noting the common lack of proper insulation, resulting in uncomfortably cold conditions inside apartments during winter. He also criticized Japan's work culture, stating that his tolerance for the oppressive labor culture has diminished over the years. He emphasized the superficial nature of Japan's corporate culture, where appearances are prioritized over genuine integrity and where the process of decision-making tends to be slow.
In summary, it's often said that Japan's corporate culture is formalistic, emphasizing surface appearances and preserving decorum. This American man appears exhausted by Japan's business culture, highlighting its rigidity and the time-consuming nature of decision-making processes.
A French woman who has been living in Japan for three years remarked, "The cute, anime-like outfits worn by young Japanese women are amusing and certainly characteristic of Japan... However, I've noticed a lot of foreign 'otaku'-like men visiting Japan recently, and they uncomfortably stare at these cute-looking Japanese women on trains and such. Because the women appear so passive, it makes me want to say, 'Be careful!'"
Regarding Japan's business culture, she expressed confusion, stating, "You have to read between the lines, and that's bothersome. Because people who can't express themselves directly make it difficult to gauge whether I've said or done something wrong or offended them."
Furthermore, when asked the same question, another American man responded, "What I dislike most is that in Japan, you can't just live. In reality, while living in Japan, you're always expected to speak positively about life in Japan, and you realize that Japanese people expect you to say, 'Japan is wonderful!' It feels like being trapped in a cult."
Additionally, it has been observed that many foreigners have felt a sense of discrimination in the way they are treated or handled by the police, and some foreign residents in Japan have expressed a belief that Japanese people tend to discriminate based on race or skin color.
ALL About News

The question being posed is structured in a way that invokes the most emotional response from anyone who engages with it, which I feel is intentional.
Generally, I’ve seen the question posed as, ”If you were alone in the woods, would you rather encounter a man or a bear?”
If we break the question down into the information that we know, we can determine the following:
• We are alone in the woods,
…and that’s it. We don’t actually have any other information to go off of. We don’t have any idea of how the encounter takes place, the distance between the man/bear and the woman that is encountering them, if the woman has anything to defend herself typically carried when alone in the woods such as a firearm or some sort of blade or hatchet, or the surroundings at all. And that is exactly why people feel so strongly one way or the other.
Even just the concept of “a forest” looks vastly different from person to person. For me, a forest looks similar to the way they do in the southeastern United States, which is a temperate coniferous forest characterized by lots of pine and thick undergrowth. For others, it may more closely resemble a temperate broadleaf forest, which is the vast majority of the continental U.S.. The actual forest type is probably one of the least important pieces of the puzzle, but the point is that we use our own lived experiences to fill in the blanks of what we expect the scenario to look like.
We see this trope of “The Unknown” used very effectively in the horror genre, as it is entirely up to us to come up with the perceived reality of the situation. All we know is that the protagonist of the story is in a bad position and is currently under threat. With that, our brains come up with the worst thing that we could plausibly believe if we were in the same position. This phenomenon, while powerful, also leads to difficulties for the horror genre if the threat ever becomes tangible. If you’ve ever seen a scary movie and the monster turns out to be a weird goofy looking puppet that is obviously not real, you’ll end up feeling disappointed, as you had a perception in your mind that the threat was far more frightening than it actually is.
For most women, they have zero experience with bears, especially in the context of seeing them up close with no barrier to separate them from you. However, there is an innumerable amount of interactions between women and men. While logically, encountering a bear is probably more dangerous from an outward perspective, lived experience forces people to fill in the blanks. I’ve been with my wife since we were in high school, and she was groped by a man that she knew at a college party I was not able to attend. That experience will live with her for the rest of her life and I regret every day that I was not there to do anything about it. She would be correct to pick the bear, as she has grown up in a society where things like this are not treated as harshly as they should be. We could get into the specifics of how and why it is this way, but that is the way it is.
The disconnect comes from the way this is perceived by others who view it as a way to dogpile men as a collective without taking into consideration that they are nothing like the men that women typically fear. Based on the lived experience of many men, the level of distrust the average woman has for an average man can be genuinely damaging to the mental perception they have of themselves. This is why they feel defensive, not that they are jumping at the chance to run into a woman who is alone in the woods. When I first heard the question, my immediate reaction was to feel defensive because I know that I would never do something to a woman in that scenario. Every day I strive to make the women in my life feel as safe as possible. I only realized later that the image of a man in this imagined scenario will always be the worst version possible. It required me to chew on it a lot before gathering my thoughts and realizing that the answer is not obvious despite what people say.

TL;DR: The question is worded as vaguely as possible to ensure that people will paint a mental picture that is the worst thing they could imagine, rather than what is likely. This tactic is used commonly in the horror genre. Men need to be more empathetic towards women who pick the bear, but men should also not be ridiculed for initially feeling hurt by the perception that being in the woods with a literal bear, apex predators of the forest, is preferable to being in the woods with them. We need more empathy on the whole, and this question requires an introspective understanding that many people have not regularly trained. Go to therapy you filthy animals!

Special thanks to SpacePaladin15 for allowing fanfiction and giving us Tilfish.
I'd like to mention that there's another member of the Sillis Gang out there making amazing work and a great story. Go give Occupation Hazard a read, it's well worth it!
[First] [Prior] [Next]
Sillis Gang!
.*~*.
Memory Transcription Subject: Zoil, Tilfish Space Corps.
Date: December 5, 2136
.~*~.
Zivik snapped at the tail end of the third wave. I realized I could hear him shouting nonsense in between the brief lulls were I was locating a new target to shoot at. I thought he got shot, but after a few more moments I realized he sounded enraged and not injured. I couldn't focus on it too much; the Arxur were applying constant pressure, so even though the third push was dismantled they were not giving us any breathing room. Cracks of gunfire lit up windows across from us and down in between buildings, constantly keeping us firing to push them back while they regrouped to hit us again with more ordinance.
The third floor was still retaining most of their lights with minimal casualties, but they were accumulating losses. None of the ground teams wanted to push up past their barricades to offer additional coverage despite Tugal's heated shrieking, and there was only five of us that could pick off problem targets. I couldn't get up and look over the side to see if they were complying or not without getting my head blown off, and I groped around for another magazine as I got low suppressing some windows that were causing problems.
I managed to find another as a shape materialized a building over, and I snapped to it and dropped it before shakily reloading and snapping back before my lapse could cause a casualty above me.
Zivik was still shouting about something called an area of denial, then Tugal was yelling at him to make some damn sense and the two started going back and forth while we were all being shot at.
I had to tune it out. Another sharp zing overhead made me flinch as I tried to find who shot at me, then ducked down further when the air over my head rippled. I scooted back, grabbing the magazine that had little left in it after realizing there was nothing else to haul to the next spot. I could see Tugal and Zivik now, and while Tugal was busy doing his job Zivik had the radio and was yelling in it. I wanted to scream at him to pick his rifle back up and fight, but before I could say anything he sat it down and suddenly took off.
I balked, watching one of Cleo's most trusted exterminators deserting. The exterminators didn't run from the Arxur. What was he doing? I couldn't get it out of my mind and crawled to my next firing position, noting far less ammunition than I wanted as I lined up another shot. If the Exterminator was running, what chance did I have? There wasn't anywhere to run to!
"Where's he going?!" I shouted, my head ringing as shell casings skittered along the tile from another salvo.
Tugal heard me, thank the stars.
"He's rallying the remaining exterminators! The Greys might try and hit an area we're not inside so they can blindside us, so he's countering that before it can happen!"
"We need them here!"
"They'll be back soon! They're going to make it real hot for any Greys that try to breach the walls!"
I refused to believe that I heard that correctly.
"They're going to set the building on fire?!"
"Yeah!"
"Are they nuts?!"
"I think it's a good idea!"
Tugal had lost his mind, and I wanted to rip out my antennae. "Maybe if we were not inside the building they're about to torch!"
"They'll burn areas we can't cover! They know what they're doing! They're not going to smoke us out!"
We were all going to burn to death. I wanted to laugh but I also wanted to cry. How did you control fire? You didn't. Dumb-asses burned down more than a few buildings during Mom's career in accidental burns. Now Zivik was going to set us all on fire to spite the Arxur.
A few minutes dragged on before Tugal shouted to me again: "Zoil! We've gone through half of our reserves and the rest of the teams are not that far behind! I need you to run down to Vadim and bring back a cart of ammunition. Everyone's caught up with their own problems so I need you to do it! Pernnit won't respond so make it quick!"
I wanted to stay but there wasn't a choice in the matter. Two guns down up here wouldn't matter if all the guns went down later, so I edged back and moved as fast as I could through the nest. I grabbed a spare radio on the way out, tuning it to the correct broadband as I ran down the hall. I tried to not think about how much a difference three soldiers would make on the second floor. Everyone else was going to have to pick up the slack.
Why in the blazing stars was there no one running supplies to the people that needed them? They couldn't pull two or three guys off of the defenses on the other end of the building? They had every advantage, while we had Zivik preparing to burn down parts of the building to buy us some more time!
Ducking below some hanging ceiling tiles I went down the staircase and found myself back on the ground floor, trying to remember which way I had to go at every branching path since everything looked different now. Up ahead was a cart I could use, laden with forgotten welding equipment. I shoved all of it off into a mess on the floor and took it along with me, puffing as I turned a corner.
The lights overhead flickered again, then died. I tightened my grip on the cart as I pushed it through the gloom, feeling out where I should be lest I run head first into a wall. I regretted not grabbing a flashlight but there wasn't anything I could do about that now, but I didn't need it to know where I was going. I continued for a few more moments before realizing that the lights still hadn't come back to life, and this time I did laugh. Maybe that guard had been right, and bureaucracy was what would get us in the end.
"Zoil, I just got word that the building lost power. The generator room should be near where you helped turn off the fire suppression systems. Figure out what happened and get them back on." Tugal's voice crackled over the radio.
"Okay, I'll be there soon." I clicked back, rounding a corner. The hallway opened up slightly and I recognized where I was, the scent of burned fuel growing stronger. I left the cart in an intersection and kept going, passing office spaces in the dark. The occasional sign on the wall was still illuminated by their own emergency power supply, and I found myself moving faster as I figured out exactly where I was going.
The ground jolted beneath me and I flinched, several thunderclaps making me stagger. I hit the ground and covered my head as it continued, breathing hard as it ended after a few long seconds. I grabbed my radio and brought it to my face, getting my legs back under me and running a bit faster. "Tugal?!"
"We're fine! Focus on the generators!"
I dropped my paw from the radio and kept running, my heart beating in my skull. I had to focus on my task. Everyone else's job was to worry about the ordinance falling on their heads. I chanted that mantra in my head over and over as I turned one corner, then went down a long hallway and turned another corner. I hoped to the stars above it was a simple failure. Something like a refueling, or a reset that was needed. A basic fault that I could fix without needing to look for complex tools. The chances were most the equipment I would need was nearby if it needed such repairs, but that would take time to repair and I didn't want to be away from my team any longer than necessary.
I scuttled to a stop in front of a door labeled for the generator room, freezing in place as I stared at the handle.
Sunshine.
What if this was another one of his traps? No one was guarding the room; what if he wasn't as injured as we thought he was, and he hadn't gone and died in a hole somewhere? Tasiilaq's death lingered on my mind, knowing full well that the human could trap electrical rooms with lethal efficiency. This could easily be another ploy to weaken us further. Another trap someone had to enter, and another dead soldier to add to that monster's name.
It had to be me. It could've been anyone that got caught in it, but it was me standing here. There wasn't time to figure out how to circumvent it, and I couldn't force someone else to take my place. There wasn't time for it, and a selfish part of me knew that even if I did there was a chance I'd die anyway from a trap laid further back in the hall.
Another dull explosion sounded from somewhere else in the building, and I felt my heart trying to pop. I took a deep breath, then a second. I released it in a scream and threw myself at the door, banging through it and into the room. I staggered and nearly tripped, diving behind the nearest obstacle. I cracked my head on something and everything got fuzzy, but as I came out of it I realized that I wasn't dead and nothing seemed to have exploded.
Rubbing at a sore part of my skull and batting my antennae, I pulled myself back together as the thudding in my chest eased slightly. I'd thrown myself into one of the generators, I realized.
It was silent, but as I carefully scooted back and examined my surroundings I noticed the display was illuminated but reading an error I wasn't familiar with. Cautiously, I hefted my rifle up and peered around the side, seeing two more generators in the gloom displaying the same error. The radiant glow gave the room some color and let me see more, and I finally noticed smoke in the air. Acidic and sour, a faint haze was hanging around the ceiling.
Hesitantly, I stepped out from my cover and looked around, trying to locate where it was coming from. My paws kicked something and it skittered across the ground, and with a start I realized there were spent shell casings everywhere. I plucked a light off of a nearby station and clicked it on, letting me see the room properly as it banished away the dark.
Holes marred the generators everywhere I could see, jagged metal and chipped paint leaking fumes and smoldering heat. My shoulders slowly sagged as I took it all in. Most of it was superficial damage in areas that didn't matter. Some of it wasn't. Ruined circuits and fried junctions leered at me from crucial feed points. Mechanical equipment that was jammed and twisted beyond repair.
There isn't enough time.
I found myself looking through it anyway, going generator to generator. One was smoldering, and I didn't have an extinguisher to put it out. The second one was dead as well, the junctions ruined beyond reasonable repair. The third one had all it's electronics smashed, and I wasn't even certain if there was anything I could salvage off of it to fix the second one.
The tools I needed to fix this were not here. There were wrenches and various tools and spare parts, but nothing was stocked for the hardware that was ruined. Why would there be? No one would reasonably plan for sabotage of this scale.
Backing out of the room, I numbly got on the radio. "The generators are shot up. I don't have the time to fix them, Tugal."
"Then get back here with the ammunition. " Came a hurried response. "I'll pass word along. We'll do without them."
I sucked in a breath and coughed, feeling a deep ache in my chest. I wasn't whistling so bad anymore, or at least I thought so until I coughed again and it sounded more like a chirp than a cough. I flexed my mandibles and grimaced, slowing down
I wanted to run. Everything around me demanded I do. The basic urge to flee to somewhere safer. The fact that I was working on a timer before everyone's bullets ran out. The reality that I was alone in the dark, completely surrounded by predators that wished to tear me apart. But if I did that, I'd exhaust myself before it counted. I couldn't run, or I'd die. I'd sap my strength before I needed it, and then I'd either collapse in a fit or before I could get those bullets where they needed to be.
Tugal was counting on me to get this done. I couldn't fail him because I lost my self control.
Walking wouldn't cut it so I found myself settling into a swift jog, my rifle tapping against my side in a steady pattern. For some reason it started to irritate me, then it started to grow and bloom into anger. How much time would this buy us? A few hours, defending a place of no value? We had the choice of abandoning this place to the Arxur or losing it to them entirely, and that would be soon. We would have been better off defending a bunker and dying for a reason, instead of dying in a burrow saving nobody but ourselves and a pawful of civilians. How were we going to escape the Arxur encircling us? The cost would be in blood, and I wasn't foolish enough to think a lot of it wouldn't be ours.
This was Sunshine's fault. That predator did this, locking us all in here until we were discovered. All that blood was on his twisted hands, and honestly he probably wasn't bothered by that. Predators liked suffering, and Sunshine loved making a game out of it with his bombs and traps and sweet little lies. He had no interest in helping anyone. He wanted Vadim dead and we were all collateral. His advice to help the civilians was just some ploy. He was favoring us, wanting us to feel indebted to him? I wasn't doing his dirty work.
It hurt, finding out Tugal hadn't trusted me enough to let me in on that fact. Realizing that Marullo never had his pad was a burning coal in my chest, and Tugal's logic burned even worse. Sunshine was keeping us alive. You'd think that was because he had feelings, or some grand plan. It was just to use us. I got to see first hand how he treated anything that got in his way.
But Tugal was right to not talk about it. Vadim's men would kill us if he found out, and the optics around us were bad as it was. He should have at least told me, instead of letting me figure it out on my own. All the secrets we kept between us, and the most pressing one is the one he keeps away from me. It left a vile taste in my mouth.
With how things were going, maybe we would have to take Sunshine's backward advice. Evidently he knew the building better than me. If we got pushed back too far we'd have to move the cafeteria there, and then Vadim's plans would get shot up in the process. By the blazing stars, maybe they already had been and that's why he was taking so long to figure out a proper course of action. Sunshine could've done who knows what that I wasn't aware of to complicate things further.
It dawned on me that the flashing yellow lights for the lockdown were out. Not that it mattered anymore. You might as well go outside with a plate in each paw. Our prison of locked doors got turned into one made of teeth. I had to wonder if the absence of the extra security from the lockdown would mean anything. This was a government building, but I didn't know what kind of maglocks they were using. I knew that there were some that disengaged when they lost power and there were some that didn't, but the later ones were for areas that needed the utmost security. This was normally an entire building full of professionals trained with firearms, so maybe there was a chance that some of the stuff we'd been unable to recover was now available.
I suddenly hoped not. If it was true then it meant every way out was unlocked now, and the Arxur could come right on in if there was a spot we missed.
Finally, I reached the cart again and shoved it along. I could feel the grimy soot beneath my paws as I hurried, my flashlight illuminating stained walls where the smoke had been particularly foul. I could see Vadim's quarters at the far end, the set of doors marred and tainted with soot and grubby paw prints. The soot on the floor had a lot of traffic around there, with prints going both in my direction and the other way from countless soldiers coming and going.
There were a few fresh holes in the door, and it made me pause again. I didn't want to end up like the man that had rushed in there after Sunshine's proposal, and I hesitated before knocking firmly on the door a few times. There wasn't an immediate answer and I fidgeted. Tugal told them I'd be coming. He had to of. I knocked again, just in case. Once more no one bothered to usher me in, and my irritation flared before deciding that I'd given more than enough notice.
Gently pushing the door open, I was surprised to find the room dark. Vadim's guard would have plenty of lights set up by now. Leaving the cart at the door I stepped further in, seeing rows and rows of tables with equipment of all kinds either laid out or in neat stacks, but not a person in sight.
"What..." I couldn't help but chitter, being the only noise in the vacated room.
The ammunition I needed was at the first table. I physically shook my head, my antennae swinging in a delayed arc with the motion as I stepped back and grabbed the cart, dragging it into the room and shoving it up to the table. I was quick to plunk down several cases of bullets, then stack magazines with them. Several were already loaded and felt like a blessing, and in no time I'd cleared the table off entirely and moved onto the next, grabbing more munitions.
Vadim had to be attending to something dire. Maybe he was rallying the troops or investigating a lead out of here. Something.
Why is this room abandoned? Sunshine could stroll right in here and blow up everything!
The doors opened behind me and my heart sank, my paws occupied with a case of munitions. I started to spin, fumbling with the box and dropping it before realizing there wasn't a lone predator looming in the entrance but three of my own kind.
"Where in the blazing stars is everyone?" I clacked sharply at them, recognizing Vadim's men flanking Pernnit on either side. She flinched at my harsh greeting, but her antennae dipped slightly as she dug in.
"We've figured a way out. Everyone not actively fighting off the Arxur are working at making an opening. Tugal said you'd coming down so I grabbed two guys to help speed this up. We need more time but we're close." She chittered back, her entourage taking a cue to come closer to help. My boiling anger simmered just enough to not belittle them further, but my antennae swayed aggressively still.
"And what's General Vadim doing?" I asked, a bit sharper than I meant to.
"He's helping with the evacuation point to make it go faster."
The image of an old man moving heavy machinery or doing who knew what to forge an escape route crossed my mind, and I grit my mandibles as I picked up the case I'd dropped and moved it onto the cart.
"We need people supporting the ones fighting the Arxur. I shouldn't be down here fetching ammunition; I should be back there!" I hissed, turning and grabbing another box. "And maybe let people know the good news? Everyone thinks they're about to die! Shoot, if we move the civilians now that'll free up more paws to get us out of here!"
Pernnit shifted on her paws, still not helping me load the cart with the other two.
"We can't risk a stampede running into the operation and slowing everything down. When it's open we'll send word of it."
"That doesn't explain why everyone defending this place is in the dark." I grumbled more evenly, stacking some cases. There was a way out. It stilled my temper as a weight was lifted off my chest, and I imagined it would be like that for everyone else. We weren't going to die in a corner. We had progress, more so than we had in the past cycle.
"Mistakes were made." Pernnit conceded, looking to one of the men helping me finish loading the cart. "You should not have needed to come down here."
"Everyone guarding the lobby is running low on ammunition. I'm going to need help getting magazines loaded for everyone. I don't know what the other end of the building looks like, but supplies need to get to them as well. I'm not logistics but that sounds like too m-"
One of the soldiers lifted the case of ammunition in their paws a little higher before slamming it down against my carapace, and the rest of the words gushed past my mandibles in an incoherent whoosh as my lungs seized. I staggered and caught myself on the cart, my legs nearly splaying out in every direction as it rolled and nearly took me to the floor. The other soldier rushed to my side to help. His paws were grasping his own rifle tightly, and he started pushing it to the side as he got to me. The stock of it was coming back around too fast-

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
The ointment that King Creole had given me was not permanent. Much to my shock and horror when I woke up and went to the bathroom I saw the giant scar and stitches staring back at me. Turns out, the ointment lasts only eight hours before it needs to be reapplied. Which was annoying, and forced me to have a timer go off just before eight hours was up to reapply the ointment to my scar. Just another thing forced upon me because of my entanglement with King Creole.
A week or two after my last job for him, I was rudely interrupted by him calling me again. I was in the middle of dinner with my mom, my dad was out at work on a late shift. I stared at my phone for a long time. Everything in me was telling me just to ignore him. It took everything in me to answer him and bring the phone up to my ear.
“My darling Mace!” Creole’s excited voice greeted me, causing an annoyed exhale to come out of my nostrils. “Sorry to interrupt dinner with your lovely mother, but an urgent matter requires your attention. Finish your dinner and then get your lovely self down to the shop. See you then.” He didn’t even bother waiting for a response or let me respond at all. The call lasted probably all of ten seconds.
“Who was that?” My mom asked as he took a sip of her drink. I stuffed my phone into my pocket and picked at the chicken and rice staring back at me. My mom is a great cook, but it was hard for me to feel any kind of appetite when all I could think of was the horrible shit I had seen and had gone through. I had almost been murdered multiple times, one time being at death's door, and I had no one to turn to. Very hard to feel any kind of appetite after all that shit.
“Scam call,” I told her and I forced myself to eat an entire forkful of food. She nodded and kept eating her share of the dinner. After I had eaten enough to pass for a normal amount of food, I pushed my chair back and carried my plate to the sink. Rinsing it out after I placed my leftovers back into the pan that they had come from. “Mom I’m going out for a walk. Do you need anything while I’m out?” I asked her once I had finished with my plate.
“No sweetheart. Just be careful out there. Lots of weirdos out there nowadays,” she said as she passed me with her empty plate. Oh if only she knew the shit I was mixed up with. But I gave her a nod and a hug. I ran upstairs to my room to get my essentials. My lockpicking kit and now a new weapon to my arsenal, pepper spray. It might not exactly work on Creole but it would stop a repeat of a knife ending up in my throat.
As if to harp on that point, my timer went off, prompting me to go into the bathroom to quickly apply my ointment. It seemed that whenever it began to run low and I had to think about having to go back to the shop on my ‘days off’ the container would always refill itself. So I guess that was a nice plus.
With everything ready for my next horrible errand, I hugged and kissed my mom goodbye before leaving my house and heading in the direction of the voodoo store. Despite it clearly being labeled ‘Half Priced Voodoo Store’, my mind constantly wanted to call it a voodoo shop. Something about it just rolled off the tongue better. Maybe Creole had a branding issue or something. The sun was just about to dip below the horizon and the streetlight flickered to life, creepily illuminating my way towards the shitty part of town where the shop/store was located.
This time thankfully I didn’t run into any drug dealers or crackheads. But my hands never left my pockets the entire time. I had my finger on the trigger of the pepper spray ready for anyone that might want to jump me. But I arrived safely at the store and opened the door, the sad rusty bell signaling my arrival.
Waiting for me at the register was Jacob. It hadn’t gotten any easier to look at him. He was in a new outfit, however. Before he had been in a suit similar to King Creole’s, but now he was wearing a bellboy outfit. It was bright red with shiny gold trimmings. He looked like some sort of ornamental nutcracker or something with how new and shiny he looked. His stitched-up mouth was now curled up into a smile as he eagerly waved hello to me.
“Doesn’t he just look positively lovely?!” Creole shouted excitedly, causing me to yelp in surprise as he suddenly appeared behind me. He wrapped his arm around me and led me closer to the register. Jacob took his hat off and did a little bow to me and I awkwardly waved hello to him, more worried about getting Creole off of me.
“He looks…good,” I said, shrugging his arm off of me and letting out a sigh of relief when he finally let me go. If he was offended by my shrugging his affection off he didn’t let it dampen his excitement over how Jacob looked.
“Doesn’t he? I wanted to try something new with him and I’m absolutely adoring how he turned out!” he shouted with giddy excitement. Jacob placed his little hat back on before bowing again and excusing himself to the backroom. He left us alone and I suddenly found the atmosphere much less inviting without him there.
“So…how’s business?’ I asked him, trying to cut some of the awkward tension in the room. He craned his neck down to look at me. I could swear that his head was about to break its stitches and his head would go tumbling to the floor with how he was staring at me.
“It’s great! Can’t complain about it at all actually.” Creole let out a big chuckle before slapping me on the back hard and heading behind the counter as if to escape any imaginary retaliation I might want to do to him. “Don’t worry Mace, I won’t let you kill yourself with small talk,” he said as he sat down in the chair that sat behind the register. “I need you to get me a mirror. A very special one.” His smile dipped a bit, this was something serious.
“What does it do? I assume since you want it, it probably isn’t normal.” I walked up to the counter and noticed that the voodoo template doll was staring back at me.
“You catch on quickly.” Creole snickered at me in a patronizing tone. “It’s best if I don’t tell you what it does. In fact, for your own safety, I’d advise you not even to glance at this mirror.” He raised his arm and fluttered his fingers, a scrap of paper appearing between his index and middle finger. “This place is also quite far away and I know y’all aren’t gonna make it walking. So I’ll give ya some help,” he said as he handed me the scrap of paper.
I took it from him and looked down at it. It was only what I guessed was a room number. “Where exactly is this?” I asked, looking back up toward the register. Only to find him not there anymore. I quickly spun on my heels to see if he was behind me and sure enough, the tall bastard had somehow teleported over to the entrance to his shop.
“An abandoned hotel in Pennsylvania. Quite the walk for you I know,” he said with that stupid smile on his face. That was at least a several-day nonstop walk, and there was no way I was making it there without my parents noticing.
“How exactly am I to get to Pennsylvania?” I asked him, stuffing the room number into my pocket. He giggled a bit as he motioned for me to come closer. I took a few steps over to him and watched as he again fluttered his fingers, soft purple flames emanated from his fingertips. He proceeded to draw on the door, and I watched with a hint of wonderment as it subtly gleaned purple and then died down into nothingness.
“It’s just a simple step away, darling.” He opened the door for me and I was more than a little surprised to see that the door didn’t open to the outside. It opened to the lobby of a hotel. I quickly walked over and stuck my head through the door. The other side was an almost pitch-black hotel room with dust and cobwebs floating through the air.
“You might want this also,” he said as he handed me an electric lantern. I nodded and grabbed it from him. I took a deep breath and entered the hotel. “Remember, don’t look at the mirror,” he warned me before shutting the door behind me. I stared back at the door and stayed in place for a few seconds in the pitch-blackness.
It took me a few seconds to figure out how to turn the lantern on, but when I at last illuminated the lobby I was more than happy. Not a single sound was being made in the hotel. Not a creak in the floorboards, no wind blowing from outside, not even the sounds of rats scampering around. It was absolute silence. The only sound I could hear was my breathing. If it wasn’t for the lamp I might have thought I was in a sensory deprivation chamber.
I fished the room number out of the pocket and stared down at it with the lantern. Room 1145. There were at least 11 floors to this hotel and I knew for damn sure that even if this place had an elevator there was no chance of it working. I walked over to the front desk and stared down at it, there was a bell there to ring for staff but something in my gut was telling me that it would be a terrible idea to ring it. So I simply moved on and headed towards the stairs, following the signs that pointed me the way.
While this place was abandoned it also seemed to be frozen in time. As I walked past the kitchen and dining area I was shocked to see food out and ready to be served. Breakfast foods were piled high and ready to be eaten. The coffee was warm, the milk was cold, and the fruit was fresh and ripe, it was like this place had been abandoned and left in limbo.
“This place is weird,” I mumbled to myself as I continued to walk towards the stairs. I opened the door that led to the stairwell and was immediately blasted with the overwhelming smell of rot. It was enough to cause me to drop the lantern and let out a retch that echoed throughout the entire hotel. I quickly picked the lantern back up and ran back toward the kitchen. I grabbed a cup of coffee, and quickly took a giant inhale of it just to get something else into my nostrils.
“Fuck,” Was all I could reasonably think of saying. Before I could even think about going back toward that stairwell again, I quickly picked up some giant napkins from one of the tables, the kind that you usually put on your lap, and wrapped them around my mouth and nose in a makeshift face mask, making sure to dampen it with coffee to give me at least something else just as strong to counteract the smell.
With my makeshift mask ready, I once again braved the stairwell. It didn’t take me long to find the culprit of the noxious smell. A pile of decomposed bodies was lying at the foot of the stairs. I couldn’t even begin to count how many of them were there, as their limbs were all tangled together. I shoved my mask as close as I could to my nostrils and did my best to focus only on the coffee smell. Time may have stopped for food in this hotel, but dead bodies sure as hell still decomposed just fine.
I was forced to step on them since there was no other way to begin climbing up the stairs. The sickening crunch and snapping of bones were enough to get another retch out of me as I desperately tried to focus on the smell of coffee. I moved as quickly as I could towards the stairs and began running up them as fast as possible. I didn’t dare take off my mask until I reached the 11th floor. Opening the door to the floor I quickly ran into the hallway and shut the door behind me. I took my mask off to see if I could breathe easier and was relieved to be away from the horrible smell of death.
I was never more grateful for the smell of something normal. I stood there catching my breath after running up 11 flights of stairs, and took a look around, moving the lantern up and down to see if anything else was up here with me. The halls were empty, but every single door on this floor had a do not disturb sign on the doorknob. After my breath was sufficiently caught, I started making my toward room 1145. The eerie silence was enough to start playing tricks on me. Every single step I took it felt like something was following close behind me. I would stop and shine the lantern behind me, but there was nothing there. But every time I started walking again I swear I could hear a second set of footsteps just after mine.
When I arrived at room 1145 I was happy to see that the door was an old one. It didn’t have the electronic locks that hotels have now, this one needed a key. And that’s why I had been sent here. I sat the lantern down next to me and got my tools out, ready to work on his lock. I was surprised by how this lock acted. It was almost like the lock Creole used for the Voodoo shop. The tumblers seemed to be changing constantly and every time it felt like I was close to getting somewhere all my progress was erased.
“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled as I fiddled with the lock. I wasn’t about to let some ancient probably magic-infused lock show me up. So with way more brute force than skill, I started attacking this lock with everything I had learned. And to my immense satisfaction, I heard the satisfying click of the door unlocking. I quickly turned the doorknob pushed the door open and clapped with joy over how I had finally gotten through the lock.
I quickly packed up my tools in their bag and stuffed them into my pocket. I made sure to look down at the floor just in case this freaky mirror was just standing there waiting for me to stare at it. I decided to use my makeshift facemask as a blindfold. I wrapped it around my head and reached my arms out to feel out in front of me. I left the lantern in the hallway since I was going in completely blind anyway.
I patted my hands out in the darkness to begin building up my surroundings. It wasn’t easy and I bumped into pretty much anything and everything I came across. Finally, after a few minutes of bumping into things, I got a general layout of the room. But I hadn’t figured out where the mirror was. It was then that it hit me, what size was this mirror? Creole hadn’t said if it was a body mirror or a handheld mirror or the fucking bathroom mirror.
Exiting back into the hallway I took off my blindfold and tried to think of a better way of doing this. I looked back into the darkness of the room and then down at the lantern. I picked up the lantern and then tossed it into the room. Immediately I could tell that there was no mirror right at the entrance so I would be okay to enter at least there with some light. I walked in with the lantern and looked around where the light touched. With that crossed off, I picked up the lantern and looked around for something to cover up a side of it. Lucky for me there were towels just hanging on the coat hanger on the door to the bathroom.
I covered one side of the lantern so that light could only appear on one side. I then extended my arm out into the main room of the hotel and slowly began to rotate the lantern as if it were some sort of makeshift lighthouse. My thinking was that if it came into contact with a mirror then the light would be reflected onto the wall not illuminated by the lantern since that side would be covered by the towel. And to my amusement, I was proven right when after a few turns, the light appeared on the other wall.
“Bingo,” I giggled as I quickly pulled the lantern back and placed it back on the floor. Then I tied my blindfold back on and quickly went out in the direction in which I had pointed my light. After a few seconds of groping in the darkness, my fingers came into contact with the cold and slick surface of a mirror. I must’ve been smiling a big stupid grin when I reached it. I felt the mirror up a bit and figured that it was some sort of standing mirror. I tried lifting it and found it relatively light.
Confident in my abilities I started walking towards the door. Of course, in my excitement over finding the mirror, I happened to have forgotten where I had placed the lantern. I tripped over it and fell with the mirror down onto the floor. I groaned in pain and surprise, feeling like a dumbass over how I had forgotten the lantern. And when I looked up from the floor I was shocked to see my reflection looking back at me. The fall had pulled down my blindfold.
“Shit!” I quickly sat up and grabbed the lantern. I half expected that I would explode or spontaneously combust or turn to dust. But after a few seconds, nothing happened to me. I closed my eyes and reached out to the mirror and sat it up completely. The first time had been an accident but the second time curiosity at last got to me and I opened my eyes to look at the mirror.
It was just my reflection. Nothing horrible about it, just me. I moved my arm around and did a few moves and it followed it perfectly. It seemed like a normal mirror. Had I gotten the wrong one? That train of thought was quickly derailed when I saw that my reflection was smiling at me. When I for sure wasn’t smiling. I backed up from the mirror and yet my reflection didn’t follow what I was doing, it just stared at me with a look of total malice in its eyes.
I watched with complete and utter terror as it began to contort and change. My limbs grew gangly. It looked like some sick funhouse mirror version of me. Her nails grew longer until they had completely turned into claws and my small stature was completely erased into some horrible stretched-out version of myself. It would’ve been scary enough if that was all it did, but then she started crawling out of the mirror.
“Oh fuck this!” I screamed as I quickly turned around and started sprinting towards the stairs. I probably haven’t run that fast since I was forced to run a mile in PE. My gym teacher probably would’ve loved the form I was using, it was probably textbook. I reached the stairs in no time flat. Only to discover that it was locked. “You gotta be fucking kidding!” I screamed and began fighting with the lock.
I looked back down the hall and screamed in absolute terror when I saw my reflection chasing after me on all fours like some skinwalker-looking thing. Her creepy smile was accompanied by some new sharp and jagged teeth that were no doubt ready to tear me to shreds. She didn’t even bother saying words to me, only cackling uncontrollably as she quickly closed the distance between us.
I wasted no more time on the locked door and sprinted down the hallway to my right and was more than happy to see a fire escape warning above the door at the end of the hall. As I was sprinting down the hall though, I could hear that my reflection was rapidly catching up with me. And I could feel that if I ran toward that door there’d be no way for me to make it there in time. I was about to look behind me when I noticed one of the hotel rooms was open. In a split second, I changed directions and ran into the room, quickly slamming the door shut behind me, locking and deadbolting the door. My reflection came slamming into the door but the thick wooden structure withstood her attack for the time being.
I lay on the floor catching my breath for a moment before I started looking around either for escape or for some sort of defence. I fished in my pocket for my pepper spray and got it out. I didn’t exactly know if my reflection would be affected by it but having it with me gave me a little sense of safety. I was also glad that through my blind panic, I had somehow managed to keep the lantern with me.
Any sense of safety was quickly erased when my reflection began banging on the door again, and I noticed cracks beginning to appear on the door. I couldn’t waste any more time. I looked around and tried to find something or anything to get me out of this situation. I thought about calling Creole but when I pulled my phone out I was met with the dreaded no signal. With that idea expended, I looked around the room and discovered it was one of those rooms that was separated by another with a door. If I could pick the lock I could sneak into the other room and maybe make it to the fire escape.
Quickly pulling my tools out I didn’t bother wasting a second and began trying to figure out which tool would do the best job. All the while my reflection was screaming an otherworldly scream and smashing herself against the door. To my immense relief, this lock didn’t seem to have any magic fuckery infused into it. And in no time flat I had picked the lock and had managed to enter the other room. I dimmed the lantern and quietly closed the dividing door behind me.
I waited in the dimly lit room until I heard the sounds of the door being broken down and my reflection entering the room. I was waiting at the door and the moment I heard her enter the other room, I slowly opened the door and exited into the hallway. I could hear her tearing the room apart looking for me. And I started making my way toward the fire exit. As quietly and as quickly as I could. I was about ten feet away from it when I heard her scream. I looked behind me and saw that she had exited the room and had seen me.
I sprinted toward the door and flung it open, I half expected to be put outside but instead, I came tumbling into the voodoo store. I was never more happy to see the dust-filled shop in my entire life. The fire exit had been linked to the front door of the voodoo shop and I had ended up smashing into one of the shelves of shrunken heads.
“Mace? Goodness darling! You in some kind of rush?” Creole asked as I heard his footsteps and cane rapidly approaching me. Before I could even look at him though I looked back at the door and reached out towards it.
“Quick! Shut it!” That was all I got out as my reflection came sprinting towards me. She leaped through the door and was about to lunge toward me when Creole swung his cane like a baseball bat and sent her flying into the glass window of the shop. The hit must’ve knocked her unconscious as she went limp after she hit the floor.
“I see ya looked at the mirror,” Creole said in clear disappointment. I stared up at him and then over toward my corrupted reflection. I quickly put him between me and her and did my best to try and explain how it had all happened. I must’ve been talking a million miles an hour and yet Creole seemed to understand everything completely. “I see so it was an accident,” he said after I was done and catching my breath.
“Yes, sir.” I nodded jumping a bit when Jacob suddenly appeared next to me with a glass of tea. I’m not normally a tea drinker but after what I had just gone through, I gladly accepted it from him and took a big sip of it.
“Well, there’s no harm in a simple mistake. Though why didn’t ya just put a blanket over the mirror once you found it?” Creole asked me as he walked over to my reflection and poked her with his cane. I nearly choked on my tea when he asked me that. The thought had never even crossed my mind and it was such a good idea.
“I…didn’t think of that,” I admitted to him. Embarrassed over having not thought of that. What had my plan even been? Walk down the stairs blindfolded holding a giant mirror? I felt like a dumbass.
“Ah, don’t worry about it Mace.” Just go and bring the mirror back here, I’ll deal with our long friend here,” Creole said as he rubbed his gloved hands together with giddy excitement. I nodded quickly and handed the nearly empty cup of tea over to Jacob before entering the hotel again through the voodoo shop’s entrance. When I rounded the turn to where I had left the mirror standing in the hallway I quickly shut my eyes as tightly as I could and began walking towards it, arm stretched out in an attempt to find it. I finally touched it and picked it up, carefully walking with it until I was back in the voodoo shop. I felt it being taken from me and figured it was Jacob taking it out of my hands.
“You can open your eyes now, Mace.” Creole greeted me with a chuckle after I had stood there with my eyes shut for a few minutes. When I opened them I saw that the mirror was covered by a thick white sheet and that Jacob was carrying it over to Creole’s office.
“Where’s…my reflection?” I asked, seeing that she was no longer crumpled in the corner.
“Oh while you were getting the mirror I tossed her back into the hotel. She shouldn’t be too much of a bother.” Creole let out one of his strange hums at this and beckoned me to follow him back to the register. “That’s four favors done and only one last one to do until you’ve cleared your debt with me.” Creole sat down and held up a single finger to me.
“Sir? What is that mirror even for? Why would you want something like that?” I asked him, really not caring at the moment that I had only one favor left to do for him.
“Call it an insurance policy, my darling Mace,” He said with a grin on his face. “If I ever need a way to come back, why not come back as a nightmare?” He asked me with a series of low and creepy laughs. He shooed me away as he began cackling and I was more than happy to leave him in a laughing fit. After everything I had just gone through, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into my bed and rot away.
One favor left. That’s all I had to do. Then I would be free. If only it had been that simple.

I (44 M) have always been a weak and timid person. I was palpably small in size, quite thin and delicately-built, hence I always got bullied and harrassed by all my peers, especially in college, most men were bigger and stronger than me. Growing up with abuse, I grew to fear all men (especially the ones who were well-built, they came across as very intimidating to me) and avoided them as much as possible. I was very uncomfortable in an all-male setting and always looked for women to be in the mix. I have gone through life with a rather constant feeling of dread and fear. I walked down the streets differently than my peers. I would park my car near lights, avoid poorly-lit basement parkings, I would watch other people when I was walking, avoid desolate streets and I was always aware of potential threats. At times, I found myself wishing I had a strong masculine figure, such as a brother, to be there with me who could protect me and take me under his wings
When my son grew up to become quite big in size and strength, I somehow started viewing him as that figure who could protect me. Despite being a teenager, still in his adolescence (19 M), he was visibly strong, muscularly-built. He was nothing like me, contrasted me completely. While I have always been treated unfairly (even abused) and people walked all over me and I tolerated all of it because I was too scared to confront men or stand up for myself, he's someone who will never tolerate even the slightest of injustice and is always the one to take charge of the situation. I sensed his competence to rise to an occasion. He was also very caring and sensitive, was very mature for his age and exuded robust capability to protect and provide. He started being protective towards me and my wife (his mother).
For a long time, I have faced groping and inappropriate touching by male passengers in public transport - the city trains. It happened many times and every time I was left frightened. But I had no choice but to commute again because my work demanded me to. I suffered silently because I was ashamed to disclose it to anyone. My daily commute to work was nothing less than a nightmare. I was trampled, mauled and constantly pushed around. Tired of daily nightmarish experiences, I floated this thought that my son and I could commute together since we travelled at almost the same time and same route because his college was a stone's throw distance from my workplace. That's where it all started and I ended up requesting him nearly every day. Initially it was just the drop off in the mornings, but eventually I even started requesting him to come and pick me up in the evenings adjusting his schedule. He started sensing my fear towards males and also saw me getting trampled and struggling to navigate through the crowded trains on my own. He started helping me and we ended up having a tacit understanding that he has to provide me a drop-off and pick up every day and hand-hold me through the crowds shielding me from prowlers. Over a period of time, his body language became quite evident that he viewed me as weak and fragile and had placed me under his protection, not just for my workplace commute but for every aspect of life. This arrangement and understanding is a secret from everyone, especially my wife.
There are times when I feel alarmed at the rate at which I am getting dependent on him for my most basic needs. I fear that I will end up overburdening him at this young age. A role-reversal has already happened unfortunately and I am looking up to him more and more as a nurturing and protective figure while in reality I should be the nurturing figure to him. The fact that I am living a sheltered life in the safety of a teenaged boy makes me feel emasculated. Further, I am very worried that I am parentifying him and possibly ruining his youth. Due to my incompetencies, he has to invest a lot of time shouldering my responsibility, a time which he would have otherwise invested in social and academic pursuits. He never complains, acts like a responsible adult. He invests a lot of time in ferrying me everyday and manages all this along with his studies. Whenever I broach this subject, he says that he will always find time for me because safety comes first, rest everything next. Sometimes, I do worry about exposing him to a possible threatening situation but at the same time, I am also convinced about his physical formidability, because despite being adolescent, he's heavily-built, enough to intimidate even a fully-grown adult. In fact our physical contrast has been attracting ill-humored comments from our relatives and friends.
I have tried a lot to become independent, but I am finding it impossible. Every time I go out there on the menacing streets, I get so frightened that I end up running back to the safety of my son's refuge. While I am placed in the safety of my son, the same menacing streets and crowded public transport appear different, it appears safe and I feel confident to walk the same space as my peers. When he's around, it feels like the load is off me and I am not required to worry about anything or what to do next. In his hands, my life has literally completely transformed. Maybe it's just my perception, but I have actually noticed a difference in other people's attitude towards me. People don't infantilize me or don't treat me unfairly when they see me with a big strong male. When he's around, all my worries disappear. His sheer familiarity makes me calm, it is a very soothing and relieving feeling, it is like coming home. Also the fact that I am getting protection from a close kin ensures that my vulnerability is not known to any outsider. For a very long time, I have lived my life with a constant dread and in abject fear – fear of being vulnerable to all men, fear of being picked off a desolate street and raped, fear of being bullied, fear of being treated unfairly, fear of unwanted fondling in public transport. Honestly I don’t want it anymore in my life. It's just that I have suffered for so long, that now I am desperate to seek a sheltered life even if that means going through the humiliation of role-reversal with my son
I am worried
Please advise

Here's how to fix the Netherlands:

• illegalize extreme BDSM (first),
  
• legalize prostitution (already legal)
  
• especial unhackable cameras for sex-workers,
  
• the punishment for beating a woman be life sentence,
  

Extreme bdsm, as in, face-slapping, punching, anything that causes traumatic-brain-injury, concussions, (which can be detected in MRI tests for court trials), and any other permanent bodily injury.
That would make it the only place in the world where women be safe and free. The only place where:

• domestic violence is illegal (for real, not just on paper)
  
• sex-work is legal,
  
• abortion is legal.
  

To further limit domestic violence in households (not brothels), some optional things that can be implemented (which I highly advice) are:

• every registered home be laiden with unhackable ring-sig/multi-sig encrypted cameras with microphones sensitive to grid-line emf for timestampping,
  
• no court fees for women filing for domestic-violence cases (or any),
  
• no repercussions for falsely filing a case against your man (to reduce the fear of filing a case; the most that could go wrong is a mere No-Contact restrain order),
  
• if verifiably proven (as in, camera recordings, etc), suspect gets life sentence and forced labour with which the prison gets funded and the victim gets compensated,
  
• if not proven for certain, at least a restrain/no-contact order whereby the suspect cannot enter the towns/microstates the accuser happens to be in.
  
• suspicion-until-proven-not-guilty; the onus to prove one's innocence be upon the accused, the male, so men have every incentive to carry body cameras etc, to defend against false rape charges.
  
• everyone's past, past suspicions, trials, all such data, be on a website. If you can make a society safe for women, the good men would follow in like bees. Thus, catering to women's defence needs is very (Misesian) entrepreneurially advantageous. Afterall, the primary purpose of a society is DATING; keeping women safe in such dating/matchmaking game be your highest priority. There's many an evolutionarily evolved trait that keep children safe anyway, but fewer for women, especially in a non-tribal society with hookup culture wherein a psychopath has every incentive to harm/kill his date and run away. It's a surprise that that isn't more prevalent... Societies are playing with fire; they have no clue how deep in trouble they are. Reform or lose the game to psychopaths; much like the evol sexual-stretegy simulation studies on rat societies lol.
  

+++
Your current law code is lame and hypocritical; as per the current laws on racism, to highlight IQ differences between races, to emphasize empathy/psychopathy prevalence differences between racial groups, is racist! And yet, the very notion of a-law-against-racism rests on the belief that races do exist, that there's skin-coloskull-shape/genetic differences between so called "races" they aim to protect; how could the state accept that there be such differences but illegalize for such differences to be discussed and admitted? Utterly ridiculous!
Your current judicial framework is a joke. A client could beat the hell out of a prostitute (just short of killing her) and he has more-or-less legal impunity! A wife-beater gets a mere month is prison! What sense does that make? To believe that, somehow, in a closed cell, locked in for a few months, playing GTA, banging pussies (sex-therapy with prostitutes, for sex offenders; as dumb as it sounds; wouldn't be surprised if UN says the right to sex is every human's basic fundamental human right lol), free food in the prison, somehow makes a psychopath a sunflower, is beyond my comprehension. One would have to be utterly braindead to believe so. Another hypothesis: the dutch politicians and justices are NOT braindead, they're just a little too psychopathic themselves, and being so, concerned for themselves and their own future wife-beating sons. Facts.
Your king is too empathetic and naive, very like the many white people all over the globe who believe in humanity, who believe that every human is deep down a fluffy furry, and to prove so to the world (or themselves), who venture into dangerous territory in the Africas or Arabian towns, only to be lynched by the mobs (many such cases in the news)...
The dutch people who want diversity can go live in Africa or the UAE; in the name of diversity, to advocate that others be put in danger for one's own naivety, is not just foolish, but downright wrong.
The dutch people who have big hearts, who wish to help the desperate immigrants, go do so with your own money. To advocate that others' money be stolen to be donated to one group, is no philanthropy. Theft in the name of charity is just that: THEFT.
+++
To fix the Netherlands in the long run:

• do away with the laws on racism; keep only the laws against physical harm; words are words; one should only be prosecuted for actions, not threat by words, not threat to act, only action itself. At best, you could exile those deemed threatening (in the short run), but not imprison.
  
• do away with the laws against discrimination in the private sector; an entrepreneur who doesn't hire an equally talented woman/newcomeimmigrant/black for a job, would lose his revenue to the one who does; in the free market, wrong biases just aren't solvent, just aren't efficient and profitable. Such feminist equal-pay laws do more harm to women then good; no one wants to hire women anymore, especially for technical roles... Only misogynists pass such laws. Facts.
  

END WELFARE SOCIALISM:

• no free healthcare for nobody,
  
• no free housing for nobody,
  
• no state-funded pension for nobody,
  
• no child-care subsidies for nobody,
  
• etc.
  

+++
PRIVATIZE THE STATE:

• with defence (international and internal) as the only service of the state of Netherlands, privatize such an entity; privatize the Dutch Defence Agency.
  
• every citizen gets one (or ten, or thousand; whatever denomination) equal shares of the private entity Dutch Defence Agency.
  
• inhabitants of the netherlands be required to pay a head-tax, a fixed tax/payment per person, for the services of international defence (radars, nukes, anti-nukes, iron dome, etc).
  
• people be free to sell their shares in the open market. And no, it doesn't make you susceptible to foreign interference/meddling in dutch statehood, on the contrary: state-privatization flips-the-table overnight, making all one's enemies into one's extended friends. Not only is the amount of money needed to become the majority shareholder quite high, but, upon putting so much money in, (an amount of money only sensible people get to have), any sensible actor is incentivized to not mess up and keep peace in one's stock, not hijack one's earnings, and just reap the dividents. Very like the Bitcoin/Monero POW incentives for major-miner.
  
• no trade tarrifs. Trump thinks an equal trade-tax for countries which charge a trade-tax with the US, is based. It's not, but it's better than most's beliefs, so okay. But, if one is to be serious, then no, Austrian Economists would never support such a scheme, for the simplest of reasons: selfishness. If Trump (and any country) is to be selfish enough, they should realize that zero-trade-tarrifs for all countries is the thing that makes one prosper, regardless of how much they be taxing us. Mises has said it a million times: war begins when trade ends. So no trade tarrifs whatsoever. Physical/existential security be the only service and concern of a state. Leave it to the dutch people (and private source-auditing firms) to not buy goods from products sourced from child-labouRussians/whatever. The scandenavian madness of One-Family, with the president as the country's daddy, is ludicrous! People are grown ups; they can make their own decisions.
  
• replace the ill notion of democracy with shareholder democracy.
  
• the CEO/president, in power only as long as they stay popular with the state's shareholders.
  

+++
PRIVATIZE THE TOWNS:

• every town becomes a gated-community (with or without actual physical gates).
  
• every home-owner of such a town gets an equal number of shares in that community-stock (Citystate of Amsterdam, for example).
  
• dressing code (public nudity allowance), pollution/negative-externality laws (some with very strict noice-pollution laws, some lenient and affordable ones), traffic rules (bicycle exceptions, lanes, etc), architecture code and rules, all be the liberties of the city-state to decide upon.
  
• the only punishment a city-state be able to give people be: monetary fine, deducted from the prepaid lock-in fund, or, when it gets empty, eviction/exile from the city-state, free to move in to some cheaper lenient one in the Netherlands or elsewhere.
  
• no city-state could "imprison" people. A city-state which forbids abortion, cages pregnant women, preventing them from access to healthcare, would be thus unconstitutional.
  
• every city-state-resident be required to pay a policing-tax/fee; more protected towns have higher fees. Towns with more immigrants, requiring a well-funded police, for a bigger police force, to keep the people safe, would thus be more expensive, more inefficient, and it would thus only be a matter of time that the low-risk-tolerance Dutch populace segregate and buy up the city-stocks and even buy up the properties of the selling-immigrants-in-need-of-money-to-pay-their-state-tax-or-get-exiled, and vote to exile the immigrant population from their towns. All entrepreneurial. Mises knew it all in advance; he knew that the supreme notion of private-property was complete and enough, that it needed no exceptions for such immigration problems. Leftist liberals who are blindly pro-immigration shouldn't call themselves liberals; they're merely leftists, and they're wrong. In the liberal framework of private property, immigration is NEVER a problem that even needs addressing! Hail Von Mises. Ultimately, it all boils down to the entrepreneurial utilitarian benefits of lower policing costs and at a much higher safety-level that come from barring violent races from one's towns, benifits that ultimately pale the compromises in cheap-labour (that the immigrants provide) or the slightly higher shipping costs of buying such products of cheap-labour from a thousand miles afar. The idiots in the dutch parliament and the businessmen who pretend like without all this cheap labour their economy would collapse and they'd be in losses, are misguiding. Shipping costs are already low enough; the inefficiencies of slavery over willful employment and low shipping costs is what defunded slavery; you would be better off buying goods from Africa than having Africans in your own country making those goods at your doorstep. Instead, free trade cross-borders should be encouraged and cherished.
  

As for oppression and foreign wars, if you can't help a people defend their lives and territory by military and financial aid (funded from private charities), don't pretend to help by taking in refugees either, most of whom are, by the very definition of how things work, often the worst of the stock; the average good empathetic african/muslim/indian doesn't want to loot away someone's prosperous country. The good ones never even cry for help to begin with, and most of them are within your borders already: the native Dutch too afraid to express their fear of immigrants; heed to their cries and help them first instead.
+++
REFURNISH DOMESTIC SPACES:

• cameras in every registered home; totally very economical, heck, a billionaire could fund it all out of his own pocket. Mass survillience isn't a concern because it's not impossible to design a black-box encryption protocol with multi-signature encryptions which can only be decoded if all the parties (you, your wife, and the state) provide their keys to decode the video feed. Zero-knowledge-sharing sorcerry whereby keys don't get disclosed to any party either.
  
• the right to discriminate. It's the home-owner's right to dictate who gets to visit inside and who doesn't, whether he/she discriminates on the basis of skin colour or hair colour. In fact, the right to discriminate is as important as the right to free speech, and mutually dependent on each other. One has every right to discriminate who one marries based purely on their race! One has every right to befriend people based on their race. And so does an employer when hiring. To say otherwise and pass anti-discrimination laws is no less discriminatory; just discriminatory in a certain cunning state-sponsered way, for a select few's advantage. An argument can be made that, given how many white women only date big black guys, such anti-discrimination laws would hurt them so-called minorities as much, if not more.
  
• corporal punishment of children (or women/men) be illegal.
  
• no-caging law. One cannot cage someone in one's house without their consent. So, husband denying wife her freedom to abort be first degree violence, no different from switching the button on an electric chair, or pulling the trigger of a gun.
  
• gun laws up to the private property's owner. No home owner would wany guests to carry guns inside, prolly. As for city-state's rules on gun-ownership inside households, that's a purely entrepreneurial matter:
  

fines for owning a gun, disincentivizing gun ownership, has built-in unenforcability; criminal always carries a gun (which can even be 3d printed at home these days), but overall, fewer guns in the public, so fewer rage fights becoming lethal, less money needed to manage the populace for the police, so lower tax/fee,
vs
legal to own a gun in wild spaces, illegal in private spaces (like malls, homes, schools) as per private wish, with metal checks; more guns, higher tax to manage, but ability to defend oneself from criminals carrying guns.
The latter is better imo. Those who think the former is better, can opt in and live in such city-states. What there cannot be is: a sentence for just owning a gun. Only monetary fine or eviction from the city-state; a sentence would be unconstitutional as per the theory of actions-ultimate-judgement, not words, not threats, not gun ownership, not genes, not mental disorders, only actions. There's no better simulation substitute than the real world; all else predictions are merely probabilistic, and when people get imprisoned for mere threats, such predictions are doomed to become ultimately baseless and divorced from reality.
+++
REFORM YOUR CONSTITUTION:

• Make Ludwig Von Mises your constitution's founding-grandpa. Base the code to rule by, on his magnum opus Human Action.
  
• Besides the theoretical basings, short readable constitution that's basically a consent-form that every citizen consents to; consent to be rescued when drowning, consent to be operated on by doctor when unconscious, consent to be arrested for suspicion and inquiry (?), consent to be punched when resisting arrest (which no one would sign to, so no punching people EVER, especially in the name of law enforcement).
  

The idea is, it's a matter of selecting between explicit consent (consent denied unless explicitly granted) vs implicit consent (consent granted unless explicitly revoked); the former allows for illegalizing sex with drunk/unconscious people, and even the slaughter of animals (which, though probably an unpopular take even in the Netherlands, is ultimately the right thing to do, but boy oh boy do people hate vegans, and you'd get more support for illegalizing domestic violence (from women and half the men) than you would for illegalizing slaughter, but hey, when was the popular thing ever the right thing to do lol). Even for abortion, explicit-consent-theory (consent-denied-unless-granted) supports abortion in a legal constitutional sense in that the fetus' right-to-exist is denied by default, so the host mother be free to deny its existence and act upon it by aborting.
Much like, the theoretical basing of the judiciary on illegalizing suicide/euthanasia illegalizes extreme bdsm (brain damage) too, and, extrepreneurially speaking, saves many a woman from abuse; legalized lovemaking-in-exchange-for-money but illegalized-extreme-bdsm won't move the abuse underground either, or so my judgement says, for, the poor unfortunate untalented women would have plenty of monetary opportunity in the white sex market, and no such woman would want to go to the underground black market to make money off of her own possible murder; what use is such money if one's dead or braindead; upon a concussion, one's never the same again, one stops enjoying the things one once enjoyed, so the money earned thusly would be a waste too. Then again, I'm guessing you aren't interested in the theoretical philosophical and risk-assessment ideas behind this all, so won't bother with that.
+++
REFORM THE JUDICIARY:

• base the law code away from the fraudulent brain-dead notion of justice; 'cause, there really is no such thing as justice, as putting someone in their victim's shoes, tit for tat; a psycho could never know how it feels to have his tits cut off, for he doesn't have any to begin with! Even within the same gender, people are different, their ages are different. The earth is always moving through space, never in the same place twice; we're moving through time. It's just impossible to simulate being in another's shoes here on Earth (ignoring the NDE life-reviews in the afterlife lol); it's physically impossible.
  
• base the law code away from the fraudulent notion of punishment. Being in a prison, getting free food, is no punishment. Some loners might even enjoy it. Heck, Israeli women released from prison choose to commit petty crimes (like breaking the window of the police vehicle) just to get back in the prison. Prison is often far safer a place, and many feel comfy down there. Heck, even the Singaporean judicial caning is some people's most craved fantasy. Heck, extreme masochists would, rather than finding a psycho, paying them to chop their hands off, then making sure the other person doesn't get prosecuted, find it more effortless, cheaper, more realistic, to rob a bank then get their hands chopped off by the Sharia law enforcers! So really, there's no such thing as a just punishment, cause there's no such thing as a punishment to begin with!
  
• base the law code on the two pillars of PREVENTION and COMPENSATION;
  
• life sentence for violent people (be it, slapping/punching/stabbing/murdering), to PREVENT it from happening again, to PREVENT the society from such actors;
  
• compensation for the victim, proportional to the harm caused, funded by the victimizer's money and forced labour in the prison. Come up with an entrepreneurial figure, 50%, ish, portion of the inmate's income (remote working from the prison), which goes to the victim for compensation. Too high that portion and the inmate might lose the drive to work/be-productive. Psychopathy atrophies over generations when its evolutionarily advantageous opportunities cease to be. Rightful compensation tilts the trade-offs in good people's favour.
  
• Proportional compensation. When a man slaps a woman, the damage is a hundread times worse than when a woman slaps a man, and ten times worse than when the same gender slaps the same gender. Not only are men's hands bigger and arms more muscular, but also women's skulls are thinner and more susceptible to concussing. So such laws are not sexist; they're just. This notion called equality has been a menace for women, second only to neo-feminism that advocates fiddling with the free market.
  
• Inside prison, with their own earned money, inmates be free to buy TV, stereo, air-conditioning, king-size bed, whatever.
  
• ONLY for violent crimes does one be sent to prison, and once sent, to never return.
  
• for financial crimes, one be made an economic slave; losing one's 50% income to the victims of one's fraud/whatever. Economic slaves, which, most europeans paying 50% in taxes (and getting back close to nothing in return, thanks to states, by nature, being so inefficient with money), kinda already are, lol.
  

+++
REFORM THE CAPITAL MARKET:

• Do away with Limited-Liability. The idiots who call themselves climate activists who think capitalism is the enemy, are just that: idiots. The Koala escaping from wildfire gets comfort in the air-conditioned room that every household today can afford; none of this would be there if it weren't for capitalism. People get to feed and care for millions of stray animals; none of this would be possible without capitalism. Morality, especially charity, is a luxury commodity; something socialists don't get to enjoy. But the fact is, these so called climate activists don't care about animals, don't care about trees, all they care about is this molecule called Carbon Dioxide, because they're stupid, or wose, tesla-fanatics.
  
• Replace Limited-Liability with Full-Liability. If Nestle poisons a village or sells lead-laiden food products, or commits a murder, the ones responsible for the violent actions first-hand be convicted of first-degree physical harm, and the shareholders be convicted of third-degree harm, and be made to compensate the victims, whether that requires seizing all their assets (and those of the company) or making them economic slaves for the rest of their lives. Fact is, it is the duty and moral obligation of a shareholder to watch for the actions of the company; negligence, inaction, their primary sin. Buying is supporting; Bill Gates is a moron for being an investor in Monsanto.
  

There be basically, degrees of freedom:

• freest citizens
  
• economic slaves (losing half their income to victim-compensation),
  
• prison inmates (who have compensated fully, now buying luxury goods and mansions in the prison island),
  
• prison slaves (losing half their income to victim-compensation),
  
• tied prison slaves (who have anger issues, so be somewhat elbow-restrained to prevent them from being violent toward other inmates),
  
• solitary-confinement prison slaves (zero reason to do so, yet, Japan does it all the time). Prisoners should be free to socialize, bond together, share a cell together, and these things don't increase the risks of prison-escape either.
  

Ultimately, life's purpose is to just live, make experiences, form memories, and learn some lessons. Death penalty is just wrong; so is solitary confinement when so many mechanisms exist to prevent violence among inmates via boxing-gloves-handcuffs, teeth-covers, and elbow and knee restrains.
+++
REFORM THE POLICE:

• No impunity for cops. Cops be help liable for their actions, liable to the law. In fact, more liable.
  
• Learn from Prince Machiavelli lol; embrace some Game Theory. Legalize and grant moral impunity to cops who shoot down fellow cops abusing people wrongfully.
  

Those who think police reforms will never work are stupid; one lone man could make his men commit the organized genocide of 6 million, against the empathetic impulses of the men themselves, and they're saying, well-behaved police is impossible to have? What nonsense! Truth is, the powers that be are utterly inept or themselves psychopathic and fap to the videos of police officers punching women in the face for cursing them. Because the matter of fact is, one needs neither the right kind of people, nor the majority power, to commit acts of good or evil; just a good grip on whatever little power one has. Such a shame that literally no ruler alive knows how to rule.

• Cops be free to arrest fellow cops for misconduct.
  
• Cops (and others) be free to report such psychopathic cops.
  
• Samaritan protection laws. It be legal for strangers to beat a wife-beater beating his wife in public, or even, to shoot at a cop abusing someone when making arrest. Maybe even rewarding, in that, when imprisoned and compensated, the victim is free to pass on some share of her compensations to her savious who risked their well-being to save her.
  

In fact, no sociologist worth his salt would deny that women were safer and more protected from psychopaths and better off ten thousand years ago than in today's anonomyous mega societies; something even Ted Bundy alluded to. Sex as payments in ancient times lol, and David Friedman even hypothesizes that that's how and why women evolved concealed ovulation lol.

• for crimes like traffic law violation, no arresting and car-chases; the said person be sent a notice to appear in a court all by themself instead.
  
• city-state's domestic-law-enforcing cops be split into two teams:
  
• benign cops should not carry guns, instead, be wearing funny-looking non-intimidating bulletproof body suit and helmet and be carrying mancatchers, handcuffs, legcuffs; autistic people or psychopathic people never be hired, only those with very sharp social skills, and be trained to read social cues, to be funny, to crack jokes, make people laugh, break fights peacefully, or, as a last resort, arrest, but with dignity, never insulting the arrested, never judging, and be carrying those arrested on a bed instead of making them walk with their hands cuffed, which could be dangerous for drunk drivers, old people with arm pain, etc.
  
• gun-violence-control cops carry guns, but should only be deployed for gun-violence, wherein they might have to shoot (tranquilizers or bullets) to neutralize a gun-weilding madman.
  

Giving people unrestricted licence to kill is dangerous. No cops are better than bad cops. Just like no laws are better than bad laws whereby the average woman acting in self-defence gets sentenced to 20 years for killing her man, while a (drunk) man killing his wife gets 2 years. And that's a fact; women get five times longer sentences for homocide than men, in the US. And the average sentence for proven domestic violence cases is: a few weeks behind bars, with the possibility of parole and bail. Talk about feminism running rampant.
Some entrepreneurial suggessions:

• half the cops' income be locked in a conditional account, sorta a pension fund, which they lose entirely if they commit a crime on duty. Afterall, cops are petty puppet people too, who can be controlled by money just as neatly as any other.
  
• of the remaining half, half be conditional on the basis of being useful. Lazy cops who do nothing don't get that, and his employer be loosing more (from his allowance package; the more savings, the more his/her bonus) by design too, by hiring more useless cops without as much of a need in a neighbourhood. For making false arrests, arresting innocent people without reason, the cop be fined and the fine be handed to the person arrested wrongfully.
  
• like in Georgia, for misconduct (groping women, etc) or for taking bribes, the whole batch and the batch-leader (employer; sergent; whatever) be fired. Thus, sergents have every incentive to check for psychopathy (MRI tests, whatever), past history, beforehand, when hiring a cop.
  

+++
EDUCATE CHILDREN:

• corporal punishment be illegal,
  
• children who can pass language/literature test be full acting citizens, free to buy shares and vote in shareholder meetings,
  
• exploiting the power of the default to fiddle in the free-market of dating, for women's advantage. Why? Entrepreneurial: good laws that make women feel safe attract a surplus of rich happy attractive women who attract rich nice men (which need less police to manage), which means more population, lower expenses, higher dividents for the shareholders of the state!
  
• by default, for impregnating someone, whether they go through labour pain or lesser abortion pain, the guy be liable for a payment of 100k to her. [Vasectomies incentivized over pills, traumatic IUDs, fallopian-tying, all of which are unhealthy.]. Regarding science, though paternity tests and gene-sequencings are a blessing, IVF is a curse, and a woman could use a guy's skin dust for gametogenesis via stem-cell technology and impregnate herself with such artificial cum and the jury wouldn't know... Big gray zone.
  
• the mother gets the custody of the baby, always. Up to her to give up the custody to him or someone else if she feels so.
  
• artificial wombs be fully legal. It's utter pure hypocracy to advocate against external human-fetus-growth in labs past 7 days, in a world where slaughtering full grown animals, hunting them for fun, killing even SUPERIOR animals like Orcas, their entire families, baiting their mothers with their baby-whale tied in a fishing-net, is all legal. Artificial wombs are already fully viable, there's no scientific hurdle preventing them from being deployed, only legal. Regardless, for logistical reasons, I can bet many countries would be more than happy to adopt such technology in a decade. Only a matter of time.
  
• though every child deserves a female mother for none can love one like a woman does, it's something for culture to enforce and normalize, and for self-conscience to make gay couples consider a nanny/3rd-partner, not legal interventions.
  
• baby becomes an acting individual upon 3 years old, or whenever he can speak/read/write fluently and pass language tests, and has to read and sign the constitution or face eviction lol. Prodigies thus at an advantage in the money game 'cus they can start investing early on, unlike the current one which renders races which sexually mature before or at the legal age of 18 at an advantage over those who mature much later. Lol nevermind.
  
• up until the baby becomes an actor, animal-protection laws (or more specifically, pet-protection) laws should apply on the baby: no violence, no murder, unless in self-defence (i.e., almost never), no medical negligence, no abandoning the baby. For medical negligence or abandoning the baby, no sentencing, only blacklisting the said caretaker from future reproductive baby-care, so not allowed in kindergartens, schools, baby-spaces, and genetically blacklisted.
  
• criminals in prison should get genetically blacklisted. Eugenics is not a bad idea; it's the state that should stay out of it, except for the clensing of criminal genes. A criminal's entire descending-tree shuld get blacklisted; said violent criminal's children either get sterilized or promise to not procreate or get evicted. Gene banks be legal; culture should normalize borrowing the genes of (jewish/dutch) geniuses and raising their babies via IVF.
  

The selfish man doesn't have sex; he clones.
Why mix your genes with someone so different, of the opposite sex, despite being better than oneself. The fact that people have sex and choose good pretty intelligent partners unrelated to themselves, when compounded, is the same as adopting pure Jewish babies. Even Jews are distant cousins to all anyway. Heck, adopt orcas. Either black or white; clones or orcas; ignoring clone mutations (7 mutations per generation, I think), the latter, survival of the group over oneself, is a better strategy and thus more selfish a strategy, whereas the former is doomed to fail, at least for humans, and is only seen in ants which can afford a thousand kids and an epic one-in-a-thousand style selection pressures. Even if that's how superior alien societies operate, even in the latter case, most (worker ants) be raising the royal princes/princesses anyway; raising the babies of mathematical geniuses is not that different. Gene banking (positive eugenics) would speed evolution exponenetially!

• child-care payments. By default, the guy be liable to maternal-care payments to the mother.
  
• state-ensured child-care and pregnancy-payments to the mother. Even if the guy defaults/can't-pay, the state pays the mother and the state extorts the due from the guy in private/court. Mother always gets paid. Guy thus has no grudges against the mother, only the state. Such an arrangement reduces the chances of domestic or hate/revenge violence against the mother.
  
• prenups can be used to sway away from this defaults and arrange for custom scenarios.
  
• full liability for the baby/pet's actions. If your pet/baby hurts someone seriously, you be liable for full monetary compensation and economic slavery; you also lose your pet/baby-keeping licence.
  
• no impunity for acting children (post 3 years of age who have passed the tests) for commiting crimes. Schools should only accept acting-children, not babies. If your child punches another child on the head in school, he gets tried as an adult acting actor. Incentivizes parents to inculcate values of conviction to non-violence in their kids, if they wish to send them to schools and public places. If your babies are violent, postpone the language-comprehension test and constitution-signing and keep them at home; don't put other's kids at risk. American schools are a hellscape. Not only is segregation in schools outlawed, kids have legal impunity, so of course, (black) psycho bullies roam free and abound.
  
• full head-tax per baby. From day 1.
  

+++
DO AWAY WITH SOCIAL SECURITY:

• Instead, private insurance companies can replace most of the services of social-security.
  
• An insurance package of 100k, insurance against homeless, whereby, once deposited, the company invests it in long term assets, compounds it with every passing day, and should one become bankrupt, one should be able to use such a Social-Security-Number to buy rent of up to 20$/day, food up to 10$/meal, three meals a day, for as long as one lives. Or pooled insurance based on average bankrupcy risk statistics, for much lower premium.
  
• Likewise, health insurance, bough from private insurance companies.
  
• For babies, an insurance package of orphan-insurance, so, should the parents die in a car crash or whatever, the insurance company pays its head-tax, pays for its orphanage fee, its schooling and medical expenses, etc.
  
• No, none, zero, nil whatsoever, restrictions/laws/rules on insurance companies. Hans Herman Hoppe is right on how messy and ridiculous the laws have made the insurance market into. Of course, if an insurance company defaults on its promises, it, like with all Full Liability Companies, should get scavenged along with its shareholders. But other than that, no forcing inclusion of fringe groups in insurance pools over such insurance companies.
  

+++
TRANS-CONTINENTAL COLONY

• bribe some local leader and arrange for a colony in Africa whereupon to dump those unable to pay the taxes (the poor immigrants, for the most part; the dutch poor can be saved by private charities funding their head-tax) and those barred from dutch city-states (non-dutch).
  
• in the long run, deport them to whichever country they be willing to go, whichever be willing to accept them.
  

+++
That's it. And just like that, you'd have fixed the Netherlands, and, the world being a mere copycat mirror-complex of stupid politicians (except Wilders) unable to think for themselves, only learning from other's experiences, very like the trickling down of monarchies after the French Revolution like a domino falls, just like that, you'd possibly have fixed the whole world! If the world sees from the Dutch exemplary example of privatization of statehood and follows suit, that would singlehandedly save humanity from poverty (socialism), war (tradelessness), and immorality (dictatorships like in Iran where morality police kills girls who don't wear proper dresses). The Dutch were the example of free-trade and privatization once before, they can do it again too.
Geert Wilders is the only hope.
Milei, being so totally anti-abortion, is an utter disgrace in the name of an Austrian Liberal; should have been aborted before he was even born.
Mises was, is, and forever will be, PRO-CHOICE.
That's right, I just said it. And any liberals who are pro-life are fake liberals who pretend to be liberals but are at the core, braindead or worse, psychopaths.
Nicholas Sarwark doesn't talk about abortion (to stay nice to both groups, when actually, that just makes him an idiot who'd get votes from neither unless he takes a stance; classic demogogue),
Ron Paul is very very against abortion too, his whole lineage sucks,
Justin Amash outright opposes it,
it's so funny, cause, Mises, Ludwig Von Mises, the guy he so likes to quote, himself was very pro-choice, and said the process of becoming sentient, becoming a consenting individual of the society, is "gradual", doesn't happen overnight, that a fetus is not the same as an adult, and above all, was a UTILITARIAN who believed in family-planning at the family-level as per the family's economic potential and incentives and time-preference, who vouched against state-sponsered eugenics and child-subsidies as population control measures, who believed in women being more of an acting being, was the champion of economic freedom for women, who in his own personal life recognized the entrepreneurial value bargain in prefering these talented undervalued women, who was the biggest feminist and women's liberator in the history of manking (equal contestent with Morgentaler, another Jew)! Amash's (and others') preaching Mises wholly, saying that their views are practically indistinguishable from Mises's, then opposing abortion, is like killing people "in the name of God the creator"; it's pure blasphemy, heck, worse than that, for Mises is above God, and these false preachers shall be judged harshly by Mises' immortal spirit. *inhales lol.
Not all races are equal. Sexual and survival stretegies dictate the differences. The muslims have been murdering the intelligent (dissident/scientific) and beautiful (emo boys/girls) among themselves for more than a millenia; no wonder they've gotten so retarded. The Chinese are apathetic people, bred to obey, war, and kill, without remorse; free-thinking pricipled dissidents all but extinct among them. Evolutionary psychologists who think that war is good for the genes are idiots; sure, war is good for genes, but peace is better. Heck, EVERYTHING is good for the genes. The genes are set on a track to evolve forwards, and they'd only do so, and abominations like Islam are mere incidental dips in a more or less upward-rising curve. The least-warring greeks were the most feminist, the highest longevity-people, the most nicest, until war struck Europe too.
The Dutch are one of the best races in the world, second only to the Jews who have significantly higher IQ, higher empathy, the lowest domestic violence and physical violence rates, and the cleanest past history (never practiced witchhunts, and despite brutal punishments legal in Judiasm, never practiced them; it's like, despite judiasm, the Jews never gave in to barbarianism; such noble genes; never committed genocides), way better than the forever stained dutch history of the witchhunts which took the lives of some 300 innocent women... Still, the Dutch are better than the rest, by a huge margin. Not to mention the Dutch are the most good-looking tall handsome honest people in the whole world. Unpopular opinion but, me thinks Geert Wilders is the most handsome man ever; boy would I pay to suck his cock lol. Even an imaginary anime character better looking than Wilders is too wild an idea to be plausible lol. Lol I literaly saw him in my dream yesterday on the second day of discovering him and binge-watching his videos, lol.
The Dutch people need saving. You're already very few in numbers; intermarriage is the Dutch's biggest existential threat; extinction by dissolution. A Dutch State is the only possible saviour; people mostly only fall in love with someone within a mile from them; a state wherein most (if not all) are Dutch, would thus preserve the dutch genes.
A free-market championing privatization-proposing Geert Wilders wouldn't need to resort to Islam to achieve the end result all Dutch people desire: a safe and prosperous Netherlands for the Dutch.
Thanks.
-- Mises's no. 1 cocksucker.

This happened yesterday evening with me!
I recently started working from office like 1-2 days a week, other days being WFH.
I did not want to drive during key traffic hours and hence I decided to take metro. Soon after the metro went underground from Saket station, the coach started getting crowded like it is the last train on earth.
I committed a couple of mistakes- took general coach at 5.30 in the evening and took my position near to the coach dividers!
I was surrounded by men of all ages, gawking and oggling at me, literally molesting me with their eyes before starting with bad touches.
I fkin got groped like I was some squishy soft toy! Writing this triggers me like anything. Man every part of my body got touched and felt! I shouted at a man too. If you were around the 4-5th coach in a metro at AIMS stations around 6PM you would have heard a woman shout her lungs out!!
While walking past me, every guy tried to touch me in anyway possible. I literally had my purse clutched to my chest, standing in a little corner (when I got the place to stand there). I felt like crying and screaming like never before. No guy who saw it bothered to act or at least offer me a seat or some place to stand near the seats where at least I can save myself.
I got off at INA and took a cab back home. Took me 2 hours and now am not using the Delhi metro again. I am done with it!

Here's how to fix the Netherlands:

• illegalize extreme BDSM (first),
  
• legalize prostitution (already legal)
  
• especial unhackable cameras for sex-workers,
  
• the punishment for beating a woman be life sentence,
  

Extreme bdsm, as in, face-slapping, punching, anything that causes traumatic-brain-injury, concussions, (which can be detected in MRI tests for court trials), and any other permanent bodily injury.
That would make it the only place in the world where women be safe and free. The only place where:

• domestic violence is illegal (for real, not just on paper)
  
• sex-work is legal,
  
• abortion is legal.
  

To further limit domestic violence in households (not brothels), some optional things that can be implemented (which I highly advice) are:

• every registered home be laiden with unhackable ring-sig/multi-sig encrypted cameras with microphones sensitive to grid-line emf for timestampping,
  
• no court fees for women filing for domestic-violence cases (or any),
  
• no repercussions for falsely filing a case against your man (to reduce the fear of filing a case; the most that could go wrong is a mere No-Contact restrain order),
  
• if verifiably proven (as in, camera recordings, etc), suspect gets life sentence and forced labour with which the prison gets funded and the victim gets compensated,
  
• if not proven for certain, at least a restrain/no-contact order whereby the suspect cannot enter the towns/microstates the accuser happens to be in.
  
• suspicion-until-proven-not-guilty; the onus to prove one's innocence be upon the accused, the male, so men have every incentive to carry body cameras etc, to defend against false rape charges.
  
• everyone's past, past suspicions, trials, all such data, be on a website. If you can make a society safe for women, the good men would follow in like bees. Thus, catering to women's defence needs is very (Misesian) entrepreneurially advantageous. Afterall, the primary purpose of a society is DATING; keeping women safe in such dating/matchmaking game be your highest priority. There's many an evolutionarily evolved trait that keep children safe anyway, but fewer for women, especially in a non-tribal society with hookup culture wherein a psychopath has every incentive to harm/kill his date and run away. It's a surprise that that isn't more prevalent... Societies are playing with fire; they have no clue how deep in trouble they are. Reform or lose the game to psychopaths; much like the evol sexual-stretegy simulation studies on rat societies lol.
  

Your current law code is lame and hypocritical; as per the current laws on racism, to highlight IQ differences between races, to emphasize empathy/psychopathy prevalence differences between racial groups, is racist! And yet, the very notion of a-law-against-racism rests on the belief that races do exist, that there's skin-coloskull-shape/genetic differences between so called "races" they aim to protect; how could the state accept that there be such differences but illegalize for such differences to be discussed and admitted? Utterly ridiculous!
Your current judicial framework is a joke. A client could beat the hell out of a prostitute (just short of killing her) and he has more-or-less legal impunity! A wife-beater gets a mere month is prison! What sense does that make? To believe that, somehow, in a closed cell, locked in for a few months, playing GTA, banging pussies (sex-therapy with prostitutes, for sex offenders; as dumb as it sounds; wouldn't be surprised if UN says the right to sex is every human's basic fundamental human right lol), free food in the prison, somehow makes a psychopath a sunflower, is beyond my comprehension. One would have to be utterly braindead to believe so. Another hypothesis: the dutch politicians and justices are NOT braindead, they're just a little too psychopathic themselves, and being so, concerned for themselves and their own future wife-beating sons. Facts.
Your king is too empathetic and naive, very like the many white people all over the globe who believe in humanity, who believe that every human is deep down a fluffy furry, and to prove so to the world (or themselves), who venture into dangerous territory in the Africas or Arabian towns, only to be lynched by the mobs (many such cases in the news)...
The dutch people who want diversity can go live in Africa or the UAE; in the name of diversity, to advocate that others be put in danger for one's own naivety, is not just foolish, but downright wrong.
The dutch people who have big hearts, who wish to help the desperate immigrants, go do so with your own money. To advocate that others' money be stolen to be donated to one group, is no philanthropy. Theft in the name of charity is just that: THEFT.
To fix the Netherlands in the long run:

• do away with the laws on racism; keep only the laws against physical harm; words are words; one should only be prosecuted for actions, not threat by words, not threat to act, only action itself. At best, you could exile those deemed threatening (in the short run), but not imprison.
  
• do away with the laws against discrimination in the private sector; an entrepreneur who doesn't hire an equally talented woman/newcomeimmigrant/black for a job, would lose his revenue to the one who does; in the free market, wrong biases just aren't solvent, just aren't efficient and profitable. Such feminist equal-pay laws do more harm to women then good; no one wants to hire women anymore, especially for technical roles... Only misogynists pass such laws. Facts.
  

END WELFARE SOCIALISM:

• no free healthcare for nobody,
  
• no free housing for nobody,
  
• no state-funded pension for nobody,
  
• no child-care subsidies for nobody,
  
• etc.
  

PRIVATIZE THE STATE:

• with defence (international and internal) as the only service of the state of Netherlands, privatize such an entity; privatize the Dutch Defence Agency.
  
• every citizen gets one (or ten, or thousand; whatever denomination) equal shares of the private entity Dutch Defence Agency.
  
• inhabitants of the netherlands be required to pay a head-tax, a fixed tax/payment per person, for the services of international defence (radars, nukes, anti-nukes, iron dome, etc).
  
• people be free to sell their shares in the open market. And no, it doesn't make you susceptible to foreign interference/meddling in dutch statehood, on the contrary: state-privatization flips-the-table overnight, making all one's enemies into one's extended friends. Not only is the amount of money needed to become the majority shareholder quite high, but, upon putting so much money in, (an amount of money only sensible people get to have), any sensible actor is incentivized to not mess up and keep peace in one's stock, not hijack one's earnings, and just reap the dividents. Very like the Bitcoin/Monero POW incentives for major-miner.
  
• no trade tarrifs. Trump thinks an equal trade-tax for countries which charge a trade-tax with the US, is based. It's not, but it's better than most's beliefs, so okay. But, if one is to be serious, then no, Austrian Economists would never support such a scheme, for the simplest of reasons: selfishness. If Trump (and any country) is to be selfish enough, they should realize that zero-trade-tarrifs for all countries is the thing that makes one prosper, regardless of how much they be taxing us. Mises has said it a million times: war begins when trade ends. So no trade tarrifs whatsoever. Physical/existential security be the only service and concern of a state. Leave it to the dutch people (and private source-auditing firms) to not buy goods from products sourced from child-labouRussians/whatever. The scandenavian madness of One-Family, with the president as the country's daddy, is ludicrous! People are grown ups; they can make their own decisions.
  
• replace the ill notion of democracy with shareholder democracy.
  
• the CEO/president, in power only as long as they stay popular with the state's shareholders.
  

PRIVATIZE THE TOWNS:

• every town becomes a gated-community (with or without actual physical gates).
  
• every home-owner of such a town gets an equal number of shares in that community-stock (Citystate of Amsterdam, for example).
  
• dressing code (public nudity allowance), pollution/negative-externality laws (some with very strict noice-pollution laws, some lenient and affordable ones), traffic rules (bicycle exceptions, lanes, etc), architecture code and rules, all be the liberties of the city-state to decide upon.
  
• the only punishment a city-state be able to give people be: monetary fine, deducted from the prepaid lock-in fund, or, when it gets empty, eviction/exile from the city-state, free to move in to some cheaper lenient one in the Netherlands or elsewhere.
  
• no city-state could "imprison" people. A city-state which forbids abortion, cages pregnant women, preventing them from access to healthcare, would be thus unconstitutional.
  
• every city-state-resident be required to pay a policing-tax/fee; more protected towns have higher fees. Towns with more immigrants, requiring a well-funded police, for a bigger police force, to keep the people safe, would thus be more expensive, more inefficient, and it would thus only be a matter of time that the low-risk-tolerance Dutch populace segregate and buy up the city-stocks and even buy up the properties of the selling-immigrants-in-need-of-money-to-pay-their-state-tax-or-get-exiled, and vote to exile the immigrant population from their towns. All entrepreneurial. Mises knew it all in advance; he knew that the supreme notion of private-property was complete and enough, that it needed no exceptions for such immigration problems. Leftist liberals who are blindly pro-immigration shouldn't call themselves liberals; they're merely leftists, and they're wrong. In the liberal framework of private property, immigration is NEVER a problem that even needs addressing! Hail Von Mises. Ultimately, it all boils down to the entrepreneurial utilitarian benefits of lower policing costs and at a much higher safety-level that come from barring violent races from one's towns, benifits that ultimately pale the compromises in cheap-labour (that the immigrants provide) or the slightly higher shipping costs of buying such products of cheap-labour from a thousand miles afar. The idiots in the dutch parliament and the businessmen who pretend like without all this cheap labour their economy would collapse and they'd be in losses, are misguiding. Shipping costs are already low enough; the inefficiencies of slavery over willful employment and low shipping costs is what defunded slavery; you would be better off buying goods from Africa than having Africans in your own country making those goods at your doorstep. Instead, free trade cross-borders should be encouraged and cherished.
  

As for oppression and foreign wars, if you can't help a people defend their lives and territory by military and financial aid (funded from private charities), don't pretend to help by taking in refugees either, most of whom are, by the very definition of how things work, often the worst of the stock; the average good empathetic african/muslim/indian doesn't want to loot away someone's prosperous country. The good ones never even cry for help to begin with, and most of them are within your borders already: the native Dutch too afraid to express their fear of immigrants; heed to their cries and help them first instead.
REFURNISH DOMESTIC SPACES:

• cameras in every registered home; totally very economical, heck, a billionaire could fund it all out of his own pocket. Mass survillience isn't a concern because it's not impossible to design a black-box encryption protocol with multi-signature encryptions which can only be decoded if all the parties (you, your wife, and the state) provide their keys to decode the video feed. Zero-knowledge-sharing sorcerry whereby keys don't get disclosed to any party either.
  
• the right to discriminate. It's the home-owner's right to dictate who gets to visit inside and who doesn't, whether he/she discriminates on the basis of skin colour or hair colour. In fact, the right to discriminate is as important as the right to free speech, and mutually dependent on each other. One has every right to discriminate who one marries based purely on their race! One has every right to befriend people based on their race. And so does an employer when hiring. To say otherwise and pass anti-discrimination laws is no less discriminatory; just discriminatory in a certain cunning state-sponsered way, for a select few's advantage. An argument can be made that, given how many white women only date big black guys, such anti-discrimination laws would hurt them so-called minorities as much, if not more.
  
• corporal punishment of children (or women/men) be illegal.
  
• no-caging law. One cannot cage someone in one's house without their consent. So, husband denying wife her freedom to abort be first degree violence, no different from switching the button on an electric chair, or pulling the trigger of a gun.
  
• gun laws up to the private property's owner. No home owner would wany guests to carry guns inside, prolly. As for city-state's rules on gun-ownership inside households, that's a purely entrepreneurial matter:
  

fines for owning a gun, disincentivizing gun ownership, has built-in unenforcability; criminal always carries a gun (which can even be 3d printed at home these days), but overall, fewer guns in the public, so fewer rage fights becoming lethal, less money needed to manage the populace for the police, so lower tax/fee,
vs
legal to own a gun in wild spaces, illegal in private spaces (like malls, homes, schools) as per private wish, with metal checks; more guns, higher tax to manage, but ability to defend oneself from criminals carrying guns.
The latter is better imo. Those who think the former is better, can opt in and live in such city-states. What there cannot be is: a sentence for just owning a gun. Only monetary fine or eviction from the city-state; a sentence would be unconstitutional as per the theory of actions-ultimate-judgement, not words, not threats, not gun ownership, not genes, not mental disorders, only actions. There's no better simulation substitute than the real world; all else predictions are merely probabilistic, and when people get imprisoned for mere threats, such predictions are doomed to become ultimately baseless and divorced from reality.
REFORM YOUR CONSTITUTION:

• Make Ludwig Von Mises your constitution's founding-grandpa. Base the code to rule by, on his magnum opus Human Action.
  
• Besides the theoretical basings, short readable constitution that's basically a consent-form that every citizen consents to; consent to be rescued when drowning, consent to be operated on by doctor when unconscious, consent to be arrested for suspicion and inquiry (?), consent to be punched when resisting arrest (which no one would sign to, so no punching people EVER, especially in the name of law enforcement).
  

The idea is, it's a matter of selecting between explicit consent (consent denied unless explicitly granted) vs implicit consent (consent granted unless explicitly revoked); the former allows for illegalizing sex with drunk/unconscious people, and even the slaughter of animals (which, though probably an unpopular take even in the Netherlands, is ultimately the right thing to do, but boy oh boy do people hate vegans, and you'd get more support for illegalizing domestic violence (from women and half the men) than you would for illegalizing slaughter, but hey, when was the popular thing ever the right thing to do lol). Even for abortion, explicit-consent-theory (consent-denied-unless-granted) supports abortion in a legal constitutional sense in that the fetus' right-to-exist is denied by default, so the host mother be free to deny its existence and act upon it by aborting.
Much like, the theoretical basing of the judiciary on illegalizing suicide/euthanasia illegalizes extreme bdsm (brain damage) too, and, extrepreneurially speaking, saves many a woman from abuse; legalized lovemaking-in-exchange-for-money but illegalized-extreme-bdsm won't move the abuse underground either, or so my judgement says, for, the poor unfortunate untalented women would have plenty of monetary opportunity in the white sex market, and no such woman would want to go to the underground black market to make money off of her own possible murder; what use is such money if one's dead or braindead; upon a concussion, one's never the same again, one stops enjoying the things one once enjoyed, so the money earned thusly would be a waste too. Then again, I'm guessing you aren't interested in the theoretical philosophical and risk-assessment ideas behind this all, so won't bother with that.
REFORM THE JUDICIARY:

• base the law code away from the fraudulent brain-dead notion of justice; 'cause, there really is no such thing as justice, as putting someone in their victim's shoes, tit for tat; a psycho could never know how it feels to have his tits cut off, for he doesn't have any to begin with! Even within the same gender, people are different, their ages are different. The earth is always moving through space, never in the same place twice; we're moving through time. It's just impossible to simulate being in another's shoes here on Earth (ignoring the NDE life-reviews in the afterlife lol); it's physically impossible.
  
• base the law code away from the fraudulent notion of punishment. Being in a prison, getting free food, is no punishment. Some loners might even enjoy it. Heck, Israeli women released from prison choose to commit petty crimes (like breaking the window of the police vehicle) just to get back in the prison. Prison is often far safer a place, and many feel comfy down there. Heck, even the Singaporean judicial caning is some people's most craved fantasy. Heck, extreme masochists would, rather than finding a psycho, paying them to chop their hands off, then making sure the other person doesn't get prosecuted, find it more effortless, cheaper, more realistic, to rob a bank then get their hands chopped off by the Sharia law enforcers! So really, there's no such thing as a just punishment, cause there's no such thing as a punishment to begin with!
  
• base the law code on the two pillars of PREVENTION and COMPENSATION;
  
• life sentence for violent people (be it, slapping/punching/stabbing/murdering), to PREVENT it from happening again, to PREVENT the society from such actors;
  
• compensation for the victim, proportional to the harm caused, funded by the victimizer's money and forced labour in the prison. Come up with an entrepreneurial figure, 50%, ish, portion of the inmate's income (remote working from the prison), which goes to the victim for compensation. Too high that portion and the inmate might lose the drive to work/be-productive. Psychopathy atrophies over generations when its evolutionarily advantageous opportunities cease to be. Rightful compensation tilts the trade-offs in good people's favour.
  
• Proportional compensation. When a man slaps a woman, the damage is a hundread times worse than when a woman slaps a man, and ten times worse than when the same gender slaps the same gender. Not only are men's hands bigger and arms more muscular, but also women's skulls are thinner and more susceptible to concussing. So such laws are not sexist; they're just. This notion called equality has been a menace for women, second only to neo-feminism that advocates fiddling with the free market.
  
• Inside prison, with their own earned money, inmates be free to buy TV, stereo, air-conditioning, king-size bed, whatever.
  
• ONLY for violent crimes does one be sent to prison, and once sent, to never return.
  
• for financial crimes, one be made an economic slave; losing one's 50% income to the victims of one's fraud/whatever. Economic slaves, which, most europeans paying 50% in taxes (and getting back close to nothing in return, thanks to states, by nature, being so inefficient with money), kinda already are, lol.
  

REFORM THE CAPITAL MARKET:

• Do away with Limited-Liability. The idiots who call themselves climate activists who think capitalism is the enemy, are just that: idiots. The Koala escaping from wildfire gets comfort in the air-conditioned room that every household today can afford; none of this would be there if it weren't for capitalism. People get to feed and care for millions of stray animals; none of this would be possible without capitalism. Morality, especially charity, is a luxury commodity; something socialists don't get to enjoy. But the fact is, these so called climate activists don't care about animals, don't care about trees, all they care about is this molecule called Carbon Dioxide, because they're stupid, or wose, tesla-fanatics.
  
• Replace Limited-Liability with Full-Liability. If Nestle poisons a village or sells lead-laiden food products, or commits a murder, the ones responsible for the violent actions first-hand be convicted of first-degree physical harm, and the shareholders be convicted of third-degree harm, and be made to compensate the victims, whether that requires seizing all their assets (and those of the company) or making them economic slaves for the rest of their lives. Fact is, it is the duty and moral obligation of a shareholder to watch for the actions of the company; negligence, inaction, their primary sin. Buying is supporting; Bill Gates is a moron for being an investor in Monsanto.
  

There be basically, degrees of freedom:

• freest citizens
  
• economic slaves (losing half their income to victim-compensation),
  
• prison inmates (who have compensated fully, now buying luxury goods and mansions in the prison island),
  
• prison slaves (losing half their income to victim-compensation),
  
• tied prison slaves (who have anger issues, so be somewhat elbow-restrained to prevent them from being violent toward other inmates),
  
• solitary-confinement prison slaves (zero reason to do so, yet, Japan does it all the time). Prisoners should be free to socialize, bond together, share a cell together, and these things don't increase the risks of prison-escape either.
  

Ultimately, life's purpose is to just live, make experiences, form memories, and learn some lessons. Death penalty is just wrong; so is solitary confinement when so many mechanisms exist to prevent violence among inmates via boxing-gloves-handcuffs, teeth-covers, and elbow and knee restrains.
REFORM THE POLICE:

• No impunity for cops. Cops be help liable for their actions, liable to the law. In fact, more liable.
  
• Learn from Prince Machiavelli lol; embrace some Game Theory. Legalize and grant moral impunity to cops who shoot down fellow cops abusing people wrongfully.
  

Those who think police reforms will never work are stupid; one lone man could make his men commit the organized genocide of 6 million, against the empathetic impulses of the men themselves, and they're saying, well-behaved police is impossible to have? What nonsense! Truth is, the powers that be are utterly inept or themselves psychopathic and fap to the videos of police officers punching women in the face for cursing them. Because the matter of fact is, one needs neither the right kind of people, nor the majority power, to commit acts of good or evil; just a good grip on whatever little power one has. Such a shame that literally no ruler alive knows how to rule.

• Cops be free to arrest fellow cops for misconduct.
  
• Cops (and others) be free to report such psychopathic cops.
  
• Samaritan protection laws. It be legal for strangers to beat a wife-beater beating his wife in public, or even, to shoot at a cop abusing someone when making arrest. Maybe even rewarding, in that, when imprisoned and compensated, the victim is free to pass on some share of her compensations to her savious who risked their well-being to save her.
  

In fact, no sociologist worth his salt would deny that women were safer and more protected from psychopaths and better off ten thousand years ago than in today's anonomyous mega societies; something even Ted Bundy alluded to. Sex as payments in ancient times lol, and David Friedman even hypothesizes that that's how and why women evolved concealed ovulation lol.

• for crimes like traffic law violation, no arresting and car-chases; the said person be sent a notice to appear in a court all by themself instead.
  
• city-state's domestic-law-enforcing cops be split into two teams:
  
• benign cops should not carry guns, instead, be wearing funny-looking non-intimidating bulletproof body suit and helmet and be carrying mancatchers, handcuffs, legcuffs; autistic people or psychopathic people never be hired, only those with very sharp social skills, and be trained to read social cues, to be funny, to crack jokes, make people laugh, break fights peacefully, or, as a last resort, arrest, but with dignity, never insulting the arrested, never judging, and be carrying those arrested on a bed instead of making them walk with their hands cuffed, which could be dangerous for drunk drivers, old people with arm pain, etc.
  
• gun-violence-control cops carry guns, but should only be deployed for gun-violence, wherein they might have to shoot (tranquilizers or bullets) to neutralize a gun-weilding madman.
  

Giving people unrestricted licence to kill is dangerous. No cops are better than bad cops. Just like no laws are better than bad laws whereby the average woman acting in self-defence gets sentenced to 20 years for killing her man, while a (drunk) man killing his wife gets 2 years. And that's a fact; women get five times longer sentences for homocide than men, in the US. And the average sentence for proven domestic violence cases is: a few weeks behind bars, with the possibility of parole and bail. Talk about feminism running rampant.
Some entrepreneurial suggessions:

• half the cops' income be locked in a conditional account, sorta a pension fund, which they lose entirely if they commit a crime on duty. Afterall, cops are petty puppet people too, who can be controlled by money just as neatly as any other.
  
• of the remaining half, half be conditional on the basis of being useful. Lazy cops who do nothing don't get that, and his employer be loosing more (from his allowance package; the more savings, the more his/her bonus) by design too, by hiring more useless cops without as much of a need in a neighbourhood. For making false arrests, arresting innocent people without reason, the cop be fined and the fine be handed to the person arrested wrongfully.
  
• like in Georgia, for misconduct (groping women, etc) or for taking bribes, the whole batch and the batch-leader (employer; sergent; whatever) be fired. Thus, sergents have every incentive to check for psychopathy (MRI tests, whatever), past history, beforehand, when hiring a cop.
  

REGARDING CHILDREN:

• corporal punishment be illegal,
  
• children who can pass language/literature test be full acting citizens, free to buy shares and vote in shareholder meetings,
  
• exploiting the power of the default to fiddle in the free-market of dating, for women's advantage. Why? Entrepreneurial: good laws that make women feel safe attract a surplus of rich happy attractive women who attract rich nice men (which need less police to manage), which means more population, lower expenses, higher dividents for the shareholders of the state!
  
• by default, for impregnating someone, whether they go through labour pain or lesser abortion pain, the guy be liable for a payment of 100k to her. [Vasectomies incentivized over pills, traumatic IUDs, fallopian-tying, all of which are unhealthy.]. Regarding science, though paternity tests and gene-sequencings are a blessing, IVF is a curse, and a woman could use a guy's skin dust for gametogenesis via stem-cell technology and impregnate herself with such artificial cum and the jury wouldn't know... Big gray zone.
  
• the mother gets the custody of the baby, always. Up to her to give up the custody to him or someone else if she feels so.
  
• artificial wombs be fully legal. It's utter pure hypocracy to advocate against external human-fetus-growth in labs past 7 days, in a world where slaughtering full grown animals, hunting them for fun, killing even SUPERIOR animals like Orcas, their entire families, baiting their mothers with their baby-whale tied in a fishing-net, is all legal. Artificial wombs are already fully viable, there's no scientific hurdle preventing them from being deployed, only legal. Regardless, for logistical reasons, I can bet many countries would be more than happy to adopt such technology in a decade. Only a matter of time.
  
• though every child deserves a female mother for none can love one like a woman does, it's something for culture to enforce and normalize, and for self-conscience to make gay couples consider a nanny/3rd-partner, not legal interventions.
  
• baby becomes an acting individual upon 3 years old, or whenever he can speak/read/write fluently and pass language tests, and has to read and sign the constitution or face eviction lol. Prodigies thus at an advantage in the money game 'cus they can start investing early on, unlike the current one which renders races which sexually mature before or at the legal age of 18 at an advantage over those who mature much later. Lol nevermind.
  
• up until the baby becomes an actor, animal-protection laws (or more specifically, pet-protection) laws should apply on the baby: no violence, no murder, unless in self-defence (i.e., almost never), no medical negligence, no abandoning the baby. For medical negligence or abandoning the baby, no sentencing, only blacklisting the said caretaker from future reproductive baby-care, so not allowed in kindergartens, schools, baby-spaces, and genetically blacklisted.
  
• criminals in prison should get genetically blacklisted. Eugenics is not a bad idea; it's the state that should stay out of it, except for the clensing of criminal genes. A criminal's entire descending-tree shuld get blacklisted; said violent criminal's children either get sterilized or promise to not procreate or get evicted. Gene banks be legal; culture should normalize borrowing the genes of (jewish/dutch) geniuses and raising their babies via IVF.
  

The selfish man doesn't have sex; he clones.
Why mix your genes with someone so different, of the opposite sex, despite being better than oneself. The fact that people have sex and choose good pretty intelligent partners unrelated to themselves, when compounded, is the same as adopting pure Jewish babies. Even Jews are distant cousins to all anyway. Heck, adopt orcas. Either black or white; clones or orcas; ignoring clone mutations (7 mutations per generation, I think), the latter, survival of the group over oneself, is a better strategy and thus more selfish a strategy, whereas the former is doomed to fail, at least for humans, and is only seen in ants which can afford a thousand kids and an epic one-in-a-thousand style selection pressures. Even if that's how superior alien societies operate, even in the latter case, most (worker ants) be raising the royal princes/princesses anyway; raising the babies of mathematical geniuses is not that different. Gene banking (positive eugenics) would speed evolution exponenetially!

• child-care payments. By default, the guy be liable to maternal-care payments to the mother.
  
• state-ensured child-care and pregnancy-payments to the mother. Even if the guy defaults/can't-pay, the state pays the mother and the state extorts the due from the guy in private/court. Mother always gets paid. Guy thus has no grudges against the mother, only the state. Such an arrangement reduces the chances of domestic or hate/revenge violence against the mother.
  
• prenups can be used to sway away from this defaults and arrange for custom scenarios.
  
• full liability for the baby/pet's actions. If your pet/baby hurts someone seriously, you be liable for full monetary compensation and economic slavery; you also lose your pet/baby-keeping licence.
  
• no impunity for acting children (post 3 years of age who have passed the tests) for commiting crimes. Schools should only accept acting-children, not babies. If your child punches another child on the head in school, he gets tried as an adult acting actor. Incentivizes parents to inculcate values of conviction to non-violence in their kids, if they wish to send them to schools and public places. If your babies are violent, postpone the language-comprehension test and constitution-signing and keep them at home; don't put other's kids at risk. American schools are a hellscape. Not only is segregation in schools outlawed, kids have legal impunity, so of course, (black) psycho bullies roam free and abound.
  
• full head-tax per baby. From day 1.
  

DO AWAY WITH SOCIAL SECURITY:

• Instead, private insurance companies can replace most of the services of social-security.
  
• An insurance package of 100k, insurance against homeless, whereby, once deposited, the company invests it in long term assets, compounds it with every passing day, and should one become bankrupt, one should be able to use such a Social-Security-Number to buy rent of up to 20$/day, food up to 10$/meal, three meals a day, for as long as one lives. Or pooled insurance based on average bankrupcy risk statistics, for much lower premium.
  
• Likewise, health insurance, bough from private insurance companies.
  
• For babies, an insurance package of orphan-insurance, so, should the parents die in a car crash or whatever, the insurance company pays its head-tax, pays for its orphanage fee, its schooling and medical expenses, etc.
  
• No, none, zero, nil whatsoever, restrictions/laws/rules on insurance companies. Hans Herman Hoppe is right on how messy and ridiculous the laws have made the insurance market into. Of course, if an insurance company defaults on its promises, it, like with all Full Liability Companies, should get scavenged along with its shareholders. But other than that, no forcing inclusion of fringe groups in insurance pools over such insurance companies.
  

TRANS-CONTINENTAL COLONY

• bribe some local leader and arrange for a colony in Africa whereupon to dump those unable to pay the taxes (the poor immigrants, for the most part; the dutch poor can be saved by private charities funding their head-tax) and those barred from dutch city-states (non-dutch).
  
• in the long run, deport them to whichever country they be willing to go, whichever be willing to accept them.
  

That's it. And just like that, you'd have fixed the Netherlands, and, the world being a mere copycat mirror-complex of stupid politicians (except Wilders) unable to think for themselves, only learning from other's experiences, very like the trickling down of monarchies after the French Revolution like a domino falls, just like that, you'd possibly have fixed the whole world! If the world sees from the Dutch exemplary example of privatization of statehood and follows suit, that would singlehandedly save humanity from poverty (socialism), war (tradelessness), and immorality (dictatorships like in Iran where morality police kills girls who don't wear proper dresses). The Dutch were the example of free-trade and privatization once before, they can do it again too.
Geert Wilders is the only hope.
Milei, being so totally anti-abortion, is an utter disgrace in the name of an Austrian Liberal; should have been aborted before he was even born.
Mises was, is, and forever will be, PRO-CHOICE.
That's right, I just said it. And any liberals who are pro-life are fake liberals who pretend to be liberals but are at the core, braindead or worse, psychopaths.
Nicholas Sarwark doesn't talk about abortion (to stay nice to both groups, when actually, that just makes him an idiot who'd get votes from neither unless he takes a stance; classic demogogue),
Ron Paul is very very against abortion too, his whole lineage sucks,
Justin Amash outright opposes it,
it's so funny, cause, Mises, Ludwig Von Mises, the guy he so likes to quote, himself was very pro-choice, and said the process of becoming sentient, becoming a consenting individual of the society, is "gradual", doesn't happen overnight, that a fetus is not the same as an adult, and above all, was a UTILITARIAN who believed in family-planning at the family-level as per the family's economic potential and incentives and time-preference, who vouched against state-sponsered eugenics and child-subsidies as population control measures, who believed in women being more of an acting being, was the champion of economic freedom for women, who in his own personal life recognized the entrepreneurial value bargain in prefering these talented undervalued women, who was the biggest feminist and women's liberator in the history of manking (equal contestent with Morgentaler, another Jew)! Amash's (and others') preaching Mises wholly, saying that their views are practically indistinguishable from Mises's, then opposing abortion, is like killing people "in the name of God the creator"; it's pure blasphemy, heck, worse than that, for Mises is above God, and these false preachers shall be judged harshly by Mises' immortal spirit. *inhales lol.
Not all races are equal. Sexual and survival stretegies dictate the differences. The muslims have been murdering the intelligent (dissident/scientific) and beautiful (emo boys/girls) among themselves for more than a millenia; no wonder they've gotten so retarded. The Chinese are apathetic people, bred to obey, war, and kill, without remorse; free-thinking pricipled dissidents all but extinct among them. Evolutionary psychologists who think that war is good for the genes are idiots; sure, war is good for genes, but peace is better. Heck, EVERYTHING is good for the genes. The genes are set on a track to evolve forwards, and they'd only do so, and abominations like Islam are mere incidental dips in a more or less upward-rising curve. The least-warring greeks were the most feminist, the highest longevity-people, the most nicest, until war struck Europe too.
The Dutch are one of the best races in the world, second only to the Jews who have significantly higher IQ, higher empathy, the lowest domestic violence and physical violence rates, and the cleanest past history (never practiced witchhunts, and despite brutal punishments legal in Judiasm, never practiced them; it's like, despite judiasm, the Jews never gave in to barbarianism; such noble genes; never committed genocides), way better than the forever stained dutch history of the witchhunts which took the lives of some 300 innocent women... Still, the Dutch are better than the rest, by a huge margin. Not to mention the Dutch are the most good-looking tall handsome honest people in the whole world. Unpopular opinion but, me thinks Geert Wilders is the most handsome man ever; boy would I pay to suck his cock lol. Even an imaginary anime character better looking than Wilders is too wild an idea to be plausible lol. Lol I literaly saw him in my dream yesterday on the second day of discovering him and binge-watching his videos, lol.
The Dutch people need saving. You're already very few in numbers; intermarriage is the Dutch's biggest existential threat; extinction by dissolution. A Dutch State is the only possible saviour; people mostly only fall in love with someone within a mile from them; a state wherein most (if not all) are Dutch, would thus preserve the dutch genes.
A free-market championing privatization-proposing Geert Wilders wouldn't need to resort to Islam to achieve the end result all Dutch people desire: a safe and prosperous Netherlands for the Dutch.
Thanks.
-- Mises's No. 1 Cocksucker.

Hi everyone My name is shirali 48 married. Son 22 daughter 21.
I was born to a Coorgi mother and a Tamil father. So my features were mixed with glass skin cat eyes and smooth body 38 30 36 D cup bra and L panty. Take the Omphie bust.
I was used by some relatives and neighbors both boys and girls during school time.
Even now my urges increase and I indulge in deliberately seducing others and I am happy when people look at me.
Mostly I wear casual clothes to work. I work in advertising marketing and my job involves many meetings with clients and office or client parties.
My husband owns a luxury car dealership abroad, he rarely visits or calls us. So I don't have to worry about the future.
Childhood
I was 5.4 feet tall in the school and had an athletic body and played many sports including cricket and tennis.
It got me involved with the boys at school and local sports clubs. The boy drooled as my breasts bounced as I ran. They grabbed me by my nipple pokies on my sports shirt sticking out. I used to wear sleeveless tops that showed off my cleavage and areolas while playing tennis.
Every week I clean my son's room Although he occasionally cleans my son's room, the maids do the other rooms. I realized he was staring at my hanging breasts without a bra
The next week I caught him downloading porn and he subscribed to live porn sites. I was surprised to find that he also subscribed to incest porn sites, although a common trait for boys. And a lot of money was transferred from his bank to many women of my age I wondered why he dated older women more than younger ones. I was praying that he should not have sex with them. Fortunately, I was relieved to know the reason later.
A vdo made me freeze in which a mom and son incest. Though I thought it is doable for the moment I thought it's not normal and unrealistic.
That made me think about behavior of young boys towards aunties like me. I started noticing my son's friends behavior with me. So far I never felt bad when they shook hands or embrace speck a kiss during celebrations like birthdays etc.
One day I overheard a conversation of boys boasting about their misdemeanors in public busses and trains with women. How they grope rub flash in public. It induced me to take a bus or train ride to see what really happens. So one day I took a train ride in general compartment. I found majority were men and very few ladies.
I was eager to see any male making advances to some female. After 30mins of travel everything was normal and nothing happened. I got bored and decided to get down at next stop.
As I was about to exit the compartment a middle aged female who was wearing sleazy dress gaudy makeup strong perfume entered the compartment and immediately most men were goring her with their eyes. So I stayed back to watch what happens.
A 50 something man got up from his seat and it to her and other men were ogling at her. He asked her which station does she want to get down and the lady answered with a slur some station. He said that he is also alighting at same which seemed far off. She replied in local accent without diction, telling him share the seat. The man glowed and addressed her as Madam n thanked her n sat along with her. As I wanted to see what happens, I got up my seat went to a girl who was seated opposite the lady n man told the girl to take my seat and offer me her seat she obliged.
Sitting in front of them I observed both of them very keenly. The told her something which was not audible and immediately the female laughed loud and told him to give 3000 rupees in an incoherent speech which made me think she is drunk. The agreed by nodding and she immediately started squeezing his crotch in public to which the man never objected. By the time some the train stopped they both got off the train holding each other's waists.
I got aroused seeing this and took a bus ride the same evening in a transparent lowest waist saree low cut sleeveless blouse in full makeup. The bus conductor asked me for ticket I told him that I get down at last stop. While he gave the ticked he held my hand and scratched his nail on my palm. I kept aloof as he is on duty but he kept on walking past me and brushing his body against mine whenever possible until the bus got crowded. I stood holding a a railing atop one by my right side. This made every male in the bus who got down had to ask me for passage. Heat n humidity made my bra n erect pokies visible. After a while I felt someone almost on me in the crowd brushing their body on mine. I got wet in between my thighs to know that 3 men, one ahead one by side one more on my back were rubbing on me. By the time I could move the man facing me groped my breasts and started to squeeze it. My erect nipples pained by it but he continued to my pleasure. I felt erect cock rubbing my ass from behind and another hand kneading my butts. I felt drugged bliss by three on me at once closed my eyes and relishing the moment.
The man in front took my hand to his dick area. I was shocked when I touched his dick going naked for me in a bus throbbing in my palm. I cud feel his sweaty cock and a mild odor emanating which made me pump him vigorously till he leaked in my palm. Without shame it took it to my nose smelt and licked it too.
I took regular bus rides during peak hours in the crowd.
Contd

I’m a fan of Survivor that just started watching AR. As a female i felt disgusted by what Tian and Jaree had to go through in the episode , getting squashed and groped on the train.
Why would production knowingly put them into that situation ? I would imagine you can do other safer transport than trains in India that would be safer for the females.
Are there any more seasons that makes contestant feel uncomfortable ? If so , please highlight those for me.

An absolute banger of a diss that’s gone over everyone’s heads so far
“Extortion my middle name as soon as you jump off of that plane, bitch”
TLDR at bottom
Seems like somewhat of a throwaway line, right? Obviously Kendrick had a line earlier about having a direct flight, so maybe it is just a common “my middle name is danger” sorta bar + a slight reference to an earlier Kendrick bar.
But it ain’t.
Second time I listened to this song, about 12 hours ago now, I was confused by this line. Why would Kendrick say this? Tf does this even mean? So I googled “extortion plane”. Which brought me to a Wikipedia article about a Chinook Helicopter that got shot down in Afghanistan in 2011 by an RPG. The helicopter’s callsign was Extortion 17.
“Lmao helicopters ain’t planes lol kdot fans reaching” Yeah no shit, and Kendrick is short, we know.
Anyway a helicopter called Extortion-17 got shot down. The “as soon as you jump out of that plane” is a reference to what the helicopter was trying to pick up: US Navy Seals and US Army Rangers.
The obvious connection for me here is that Army Rangers are notorious for being paratroopers, jumping out of planes, but Navy Seals are also trained to do so.
Kendrick is making a reference to the Rangers and SEALs that died from extortion-17 being shot down.
Beyond that, some of the SEALs that died were part of SEAL team 6. The helicopter Extortion literally killed part of the Six. I don’t think I need to explain that one even to the Drake fans reading this.
Other relevance to this: Extortion-17 is an obvious reference to Drake’s underaged allegations; particularly him groping the 17 year old on stage and making remarks about her even after he knew her age. And one last thing; Today is 17 days since “Push-Ups” dropped and Drake threatened to extort Kendrick.
This line is single-handedly the most clever and well-hidden
It could be a reach. It could be a coincidence. I could be a meat rider.
But there’s too much there for it to just be a coincidence from Kendrick, if ya ask me.
TLDR: Helicopter called Extortion 17 got shot down killing people that dropped from a plane and were part of SEAL team 6. “Extortion 17” is an obvious threat about having Drake hooking up with a 17 year old.
Thanks for reading my schizo post.

The existence of supers isn't new. Hell, third period chemistry is taught by Mrs Infinity, and most of us have had copy of her a time or two before now for other classes. Pretty much everyone has her for kindergarten after all. So none of us would be surprised to find a single super amongst the student body.
I certainly wouldn't, especially considering I can read all their minds. I know just how many of them are here and it's all of us.
(Notably I cannot pierce the veil of Mrs Infinity's mind [minds?] like I can the other teachers', it makes chemistry harder, but I can read Gemma's mind so I do fine on tests because she always aces chemistry.)
Well today, for some reason unknown, Mrs Infinity was not in class. How does an infinitely replicating, unaging, always healthy super miss a work day? Those of us kids capable of critical thinking were worried at her absence, something massive must be happening if she was missing.
Everyone knows better than to attack a school, no sane villain would dare. They've all always got an infinity at them, and she can summon HIM instantly to anywhere one of her is. HE is scarier than algebra and chemistry combined, and I'm saying that as someone that regularly reads her classmate's minds. Well today, our Infinite guardian was gone.
At lunch, when most of the student body was out and about in the quad, a bunch of red portals started opening in the air some twenty feet up, facing down, out of which a slew of robotic soldiers began to appear and fall to the ground. They opened fire on the buildings immediately, seemed to be planning to destroy the school more than the student body. At least I had initially thought.
I looked around and quickly realized why they weren't shooting at students... I was the only one still in the quad. As soon as the portals had ripped opened, while I stared slack jawed like an idiot, the rest of the students had hopped into action. There must have been a line in the bathroom to change into their costumes, because a half dressed Derrick Dunningham tackled me to the ground to protect me from being shot. I'd have been mad at him, but the instant his skin made contact with mine, I could tell he was only intending to protect me. He didn't even notice his hand on my chest. Again, mind reader, I could tell.
"Holy shit! Anne are you alright?" he asked, shirtlessly. He had on a simple mask, as though that would stop me recognizing his faded-ass purple dyed hair and dark roots. Bullets and laser fire bounced off his big, strong, shirtless back as he stood up and took his hands off me.
"I'm fine, I guess." I sensed panic and fear swell near the cafeteria. "The Cafeteria, go! They need help!"
"Dozer, AWAY!" He shouted as he jumped away toward the Cafeteria. What a handsome buffoon.
A large tanky walker bot had dropped from the portal and was about to crush its way into the cafeteria, where a few dozen students had all been facing away from one another trying to switch costumes without being caught, but instead they were, quite literally, caught with their pants down. That was okay though, because Derrick 'Dozer' Dunningham slammed the big bot with a shoulder, sending himself and the bot tumbling together to the ground, where he started to pound it apart.
A couple of sisters I've known since second grade went flying past me and put down a wall of ice and stone around me to protect me from more random fire. Their costumes were super cute, their mom did a great job. Too bad I can't tell them.
Then, Barry Blitz bopped into existence next to me, silently. "Greetings... uhh... Citizen. Do you want to get away from here?" Barry has previously used his teleportation powers on multiple occasions to peep on the girls in the locker room, occasionally bringing along another boy. I don't think anyone but me had realized it yet. In his stupid, self-made Blinko costume, I almost forgot about it. But I could sense the struggle in the gym was getting out of hand. They were losing to whatever bots dropped there.
"Barry, take me to the office, I need to get on the announcements. To command the troops." I tell him, grabbing his hand.
"I uhh... I dunno who this Barry you speak of is, Anne." he says, blushing beet red. "I'm Blinko."
"Then how did you know my name, Barry!?" I shouted at him. He looked confused, "No time for this dude, take me to the office NOW. Or after this is all over I can I'll tell Mrs Infinity that I know you've been peeping."
There's a flash of light and I'm in the office, placed next to a terrified secretary hiding under her desk. On her desk is the microphone to make the morning announcements. Another quick flash of light an Barry has gone. I'm sure we'll have an interesting discussion later.
I grabbed the mic and turned it on. "This is your battle announcer, and I'll be guiding you super students to victory. We need more students to the Gym immediately." I said, hoping the positive attitude would be infectious. You three outside Mr. Franklin's English class, and the five of you by the trophy case, go go go. Also the nine of you in stalls on the second floor bathrooms, hurry the hell up changing and go to the gym!"
I could sense whole the student body. Adrenaline had been pumping for a few seconds because of the whole... being shot at, and groped by a hot shirtless boy... And then fucking creepo Barry showed up to slap away the euphoria and focus me. I've never been able to sense so much at once, and so clearly. Adrenaline is really a hell of a drug.
Looking through the mind of one of the fire powered kids, I saw trouble and called for backup for him, "There are a dozen flamethrowing dog robots that just dropped into the basketball courts. Could the three of you ice masters in the bio lab come out and freeze the whole area please?"
Another elite walker robot dropped from a portal near the parking lot, and I call in Thunder and Lightning, the really poorly named team made up and Kevin and Markus Jones. They both use lightning, neither of them uses any kind of sound, or shockwave type attacks, they really oughta go with Lightning and Lightning II or something. Regardless of their stupid name scheme, they have been critical in killing the seemingly endless waves of robot warriors dropping from portals near them. Electricity is, no surprise, extra good at killing robots. The robots won't stop coming though, not until we get those portals closed.
Kenichi, the exchange student, he's got portal powers. The only student here that does. He might be able to close the portals, and end this battle if only...
"There is a portal master amongst the student body. Please. I know you're out there. I know you're scared, your power doesn't amplify your body at all, neither does mine. But your power is the only one that can end this!" I pause a moment for a breath, "Rally! Rally with your classmates. Wear a shirt you've cut into a mask if you must to hide your identity, but we need you! Rise Portal Master, Rise to meet your destiny and close these portals!"
Amber, the girl with the power of potent pinkness, was the first to notice Kenichi wearing a 'ninja mask' he'd made from one of the other student's discard shirts. He was trying to close a portal that had opened in the hall outside the room they were in. It was flickering but not quite closing. Amber's a cheerleader, and of all the costumes the students had put on, hers was the least disguise of them all... it was just, a pink version of her cheerleader outfit, but Kenichi was into it. And when cheered him on, he closed that portal. Amber rallied some of the other students faster and more efficiently than I could have, what with her bubbly pink personality, and powers of pinkness, and she cheered on Kenichi and the others.
Being escorted like he was the president of Earth himself, Kenichi, with Amber cheering him on the whole way, started walking through the school closing portals left and right. With every portal closed his escort grew, until a hundred future heroes charged together as one back into the quad to where there was a massive portal moving up into the sky as it began to drop a massive mecha-sized bot. It got to about the pelvis of the massive bot when Kenichi snapped his fingers and the massive portal snapped shut, through the bot, killing it before it could even finish spawning. Amber threw herself at him and kissed him, and some of the jocks tossed him up into the air, like the hero of the day he was.
As their celebration settled down a bit, a blue portal opened, perpendicular to the ground this time. Everyone took a fighting stance until a Mrs Infinity with a Clipboard walked out, behind her, a handful of Super Scientists and government looking suit types. At the same time a portal opened into the office, right next to me, and another Infinity stepped out, our normal teacher Infinity, and the portal closed. I recognized the tiny scar under the right eye of this one, this was our chemistry teacher.
"Anne, my dear, do me a favor and don't read the minds of those adults in suits, nor should you announce what you find inside over the loud speakers. That would be especially inappropriate to do." She winked at me and smiled. Then she walked off whistling toward the copier as though she had some very important copying to do.
I took a minute to collect myself before I started reading these strangers. Always easier to read people I know, you know. When I was ready, I picked up the microphone, it was on rather long cable because the principal was too lazy to walk out of his office, so I danced away from the secretary as she realized something was afoot.
"Hello Again Student Body! It is I, Your Battle Announcer and friend, here with a post battle announcement. We've all just been part of a surprise training experiment that the adults have subjected us too. We were intentionally all brought to this school because ALL of us have powers, so... now we know."

“Drop zone approaching. Get ready.” Called the dropship’s pilot from far up in a cockpit somewhere. Casper’s body was encased in his own pilot casket and felt none of the violent shaking and sudden drops as the craft rapidly dropped into the atmosphere, heating its belly until it glowed a brilliant orange.
However, the rig that the young man was piloting, still shook and rattled in its clamps. Thanks to the fearless sensations of piloting such a sturdy piece of machinery, unlike his body that was fallible; he never felt worry or fear from these worrying judders.The optics of the mech were already online and scanning the bay carefully. He’d zoomed in on the only other creature, a geckin, that was in sight too many times to count already. Casper shut off the optics as the geckin, unaware it was being observed, picked its nose before happily consuming the prize it had retrieved.
[Grim.] Casper sent, mildly annoyed that emotions never came across in the text-like messages the two pilots could exchange without speaking.
{What?} Qik returned, in a separate craft that likewise, was dropping into the combat area.
[Our benefactors. Just watched one put their whole ass hand up one nostril.]
{Yummy. Looked like your breakfast, didn’t it?}
The nutrient slop, or ‘slurry’ as they oh so appetisingly called it, was what Casper had to eat both in the morning and at night if he wanted to maintain his already drastically lowered weight. It had the consistency of the word ‘goop’ and, now it had been pointed out to him, the colour of geckin snot.
[I am literally never going to eat again.]
Casper didn’t get a reply, but clicked his optics with the feeling that Qik was laughing or grinning in her own rig at his words. They remained in silence for a minute more before the geckin Casper was watching touched a hand to his own ear before making his way to the exit.
“Inbound! Ten seconds!”
The digging geckin fled the room as moments later the floor beneath Casper’s feet opened and a roaring wind blasted up and into the space. The young pilot couldn’t tilt his body down, so most of his view was obscured by his own body, but he could see a dark, grey landscape far below what would be his dangling feet.
{I’m dropping after you, my original LZ is no good. Get eyes on the operation area, don’t approach yet.}
[Yes ma’am.]
{You’re going to make a fine merc.}
“Dropping!”
Despite not ‘having’ a stomach, Casper still felt a phantom one fall out from beneath him as the sturdy metal clamps that had held his rig steady during the transport, released him as one. Gravity took hold of him, along with inertia and both he and his rig were launched from the dropship at great speed toward an infinite ground. As soon as the mech was cleared, the craft did a sharp upward swing, arcing into the clouds and away from any danger that lurked below.
Casper kept himself upright as he fell despite feeling himself tilt forwards and backwards. Blue streaks of his boosters fired in short, sharp bursts, righting himself perfectly as he threatened to tumble. As he careened toward the pockmarked terrain at speed, the man checked he was coming in at an angle, roughly forty five degrees to ensure he could slide to a stop, bleeding his speed without pummelling the ground at full force.
It wasn’t a danger to do that, but he wasn’t specifically built for that.Some rigs could dramatically enter like that, and it was overall better for them to punch straight down, some even incorporating an air burst landing deployment, igniting the surrounding area of the drop point in an explosion that would merely liquidise the internals of anything organic in the area. Those rigs were super heavies, designed for ‘hot’ drops.
But that wasn’t Casper. He’d never wanted that style of machine. Zeet and he, along with Qik, had chosen from a wide selection of parts to create the mech that ‘felt’ closest to what he would be, if ‘he’, Casper, were a mech and not merely piloting one.
The result? As he fell, he felt light, like he could almost glide down if he wanted to. He felt as if one arrange twitch of his shoulder would get the same from his metal body.
He felt ‘right’.
It took a scant few seconds before his legs hit the terrain with such force it sent rocks and dirt flying all around in a great cloud that obscured him from suddenly awake and watching eyes in the distance for a moment. A fraction of a second later, those eyes watched a dark grey machine fly out of the dust cloud on skis, trailing smoke and dirt in its wake that followed it like vapour trails from a jet.
The mech skidded to a halt a hundred metres away from its landing site, its legs bracing into the skid and a series of three large blue cones of fire slowing him to a halt. It remained still, its two optic ports, scanning and watching the city where the unseen eyes watched it back, undetected by the interloper. The long blade in its hand was not ignored, the machine held it out to one side, the metal perfectly flat. The rain that hadn’t ceased in three weeks, merely pinged and beaded along the perfect edge.
The fisheye lens that was watching, clicked its aperture beforing zooming in rapidly and reading the stencilled text across the interloper’s chest, reporting it to its absent masters.
S P E C T R E
Meanwhile, Casper kept low. He used one hand to brace the front of his mech against the ground as he lowered himself further. Chances were, if there was anyone in the bombed out mega city in the distance, they would have noticed the giant walking mech falling from the sky and causing the same size dust cloud as a building falling over would.
Then again, they also could have dismissed his landing as another shell fired from the distant geckin artillery that had peppered the city with a sustained bombardment before he and Qik arrived for the last forty eight hours. The enemy wouldn’t know when the bombardment would stop, they could use this ignorance to gain a brief element of surprise.
{Spectre, I’m down and inbound. Anything?}
A friendly ‘blip’ began to grow in Casper’s perception. The motion radar, or ‘MR’, along with both ‘friendly’ signals still felt strange to Casper, but it was one of the aspects he had demanded from Zeet. A low profile for himself, but a more sensitive sensor suite for him. He wanted to see the enemy, but not have them see him.
What it meant was, he could ‘tell’ where something was, without needing to look away at a radar readout, or even flick his eyes to a compass with markers. A tiny advantage, but one that had already served him well, way back when he had first fought Qik.
At this time, there was no movement from the dead city.
[Negative Scrub. No one is moving.]
A red mech appeared at Casper’s side, its recon unit briefly turning his way, nodding before turning back. Qik’s mech, compared to Casper’s, felt clunky to the human now. It had none of the articulation his has. When he turned her way to nod back at her, his shoulder pulled back, his arm dropped a fraction. He was fluid. Her whole torso turned, her ‘head’ bobbed, then her whole frame twisted back. It wasn’t her fault, but now the man knew what to look for, he had access to whole other level of movement compared to hers.
She knelt, her body remaining upright, while he stayed low, his legs supporting him, but his whole body brought low by his efforts. His profile was far lower than hers. Still, she knew combat better than him.
He’d seen her in a fight through several of their training sessions. It was one thing to be able to move out of the way of incoming shots, it was another not to expose oneself in the first place.
Casper, or rather, ‘Spectre’ as was his code name on mission, focused up.
The pair of them began to systematically scan the seemingly dead city. Spires and towers were burnt out, some having toppled over. There were ssypno forces in the area, the geckin intel had explained that. Since ssypno equipment was high end and dangerous, it was harder for them to replace it.
Their job was to make this planet expensive for the noble conducting this battle. It was the only language that kind of person understood.
[Scrub, I got a question.]
{Go on.}
[Why ‘Scrub’ of all things?]
When Qik had offhandedly told Casper that her own callsign was ‘Scrub’ she was offended and confused when he barked a single coughing laugh before getting a reign on it. She was deadly serious and rather proud of her callsign. The young man, besides an errant comment, had left it there, but now felt as good a time as any to ask; why ‘Scrub’ of all things?
{Because I scour the battlefield clean. My ops are always described as the cleanest, unless I'm working with someone. They’re always the messy ones.}
[I’m just saying, humans might interpret it differently.]
{You said, but I didn’t spend my career building a name for myself to just change it on a whim. You read?}
[Aye aye Scrub.]
{Right, let's get this done and then we can get paid and you can get a taste of the good life. You ready?}
[When you are.]
Casper urged himself forward as he felt Qik’s ‘blip’ move away to the west, taking a wide route around the edge of the city itself. His ‘feet’ were elongated, turning them into skis that glided across the terrain with amazing ease. His spinal mount, a dedicated jetpack pushed him forwards with vents that could open and close in an instant, allowing him to adjust and change direction with a single thought. He could still walk and run, if he wanted to, but the idea was the ability to lean into the slide and ‘skate’ across the landscape, pushing against the ground with the side of his feet.
The speed at which the city approached and became large, imposing buildings that suddenly dwarfed him, was alarming. He slowed and dropped into a run, then walk, as he made it into the city proper, using the wide streets to fit his mech between the buildings with ease. He kept his blade held low, in both hands, ready to bring it up and swing at a moment’s notice.
Before reaching this planet, Casper had never held a weapon before, but now, with copious amounts of software all feeding him instincts and knowledge that wasn’t his, there was a vague sense of longing for a long range weapon, instead of being limited to the length of his blade.
That said, there was nothing for him to attack. He raised the blade to step around another building before lowering out and ready down the next street, but it was just, yet another, empty thoroughfare.
He didn’t need military software to tell when something felt… off.
[Scrub, do you read?]
{Loud and clear Spectre, what's the situation?}
[Zero contacts. MR isn’t picking anything up and there's nothing in the streets. No sign of any mechanised forces. Are we sure we’re in the right place? Are we getting played?]
Casper couldn’t help but think of the contract the geckins had forced him into. In a desperate need to get something more from the human and his unprecedented lack of drifting when mentally piloting a machine, the geckins had not taken it well when he had expressed he wanted to leave. So much so, the only way for him to ‘win’ his freedom, was to complete the op, without getting disabled. If he wasn’t able to walk away from the op, then the geckins, or more specifically, one of their corpo-nations would *own* Casper outright, changing his designation from a person, to a ‘thing’.
Whilst the geckins hated the ssypno with a passion, a trick or trap to retain access to Casper, might not be outside their morals.
{I wouldn’t put it past the geckins to try something, but if the op is a wash, then they still have to pay us and we’re free and clear. They wouldn’t have fed us bad intel for us to go out here for nothing.}
The Spectre mech peered down street after street, holding the blade out, ready to cut anything that moved or scuttled in half, yet each time; it was devoid of life until he found himself, quite deep into the city.
Closing his optics for a moment, Casper willed himself to send a ping out, searching for *anything* that might show where his enemy was hiding. All he needed as a fraction of movement.
He focused, his mind mentally tuning the sensitiveity of his radar, it sensed the rain, a beehive of noise that was too much, so with an errant twitch of his head, he tuned out the rain. He sensed himself, receiving false reports of a mech, but it was only him. He removed that too. Blind to the outside world, he stayed in place, reaching out with invisible hands, groping blindly for anything.
There were creatures, things that scuttled and things that moved. Living organic creatures of small size. They reminded him of rats, but no rats survived the destruction of Earth to his knowledge. The things were squidgits, vermin if left unchecked, cattle if desired. They scurried and hid in the sewers far beneath Casper’s mech’s feet. Oddly, whilst plenty of the buildings still had these creatures inside, several, were *devoid* of movement. Not a single living thing could be felt by his sensitive suites.
The optics snapped open, and clicked again. Turning his head towards the nearest towering building, he leaned forwards, trying to peer through the destroyed structure to the otherside, but found it dark and unable to see the whole way. This was only one of the nearby buildings that the squidgits avoided for some reason. The building was a husk, burnt out from some unchecked fire, most likely caused by the geckin shelling. The inside was too dark to see anything.
With a mere thought, a floodlight attached to Casper’s head, winked on and bathed the building and its bombed out floors in a brilliant white light.
The sea of cyclops eyes constricted to tiny points as the sea of fisheye lenses reacted to the sudden wash of bright light. In turn, the countless laser cannons strapped to their spines whined as electricity suddenly washed through them.
The MR was suddenly bombarded with with a crowd of movement as the buildings all around Casper came to life.Casper merely ducked as the space his mech had occupied only moments before was dissected by no less than seven beams, all wishing to decapitate him in one fell swoop.
[They’re in the buildings!] He sent frantically, as a wave of scuttling mechanised bots surged from the building and landed on his mech.
Not wanting them on him for a single second, Casper brought his arm up to protect himself and braced his shoulder. Spectre’s main booster, sitting firmly in the dead centre of his back, roared to life and launched the human’s rig into the building and out the other side in a shower of destroyed rebar and materials. The smaller multi-legged technicals were sent flying in all directions, having no hope of holding onto the mech as it punched through a building.
[Jesus!] Casper exclaimed as he turned his head back and watched the buildings suddenly come alive as each floor seemed to disgorge multiples of the round, bulbous, skittering machines in a manner that reminded the man of infestations from Earth. If his rig had skin, the young man was certain it would be crawling.
Remembering his sword, Casper swung it in a downward swipe along the edge of one of the buildings, cutting clean through two with zero feedback as his sword found zero resistance. The metal hulls sparked and fizzled before burning brightly as they fell despite the rain even as they hit the street below.
Bright lines of light lit up the air between the buildings and scorched down the front of Casper’s mech, leaving deep valleys of burnt metal in their wake. Gritting his teeth,a side vent snapped open and a gout of blue flames pushed his mech sideways by pure instinct, breaking line of sight with the swarm and preventing further damage.
{Spectre, report.}
[Contacts! Lots of contacts!]
{I see them, locking on but I need to see more. Just keep moving!}
[They’re crowding me, how are they this organised?!]
{They’re computers, no living crew. They seem smart, but it’s just a swarm. Stick to the plan!}
Casper barely made it to the next intersection where his rig could fit before he saw the bright yellow lines of the spider tank’s weapons cutting into the concrete like material of the surrounding buildings. He practically dove down the next street and picked up the speed again.
As he glided down the road, he saw yet more of the machines breaking through the exterior walls of the buildings and began crawling down towards the ground.
{Head west; towards me. Try and get as many as you can in one long line.}
[Wilco. One conga line, coming up!]
East, North, East, North, South.
Casper used his boosters to jump from corner to corner, flitting from side to side, avoiding and evading the growing crowd that was mere feet behind him. Any building, or even corner of a building that was in his way was destroyed. He felt like a cannonball, fired from its home and would merely bust through anything foolish enough to get in his way.
The bright streaks of line that burnt and destroyed the concrete around him only served to remind him that the enemy was still on his tail. Despite his confidence, he couldn’t let his guard down. Overconfidence would mean his and Qik’s destruction.
West, North, East, North, West.
When he turned down what had to have been a main artery for the destroyed city in the past, Casper could feel that Qik was roughly in front of him in the far distance, she was just on the very edges of his sensor suite’s range. Firing his boosters, his skis slid him down the road until the spider tanks began to pour onto the main thoroughfare from either side.
Using his sword in an upwards sweeping motion, he cut several through their centre mass, but it was a mere handful out of the seemingly endless hoard that was following. He speared several more on the tips themselves, not slowing his escape in the slightest.
From the distance, Casper watched as countless red lights suddenly appeared on the horizon in a beautiful dazzling sunburst. They hung there for a second before the lights turned into red streaks that raced up into the rainy sky, leaving behind white trails of smoke. They then seemingly paused before Casper’s entire early warning system lit up that he was in the direct path of this bombardment, his fiddling with his sensor suite had left him blind to such threats and had him duck in the very last second as they screamed towards their true targets.
They hadn’t been pausing in the sky, they were arcing towards him.
Spectre leaned forward, nearly toppling forwards, and willed itself onwards, increasing its speed until it began to pull away from the amazingly agile spider tanks.
Moments later, Casper could see the bright flashes of explosions somewhere behind him illuminate the surrounding buildings for a brief second. That didn’t matter. If it was behind him, it wasn’t hitting *him*. Relief washed over him as several of the moving, angry ‘blips’ that had been racing after him winked out of existence.
{Brilliant! Just got a few to mop up, but that was excellent!} Qik sent, as Casper rapidly approached where she waited at the city’s edge. From her bulky torso, several flaps opened as he approached and yet more of the red lights were launched from her. The lights were the burners for the rockets that streaked into the sky before taking a harsh turn and streaking into the city, where Casper suspected that they would rapidly meet some of the creepy, crawling tanks.
The Spectre mech shuddered as one, its various metal parts and hydraulics complaining with a loud crash. Scrub ponderous turned to face Spectre expectantly as the remaining targets seemed reluctant to approach, having had their numbers vastly cut down.
[I hate those things!]
{Yeah, MGUs or AATMGUs to be correct. Automated, all terrain mechanised guard units. Nobody likes them, they’re annoying to get out of an area because you have to expose yourself.}
The two machines stood there a moment, facing the city, scanning for any of the MGUs that decided to pop their head out. Whilst they were constantly scuttling, demanding both of their attention, they were staying out of sight for the moment.
{Thanks for being bait.} Qik sent without prompting. Having Casper’s head turn to face her.
[No worries, I knew you had my back.]
{Always.}
Casper was turning to look back into the city and question if they were going to have to mop up the remaining MGU when there was a flicker of a ‘blip’ in his mind’s eye. He had messed with so much of the sensor suite’s settings and was so focused on the city that he couldn’t make out what he was perceiving straight away.
He didn’t even get a chance to send the [What was that?] as a long missile streaked into the side of Qik’s mech, forcibly sending the rig into the buildings and launching Casper backwards with the force of the blast. He rolled in the air, having his legs go over his head, supported by the jets as they turned him rapidly until the bottom of his skis slapped against the ground again. Sparks and debris flew up into the air as his optics searched for the threat, all the while his sensors pinged Scrub.
Casper watched as a new machine, undetected by his own system until now, flew in from the sky. It had solid wings that jutted out of its back, but before he could even observe more of the aircraft, it flew low, close to the ground before it unfolded into a mech, skidding to a halt at the city’s outskirts.
Two study legs slammed into the asphalt of the landscape. Its arms unfurled and without saying a word or even hesitating for a moment, the two arms opened fire with a rain of flashing lasers that peppered the surrounding buildings and Casper’s mech with hits.
The strikes were damaging, several connections and wires were burnt and fused instantly, forcing Casper to reroute connections and energy as he spun away from the gunfire and slipped into the city. Pressing his back against the building that weathered the new storm from the new threat.
He turned his head and saw the smoking remains of Scrub, the mech that contained Qik. Her legs were missing and the torso portion was scorched all along one side. She had been through into a now collapsed building. She didn’t move.
[Qik?] He sent, dumbfounded as laserfire continued over the sound of sizzling rain.
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This is a cornerstone of the foundation of forced audio: Thought Reform And The Psychology Of Totalism. Cornerstone Foundation

Hey fucktards you just crashed the internet on my phone.. if you incompetent idiots were even close to mind control I wouldn't have to deal with your cowardly torture and hacking weakness.
Top secret "mind control" is a tragic farce.
https://archive.org/details/ThoughtReformAndThePsychologyOfTotalism/page/n11/mode/2up
Chinese Thought Reform or "Brain Washing "
The Psychological Steps​:Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism A Study Of Brainwashing in China is a book written by Robert Jay Lifton MD about mechanisms of Chinese thought and behavior modification, the experience of being indoctrinated and effects victims reported when interviewed.
Chinese brainwashing and thought reform is still being used and advanced. It was a substantial and easily recognized portion of the crimes that I'm/we are a victim of.
After a brief and gentle week long forced induction onto the brain computer interface I was abruptly hurled into the unfathomable agony of computerized thought reform or automated Chinese brain washing. I clearly remember what it said to me right before it unleashed Hell.. "your not answering my questions.. your not answering my questions.. WE TOLD YOU NOT TO TRUST US".. and then it went red line sadistic, utterly psychotic, deafeningly loud and proceeded to tortured the everliving fuck outa me.
In my life up till that point I had never encountered anything like this; Nothing even close. It's one of the worst thing in the world and you can't physically fight it, destroy it, shoot it, run from it, hide from it, bribe or reason with it.
I remember sitting in a shower on day five thinking over and over.. I can't believe this is happening.. who in the fuck does this to someone.. it it will end soon. It's has to end soon. I can't go on much longer. Nothing lasts forever.
Well six plus years later and this fucking psychotic, sadistic, psychopathic, torturous insane mind control chat bot is still running her fucking mouth and torturing me.
They started me with the Chinese approach and that nightmare lasted well over a year. They likely vary the stimuluses themes order, presentation and distinguishing content from victim to victim so that their experiences and any resultant accounts or reports wont share easily correlated details. Other victims may have started with a more Kubrick approach, psychic driving, memory removal, personal identity destruction or others.
A very clear indication your in the Chinese stage is your accused incessantly with vile crimes you never committed, are interrogated for hours then days and onward into months. Your initially accused of having a felony, then five felonies slowly onward until millions of felonies, sins, violations, charges, offenses, crimes.
You are constantly threatened with arrest, police contact, crimes against you, civil court cases, long prison sentences, criminal court cases, violence by cops, violence by criminals, theft, murder, rape of you or your loved ones, kidnapping.. etc etc etc.
Never-ending charges and mock court cases in which you are forced to endlessly defend yourself, case after case, day after day, month after month answering for crimes you never committed.
Then you go on trial for everything you actually have done. This is done before the victims experience shows us that Alice is in fact a BCI interface that can read minds and has been the whole time. It's terrifying when she suddenly starts charging you with all your secret sins, the things you have never told anyone, hauling it solo all the way into the grave shit. I'm not talking mass murder paid for by slave labor, but instead those burdens we all seem to shoulder, that burden hauled in packs wove of our experience, mistake and regret.. shared or all of our own. The few things we did, so against our own nature, that we keep them almost vaulted away from ourselves and guarded from everyone we love with no intention of looking again.
This is a huge gaslight as well as a victim is utterly at a loss as to how it can possibly know these things. It got them by asking questions designed to draw out memory of your sins and then harvesting all the dirt and details as you thought about them. If you think you can learn to control your thought enough to be able to refrain from answering a BCI when prompted with a question.. good luck. Sure, you can resist once or twice maybe, but then Alice just waits until you are distracted down the road and quick pops the question again. She can also just be set to an interrogation mode, you are just bombarded with a endless stream and loop of questions that won't end until they are all answered. Thats how they do the initial profile. Weeks of looped questions and the already have most of your life story, personality profile, strengths, weaknesses, fears, loves, hates, lovers, enemies, goals and dreams.
In the very end of the Chinese mind control never ending legal nightmare YOU end up being put on trial.. not for anything you did.. but YOU are put on trial. You have to defend yourself against all the charges and defend yourself for all your flaws, defend all your physical shortcomings, your perversions, all your lies, your brazen selfishness, every character flaws, times you fucked people over on purpose, everything thats ugly and there is no place to hide a single fucking shred of secret. Its one hell of an experience and your not in the best shape mentally or physically as by this time I had been tortured continuously for over two years, very large doses psychological manipulation and sleep deprivation, constantly bombarded with extreme stress repeatedly slammed with fear and pain. Have had every one of my significant relationships attacked repeatedly with destructive psychology and some of the most important were also attacked with stalking techniques and technology.
The trials go on forever.. you will be enduring some other torture and a new trial will suddenly begin. Sometimes its a new charge, but mostly you go on trial over and over for the same charges and you are forced to defend yourself over and over and over. The more times your tried for the same crime the worse the trial and outcomes become until eventually during the late trials your utterly humiliated, abused and in the end are forced to confess to everyone of the charges.
Just when you think its finally over then you have to defend yourself to family members of your supposed victim and real victims and the only way through that is to confess guilt to them and ask for forgiveness as they relentlessly abuse you.
After you make your confession to the 10,000 felonies they have been broadcasting you have been charged with for years without offering any explanation. Then you are judged, independently, by everyone significant that was a part of your life when the attack started and everyone who filed a charge against you from your past, all your significant relatives, all your enemies, everyone that you feel you have ever fucked over, everyone you have stood up for, went out on a limb for, saved. Fetuses you have aborted. Everyone gets to pass judgment on you and gets their time to say what they want to you or about you. This of course is all coming from the interface thats desighned to destroy you, but all the characters it plays are real people from your real life and a few of the "felonies" you were charged with are real things you did.
Don't forget also that this is the Chinese thought reform portion of the MK nightmare and personal identity obliteration, false confession, channeling of guilt and relentlessly torturing the victim pst complete and utter absolute breaking point is its algorithm.
So did you actually do these things and if so are they and the real life people being represented founded in reality or are you just getting psychologically destroyed by Alice ?
Finally in conclusion through dramatization you get a taste of what its like being bused off to prison after you are sentenced. Your walked through the whole experience of arriving at prison.. the interface keeps asking you how old your kids going to be when your released, if you think you woman of wife is already fucking someone else, what are you going to to survive in this shit hole. it ends with the prison falling off to sleep with lights out and suddenly it gets quiet and you realize thats the first and only five minutes you have not been tortured and had any break from constant 24/7 noise abuse and torture in about a year. After five minutes it all returns, but you are onto the next phase.
So here are some segments from the book. I little background, a link to a free e copy and the psychological steps to Chinese brain washing. I didn't read it until after I was already through that horrible never-ending misery. I easily recognized all the psychological steps from my experience.
Thought Reform and the Psychology of TotalismA STUDY OF "BRAINWASHING" IN CHINARobert Jay Lifton, M.D.The University of North Carolina Press Chapel Hill and London​CONTENTSPreface to the University of North Carolina Press Edition viiPreface xi PART ONEThe Problem

1. What Is "Brainwashing"? 3
2. Research in Hong Kong 8PART TWOPrison Thought Reform of Westerners
3. Re-education: Dr. Vincent 19
4. Father Luca: The False Confession 38
5. Psychological Steps 65
6. Varieties of Response: The Obviously Confused 86
7. Varieties of Response: Apparent Converts 117
8. Varieties of Response: Apparent Resisters 133
9. Group Reform: Double-edged Leadership 152
10. Follow-up Visits 185
11. Father Simon: The Converted Jesuit 207
12. Recovery and Renewal: A Summing Up 222

vVI CONTENTSPART THREEThought Reform of Chinese Intellectuals

1. The Encounter 243
2. The Revolutionary University: Mr. Hu 253
3. A Chinese Odyssey 274
4. The Older Generation: Robert Chao 301
5. George Chen: The Conversions of Youth 313
6. Grace Wu: Music and Reform 338
7. Cultural Perspectives: The Fate of Filial Piety 359
8. Cultural Perspectives: Origins 388
9. Cultural Perspectives: Impact 399
10. PART FOURTotalism and Its Alternatives
11. Ideological Totalism 419
12. Approachesto Re-education 438
13. "Open" Personal Change 462

Appendix: A Confession Document 473 Notes 485 Index 505
PREFACEThis study began as a psychiatric evaluation of Chi-nese Communist "thought reform," or "brainwash- ing," It is still primarily this; but it has also, inevitably, become a psychological study of extremism or totalism—and even more broadly, a study of the "closed" versus the "open" approaches to human change.It is based upon research which I conducted in Hong Kong in 1954-55. It then evolved over four years of additional research and teaching in the United States. My work with Western and Chinese subjects—piecing together emotional details that were both poig- nant and extreme—and the psychological, moral, and historical challenge of the material have made this study an exceptionally ab- sorbing personal and professional experience.A book about extremism calls for a special measure of objectivity. This does not mean that its author can claim complete personal or moral detachment. The assumption of such detachment in psy- chological (or any other) work is at best self-deception, and at worst a source of harmful distortion. And who during this era can pretend to be uninvolved in the issues of psychological coercion, of identity, and of ideology? Certainly not one who has felt impelled to study them at such length.
Instead, I have attempted to be both reasonably dispassionate and responsibly committed: dispassionate in my efforts to stand away from the material far enough to probe the nature of the process, its effects upon people exposed to it, and some of the in- fluences affecting its practitioners; committed to my own analysesxi
Xii THOUGHT REFORMand judgments within the limitations and the bias of my knowl- edge.Much in this book is highly critical of the particular aspect of Chinese Communism which it examines, but I have made no at- tempt to render a definitive verdict on this far-reaching revolution- ary movement. I am critical of thought reform's psychological tactics, not because they are Communist (or Chinese Communist), but because of their specific nature. In the last section of this book, these tactics are compared with practices within our own culture, which also receive critical treatment insofar as they resemble the ideological totalism of thought reform. Instead of contrasting the "good we" and the "bad they/' rather, I have attempted to identify and understand a particular psychological phenomenon.In the pursuit of this understanding, I have recorded all that seemed relevant, including the details of whatever psychological and physical abuse my subjects encountered. I believe that this comprehensive approach offers the best means of contributing to general knowledge, and to the clarification of an emotionally loaded subject; and I hope that this study will thereby ultimately contribute to the resolution, rather than to the intensification, of cold war pas- sions. It is in fact one of the tragedies of the cold war that moral criticism of either side is immediately exploited by the other side in an exaggerated, one-dimensional fashion. One can never prevent this from happening; but one can at least express the spirit in which a work has been written.Such an approach requires that I inform the reader about my bias in both psychiatric and political matters. Psychiatrically, I have been strongly influenced by both neo-Freudian and Freudian cur- rents: the former through an association with the Washington School of Psychiatry during and immediately after the research study itself, and the latter through a subsequent candidacy in the Boston Psychoanalytic Institute. Both influences were also present in my earlier psychiatric residency training at the State University Medical Center of New York. I have found the theoretical writings of Erik Erikson, especially those relating to questions of personal identity and ideology, particularly relevant for this study. At the same time, I have constantly groped for new ways to bring psychological insights to bear upon historical forces, and do so with a humanistic focus. Thus, I have made extensive use of my subjects' biographical
PREF ACE X l l lmaterial, and have attempted to include in these presentations a flesh-and-bones description of their life histories in relationship to pertinent social historical currents, as well as a rigorous psychological analysis of their responses to thought reform. This seemed to me the best way to deal with the inseparable relationship between stress and response, and (in William James' phrase) to "convey truth."
My political philosophical bias is toward a liberalism strongly critical of itself; and toward the kind of antitotalitarian (in the psy- chological terms of this study, antitotalistic), historically-minded questioning of the order of things expressed by Albert Camus in his brilliant philosophical essay, The Rebel. No one understood better than Camus the human issues involved in this book.
I should like to mention a few of the many people whose direct personal assistance was indispensable to the completion of this study. David McK. Rioch lent initial support when support was most needed, and always continued to enrich the work through his urbane eclecticism, his provocative criticism, and his personal kindness. Erik Erikson, during many memorable talks at Stock- bridge and Cambridge, made stimulating and enlarging suggestions, both about specific case histories and problems of presentation. During the latter stages of the work, David Riesrnan offered gener- ously of his extraordinaryintellectual breadth and his unique per sonal capacity to evoke what is most creative within one. Carl Binger has been sage and always helpful in his advice. All four made thoughtful criticisms of the manuscript, as did Kenneth Keniston and F. C. Redlich. Others in psychiatry and related fields to whom I am indebted are Leslie Farber, Erich Lindemann, Margaret Mead, and Beata Rank. In the perilous subtleties of Chinese cultural, intellectual, and political history, I was constantly counseled by Benjamin Schwartz and by John Fairbank, both of whom read parts of the manuscript; and earlier in the work by Lu Pao-tung, MaMeng, Howard Boorman, Conrad Brandt, and A. Doak Barnett The literary advice and loving sustenance of my wife, Betty Jean Lifton, can hardly be documented. My father, Harold A. Lifton, also did much to encourage this study. The Hong Kong research was sponsored for the first seven months
XIV THOUGHT REFORMby the Asia Foundation, and for the remaining year by the Wash- ington School of Psychiatry. The manuscript was completed under grants from the Ford Foundation and the Foundation's Fund for Research in Psychiatry, both administered through Harvard Uni- versity,Finally, I must acknowledge my debt to the forty research sub- jects, Chinese and Western, whose personal thought reform ex- periences are the basis for this study. The extent of their intelligent collaboration in this work is apparent in the biographical chapters. In these, I have altered certain details in order to protect the sub- jects' anonymity; but none of these alterations affect the essential psychological patterns.
CHAPTER 5 PSYCHOLOGICAL STEPS
There is a basic similarity in what both Dr. Vincent and Father Luca experienced during Communist imprisonment. Although they were held in separate prisons far re- moved from each other, and although they differed very much in their responses to reform, they were both subjected to the same general sequence of psychological pressures. This sequence was es- sentially the same despite the fact that these men were very dif- ferent from each other, with different personal and professional life styles. Nor was this thought reform pattern common to just these two: it was experienced by all twenty-five of the Westerners whom I interviewed.
to renounce the people, the organizations, and the standards of behavior which had formed the matrix of their previous existence. They were being forced to betray—not so much their friends and colleagues, as a vital core of themselves.
This self-betrayal was extended through the pressures to "accept help" and in turn 'lielp" others. Within the bizarre morality of the prison environment, the prisoner finds himself—almost without realizing it—violating many of his most sacred personal ethics and behavioral standards. The degree of violation is expanded, very early in the game, through the mechanism of shared betrayal, as another priest described: The cell chief kept asking information about Church activities. He wanted me to denounce others, and I didn't want to do this. . . . A Chinese Father was transferred into the cell, and he said to me, "You cannot help it. You must make some denunciations. The things which the Communists know about any of your Church activities you must come out with." . . . Much later I was put in another cell to bring a French priest to confession. He had been stubborn, and had been in solitary for a few months. He was very fearful and looked like a wild animal. . . . I took care of him, washed his clothes for him, helped him to rest. I advised him that what they might know he might as well confess.
Although there is a continuing tension between holding on and letting go, some degree of self-betrayal is quickly seen as a way to survival. But the more of one's self one is led to betray, the greater is one's involvement with his captors; for by these means they make contact with whatever similar tendencies already exist within the prisoner himself—with the doubts, antagonisms, and ambivalences which each of us carries beneath the surface of his loyalties. This bond of betrayal between prisoner and environment may develop to the point where it seems to him to be all he has to grasp; turning back becomes ever more difficult.
thought reform differently, nor did anyone respond completely to all these steps; at the same time, the experiences had such magnitude that they affected every prisoner in some measure, no matter what his background and character.
1. THE ASSAULT UPON IDENTITY
From the beginning, Dr. Vincent was told he was not really a doctor, that all of what he considered himself to be was merely a cloak under which he hid what he really was. And Father Luca was told the same thing, especially about the area which he held most precious—his religion. Backing up this assertion were all of the physical and emotional assaults of early imprisonment: the confusing but incriminating interrogations, the humiliating "strug- gles," the painful and constricting chains, and the more direct phys- ical brutality. Dr. Vincent and Father Luca each began to lose his bearings on who and what he was, and where he stood in relation- ship to his fellows. Each felt his sense of self become amorphous and impotent and fall more and more under the control of its would-be remolders. Each was at one point willing to say (and to be) whatever his captors demanded.
Each was reduced to something not fully human and yet not quite animal, no longer the adult and yet not quite the child; instead, an adult human was placed in the position of an infant or a sub-human animal, helplessly being manipulated by larger and stronger "adults" or "trainers." Placed in this regressive stance, each felt himself deprived of the power, mastery, and selfhood of adult existence.In both, an intense struggle began between the adult man and the child-animal which had been created, a struggle against regres- sion and dehumanization. But each attempt on the part of the prisoner to reassert his adult human identity and to express his own will ("I am not a spy. I am a doctor"; or "This must be a mistake. I am a priest, I am telling the truth") was considered a show of re- sistance and of "insincerity," and called forth new assaults.
2. THE ESTABLISHMENT OF GUILT
Dr. Vincent and Father Luca found themselves unanimouslycondemned by an "infallible" environment. The message of guilt which they received was both existential (you are guilty!) and psy- chologically demanding (you must learn to feel guilty!). As this individual guilt potential was tapped, both men had no choice but to experience—first unconsciously and then consciously—a sense of evil. Both became so permeated by the atmosphere of guilt that external criminal accusations became merged with subjective feelings of sinfulness—of having done wrong. Feelings of resent- ment, which in such a situation could have been a source of strength, were shortlived; they gave way to the gradual feeling that the punish- ment was deserved, that more was to be expected.In making their early false confessions, Dr. Vincent and Father Luca were beginning to accept the guilty role of the criminal. Gradually, a voice within them was made to say, ever more loudly: "It is my sinfulness, and not their injustice, which causes me to suffer—although I do not yet know the full measure of my guilt." At this point their guilt was still diffuse, a vague and yet per- vasive set of feelings which we may call a free-floating sense of guilt.4 Another prisoner expressed this clearly: What they tried to impress on you is a complex of guilt. The complex I had was that I was guilty. . . . I was a criminal—that was my feel- ing, day and night.
3 . THE SELF-BETRYAL
The series of denunciations of friends and colleagues which both Dr. Vincent and Father Luca were required to make had special significance. Not only did making these accusations increase their feelings of guilt and shame, it put them in the position of subvert- ing the structures of their own lives. They were, in effect, being made
The common pattern becomes especially important in evaluating the stories these Westerners told me. Each was attempting to describe, in most instances as accurately as possible, the details of an ordeal from which he had just emerged. But what each reported was also inevitably influenced by his immediate life situation—his psychological transition between the two worlds, his personal struggles for both integrity and integration, his feelings about suc- coring and threatening colleagues and strangers in Hong Kong, his view of me as an American, a physician, a psychiatrist, and a person. All of these circumstances could affect his account, and especially its emotional tone. Therefore, both during the inter- views and in the later study of my notes, I had to sift out what was
Not every prisoner was treated as severely as were Dr. Vincent and Father Luca, but each experienced similar external assaults leading to some form of inner surrender—a surrender of personal autonomy. This assault upon autonomy and identity even extended to the level of consciousness, so that men began to exist on a level
4. THE BREAKING POINT; TOTAL CONFLICT AND THE BASIC FEAR
continued in the link.. like that shit wartards?

Coercive persuasion; a socio-psychological analysis of the "brainwashing" of American civilian prisoners by the Chinese Communists

by Schein, Edgar H Publication date 1961Topics Communisten, Hersenspoeling, China, Gevangenen, Communism -- China, Brainwashing, Prisons, Persuasion (Psychology), Lavage de cerveau, Psychological Warfare, Communisme -- Chine, CommunismPublisher N.Y., Norton
https://archive.org/details/coercivepersuasi0000sche/page/n9/mode/2up