#Code of Conduct Assessment

[m2iconsulting]

The Role of Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs in Strengthening Ethical Finance

As the microfinance sector expands its reach across underserved communities, maintaining ethical standards becomes increasingly important. This is where the Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs comes into focus, helping institutions align their operations with responsible lending principles and protect client interests.

Understanding the Code of Conduct Assessment

A Code of Conduct Assessment (CoCA) is an independent evaluation process that examines whether Microfinance Institutions (MFIs) are adhering to established ethical, client-protection, and transparency standards. It’s a tool designed to evaluate how well MFIs meet industry benchmarks and implement fair lending practices.

Key components include:

Ethical loan disbursal and recovery practices

Clear and honest communication with clients

Protection of client data and confidentiality

Efficient grievance redressal systems

Organizational governance and staff accountability

Why MFIs Should Prioritize CoCA

1. Meeting Regulatory Standards

With regulatory frameworks evolving, especially under the oversight of bodies like RBI and MFIN, it’s imperative for MFIs to comply with conduct codes. A strong CoCA performance demonstrates adherence to such norms and builds institutional credibility.

2. Attracting Funding and Partnerships

A positive Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs enhances investor confidence, signaling that the MFI maintains transparency and responsible practices. This is crucial for attracting financial partners and expanding services.

3. Upholding Client Trust

Ethical behavior fosters trust and loyalty among borrowers. When clients feel respected and informed, retention improves and word-of-mouth referrals increase.

4. Operational Improvements

The assessment process highlights internal inefficiencies, enabling MFIs to fine-tune operations and reduce risk.

Focus Areas of the Assessment

Governance and Ethics

Loan Procedures

Client Education

Privacy and Data Use

Complaint Management

Preparing for a Code of Conduct Assessment

To excel in a CoCA, MFIs should:

Regularly audit policies and procedures

Provide ethics training to staff

Maintain thorough documentation

Monitor client interactions for quality assurance

Conclusion

A strong Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs is a mark of institutional integrity and dedication to responsible finance. In today’s competitive and regulation-driven environment, prioritizing this evaluation is not just good practice—it’s essential for long-term success and sustainability.

[gimmethatagustd]

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

Pairing: Pretty Boy Jimin x weed dealer Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Law school, classmates to lovers, smut, a classic jai weed fic

Word Count: 7,477

Content Warning: Marijuana, a somewhat subby Jimin, consensual sex while high, choking, fingering, cunnilingus, protected vaginal sex, self-indulgent rants about capitalism and classism, lame dick jokes

A/N: On god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs. My 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

Soundtrack: a weed playlist made by yours truly 

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?” 

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive. 

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you. 

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band. 

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law. 

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does. 

One thing that doesn’t suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin. 

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You’re not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no? 

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks. 

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin. 

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration. 

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks. 

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home. 

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again. 

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim. 

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin. 

“Hey, can I come over tonight?” 

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white. 

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?” 

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave. 

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.” 

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart. 

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time. 

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.” 

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest. 

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.” 

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.” 

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.” 

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.” 

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him. 

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot. 

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?” 

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.” 

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.” 

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary. 

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game. 

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head. 

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real. 

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze. 

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are. 

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead. 

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter. 

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own. 

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain. 

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.” 

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that. 

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.” 

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are. 

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class. 

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed). 

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.” 

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment. 

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?” 

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again. 

“I do not.” At least he’s honest. 

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.” 

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out. 

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?” 

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?” 

Another shake of his head. Of course. 

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better. 

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky. 

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed. 

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.” 

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot. 

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face? 

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.” 

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?” 

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have. 

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces. 

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises. 

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame. 

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper. 

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place. 

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.” 

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.” 

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle. 

So you don’t. 

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look. 

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys. 

“Got what you need, Chim?” 

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship? 

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class. 

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.” 

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses. 

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit. 

God, being a good person is so hard! 

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step. 

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder. 

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You’re wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot. 

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid. 

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really. 

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash. 

Fuck. 

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.” 

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment. 

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.” 

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh. 

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi. 

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic. 

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is. 

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling. 

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?” 

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment. 

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?” 

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!” 

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.  

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.” 

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words. 

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort. 

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again. 

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink. 

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.” 

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix. 

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin’s living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?” 

Jimin’s voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it. 

“Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?” You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.” 

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?“ You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you. 

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked. 

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks. 

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be. 

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop. 

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.” 

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry. 

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.  

“You ever fucked while you’re high?” 

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that. 

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think. 

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?” 

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself. 

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…” 

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you wanna try it now?” 

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?” 

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it. 

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch. 

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.” 

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling. 

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat. 

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap. 

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away. 

His eyes’ heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss. 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.” 

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.” 

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…” 

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open. 

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them. 

"I’ve always wanted to talk to you,” Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “I just get nervous. I’m sure that seems pretty lame." 

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency. 

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!” It’s shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp. 

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound. 

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit. 

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes. 

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up. 

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit. 

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin. 

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him. 

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take. 

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back. 

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you. 

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit. 

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful. 

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.” 

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you. 

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock. 

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan. 

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.” 

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity. 

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.” 

Jimin’s face turns even pinker. 

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what? 

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent. 

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are. 

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch. 

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good. 

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth. 

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too. 

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel. 

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples. 

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out. 

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what. 

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.” 

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard. 

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock. 

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise. 

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name. 

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any. 

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It’s shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It’s a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh. 

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest. 

“I think I gave you more than the tip…” 

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.” 

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do. 

[narumi-gens]

Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional? 

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional. 

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside. 

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife. 

But you know that traditional really just means boring. 

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita. 

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child. 

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options. 

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west. 

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person. 

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed. 

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza. 

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull. 

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening. 

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense. 

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them. 

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows. 

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste. 

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes. 

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life. 

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively. 

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it. 

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads. 

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades. 

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts. 

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza. 

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with. 

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers. 

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed. 

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants. 

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff. 

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look. 

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call. 

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible. 

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya. 

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier. 

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body. 

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy. 

“Enough.” 

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt. 

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space. 

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy. 

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common. 

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again. 

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter. 

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter. 

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out. 

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep. 

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess. 

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point. 

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well. 

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show. 

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response. 

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees. 

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten. 

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place. 

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea. 

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.” 

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more. 

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you. 

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste. 

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger. 

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you. 

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.” 

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states. 

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much. 

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors. 

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita. 

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards. 

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name. 

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin. 

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles. 

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely. 

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs. 

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively. 

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh. 

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness. 

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. 

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled. 

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun. 

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you. 

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum. 

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him. 

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know. 

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him. 

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like. 

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?” 

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give. 

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees. 

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips. 

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.  

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before. 

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.  

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface. 

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously. 

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze. 

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Tell Your Members of Congress to Support the Airborne Act of 2024

Rep. Don Beyer (D-VA) announced the reintroduction of the Airborne Act, legislation that would incentivize non-residential building owners to conduct indoor air quality assessments (IAQ) and upgrade their ventilation and air filtration systems.

This bill would use the tax code to give building owners incentives to perform IAQ inspections and upgrades, which would make workplaces safer from the threat of airborne diseases, wildfire smoke, and pollution.

Please be sure to customize your letter for a greater impact. Be sure to call your members of congress as well. Clean air is a human right. Let’s show our support!

[citygirlyuno305]

Comparing Amane to Haruka in terms of their cases- A jury will be less sympathetic to Haruka

Because I want to clarify why Haruka’s case is so much different than Amane’s or most others in MILGRAM, even if they appear facially the same. I focus largely on Amane’s murder of Shidou here instead of her mom, because I haven’t talked about it yet and it’s more similar/a more equivalent comparison to Haruka’s murder. But I’ll bring it up briefly in the end anyway.

I did a voice recording for this but I realized I sound like a total nerd AND i dont know how to upload them so… sorry 😔

First degree murder- premeditation and deliberation

Premeditation in the USA can be boiled down to whether you planned or thought about it before committing it more than just intention alone. It can be having a beautiful minds wall like Kotoko and meticulously planning it out, or it can be as simple as being with someone, seeing a rock, and deciding “yeah, I’ll pick it up and smash this motherfucker’s head in”. Whether someone had time to consider their actions also factors into premeditation.

Examples: Berube v. State, 5 So.3d 734 (Fla. 2009)- strangling victim with lamp cord was premeditated. Repositioning the cord multiple times while strangling, and having time to consider actions in a struggle before the strangling, supported premeditation.

People v. Anderson (1968)- Courts consider “planning activity” in assessing premeditation, including (1) Acquiring or preparing a weapon.

(2) Ambushing the victim or waiting for the victim to arrive at a specific location. (3) Traveling to the crime scene with murder in mind. Not all three are required.

The manner of killing can also support a finding of premeditation. Ex: strangulation, a controlled and prolonged act, supports the finding. Obviously if you’re staring them down, watching them die, you have the opportunity to cease your conduct.

Must also be deliberate. This is to act with coolness and collectedness. It can really be boiled down to whether you were able to consider your course of conduct.

In short:

Premeditation = I’ve thought about it and I’m gonna do it,

Deliberation = I’ve considered it and I’m gonna do it like this.

Insanity/diminished capacity

I’ll reiterate the most typical legal standard for insanity: a defendant is deemed to be legally insane if he or she was unaware of what he or she was doing when the offense was committed or, even if the defendant knew what he or she was doing, that defendant was incapable of understanding that what they were doing was wrong. It also tends to require a sincerely held belief or delusion that the conduct was morally justified. 

Kind of similarly, a defendant can plead diminished actuality, to argue that because of mental impairment or disease, they are simply incapable of reaching the mental state required to commit a crime. This would function to reduce a murder charge to manslaughter. This is different from competence to stand trial.

This used to be called diminished capacity. However, this changed: there was a case here where two men, Harvey Milk and George Moscone, were shot and killed by a man who then claimed he had diminished capacity due to a poor diet (“Twinkie defense”, not kidding). He argued the poor diet and depression from losing his job rendered him unable to form the mental state for first degree murder. Under the former statute this was shockingly solid. So, he was convicted of only voluntary manslaughter. Major public backlash ensued, and the diminished capacity statute was nixxed in 1982 after a substantial majority of voters approved a proposition for its elimination.

It was replaced with diminished actuality, California Penal Code section 28, subdivision (a): evidence that a defendant suffers from a mental disease, mental defect, or mental disorder is admissible “solely on the issue whether or not the accused actually formed a required specific intent, premeditated, deliberated, or harbored malice aforethought, when a specific intent crime is charged.”

As an example, someone who has an intellectual disability that causes their cognitive ability to resemble a child’s can argue diminished capacity for something like burglary or murder. Whether it actually works is a question of whether, because of that disability, you were literally unable to form the intent.

An expert can testify about how serious the mental illness was at the time the crime occurred but CANNOT testify that the mental illness actually did diminish the person’s capacity to form the required intent under the facts. That is the jury’s job (or the court’s job in a bench trial).

Amane vs Haruka breakdown: Haruka is more likely to be found guilty of first degree murder than Amane is

Amane

I already broke down her case for killing her mom, so I’ll avoid that here. So assume Amane didn’t kill her mom at all. Lets say she just killed Shidou somehow, who knows how, for the same reasons and with the same mental state.

Was it murder? Yes.

Was it premeditated? Probably. She wasn’t really playing coy about it. We’ll wait for the video, but by all measures, when you say “I’m probably gonna kill this dude btw” we tend to think “oh, ok, she planned to kill that dude.”

Was it deliberate? Probably, for the same reasons.

Insanity? I’m gonna say maybe, an argument could still be made maybe, but it’s a lot harder with just the Shidou offense than the mom one. And yet, the RAMCOA is an inextricable part of her crime. If she wasn’t programmed it simply would not have happened. She had a sincerely held belief that this was proper conduct. It could truly be argued she didn’t know right from wrong due to lifelong abuse. Especially because in this scenario she hasn’t stacked the murders, so she lacks any constructive knowledge that killing people is generally wrong because she’s not in fantasy jail for killing her mom.

Diminished actuality? Probably not. To have a mental illness or trauma alone doesn’t make anyone unable to premeditate murder, unless they literally have the cognition of a toddler. Her statements suggest she was able to form the intent. She explicitly targeted Shidou.

Was it functionally first degree murder? Yes.

Would she be convicted of it? Probably not.

Haruka

Now take Haruka’s murder of his first victim.

Was it murder? Yes.

Was it premeditated? Yes. I know a lot of people characterize it as a heat of the moment thing, but it wasn’t, really. He saw the girl at the festival, saw she was alone, and capitalized on the opportunity to lead her further away and kill her. It is premeditated.

Was it deliberate? Probably, for the same reasons as above.

Insanity? No. His actions to cover up the murder demonstrate his knowledge and awareness that his action was wrong (and the police intervention for the animals also could establish constructive knowledge that killing things is wrong but the impact of this depends on the type and severity of his disability).

Diminished actuality? No. Like, colloquially, yes, but legally, no. He actually has a leg up on Amane here, but the facts demonstrate, at least to me, that a jury wouldn’t find this. I’m trying to put this in a non offensive way but if I fail please let me know, I’m not trying to be offensive or rude. The thing is, it’s not like he was accidentally killing the pets. Despite the crimes being unsophisticated, he was doing them for 1) attention, which he lacked severely, and 2) because he was “relieved” that animals were “inferior” to himself. He also escalated from mice and rodents to cats and dogs, then eventually a person. He felt connected to the world when he heard screams of anguish at losing a loved pet, and then he was literally arrested and told that he was doing something wrong, before he killed a girl on the exact day he was released (and its unclear how long he was in custody). The file explicitly says he “targeted” a child as well, which denotes a certain degree of deliberation.

Was it functionally first degree murder? Yes.

Is he likely to be convicted of it? Probably.

Why is Haruka likely to be convicted of it and not Amane for her murder of shidou?

There are a few different reasons but ultimately it comes down to the fact that 1) Haruka can be found guilty of first degree murder under different theories, which automatically increases the likelihood of conviction; 2) Amane is simply a more sympathetic defendant; 3) Haruka’s animal killings make him less credible in terms of remorse for the murder; 4) Amane’s demeanor actually functions to increase the credibility of the impact of her RAMCOA; 5) Amane suffered a more sympathetic form and length of abuse in the eyes of the public; 6) Amane will likely enjoy the benefits of a juvenile court trial: 7) Haruka’s victim is more sympathetic than Shidou; 8) A little girl will always be infinitely more sympathetic than a teenage boy or grown man. TLDR: Amane’s abuse may actually resonate with a jury to the point where they say she didn’t and couldn’t know better. This is not the case for Haruka in all likelihood.

First, it’s probably necessary to point out that Haruka probably satisfies multiple theories of first degree murder. Beyond just premeditation and deliberation, which he would likely satisfy.

Felony murder, for example. Its less likely than the traditional theory but it’d definitely be thrown in as a failsafe in his case. Felony murder = (1) murder occurred in the commission of an enumerated felony (Most commonly BARRK- Burglary, Arson, Rape, Robbery, Kidnapping) and (2) defendant either caused the death or was an accomplice in the felony (and intended to commit the felony).

Kidnapping (CPC 207)- when its a child or someone with a mental impairment (incapable of consent and may walk off willingly) - requires 1) asportation of unresisting child 2) moving them a substantial distance and 3) with the intent to do something illegal.

Substantial distance only really means a distance that isn’t trivial. In considering whether a distance is “substantial”, some proper considerations are 1) the actual distance moved, 2) whether the movement increased the victim’s risk of harm, 3) whether the movement decreased the defendant’s chance of detection, 4) whether the movement allowed the defendant to commit more crimes.

Haruka 1) moves girl away from the parade 2) to a different location 3) with the intent of killing her. The movement obviously increased her chance of harm (further from her parents and others), decreased his chances of detection (if he only clumsily hid the body, itd be easily seen at a festival, but he wasn’t caught right away, so wherever he went, it was even slightly less easy to detect), and allowed him to actually kill her. I don’t know how far he took her. I just know that I’d be able to say this was sufficient evidence of kidnapping. I will admit though that I’d hesitate with this one because diminished actuality would be more likely to negate the intent to commit kidnapping than the other way around.

So obviously, if someone can be found guilty on several different theories of first degree murder, they’re more likely to be found guilty of it. Amane’s murder of Shidou could only ostensibly fall into the traditional premeditation and deliberation theory.

Amane is also just ultimately a substantially more sympathetic victim, despite her attitude. I’ve noticed more people sympathize with Haruka, which kind of blew my mind at first- not because he’s not sympathetic to me, but more because the dichotomy between sympathies to him vs. Amane was antithetical to what I’ve seen in practice. I think it has something to do with their behavior- confrontational vs. self loathing and inwardly directed hatred.

A jury might not actually like either, but Haruka’s more, because of something I think I talked about with Mikoto’s case, accountability and bias. I’m not putting out my opinion here, but there is a common belief among the public, which does not evade the potential jury pool, that people fake all sorts of mental illnesses or emotional responses to avoid accountability. The thing about Haruka that kind of fucks him over is, and this is actually a bias on my end as well, when I see a child that kills animals and then kills a person, I think sociopathy and psychopathy. And when I think about those things in terms of a murderer, I think 0 empathy and fake emotional outputs. I’ll say not every sociopath is going to murder someone, just like not all schizophrenic people will hurt someone and not all people with DID will hurt someone, its actually super uncommon. But when it does, that is generally the process of thoughts unless a psychologist indicates otherwise. And more often than not they don’t.

But anyway, Haruka will suffer from the fact that he killed animals and felt no remorse for those animals, according to the file, and enjoyed the attention he got from arrest. His remorse for the little girl will be seen as manufactured and fake. And even absent that difficulty, they’d likely see his remorse as incomplete and suggestive that he’d kill again- like, if he phrases it the same way:

“Her future was brighter, her life more valuable than my own, why did I end up like this?” That last bit, why did I end up like this, it’s phrased in a way that sounds conclusive and almost shifting. “I ended up like this.” Not, “I wish I could change” or “why am I doing this,” but I ended up like this, this is what I am. I’m not saying that’s true to form, but it is how a jury- who already probably doesn’t like him- would take it. And that’s actually all putting aside the possibility that the attention he’d get from a court trial wouldn’t excite him in the same way his arrest did.

And weirdly, a jury will probably find the way Amane acts to act as a booster to the sympathy for her abuse, because it’s like, okay- she’s abused her entire life and her programming is eliciting an angry response because she is literally that programmed, she doesn’t understand. Whereas with Haruka its like a paradox, they want remorse but they won’t take it seriously, and the remorse will just show them that he knew it was wrong. Its weird.

And just generally, the jury is gonna see Amane’s abuse differently than Haruka’s. The obvious difference between genuine corporal punishment and emotional neglect is pretty fierce. Which is not to minimize the impact of emotional abuse, but it is just the way these things are seen. There’s a substantially greater likelihood that people experienced some kind of emotional neglect than they did RAMCOA and cult related torture. And they’re more likely to say “my parents went hands off when I was a teenager and I didn’t run around killing kids” than they are to do that with RAMCOA.

Plus, Amane’s abuse seems to be lifelong whereas Haruka’s is kinda up in the air, depending on how you look at it. if i assume haruka murdered the girl when he was 15, that means his escalation from rats and mice, to dogs and cats, to a child, all took place in one year. And it assumes that his emotional neglect lasted for less than one year according to the file thing, because it seems they were overprotective until 15, then gave up. If thats the case, I don’t think the jury will feel any sympathy at all, because the emotional neglect didn’t even last a year before he started killing things.

At 17, he’s probably not being charged as a juvenile either. And that’s assuming he’s even 17. He might be 22. Whereas at 12, Amane would be. And I think I pointed this out in the Amane one, but juvenile adjudications have subtle tone and terminology differences that retain a minor’s humanity, which adult trials don’t employ. For Amane the jury is probably constantly hearing over and over and over that this is a child. With Haruka they’re hearing over and over that the victim is a child. And with things like this people will reflexively think about their own children or children in their lives and the usual person would be horrified at the thought of their child enduring it, and that abject horror takes the form of extreme pity for the child that did experience it.

Now neither haruka or amane killed someone here connected to their abuse- because I’m operating under a scenario where the mom murder didnt happen. So, Shidou and a little girl, and thats it. The more sympathetic victim is always going to be the little girl.

And in that same way, theyre gonna be more sympathetic to a little girl defendant than a teenage boy or man in his early 20s. I think I talked about this with Amane. At bottom it’s improperly rooted in sexism- violent boys and men are more likely to hurt more people, because of the average biological differences, and therefore for some reason less likely to be rehabilitated. And given how Haruka seems gentle or shy with his demeanor they’ll honestly see it as either fake, or even more dangerous, because he killed someone even with a nonviolent demeanor.

So with all of that in mind, the jury is unlikely to find that he didn’t premeditate and deliberate this murder to get attention. He had no delusion that murder wasn’t wrongful conduct. With Amane, the RAMCOA complicates that in a way that’s simply much much different. Frankly it’s impossible to even quantify. Combined with the other sympathetic factors of her case, she’s more likely to be treated sympathetically. Unlike Haruka’s case, it is truly possible to say she genuinely didn’t know any better because her entire life was cult rigidity and corporal punishment. They might not even find that she intended to kill, if she only said “punish,” because (again, she didnt kill her mom, so we have no baseline for what her view of punishment is at this point) for all we technically know, punishment was only those corporal punishments she herself was subjected to and lived through. And that alone would take it down to second degree, because first degree does require the intent to kill, whereas second degree murder can be intent to kill, injure, harm, etc.

And if we take Amane’s base crime of killing her mom and compare it to Haruka, it’s even more sympathetic. Again, the animal abuse stuff, they go nuts over it. Her helping the cat shows them shes not just a cold blooded killer. I’m not saying Haruka IS, though. Its just harder to swing that you’re not somewhat of a threat when you kill cats and dogs and then a kid. She killed her actual abuser, an adult, who isn’t going to be seen as sympathetic even in light of the possibility that she couldve been a cult victim herself. And the mindset with which she committed the murder was programmed into her by force and torture by the very person she killed. It’s really hard to not feel sorry for a child in that position or to find ways to say she’s guilty of first degree murder. Her ability to premeditate was either completely or largely dependent on her upbringing, and that enables the jury to find insanity and maybe actuality much easier than for Haruka, especially because the abuse was tangible and irregular.

[techramonic]

The Culture in Morality: Dylan Klebold Journal Analysis, 2.

Below is a quote from Dylan's journal that stands out to me. The first part: the evidence of desperation to cleanse impurities. With this, I can garner that Dylan seems to have a deluded sense of morality. Second: It looks like he is trying to blend in with the general population. It’s not only him who thinks this way, so do other individuals. It’s as if he is trying to attain unity or solidarity from the act of “cleansing himself morally”. Moreso, attempting to be "human". 

Humanity: Ethics and Morality

According to Emile Durkheim, one of the founding fathers of sociology, morality reflects the organization of society and binds it together. It serves as an agent that bridges the divide between individuals. Morality, in essence, consists of principles distinguishing between good and bad.

Charles Darwin’s "The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex," published in 1871, asserts:

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals the moral sense or conscience is by far the most important.”

Since then, an influx of questions has arisen regarding the relative importance of culture and biology in determining morality. Whether the moral sense is derived from either of two aspects:

the moral rules humans accept as behavioral guides (assessing right or wrong); or

the biological basis of ethics (consciousness of actions and consequences)

Ethics has an established difference from morality. It is the notion of doing a rather practical or pragmatic action, while morality is the idea of being driven to do good. An ethical code does not have to be moral to be justified, but must be feasible or convenient. This means that as long as an idea is practical, whether it is considered to be good or bad, it is ethical.

In an essay by Francisco J. Ayala titled "The Difference of Being Human: Morality," he proposes that the capacity for ethics is a necessary attribute of human nature, while moral codes are products of cultural evolution. Ethical behavior is a byproduct of man's intellectual prowess—a nurtured quality fostered by natural selection. Morality did not emerge as an adaptation but as an exaptation, developing into a function different from its original purpose. This is explained by the presence of three biological conditions for ethical behavior that allow humans to have a moral sense: ability to anticipate the consequences of one’s actions, to make value judgments, and to choose between alternative courses of action.

Moral codes, compared to Ethical codes, are outcomes of cultural evolution, accounting for the diversity of cultural norms among populations and their evolution over time. People accept standards according to which their conduct is judged as either right or wrong, good or evil. These norms vary, however, some norms, such as do not kill, are widespread and perhaps universal. This explanation suggests that while it is inherent to be ethical, morality arises from cultural and sociological factors created out of normative behavior. From this, we can assert that humans all inherently have the ethics that guide them throughout their lives. What makes them interconnected however is the presence of morality that acts as a framework to keep them bonded together and functioning.

Moral Exclusion

With that, it is easy to say that humans are human because of biological factors that distinguish them from the animalia kingdom. However, we can also observe that humans also deny others of the capability of being human even if we are from the same species. Time and time again, we can observe that humans are susceptible to dehumanizing others. So really, why is that?

Most cases, we confer personhood upon each other when we criticize others using a sort of check-list: morality. It is technically a learned culture that allows us to be bonded together and function as an entire whole. What I do, you do, and vice-versa. However, not always can it unite us because other times it can also alienate others. Sometimes, distorting morality itself by using it as a tool to exclude those who do not fit into certain categories of moral preference.

Since it is a culture that evolves through time, there are aspects of it that are different from individual to individual and culture to culture. This means that what can be bad can also be good to others and vice-versa. Not everything is in one standard that's applicable to all because not everything is practical for everyone. Ethically speaking, when we acknowledge other people’s complexities outside the standard black-and-white "good or bad " spectrum, we feel more connected. We realize that we are human because we have the ability to rationalize and do what is pragmatic.

Dylan’s Difference and Indifference

Dylan believed he was outside the norm, devoid of humanity, and different from everyone else. He was ethical in the sense that he understood the consequences of his actions and could make determinations about them. He knew the consequences of taking lives and taking his own life. With this, it is already enough to consider him as human. He could rationalize, therefore he is human.

One of the reasons why he does not feel that he is human is because he lacks the connection others have. Morality being a culture has brought people together and as I have previously stated, also excludes others. I believe that he subscribed to the belief that to be human, one must be moral so they could fit in with society. This creates an internal conflict. Humans are no strangers to latching unto vices because to them, it is pragmatic. We smoke, we drink, and we do things others consider immoral because we think it helps us.

With morality, a tangible framework is provided for achieving a purpose. It is an established system that offers a good reason to quit vices in exchange for acceptance. Dylan sees this difference as a weapon hindering him from being included. He acts like others to be accepted and, supposedly, be happy with this acceptance.

[artbyblastweave]

An interesting thing about the Monarch is that while obviously the entire gag is that he’s enmeshed in this postmodern weirdly formalized etiquette-and-code-of-conduct-based form of super-villainy, this notably does not translate to him being a Megamind-style functionally-benign-showman kind of villain-in-name-only. He kills innocent people constantly. There’s a running gag where he kills cabbies to get out of paying fare. This doesn't really seem to be a salient factor in the other character's assessment of him as a threat or moral agent-his ability, or lack thereof, to tow the Guild line and keep pace with the inside baseball is what actually makes waves, draws scrutiny. There's the comedy of that Season 1 episode where they basically call a time-out mid-death trap in compliance with Guild Law, but this doesn't translate to anyone outside the game receiving similar protections or considerations. He lets Dr. Venture leave midway through an arch to see his shrink and then murders the shrink so that those interruptions will stop happening.

And to me this feels like it’s gesturing at a very real thing that can happen in cape comics, where even the nominally harmless bit-villains aren't actually harmless even if they fail to kill the hero specifically, where even the really overtly silly ones have in fact likely whacked at least a few unnamed characters over the course of their 60-year publication history- only for this to sort of get sanded away as a morally salient feature of the character unless they become specifically known as One Of The Ones Who Constantly Kills People (Joker, Bullseye, Carnage, etc.) because security guards and people trapped in collapsing buildings aren't really real. The show is also attentive to the analogous thing that happens with superheroes with the weird moral myopias they suffer from, in the way that basically every hero has some insane instance of superdickery rattling around in their closet that's still technically canon but hardly relevant. The show is very very clear that as long as you correctly couch your behavior within the idiom, color within the lines, you're entitled to a certain level of carnage and collateral. Which is demonstrated in the second episode with the Revenge Society, where Phantom Limb and company are genuinely freaked out when a nameless slasher shows up to the try-outs. Phantom Limb constantly brutally kills people, but this guy in a bear costume with a kitchen knife? He's killing them in an off-genre way.

[prettypynklemonade]

Torn: A Reacher Story

by PrettyPynkLemonade

Author's Note:

Hi friends! This is a Reacher fic feat. a black original character. It's an AU, but definitely fits into that world. There will be at least 5 parts. This is my first story that I've posted since 2016ish, so please be nice.

We only accept compliments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms.

Proofread by @trippinsorrows

cw/tw: dark humor/sarcasm, violence, blood and injury, child abuse, emotional abuse/trauma, strong language, threats of violence, abandonment themes, and romantic tension. (If I've missed anything, please let me know and I'll edit to add)

Word count: 1.1k

October 13th, 2024

Reacher was a man of few words. If he wanted something handled, he didn’t make assumptions; he’d assess the situation, come to a quick determination, and acted with efficiency to protect those around him without regard for his own well-being.

Everyone who knew him, and there were few that really did, knew he operated by a strict code of conduct. There was no one in the world that was an exception to his rules. And his penchant for freedom was unmatched. If it wasn’t a toothbrush and money for the bus, it wasn’t a necessity. He travelled from city to city, slept where he could, ate when he could and kept it pushing.

Of course, there were a few unsavory moments here and there that couldn’t be avoided. How could he know he’d see a kid assaulted by her own father on his way to the bus stop? Of course he couldn’t just walk away. Not without kicking the little girl’s father in the jaw, throwing the weak man up a tree, and calling the cops to handle the rest. He was a man with values, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be involved. He handed the kid a Clark Bar, patted her on the back, and continued his way. Knowing that he was now covered in that hillbilly bitch of a man’s blood he needed a new wardrobe. Anything that drew attention to him was an immediate no-go.

All Reacher expected when he walked into the quaint thrift store in the middle of the town was to buy a new pair of clothes and donate his current one. He didn’t have a way to get rid of the unsavory bloodstains, but that was for the store to deal with. He walked in, kept his head down, picked up the first pair of clothes that could fit and went into the dressing room. After he tried on the new clothes and was walking to the register, he already had a plan in his head, and it was the same plan he always had when he was ready to leave a place that had worn out its welcome: He’d move onto the next city, wherever that may be, and continue his wandering lifestyle.

But fate, or perhaps the devil, had other plans for him.

Behind the counter, wearing a scowl to rival a lioness’s, stood one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. Although, the last time he’d seen her, she wished that he would crawl into a hole and die. She hadn’t been given the opportunity to say anything to him yet, as she’d been too preoccupied with two other customers in the store, but he knew she’d noticed him. Adora James was someone who noticed the smallest of details and she probably saw him as soon as he walked into the tiny, but beautifully decorated store.

He was kind of hard to miss after all. Standing at 6’5, weighing 250 pounds, and with the build of a GI Joe action figure he was typically noticed whether he actually wanted to be. With their torrid history, he was sure that his presence was the opposite of a present to the woman who couldn’t hide the way she wished death upon her enemies, and he was number one on that list.

He knew that this discomfort they felt wouldn’t be rectified until they talked so he did what he did best; he assessed the situation, waited until her customers left the register, established his next steps, and acted.

Reacher placed his old clothes on the counter, waiting until she was restocking the loose clothing. "Good to see you, Adora." "Not good enough." she shot back, quick-witted as ever. Without pausing in her work, she kept hanging the clothes behind her, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "What are you doing here, Reacher?" she sighed, the exasperation clear in her voice. "I thought I made it crystal clear—the last time I saw you was supposed to be the last time I ever saw you."

He couldn’t lie and say that Adora avoiding his gaze wasn’t hurtful, but he’d heard worse from her. Reacher knew that backing down would mean defeat, and he wasn’t ready to give up on this again. “Fate,” he suggested with a small smile. “Or destiny.” “Or maybe it was Maybelline,” she supplied bluntly, finally turning around to meet his gaze. “Be fucking forreal. You’ve never once in your life believed in destiny. What about seeing me in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere makes you think this could possibly be fated?”

Reacher rubbed his hand over his face while thinking how could he possibly answer her question without upsetting her even more. He knew she had every reason to be frustrated with him, he left her with bullshit answers and reasons for abandoning her, and fixing this situation wasn’t something he was going to accomplish in a thrift store.

“Look, how about I buy what I’m wearing, give you these to sell, and we can meet at the diner on Main Street to talk about what happened?” He hoped this offer would buy himself time to figure out his next moves. Reacher knew all too well why he made the excruciatingly difficult decision to walk away from the best woman he ever met, but the excuse seemed irrelevant in her presence. He saw the wrinkle in her forehead while she was deep in thought and observed the cute dimple in her cheek as she bit the inside of it.

To be honest Adora wasn’t certain she wanted to sit down with Reacher, it was risky. He was almost too beautiful for words and while he didn’t speak many of them, the ones he said carried weight. If he was willing to give her closure, she’d take that chance. With a resigned look in her eyes, she replied “Okay. I’ll entertain you. You’ve got 30 minutes of my extremely valuable time starting at 8pm. If it’s not satisfactory, I’ll make sure you won’t be giving anyone answers ever again.” She gave him his few pieces of change while ignoring the blood on the clothes, knowing that whoever pissed him off probably deserved it.

With the change in his hands Reacher nodded and turned to walk out of the store. He knew that she meant what she said, she could kill a man with her bare hands, and she had. As he looked back at the Thrift Store, all he could think was You don’t mess with the Special Investigators! and he’d already broken that promise once.

Taglist: @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @trippinsorrows @proceduralpassion @wwecrazed2010 @beas-mind @hotsauceeater @reacherfan @reignsboy19 @shitt-imfinished @jayjayem1999 @yana3sworld @dumbasswhorebug @prettyvampofsorrows

[callme-naomi]

A random fic sitting in my drafts lol

You were walking the halls of the high school as you headed to your locker, to pick out your book for your next history lesson, your diary snuggled closely to your chest. While you opened your locker, oblivious to the flood of footsteps and booming variety of sounds behind you, a rough hand jerked your collar and shook you back from the locker. You defensively shove your hand backwards holding the diary as you stared up to the face of your bullies, the head's daughter and her friends.

"I knew the janitor forgot to pick something up today," she sneered. "I could smell the stench from far."

"So could I. Did you not have a shower today?" You retort, earning you a few gasps and a furious glare.

"Oh, so trash do have a mind of their own?" she recovered and continued.

"That's what you don't have in common with trash," you answered. "But you might with the dissected cockroaches in our lab."

Just as she could retort, her friend's eye caught on your diary, and as your heartbeat thundered while you jerked your hand away, to your dismay, the main bully snatched it from you.

And that's when you got nervous, because in that diary was a secret that must not be leaked. Under any condition. Heck, the entire diary was a secret of yours.

"Oh, oh, what do we have here?" she laughed with glee as she began opening the diary, eyes shining. "L/N, are we writing love letters?"

"Give it back to me." You snarled.

"You're not in a position to bargain," she ignored you as she continued, to your embarrassment, to announce your letters to the entire corridor, who had stopped to listen. "Now, who wants to hear the secret life of Miss Y/N L/N?"

You cursed the entire audience to a painful death as they all cheered, while she picked out the most recent letter, and began reading it.

"I miss you all the time. I wish I could tell you in words just how much I want you to be with me all the time. But it was fun, you coming around yesterday, that was such a surprise! You really looked awesome in that suit. And you want the answer to your question? It's always yes. I'll be waiting for you! I'll wear that dress you bought me."

While you waited for the Earth to open and eat you to save you from this public humiliation, you heard the diary snap shut as she leaned in to leer. "You got a date, have you, L/N? Who is it?"

"None of your business."

"I'll be the judge of that. After all, I need to know who you're writing to?"

"GIVE IT BACK TO ME!" You yelled this time, lunging at her.

"The head's daughter is asking you something. Don't you have the ethics to talk to her?" she smacked your hand back, but her collar ended up in yours nevertheless

"You've got nerve to talk about ethics."

You looked up as every person whirled around to see who had talked back to her, apart from you.

There, standing in the corridor, was head boy Megumi Fushiguro standing there, with his friends Kugisaki and Itadori, his hands in his pockets with the most bored expression ever.

"Sir," she immediately eased into a respectful position, brandishing the diary and jerking you away. "She was being disrespectful towards me, and she was writing inappropriate things."

"And?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're still violating the code of conduct. Why do you have the diary?"

She spluttered, until her eyes caught on the first page. "Because it's yours!"

Everyone gasped as he strode to take the diary with his name written on it. "Then that's theft."

"I was bringing it to you to report her," the bully smirked at you, fuming.

"And since it's mine, I'll take it. Keep your hands to yourself, student."

He assessed your ashamed figure as the students in the hall dispersed. "Meet me after school hours."

And everyone awaited the punishment you'll receive: most likely detention.

Unbeknownst to everyone, you did meet him after school hours - to go with him in his car.

"You idiot. Who brings a diary to school?" He scolded you lightly, you ready to go out with your boyfriend.

"I had to give you my answer, didn't I?"

"There were many other ways to answer. Where's your phone?"

"Against the rules, head boy. And would you prefer me answering in front of Kugisaki?"

"...fair point."

[matrix-fairy]

💫 MATRIX OF DESTINY COURSE

At home, on the go, during a break…

This course is designed to be fully accessible anytime, anywhere. With written materials and guided support, you’ll learn the Matrix of Destiny system step by step — at your own pace.

✔️ We don’t stop at theory.

✔️ You’ll practice through real-life examples, case studies, and hands-on exercises.

✔️ And you’ll never walk alone — every step comes with personalized guidance.

📘 Course Structure

• The course will be delivered entirely through written content.

• All materials will be provided as PDFs, explanatory texts, and visual guides.

• Each topic will be explained step by step in a clear and simple language.

• At the end of each section, practical mini-assignments will help reinforce your understanding.

• Each participant will receive individual attention. You will get personalized feedback and guidance throughout your learning journey.

• Communication with participants will take place via Telegram, and all questions will be answered in writing.

• Periodic checklists and supporting materials will be shared to help track your progress.

• By the end of the course, you are expected to have the knowledge and practice needed to fully analyze a Matrix from start to finish.

• To support this goal, a final project will be required: you’ll conduct a full Matrix analysis based on a selected birth date.

• The course is conducted exclusively via Telegram — no additional apps or platforms are necessary.

• You will have lifetime access to all materials. You can revisit and review the content anytime you wish.

During the course, you will learn to:

• Understand what the Matrix system is, its origins, and how it works

• Explore the meaning of the 22 energies and their roots in Tarot, numerology, and esoteric systems

• Convert numbers into energy and reduce values above 22 using the Matrix logic

• Analyze a person’s innate talents and spiritual potential

• Discover past-life karmic debts and how to resolve them

• Identify the root causes of current life challenges

• Decode how someone interacts with society and their environment through energy patterns

• Spot financial blocks and unlock abundance potential

• Analyze recurring relationship patterns and karmic ties

• Understand soulmate energy and how to identify compatible partners

• Determine ideal career paths based on energetic signatures

• Interpret ancestral karmas from both maternal and paternal lineages

• Examine inherited emotional patterns and family cycles

• Dive deep into the positive and negative traits of all 22 energies

• Apply behavioral tools to balance each energy

• Distinguish between personal, generational, and daily karma

• Recognize karmic patterns in parent–child and partner dynamics

• Calculate your 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th life purposes and what ages they influence

• Align with your life path, social role, and soul-level contribution

• Understand 10-year energetic cycles and how they shape transformation

• Track 5-year rhythms that support change and realignment

• Calculate your yearly Matrix and read the energetic tone of the year

• Track month-by-month and day-by-day energetic influences

• Prepare for crisis years and major turning points

• Check energy suitability for events like marriage, separation, or new beginnings

• Analyze money flow, career direction, and earning potential

• Work on wealth expansion by unlocking supportive energies

• Build your personal health matrix and assess energetic blocks in the body

• Map Matrix points to chakra imbalances and spiritual wellbeing

• Read your own chakra-energy alignment through Matrix calculation

• Learn how to read a full Matrix from start to finish

• Recognize patterns, number repeats, and symbolic codes in the chart

• Follow a structured sequence for client consultations and readings

• Practice with example Matrix analyses for better fluency

• Study real-life case studies and practice live interpretations

• Conduct a full analysis of your own Matrix for inner healing and clarity

• Reinforce your knowledge through weekly practical assignments

• Receive one-on-one feedback and ask personalized questions to your mentor

DM or mail me matrixkaderharitasi@gmail.com to learn more!

[m2iconsulting]

Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs: Why It’s a Game-Changer for Ethical Lending

Microfinance is all about giving people a fair shot—especially those who have been left out of traditional banking. But with great power comes great responsibility. That’s where the Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs steps in. It’s not just a buzzword—it’s a serious process that holds Microfinance Institutions (MFIs) accountable to the people they serve.

Think of it like a report card that checks whether MFIs are playing fair, treating clients with dignity, and lending responsibly. Sounds simple? It’s a lot more than that.

What Is the Code of Conduct Assessment?

The Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs is a thorough, independent review of how well an MFI sticks to ethical, client-focused practices. It looks into everything from how loans are offered to how repayments are collected, and whether the institution respects the rights of its borrowers.

In India, bodies like MFIN and Sa-Dhan help set the standards for what’s considered ethical microfinance. International guidelines, like those from the Smart Campaign, also influence how assessments are conducted.

Why It’s a Big Deal

Let’s be honest—microfinance can do a lot of good, but only when done right. Without checks in place, it can lead to things like:

Clients borrowing from multiple lenders and falling into debt traps

Unfair or hidden charges

Poor communication around terms and interest rates

Harassment during collections

Clients being unaware of how to file a complaint

That’s why the Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs matters. It helps identify these issues early and creates a path for improvement.

What Does It Actually Look At?

During the assessment, a lot of things are put under the microscope. Some of the key areas include:

Transparency: Are clients told upfront about loan terms, charges, and their rights?

Fair Practices: Is the lending process respectful and non-exploitative?

Client Data Privacy: Is client information kept safe and used ethically?

Employee Behavior: Are field staff trained to interact with clients respectfully?

Complaint Mechanism: Can clients voice concerns, and are those concerns addressed seriously?

Prevention of Over-indebtedness: Are MFIs doing background checks to make sure clients aren’t overwhelmed with loans?

Who’s Behind the Assessment?

Usually, it’s done by third-party evaluators—agencies or consultants with expertise in microfinance and ethics. They talk to clients, review documents, visit branches, and then give the MFI a score or grade.

This score can influence funding decisions, memberships in industry networks, and how trustworthy the MFI looks to investors.

How Can MFIs Get Ready?

If you're running or working with an MFI, here’s what can help prepare for a successful Code of Conduct Assessment:

Align internal policies with industry codes

Train your staff regularly

Maintain clear, well-documented communication with clients

Keep the complaints system active and visible

Review lending processes for transparency and fairness

Quick FAQs

Is it mandatory? Not always, but many investors and industry bodies require it.

What if the MFI fails? It’s not the end of the world—recommendations are usually shared for fixing the gaps.

How often is it needed? Most do it every 1–2 years or before major funding rounds.

Do clients give feedback? Yes, and their feedback can significantly affect the outcome of the assessment.

Does it improve investor trust? Definitely. A good score signals that the MFI is serious about responsible finance.

Final Thoughts

In the world of microfinance, doing good isn't just about giving loans—it’s about how you give them. The Code of Conduct Assessment for MFIs helps institutions stay grounded in ethics and keep their clients' best interests front and center.

Whether you're a practitioner, policymaker, or just curious about how microfinance works behind the scenes, understanding this assessment process gives a clearer picture of what responsible lending should look like.

[transistor-rhythm-909]

(dialogue is colour coded to correspond with the respective speaker, to the best of the options tumblr's text editor gives me)

Estelle: Taking all of the target's actions into account and thoroughly assessing their defensive line and personal combat applicability, I estimate that the best plan of action is to tear through said defensive line with M2 Browning machine guns, forcibly pin the target down in their central office, and garrotte them with enough force to sever the head from the abdomen completely to ensure their activities halt indefinately.

Sayori: Is your motherboard fried?! The target summoned exactly ONE demon. A low class Imp, at that! For the express- if baffling- purpose of conducting corporate espionage at a biscuit factory. Such a response is cruelly unjust, needlessly over the top, and would be an enormous strain on our budget.

Petra: No, no... chrome-dome's onto something here. I mean, snack subterfuge is pretty serious stuff. Deathly serious where I'm from. Swap out the M2's fer K11 DAW's and I'm game.

Za-Ryn: ... Y'know what? I'm not getting involved in this nonsense. Not my clown, not my circus. I'll be in the mess hall. Call me when you inevitably need help clawing out of the hole you dig for yourselves, humans.

-

Thinking about the four playable characters of my fictional run-and-gun action game series again. Specifically, I'm thinking about how they have one braincell between them, and it's usually the alien that's holding it.

[mariacallous]

Over the past couple of decades, a number of US government officials have left their roles for lucrative jobs at tech companies. Plenty of tech executives have also departed to take leadership positions inside federal agencies. But four experts who track the federal workforce tell WIRED they were stunned last week by a development unlike any other they could recall: The Department of Treasury internally announced that Tom Krause had been appointed its fiscal assistant secretary, but that he would simultaneously continue his job as CEO of the company Cloud Software Group.

Krause is now in charge of both a sensitive government payment system and a company that has millions of dollars’ worth of active contracts with various federal agencies through distribution partners, according to a WIRED review of searchable spending records. The Department of Treasury alone accounts for a dozen ongoing contracts tied to Krause’s company that are together valued between $7.3 million to $11.8 million. These include licenses for the data visualization tool ibi WebFocus and purchases of systems called Citrix NetScaler that help manage traffic to apps. (Some publicly posted procurement records do not break out contract details, so actual figures may be even higher.)

Critics have expressed concern about the alleged conflicts of interest posed by Krause’s decision to keep his role in the private sector. Cloud Software could benefit from extending its federal contracts or securing additional ones, though there is no public evidence that Krause has done anything improper with his dual roles. Existing federal regulations also bar actual and apparent unjust favoritism in contracting. “Public trust in those safeguards is nonnegotiable,” says Scott Amey, general counsel at the Project on Government Oversight, a nonpartisan watchdog group.

As Krause moves forward with two jobs, he could have to potentially navigate not only contracting conflicts, but also dueling crises. “What would happen if a Citrix emergency emerges at the same time as Treasury obligations?” says Jeff Hauser, founder and executive director of the Revolving Door Project, which researches federal appointees. “Generally, the thicket of restrictions on full-time employees would make a CEO role impossible in an administration which took adherence to ethics laws seriously.”

Krause, the Treasury Department, and Cloud Software didn’t respond to requests for comment. Cloud Software investors also didn’t respond to a request for comment.

The Treasury Department has told Congress that Krause is a “special government employee”—a type of temporary role—that is supposed to be held to “the same ethical standards of privacy, confidentiality, conflicts of interest assessment, and professionalism of other government employees.” In a foreword to a code of conduct policy posted on Cloud Software’s website, Krause states, “Cloud Software Group is committed to ensuring that its business is conducted ethically, in compliance with the law, and according to its values of integrity, honesty and respect.”

Krause is among a group of several dozen veteran tech executives, mid-level tech operations managers, and fresh-out-of-school software coders who have been recently installed across a series of federal agencies under the auspices of the self-styled Department of Government Efficiency. DOGE’s authority is being challenged by some Democratic state attorneys general. In the meantime, its representatives have been carrying out an order from President Donald Trump to cut costs and modernize technology across the government.

There is some precedent for corporate executives to simultaneously work in the US government. When the US was at war in the early 1900s, the federal government recruited business leaders to fill key posts. They retained their private sector jobs and wages; the government pitched in a $1 annual salary to the executives who became known as “dollar-a-year men.” Congress later raised concerns that some of them had engaged in self-dealing.

Since then, other executives have continued to retain their jobs as they serve on government boards and commissions, typically in a part-time capacity. But maintaining a day-to-day operational role in both the federal government and at a corporation is now virtually unheard of, says David E. Lewis, a political scientist who wrote a book on appointed government bureaucrats. “Most persons in regular executive positions divest themselves of private interests before government service,” he says.

Trump, according to his company, has handed management of his businesses, including hotels and golf courses, to his children for the duration of his presidency (though he reportedly still takes meetings that have raised questions among ethics experts). Musk, who is CEO of Tesla and SpaceX and has oversight of four other companies, including X and Neuralink, has been a vocal figure in DOGE’s operations, but the White House has said he’s not actually in charge—without specifying who is leading the project. Some of the other individuals associated with DOGE are otherwise unemployed, have taken leave, or maintain dual roles but at lower levels than chief executive.

Krause is the only Trump administration official identified so far as being a CEO and a day-to-day decisionmaker inside one particular agency. After years of working as an executive at chip companies, Krause joined Florida-based Cloud Software Group in 2022. The company was created that year as part of a private-equity-backed acquisition of Citrix, followed by a merger with Tibco, another tech company. At the time, Citrix was saddled with an extensive amount of debt and generating essentially stagnant revenues, and while Tibco had not recently publicly disclosed its finances, analysts had considered the company’s outlook to be “negative.”

The US government, including state and local agencies, is expected to spend $287 billion on technology this year, or about 14 percent of overall US tech spending, according to Forrester, a research and advisory company. Whether DOGE’s efforts to boost the quality and efficiency of federal IT systems will lead that spending to increase or decrease isn’t clear. So far, DOGE has both tried to purchase emerging technologies and moved to cancel some existing contracts. But Krause’s inside access could potentially provide an advantage to Cloud Software at a pivotal moment for the company.

Over the past couple of years, Cloud Software has laid off thousands of people and faced accusations that it potentially became lax with cybersecurity. Cloud Software’s most well-known offering, Citrix, enables groups of workers to access data and run apps that are located on a remote machine. But increasing adoption of tools that can operate on any device has chipped away at some of Citrix’s dominance, according to Will McKeon-White, senior analyst for infrastructure and operations at Forrester. There are other options now, he says, including from Microsoft and smaller companies such as Island.

Cloud Software’s Tibco program, which helps workers automate tasks such as adding a new user to multiple internal databases, is often mentioned in the wrong sort of conversations these days, according to David Mooter, a Forrester principal analyst. “They tend to come up more when somebody wants to abandon them,” he says.

That said, some Cloud Software services are more affordable than alternatives for governments, and they also are better suited for the older infrastructure used by some agencies. Last year appears to have been one of Citrix’s best in a long time financially, says Shannon Kalvar, a research director for enterprise systems management and other areas at IDC. One reason for the upswing is that Citrix has put more emphasis on catering to the feature demands of its largest customers, including governments.

[covid-safer-hotties]

By Michael T. Kelly

On June 12, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul expressed support for a mask ban on subways and at protests while other politicians in New York City, Los Angeles and North Carolina are considering or have already passed laws that ban masks in public spaces. Disability, civil liberties and other activists have raised alarm regarding how mask bans, even with formal exemptions for health and religious reasons, offer no guarantee of fair enforcement and can stigmatize masking in general during an ongoing pandemic. This said, I argue that we should oppose mask bans due to two vital functions.

Firstly, banning masks will enable easier surveillance of oppressed groups. Surveillance technology to catch protesters has increased around the world in light of the visible outpouring of support for the pro-Palestine movement. Additionally, activists have used masks to protect themselves from repression, surveillance and doxing by right-wing provocateurs.

To quell campus movements, police and administrators have threatened protesters in Florida, Ohio and Texas with arrest for wearing masks. Students at several colleges face code of conduct charges for pro-Palestine protests, and there has been explicit targeting on prospects for future employment and student loan forgiveness. Indeed, these acts are consistent with the United States’ long record of state surveillance against Black, Indigenous, civil rights and anti-imperialist groups.

Secondly, mask bans downplay COVID-19 and thus avoid its social and political lessons. COVID-19 has been a world health crisis, taking the lives of at least seven million people globally and 1.2 million people in the U.S. COVID infections have risen in 38 states this summer, and some hospitals and venues have even reinstated mask mandates. Long COVID remains a widespread illness, affecting 6.8% of U.S. adults with fatigue, blood clots, lung, heart and neurological issues.

The first lesson of COVID some politicians are eager to bury is that combatting a contagious, airborne respiratory virus is inherently collective and interdependent. It requires a state-directed public health response. Discourses of individual responsibility, “choice” or risk assessment are ill-suited: Is the choice to not mask based on accurate information? Does this choice impinge on other people’s freedom to inhabit public space? Would a mandate affirm a social right to protect oneself and others from illness and make spaces more accessible?

While many people in the U.S. may have had COVID and been asymptomatic or recovered, this is simply not the case for many immunocompromised people, who have suffered isolation, hospitalization and death at significantly higher rates. As disability justice authors have long pointed out, people with disabilities always face the burden of adjusting their lives against an assumed, ableist normal. No assurance of masking effectively endangers many immunocompromised and high-risk people. Under the social model of disability, institutional neglect to enforce COVID mitigation is what creates disability as a form of social oppression.

The activist movements some politicians now condemn have led the way in public health practice. Participants at the Columbia University student encampment wore masks, while people with disabilities and activists have engaged in education and tough conversations regarding the importance of masking, even in leftist spaces.

Also, because COVID is a world-scale problem, it requires international cooperation that would weaken U.S. military, economic and geopolitical hegemony. In 2020, the U.S. and European Union blocked a proposal at the World Trade Organization to waive intellectual property (IP) protections so Global South nations could begin building productive capacity for vaccines and medical technology. Intellectual property regimes and patents have been a mainstay of U.S. policy since World War II through trade agreements and multilateral banking institutions like the International Monetary Fund and World Bank. Patent holders can hoard technology and resources that Global South nations might otherwise access freely or more cheaply. This financial power allows the U.S. to impose unilateral economic sanctions on official enemy states – Venezuela, Iran, Syria, North Korea, Nicaragua and Zimbabwe – which block medicine, food and technology, harming the population. Moves away from masking and COVID awareness further downplay the ongoing urgency to end IP and sanctions regimes for the sake of global public health.

Thus, structural changes to U.S. society are needed to address the underlying social conditions that spread illness. We can learn from the 1951 Civil Rights Congress’ We Charge Genocide petition that defined genocide as the “willful creation of conditions making for premature death, poverty and disease.”

On housing, failure to extend eviction moratoria in 2021 – a gift to landlords and real estate capital who treat homes as financial assets or sources of rent revenue – led to over 10,000 additional deaths. On criminal justice, there were calls to decarcerate as prisons are incubators of COVID, and continue questioning the social function of prisons at all. On employment, vulnerability to COVID in the workplace helped catalyze a wave of labor organizing. By downplaying COVID and banning masks, its most visible reminder, politicians help bury these important lessons.

Universities remind students and staff that their policies are consistent with county, state and CDC legal guidelines. But adherence to the U.S. Government’s public health orders is not sufficient when laws are inadequate or unjust. We can and should define our own ethos around disability, national and social liberation. Mask mandates, political education on who is vulnerable as well as public health measures to provide masks can enlist, educate and organize people toward that political project. Legislation that does not protect the vulnerable needs opposition. People should be enabled and encouraged to think for themselves when it comes to contemplating the extent to which lawmakers have the responsibility to protect their constituency.

[beardedmrbean]

The Taliban morality police in Afghanistan have detained men and their barbers over hairstyles and others for missing prayers at mosques during the holy month of Ramadan, a U.N. report said Thursday, six months after laws regulating people’s conduct came into effect.

The Vice and Virtue Ministry published laws last August covering many aspects everyday life in Afghanistan, including public transport, music, shaving and celebrations. Most notably, the ministry issued a ban on women’s voices and bare faces in public.

That same month, a top U.N. official warned the laws provided a “distressing vision” for the country’s future by adding to existing employment, education, and dress code restrictions on women and girls. Taliban officials have rejected U.N. concerns about the morality laws.

Thursday’s report, from the U.N. mission in Afghanistan, said in the first 6 months of the laws’ implementation, over half of detentions made under it concerned “either men not having the compliant beard length or hairstyle, or barbers providing non-compliant beard trimming or haircuts.”

The report said that the morality police regularly detained people arbitrarily "without due process and legal protections.”

During the holy fasting month of Ramadan, men’s attendance at mandated congregational prayers was closely monitored, leading at times to arbitrary detention of those who didn't show up, the report added.

The U.N. mission said that both sexes were negatively affected, particularly people with small businesses such as private education centers, barbers and hairdressers, tailors, wedding caterers and restaurants, leading to a reduction or total loss of income and employment opportunities.

The direct and indirect socio-economic effects of the laws’ implementation were likely to compound Afghanistan’s dire economic situation, it said. A World Bank study has assessed that authorities’ ban on women from education and work could cost the country over $1.4 billion per year.

But the Taliban leader, Hibatullah Akhundzada, has emphasized the primacy of Islamic law and the role of the Ministry of Vice and Virtue in reforming Afghan society and its people.

In a message issued ahead of the religious Eid Al-Fitr festival that marks the end of Ramadan, Akhundzada said it was necessary “to establish a society free from corruption and trials, and to prevent future generations from becoming victims of misguided beliefs, harmful practices and bad morals.”

More than 3,300 mostly male inspectors are tasked with informing people about the law and enforcing it, according to the report.

The ministry has resolved thousands of people's complaints and defended the rights of Afghan women, according to its spokesman Saif ur Rahman Khyber.

This was in addition to “implementing divine decrees in the fields of promoting virtue, preventing vice, establishing affirmations, preventing bad deeds, and eliminating bad customs.”

The ministry was committed to all Islamic and human rights and had proven this in practice, he said Thursday, rejecting attempts to “sabotage or spread rumors” about its activities.

[krunal-vyas]

Hire Dedicated Developers in India Smarter with AI

Hire dedicated developers in India smarter and faster with AI-powered solutions. As businesses worldwide turn to software development outsourcing, India remains a top destination for IT talent acquisition. However, finding the right developers can be challenging due to skill evaluation, remote team management, and hiring efficiency concerns. Fortunately, AI recruitment tools are revolutionizing the hiring process, making it seamless and effective.

In this blog, I will explore how AI-powered developer hiring is transforming the recruitment landscape and how businesses can leverage these tools to build top-notch offshore development teams.

Why Hire Dedicated Developers in India?

1) Cost-Effective Without Compromising Quality:

Hiring dedicated developers in India can reduce costs by up to 60% compared to hiring in the U.S., Europe, or Australia. This makes it a cost-effective solution for businesses seeking high-quality IT staffing solutions in India.

2) Access to a Vast Talent Pool:

India has a massive talent pool with millions of software engineers proficient in AI, blockchain, cloud computing, and other emerging technologies. This ensures companies can find dedicated software developers in India for any project requirement.

3) Time-Zone Advantage for 24/7 Productivity:

Indian developers work across different time zones, allowing continuous development cycles. This enhances productivity and ensures faster project completion.

4) Expertise in Emerging Technologies:

Indian developers are highly skilled in cutting-edge fields like AI, IoT, and cloud computing, making them invaluable for innovative projects.

Challenges in Hiring Dedicated Developers in India

1) Finding the Right Talent Efficiently:

Sorting through thousands of applications manually is time-consuming. AI-powered recruitment tools streamline the process by filtering candidates based on skill match and experience.

2) Evaluating Technical and Soft Skills:

Traditional hiring struggles to assess real-world coding abilities and soft skills like teamwork and communication. AI-driven hiring processes include coding assessments and behavioral analysis for better decision-making.

3) Overcoming Language and Cultural Barriers:

AI in HR and recruitment helps evaluate language proficiency and cultural adaptability, ensuring smooth collaboration within offshore development teams.

4) Managing Remote Teams Effectively:

AI-driven remote work management tools help businesses track performance, manage tasks, and ensure accountability.

How AI is Transforming Developer Hiring

1. AI-Powered Candidate Screening:

AI recruitment tools use resume parsing, skill-matching algorithms, and machine learning to shortlist the best candidates quickly.

2. AI-Driven Coding Assessments:

Developer assessment tools conduct real-time coding challenges to evaluate technical expertise, code efficiency, and problem-solving skills.

3. AI Chatbots for Initial Interviews:

AI chatbots handle initial screenings, assessing technical knowledge, communication skills, and cultural fit before human intervention.

4. Predictive Analytics for Hiring Success:

AI analyzes past hiring data and candidate work history to predict long-term success, improving recruitment accuracy.

5. AI in Background Verification:

AI-powered background checks ensure candidate authenticity, education verification, and fraud detection, reducing hiring risks.

Steps to Hire Dedicated Developers in India Smarter with AI

1. Define Job Roles and Key Skill Requirements:

Outline essential technical skills, experience levels, and project expectations to streamline recruitment.

2. Use AI-Based Hiring Platforms:

Leverage best AI hiring platforms like LinkedIn Talent Insightsand HireVue to source top developers.

3. Implement AI-Driven Skill Assessments:

AI-powered recruitment processes use coding tests and behavioral evaluations to assess real-world problem-solving abilities.

4. Conduct AI-Powered Video Interviews:

AI-driven interview tools analyze body language, sentiment, and communication skills for improved hiring accuracy.

5. Optimize Team Collaboration with AI Tools:

Remote work management tools like Trello, Asana, and Jira enhance productivity and ensure smooth collaboration.

Top AI-Powered Hiring Tools for Businesses

LinkedIn Talent Insights — AI-driven talent analytics

HackerRank — AI-powered coding assessments

HireVue — AI-driven video interview analysis

Pymetrics — AI-based behavioral and cognitive assessments

X0PA AI — AI-driven talent acquisition platform

Best Practices for Managing AI-Hired Developers in India

1. Establish Clear Communication Channels:

Use collaboration tools like Slack, Microsoft Teams, and Zoom for seamless communication.

2. Leverage AI-Driven Productivity Tracking:

Monitor performance using AI-powered tracking tools like Time Doctor and Hubstaff to optimize workflows.

3. Encourage Continuous Learning and Upskilling:

Provide access to AI-driven learning platforms like Coursera and Udemy to keep developers updated on industry trends.

4. Foster Cultural Alignment and Team Bonding:

Organize virtual team-building activities to enhance collaboration and engagement.

Future of AI in Developer Hiring

1) AI-Driven Automation for Faster Hiring:

AI will continue automating tedious recruitment tasks, improving efficiency and candidate experience.

2) AI and Blockchain for Transparent Recruitment:

Integrating AI with blockchain will enhance candidate verification and data security for trustworthy hiring processes.

3) AI’s Role in Enhancing Remote Work Efficiency:

AI-powered analytics and automation will further improve productivity within offshore development teams.

Conclusion:

AI revolutionizes the hiring of dedicated developers in India by automating candidate screening, coding assessments, and interview analysis. Businesses can leverage AI-powered tools to efficiently find, evaluate, and manage top-tier offshore developers, ensuring cost-effective and high-quality software development outsourcing.

Ready to hire dedicated developers in India using AI? iQlance offers cutting-edge AI-powered hiring solutions to help you find the best talent quickly and efficiently. Get in touch today!