anything else is irrelevant

Steve has no shades of grey when it comes to Bucky and I love him for it. Bucky’s in Austria, whats he gonna do, walk there? If that’s what it takes. He’s been brainwashed Steve, he doesn’t know you. He will. Steve he’s wanted by multiple governments, why won’t you hand him over? He’s my friend and it wasn’t his fault. Like, there’s no question for Steve, there’s no part of him that hesitates, no other factors play into it, is it Bucky? Does he need help? Steve will do whatever it takes to give it to him. Can you believe how much he loves Bucky wow.

There’s a lot of very young queer ppl on this site which is like, great and stuff, but it’s important to realize that 90% of the topics that gain traction on this site aren’t ones that will truly effect them in their everyday lives, leaving them unprepared. Before I was out and first joined tumblr, I thought hard hitting issues were things like not having enough ace people on tv and bi erasure of celebrities because lets face it, those are things that get the most notes. And they’re issues for sure, but it didn’t prepare me for the almost violent homophobia and bullying I experienced when I came out. I think their needs to be a shift in attention on this site, because honestly? The violence gay men are subjected to is obscene. The rate at which trans people are murdered is obscene. The sexual violence that lesbians and bi women are subjected to?? U guessed it. Obscene!! Like if we could stop stalking about riverdale and ace representation and celebrities that may or may not be bi for two minutes, and contribute to actually helping young and old LGBT people alike protect themselves and each other, it would really improve the safety of our community! Not to mention it would better prepare young people for the life they’re about to live. Just a thought.

god I hate men so much and i especially hate fathers/brothers/etc that don’t do shit in the house or to raise their kids but are the first ones to complain when something goes wrong like shut the fuck up bitch you don’t do shit in this house, you dont get to say anything about it!! go be irrelevant somewhere else!!!


This is all @foleypdx ’s fault. I was studying without pants, sent her a pic of my textbook on my legs, and she replied with ‘nice science. nice gam’. I can only assume that her later thought process was this:
lol, Alexis is a science, she’s pantsless, Lena’s a science, she’s probs also pantsless.
She then sent me: 'imagine Lena pantsless in her office’
To which I screamed about and then wrote this.

Also, the idea that Lena doesn’t like caramel is from wtfoctagon whom I cannot seem to tag? but here’s a Link to their blog, but their fic: Sunlit Honey and Lavender Sunsets which is literally the best representation of Jess that I have ever seen with mine own two eyes and I fucking love this fic, I can’t even describe how much I adore it.

This is also on AO3 :

Jess was tired and now Ms. Danvers was here and Ms. Danvers was nice but honestly she was loud and rambunctious and a little over the top with everything in life and Jess was just tired. So, yes, she waved Ms. Danvers toward Ms. Luthor’s door without buzzing Ms. Luthor and THEN the phone rang and well? Ms. Luthor always liked seeing Ms. Danvers so it just wasn’t going to be a problem.

Kara opened the door; Lena’s office was dark except for one lamp beside her couch. Kara really needed to talk to Lena about staying so late. Really, if the light bothered her enough that she had to sit in near dark-

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Arranged Love Pt.15 | Jungkook

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 14.5 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Epilogue

Summary: When you and Jungkook are forced into an arranged marriage for publicity, you never expected to find yourself falling for him - even if you know it’s wrong.

Word Count: 4,021

Genre: Fluff/angst

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anonymous asked:

Remember when we first found yousefs fb page and the pictures of him and mikael, holding hands and cuddling and we were all "wooooooooooo!!!!" And then you yousana happened and we were all ":(" at first and now I'm thinking yousef/mikael could be a thing after all and I'm living!!!!!!!!

Hi, Anon!!!

Tbh I never stopped shipping Youkael! I was lowkey all about it! Even if we don’t get it in canon, this fandom’s made them it tbh so yaaaa, anything else? Irrelevant, tbh.


Request: Can I have a Hoseok imagine where he finds you dancing alone and he is amazed, with lots of fluff and and cuteness :)

Words: 1.4k

Ahhh, this was a super cute request, it practically wrote itself xD

Originally posted by btsleepy

It really wasn’t the kind of thing you usually did.

You were definitely more the sort of person to laze around, only moving when it was completely necessary. Hoseok was the dancer out of the two of you obviously, he would dance with a carefree glee, hips moving fluidly with the beat of whatever song was playing. All the while you would sit and watch him happily, drinking in the way his body moved with such perfection, you never really thought to join in and dance yourself.

Yet, here you were, alone in your kitchen with the radio turned up to full blast carelessly moving to the quick beat. You were aware that if anyone were to walk in right now, you would look completely crazy. You lack any sort of rhythm, your legs move randomly and you throw your arms around haphazardly, almost knocking over various ornaments several times.

But once you started, you couldn’t stop.

You were no dancer by any means, especially not compared to your boyfriend, but perhaps you were starting to see why he loved dancing so much. There was something so liberating about moving like this, putting your everything into each tiny movement.

The food in the pans slowly boiled away, long forgotten as you became lost in the heavy drum beat. The music echoes throughout the whole room and you were sure your neighbours would complain about the noise tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just keep moving and moving.

You aren’t sure how many songs you’ve gone through or how many minutes have passed by the time you finally stop. Your hair sticks to your sweaty forehead and you can feel the extreme warmth of your skin as you quickly breathe in and out in a struggle to catch your breath.

After turning the radio down you turn your attention back to the food, giving it a quick stir and breathing a sigh of relief when you see none of it had burnt during your impromptu dancing session.

You look at the clock. Hoseok should be home by no, he’d promised 6:30. Just as you sadly return to stirring the food you hear a quiet little coughing noise coming from the doorway of the kitchen. Upon quickly jolting around you find Hoseok standing there, a smile that could outshine the sun itself gracing his face. Every single time you see that smile, your heart melts like butter. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together or how used you are to his company, that smile never fails to get to you, it’s possibly your favourite thing in the world.

“Having fun?” he asks, a laugh escaping from his beautiful mouth, you always take your time to remember every single one of his laughs, everything from the pitch of his voice to the way it seems to brighten up the whole room.

“What are you talking about, I was just cooking” you insist bashfully, pretending to suddenly be very interested in the food in front of you. You fixate your vision on it, pretending not to notice as he moves closer to you.

“I’ve been here for like five minutes Y/N, I saw you dancing” he says, moving so that he’s standing behind you.

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your opinion on any fallen socialist state, particularly in countries you have no connection to aside from this totally one-sided ~solidarity~ you’ve projected onto people who dont know or care what you think because it has no effect on them or anything else, is literally irrelevant. it. does. not. matter. and watching yall act like anything about it is in an way a significant, let alone insurmountable, ideological incompatibility in 2017, as we’re sitting here watching a global rise in fascism, makes me want to gnaw off my own limb(s)


Try Me | Theo Raeken Imagine

request ; HELLOOOOOO!!!!! could you please please please do a Theo imagine where he is just super protective and over jealous because the reader is really gorgeous and guys always stare at her and flirt with her? Thank you thank you thank you you’re amazing

word count ; 1051

warnings ; jealous theo (A+ tho i love me some jealous theo), lots of swearing.

Theo Raeken was singlehandedly scaring off every single boy in Beacon Hills who dared to say as much a friendly ‘hello’ to you in the morning. At first, it was almost sweet, the way he would conveniently pop up out of nowhere and give you a loving kiss before cheerfully greeting the boy who had decided it was a clever idea to flirt with someone who was dating the scariest bad boy in town. Then, as the flirting escalated, Theo became more and more protective, not to mention thoroughly pissed off. 

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, resting his head on his chin whilst ever so casually thinking up a million different ways to rip off the head of the hideously flirtatious boy that was either completely ignorant, or actually didn’t see how clearly uncomfortable you were. The assholes in Beacon Hills were truly testing Theo’s patience nowadays. It didn’t help that you attracted everyone within a hundred mile radius, considering how fucking gorgeous you were, not to mention how sweet. 

He knew that you love him back, but god damn it, he was sick of people thinking it was okay to flirt with you. And he wanted it to end. 

The last straw was him eavesdropping on your conversation, and happening to hear the overly obnoxious boy ask you if you wanted to come over to his house later, and Netflix and chill. Who the fuck even uses that? Assholes, that’s who. Thank the lord for werewolf hearing. Before you knew it, his pencil was snapped in half and rolling across the classroom, and you didn’t even have time to hold your boyfriend back before he had the other boy pinned up against the wall by his throat. 

“What the fuck do you think you are trying to do to my girlfriend?” Theo asked, tightening his hold on the other boy, who was doing his best to wriggle out of Theo’s grip. Theo, however, having the wolfy advantage, slammed the boy against the wall again, not caring whether or not the kid hit his head. He did, just for the record. “You try to come onto to her again, and I will kill you.” 

“That’s cute,” the other boy snickered, clearly not getting the message. You rubbed your temples, wondering how boys could be so stupid and petty. 

“You really should shut up,” you advised him. Theo didn’t mess around, and from the sick smirk he was donning now, he meant business. 

“I think you should listen to my girlfriend,” Theo said, taking a quick look at you.  He gave you a small smile, then turned to the boy in front of him. “Now, I’m gonna let you go, unless you say anything else that I find stupid, irrelevant, or really fucking irritating.” You rolled your eyes, tugging on Theo’s arm. 

“Alright, Theo, you’ve made your point. Let go,” you said, taking his hand and removing it from the boy’s throat. It was sort of amazing, how Theo really only listened to you, how you were the rational voice in his head. Right when he had finally taken your hand in his and was about to move away, the other boy just had to open up his mouth. 

“It’s not my fault your girlfriend has a really nice ass on her, and don’t get me started on-” Theo’s fist had collided with his face before the boy could finish, blood spurting from his nose in an instant. 

“Talk about my girlfriend like that and I will end you, right here and right now. Try me, douchebag.” He flung the kid away by his collar, sending him skidding across the classroom. “And that,” he said, grinning at the rest of the class who all looked thoroughly frightened by the little exchange, “goes for each and every one of you.” 

You grabbed Theo by the sleeve of his leather jacket, roughly pulling him out of the classroom and into the nearest bathroom. You locked the door behind you, crossing your arms when you turned to face him again. He had a smug, overly satisfied smile on his face. “I really did a number on that one, didn’t I, baby?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You moved back slightly, frowning at him. 

“Theo, you can’t just fight everyone who flirts with me. It happens, okay? I’m hot, you’re hot, people flirt with us, but we love each other and that is what matters. Isn’t that how this,” you gestured between the both of you, “is supposed to work?” 

“Sure, but I still like getting to knock a few heads together when touchy-feely boys try to pick you up without permission. It’s fun, what can I say?” You groaned, burying your head in his chest. He rubbed your back, a softer smile now on his face. “I’m sorry, if that makes you feel any better. You’re just really, really beautiful, and guys think dirty thoughts when they see you. Hell, I’m a guy, I should know, considering you’re my girlfriend. I just love you too much, and I get protective.” 

“Stop trying to be cute. I’m mad at you.” 

He ignored this. “Now, what do you say we skip the rest of class, go out to my truck, drive a little bit away from here, and I’ll see what I can do to make it up to you,” he asked suggestively. You shook your head, pushing him away. 

“Nuh uh, you are going to go apologize to that poor boy, and then maybe we can see what you can do to make it up to your completely embarrassed girlfriend, who probably has no more friends after this. Get to it, pretty boy,” you said, patting his shoulder. He unlocked the bathroom door, a pout on his face as he slouched down the hallway. 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but c’mon Y/N, you know you love me,” he called to you from across the hallway, sending you a wink while you raised your middle finger in response. He just laughed, a loving smile on his face while reentered the classroom. 

He knew your mannerisms. He knew you loved him. And even though he had a funny way of showing it, he loved you back. 

The Truth
  • Caroline: You really want this?
  • Klaus: What ever gave you the impression that I wanted anything else?
  • Caroline: The redhead or the other blonde maybe.
  • Klaus: Irrelevant.
  • Caroline: On your best day?
  • Klaus: On my worst day I still wanted this. You.
  • Caroline: Even when I made you walk away?
  • Klaus: I stand before you with my heart forever in your hands don't I?

anonymous asked:

do you think our first house planets have anything to do with how we see other people? like im realizing that i have a really easy time picking up on peoples mars signs, to the point where i have a hard time noticing anything else. i have mars in the first. this might be a totally irrelevant thing, but its something i noticed for me.

Hmmm, yeah, I definitely do think that 1st House planets have much to do with how we view other people, or the impressions that they give us, what we think or perceive about them. Maybe you just have a natural skill for guessing Mars signs, and that’s nice!

The sun and the moon have spirits. They change every thousand years or so, cycling through new and old souls to take on the burden of being an inanimate celestial body. It’s grounding, ironically enough: a stable starting point for the new and a reset button for the old.

The sun and the moon aren’t the only ones with spirits, of course. Every planet and star and moon, every comet and black hole and void has one, but the sun and the moon are different this time. The sun and the moon are special.

They love each other. Observe and persist—that’s all they are meant to do, but they are drawn to each other in ways that can’t be explained.

The sun is a new soul, and she can see a lot from her position. She can see all of the planets and each of their moons, and she can see plenty beyond that as well, but there’s nothing she loves more than gazing upon the face of the Earth’s moon. She’s beautiful, really, and in her boredom the sun names each of her dark spots as if they were seas and her craters after astronomers.

The moon is an old soul. She’s had thousands of lives before, but they’ve been cleared from her memory. Now, all she knows is loneliness; she’s too small and irrelevant to be of any significance to anything else, not like the sun, whose light and warmth are necessary to life. The moon is in love with the sun; she may be impossible to reach, but she is bright and beautiful and the moon wishes she could meet her, just once, perhaps in another life.

When their time is up, they become goddesses. The sun is put in charge of changing the seasons and the moon is given control of the weather. It isn’t what one would think godhood is like; they have no form, existing everywhere and nowhere at once, and they cannot speak or interact in any way a physical being would understand.

The goddess of seasons does what she can. She has a strict schedule to follow, changing every leaf in the fall, frosting the right places in the winter. Her favorite thing to do, though, is to bloom the flowers in the springtime. Every year, she does it specifically for the goddess of weather, unfurling each bud and sending the message with it that it’s for her, for that powerful and striking deity who she can’t explain her attraction to.

The goddess of weather clears the clouds and sends a pleasant breeze to tickle the flowers whenever they bloom as an acknowledgement, a thank you. It’s as if the season goddess knows where she is at any given time; they bloom where she goes as she roams the Earth, and it never fails to make her feel alive, to feel loved.

The others pity them. Deities aren’t meant to fall in love; there’s a reason they’re only given enough power to do their duties and don’t have the privilege of having a voice or a body. They don’t pay it any mind, though; after all, it’s better than being the sun and the moon, even if they have no memory of that.

So, they perform their duties as long as they must, for hundreds of years, until new spirits are chosen to replace them. It’s like a release when they are finally freed from their responsibilities, and they’re placed on the land they’ve cultivated as a mari-morgan and a hyleoroi nymph. It’s almost cruel for them to finally be given animate, corporeal bodies but to be separated by domain, but still their love perseveres.

The morgan lives in a lake in the woods, appearing as a stunning young woman with a face framed with golden hair spun from starlight and cloudy seafoam in her eyes. When she smiles, you can see the glinting tips of her mouthful of fangs, retracted so that they’re not sticking out at all angles when they’re not in use. She tends to her water gardens and combs out her hair on the shore of the lake, because that’s what mari-morgans do, and she takes any man who falls prey to her lures, because what else is there?

The nymph is afraid of her at first. She watches the forest in which the morgan’s lake is located, keeping harmony as well as she can. Sometimes her skin is green, sometimes gray-brown and rough like the bark of her trees, sometimes multi-hued in a way that allows her to blend in with patches of wildflowers. She blends in and watches the morgan, watches her leading these men to their deaths, until one day she thinks, isn’t that lonely? When has this woman had the opportunity to bond with someone when her nature forces her to kill?

The nymph wanders out of the shade of her trees as the morgan sits on the shore and sings a song with words from a language she doesn’t understand, and she sits right in front of her, half expecting to be brought to her death as the men had been. Instead, the morgan stares at her in shock; nobody has ever approached her like this before. She sees the same fascination and kindness in the nymph’s face as she does in the men she drowns, but this is different. This is kindness not for the sake of the nymph, but for that of the morgan.

They speak until the nymph must return to her duties, and they bid each other farewell, the morgan wishing she could leave the lake to go with the nymph and the nymph wishing she could survive beneath the water. They meet for an hour every day where the edge of the trees meets the lake’s shore, and they fall in love as quickly and easily as each life before.

Life as a spirit of water or of the wood is dreadfully dull, as each would attest to, and they’re relieved when time takes them to their next incarnations.

They’re humans. Fragile, insignificant humans who mean nothing to every spirit and deity and celestial body in existence. They’re humans, but they’re happier than they’d ever been. The seven years spent before they met each other was nothing compared to the duration of time they’d spent waiting for this in their previous lives.

The sun, the goddess of seasons, the hyleoroi nymph, is now called Riley, Riley Rosalyn Matthews, and she is born with no knowledge of the universe and no powers just as every other human being is. When the moon, the goddess of weather, the mari-morgan climbs through her open window and introduces herself as Maya, Maya Penelope Hart, Riley could swear she knows everything, could swear she could sprout wings and fly. There’s familiarity there that neither of them can understand, but they know that there’s something special about each other, even at only seven years old.

It shows as they grow up; never have two human beings fallen in love so quickly and easily and completely as this. Like many humans, though, they fail for years to realize it.

They sit in the dark of Riley’s room under her covers, hands entwined as they stare at the ceiling and talk about anything and everything they could possibly think of.

They sit side-by-side on the subway that takes them to school, Riley leaning into Maya’s shoulder as sleep threatens to take her, and Maya smiles softly to herself.

They sit on the roof in the dead of night, when everything is quiet, when it feels like the world only exists for the two of them. Maya watches the sky in silence, and Riley watches her with the same amount of wonder. She sees the light of the city and the light of the moon in her eyes, and she sees her chest rising and falling with each gentle breath, and she sees the faintest hint of a content smile on her face, and that’s when she knows she’s in love. Thirteen years old is dreadfully young for a human to know such a thing, but it doesn’t scare her. She only feels utter tranquility as she takes Maya’s hand, hugs her arm, and lays her head on her should as she had so many times before.

It takes Maya a little longer. She’s in denial for a long time, afraid her feelings would be bad for their friendship if they weren’t returned, afraid the relationship wouldn’t last if they were. She tries to love Riley’s uncle, Josh, because that can’t go wrong. He’s unattainable, something to chase after, something to keep her preoccupied. If anything were to ever come out of it, well, he was nice, and it would keep her tethered to Riley’s family forever.

It isn’t until he tells her himself to stop going after him, that perhaps she’s projecting (he says this with a meaningful nod in Riley’s direction), that she can’t ignore it any longer. “You love her,” he says, “and she loves you. Don’t try to fight it.”

And she kisses Riley, sitting in the bay window of the ski lodge, just like that. She takes the advice and doesn’t try to fight it when Riley rambles on about their “extraordinary relationship”. She cuts her off mid-sentence, one hand on Riley’s face, her eyes closed out of passion and nerves. It’s stilted and clumsy; their noses bump and Maya nearly misses, but it’s the closest they come to remembering who and what they were before. It’s just out of reach, fuzzy memories made fuzzier by the cloud of their emotion, but it’s there, and it’s powerful.

There’s a stuffy silence when they break apart, each of them staring at the other as if she were the sun and the moon, until Riley says, “I love you,” and the air comes rushing out of Maya’s lungs in a breathy laugh.

“I love you, too,” she says. “God, I love you so much.”

“What do we do now?”

Maya shrugs and shakes her head, the kiss still bright in her chest. “What do you want to do?”

Riley pauses for a moment in consideration. “I think,” she says eventually, “I want us to be together forever.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“I want us to be together for longer than forever.”

“How does that work?”

“Well, we’ll just have to find each other in our next life. Easy.”

“What do you think that life will be?”

“I don’t know,” Riley says, “but whatever it is, it’ll be good as long as we’re together.”

Maya nods. “I think I like that idea,” she says. “We’re starting now?”

“Yeah, we’re starting now.”

Psycho Pass Movie Novel Chpt. 2 - Part 1 of 2

Half of chapter two is done. This part is really nice and features some scenes already seen in the movie and some new scenes.


Akane and Kaori meeting.

Gino’s shower scene. (sorry, I don’t have a pic for this one. If some talented artist would like to make one, I would happily put it here).

Sugou and Hinakawa training.

Thanks to my dear Beth, who has the patience to read and fix all my messes and give me always good advices.


Note before reading: sentences in italics represent the character’s thoughts.


In the chief office at the Public Safety Bureau headquarters, behind the desk, Tsunemori was facing her superior — Kasei Jōshū. Chief Kasei, who is a part of the Sibyl System.

It was not a metaphor; she was a mechanical body, the container of a packaged ‘brain’.

Finding out that thing had been a shock for Tsunemori and even now she could remember her sense of hatred*, but she had completely gotten used to behaving in a manner so as not to show it openly.

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it occurred to me that the reason basic-ass conservatives love to respond about criticism of trump with “HILARY LOST GET OVER IT” and variations is because for many of them, the election was their only skin in their game. their main goal in voting for trump was defeating hillary and by extension repudiating Obama’s presidency; anything else, any policy, platforms or positions were irrelevant; trump apparently won, so therefore they won, and that’s it, that’s all there is to be said about it by anyone. they think everything critical said about trump is merely an expression about election result anxiety because they cannot conceive that someone else would have been invested in presidential politics beyond the “game” of the election
Greece's sorry tale provides five key lessons for negotiating Brexit
If there’s a blueprint for how not to negotiate with the EU, it’s Greece.

If there’s a blueprint for how not to negotiate with the EU, it’s Greece. In 2015, the country’s new radical Leftist finance minister Yanis Varoufakis did something very stupid. He had his first private meeting with Wolfgang Schauble, Germany’s powerful finance minister. The meeting had gone badly

But then, Mr Varoufakis made it much worse. In a joint press conference before the world’s media, he brought up the Nazis. “Nazism,” he said, “has reared its ugly head in Greece.” Germany, of all countries, he suggested, ought to understand Greece’s plight.

Politicians say a lot of things, but sometimes, words stick. Bring up the Nazis in Germany and anything else you might say is irrelevant.

Britain, we hear over and over, is not Greece, and it’s true. Britain is much bigger, stronger, more competent and less desperate. But like Greece, we are negotiating with a stubborn EU and it’s bigger than us. So we ought to learn from the Greek experience. Having followed the saga and read accounts written by two of its former finance ministers, I believe it holds five lessons for Britain.

The first is, as the Delphic Oracle would say: know thyself. Britain must have a clear-eyed view of its strengths and weaknesses. For example, failing to strike a deal will hurt the EU, but it will hurt us proportionately more because we are smaller. Logic dictates that we will have to give some ground.

Greece never knew its strength or weakness. In 2009, it could have brought down the whole Eurozone, yet it signed up to bailout terms dictated by its creditors. In 2015, Greece’s leverage was gone – the Eurozone had insulated itself – and yet its demands became much more strident, taking the country to the brink of a disorderly exit from the euro, at vast cost to its economy.

Along with our strengths, the Government must know its priorities and unite behind them. Greece’s populist leaders failed in part because of their own splits and incoherence.

Theresa May has united the Tories for now by declaring: “We will regain control of our own money, our own laws and our own borders.” In order to get a favourable trade deal, she will inevitably betray at least one of these promises after the election. Paying up some cash and agreeing to some regulatory compromises would be sensible, but whatever it decides, everyone in the Government must be on board.

The second lesson is to know your opponent. Mr Varoufakis assumed that the EU would do much to avoid a Greek euro exit. He was wrong.

Brexiteers argue that the EU will act rationally in the end and strike a deal to avoid any economic pain. Here, they mistake British rationality for universal rationality. For Brussels and its most powerful member states, the EU has never been about pure economics. It is about state-building and rule of law. This explains the EU’s attachment to its processes and legal niceties.

Just as Germany refused to agree a Greek resolution that undermined Eurozone rules and discipline for fear it would destroy the single currency, the EU will try strenuously to avoid a trade deal that, as it sees it, erodes the sanctity of the single market and its single rulebook. Picking and choosing which regulations we participate in, as Britain wants, falls into that category. It might be economically irrational, but the EU is prepared to sacrifice some trade to protect its legal integrity. Brussels and many EU governments see this as a rational choice.

The third lesson is that, in spite of Brussels’ love of rules, when it comes down to it, Germany calls the shots. The EU is supposedly a community of equals. In the euro crisis, however, what started as a partnership between France, Germany and EU institutions devolved into a brutal fight between the continent’s paymaster, Germany, and its delinquent debtor, Greece.

The EU’s obsession with its rules has a distinctly German flavour. Berlin not only believes fervently in rules, it also believes that Germany is the only country capable of interpreting and enforcing them. So Britain needs to address itself not just to Germany’s economic interests, but also its penchant for procedural correctness.

The fourth lesson is to prepare for the propaganda war. Greece’s radical government thought only of voters at home and failed to consider how its image abroad affected its negotiating position. Its language – calling visits by EU creditors an “invasion” and harping on about the Nazis – prompted the EU to dig in. The EU defended its image by painting Greece’s ruling party as a bunch of incompetent cranks. It stuck in part because it was true.

In Britain’s case, of course, it’s not. Yet we have already experienced the EU’s nasty propaganda tactics. The European Commission was deploying the Greek playbook when it tried to smear our Government as a group of inept fantasists by briefing a German newspaper about Jean-Claude Juncker’s visit. This was not aimed at a British audience, but a German one. The EU needs its citizens to believe that Britain is behaving unreasonably and that Brexit is a disaster. This could also help to move markets against us.

In the bigger propaganda war to come, Britain needs to come across as eminently reasonable. We should publicly offer generous terms on the Irish border and for EU citizens who live here, for example, not only to shame the EU into behaving well, but also to keep markets calm and protect Britain’s reputation throughout Brexit.

The fifth and final lesson springs from the fourth. Rhetoric can get out of hand quickly. The most dangerous aspect of the Greek negotiation was not financial; it was cultural. When German newspapers decried all Greeks as lazy and feckless and Greek papers responded with mock-ups of Angela Merkel as Hitler, both countries were in trouble. If Britons and Europeans start to see one another fundamentally as enemies, a deal will become impossible. More importantly, we will both lose our moral compass.

These are unpalatable lessons and Britain is not a supplicant, as Greece became. We would be foolish, however, not to take on board all the information about how the EU does business – not in order to justify it, but so as to outmanoeuvre it. That way, when Mr Juncker opens up his Greek playbook, Britain, like a good chess player, will already have thought five moves ahead.

i’m heading to bed and missing the second half of CR, let me know if anyone dies, if scanlan shows up, if gilmore shows up, and/or if there’s anything gay. ESPECIALLY if there’s anything gay!! anything else is irrelevant to me????
thanks y'all goodnight

John Blake and Bane: The Fettered and the Unfettered

So, I was browing TV Tropes (as I so often do) and I found the perfect description of John (also my favourite character archetype). Then I clicked on the opposite trope, and it turned out to be the perfect description of Bane. The two tropes together are why I love writing them, complete dysfunction and all.

*weeping forever*

John Blake: The Fettered

It’s common for a Fettered character to be a police officer, paladin, soldier, or other law enforcement/martial profession focused on bringing peace and justice to the world.

John Blake, Gotham PD, everyone. (…sorry, I’m always gonna find that adorable XD)

That said, choice and freedom are an important aspect of a Fettered character; while they freely choose to adhere to a code, the temptation to desert it is always present, but placing their trust in these ideals serves to give them and others strength to stand firm. … Choosing to live by these ideals is never easy, and it has tangible drawbacks. If they put their faith in an unsound moral code, or obedience in an authority that is less morally upright than they, there will be a reckoning where they must choose To Be Lawful or Good.

“Those men locked up for eight years in Blackgate, and denied parole under the Dent Act, based on a lie?”

“Your hands look plenty filthy to me, Commissioner.”

“You were right, about the structures becoming shackles. I just can’t take it.”

John’s character arc/development, where he moves from seeing things in pure black and white to… more complicated greys, is the whole reason he makes his choice at the end between being Lawful or Good.

(Also see: my John Blake character tropes set! :D *shameless*)

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