#chad billionaire

[chadmillionaire]

chad millionaire, chad billionaire, millionaireceoclub.com, https://www.MillionaireCEOclub.com

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Also I rewatched the other Inside Job Part 2 trailer and ‘this is the most damaging midlife crisis since Elon Musk’ has aged like the FINEST of wines

[freshthoughts2020]

WLCM - IN SEARCH OF: gettothecorner.com/welcome/insearchof

[mister-killjoy]

[sirfrogsworth]

My god, what if this entire time all we had to do to solve our billionaire problem was goad them into submarine pissing contests?

"Hey Elon, I heard you suck at building submarines and some Chads in scuba gear had to save the day. You probably couldn't even get halfway to the Titanic."

"Hey Jeff, I heard your ex-wife say she could visit the Mariana Trench before you."

"Hey Trump, there's a burnt steak leftover in the Titanic's galley."

Sadly this particular billionaire is using a really nice submarine made of steel rather than used carbon fiber they found in a dumpster.

But that doesn't mean we can't loosen a few bolts.

Forget eating them.

Implode the rich.

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p4

p1 | p2 | p3 | p4

summary: Tara puts her plan into action. YN loses a bet. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 2.9k

a/n: ass agenda rise.

Tara’s plan comes to fruition over cups of black coffee, your scrambled eggs and a half-eaten set of Mickey Mouse waffles. 

Mindy’s brow is pinched as she drafts up the first message. 

You’re a little restless, Tara’s hand on your back doing nothing to soothe you. 

“There,” Says Mindy, after a moment, “How’s that?” 

Tara takes back her phone. 

“Hey,” She reads out, “What u up 2?” 

Tara blinks. 

“This is what took you five minutes to draft?” She asks, voice scathing. 

Mindy huffs. 

“No,” She says, “That’s just a primer. You can’t go in all guns blazing, Tara, she’ll get suspicious.” 

Tara rolls her eyes.

“Been thinking about u lately,” Tara continues, “Feels weird how we left things.” 

You clench your jaw. 

Tara rubs your back, absent-mindedly. 

“How r u doing? Sorry when my gf gets crazy like that there’s nothing I can do.” 

You scowl. 

Mindy ducks behind her coffee cup. 

“Mindy, I don’t type like this,” Says Tara, hotly, “Where’s the grammar? This sounds like it was written by a fourteen year old boy.” 

“Fourteen year old boy is Mindy’s spirit animal,” Says Chad with a grin, throwing a blueberry between his lips. 

“Shut up, Chad,” Groans Mindy, “Tara, fine, you can change the grammar. But the rest of it? Does it work?” 

Tara purses her lips. 

“I suppose it’s not terrible.” She offers. 

Mindy smiles. 

“Skip a bit,” She suggests, “Get to the good stuff.” 

Tara scrolls, and reads out the rest of Mindy’s text. 

“I always thought u were sexy,” Tara reads, “You know Ginger Spice was always my favorite spice girl.” 

Tara raises an eyebrow. 

You snort. 

“This is the good stuff?” Chad asks, “Mindy, you could have a billionaire dollars and you still wouldn’t be able to talk a thirty dollar hooker into bed with you. No wonder you can’t get a girlfriend.” 

Tara sniggers. 

Mindy shoots a glare his way. 

“I can too get a girlfriend,” Says Mindy, voice hot, “I just don’t want one right now. Girls are high maintenance, I don’t have time for that.” 

“Amen.” Mumbles Tara. 

You nudge an elbow into her side.

“Ow.” 

“You can not have a girlfriend too, if I’m too high maintenance.” You say, and Tara shakes her head. 

“You’re worth the maintenance baby,” Says Tara, as you dodge her kiss, “You’re like a really nice lawn. No house is complete without it.”

“Romantic.” You deadpan, “How come you’re a house and I’m just a lawn?” 

“You’re a mansion, baby,” Tara assures, “A ten million dollar mansion with an infinity pool.”

Mindy huffs. 

“Can we get back to the mission?” She asks, sounding annoyed, “If you don’t like my pickup lines, you’re welcome to try out your own, Casanova.” 

“I don’t need pickup lines,” Assures Tara, “Isn’t that right, baby? One look and you were smitten.” 

“And one sentence and I have the ick.” You say, crinkling your nose. 

Tara’s smile drops. 

“Babe.” She whines as Mindy snorts. 

“Give it to me,” Chad says, with a sigh, “Apparently I’m the only one around here who can talk to a girl.” 

“‘Wanna come watch me lift weights?’ is not the pick up line you think it is, Chad,” Says Mindy, voice wry, “Besides, it won’t work coming from Tara.” 

“I lift weights,” Tara says, with a frown, “I’m getting super strong, see?” 

She flexes her bicep. 

You roll your eyes. 

Mindy raises an eyebrow.

“You’re like 4’11, Tara,” She says, “I could snap you in half without flinching.” 

“I’m 5’1 and I’ll snap you in half if you don’t stop talking.” Growls Tara. 

“Guys,” Says Liv, flailing her hands, “Stop. Chad’s got it. Show them, babe.” 

Tara takes back her phone, still scowling.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” She reads, “Should have kissed you. Sorry I didn’t.” 

Mindy tilts her head.

“It works,” She admits. 

“And if she just shows Sam the message?” You ask, “Then what?” 

“She won’t, babe,” Says Tara, squeezing your arm, “Do you even remember how hard she worked for me?” 

You do remember. 

You wish you didn’t. 

Tara presses a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“And besides, if she shows Sam the messages, Sam will know how serious I am about this.” She kisses you, “It’s going to work, babe, I know it.” 

“When are you going to send them?” Asks Liv. 

Tara thinks. 

“When she’s away from Sam,” Says Tara, “Maybe tonight. We’ll rope her into a movie night, right babe? That way we’ll know Quinn’s nowhere near Sam.”

You sigh. 

“Come on,” You say, voice a little glum, “We better head back. With any luck, they’ll be done and she’ll be gone.” 

-

“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” Asks Quinn, head pressed against Sam’s pillow. 

“Eggs,” She answers, “With Arugula, preferably. Maybe a little balsamic vinegar. 

Quinn wrinkles her nose. 

“Most people say pancakes,” She teases, lightly, “Or bacon.” 

Sam frowns. 

“I believe you should only put good things into your body.” She says. 

Quinn smirks.

“Nice to know I’m a good thing, then.” Smiles Quinn. 

Sam’s cheeks turn red. 

“You know what I meant.” She says. 

Quinn leans over and kisses her. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Asks Quinn. 

Sam shrugs. 

“It’s Sunday,” She says, “I was just going to relax.” 

Quinn bites her lip. 

“How about we go and get some Eggs with arugula? My treat.” 

Sam bites her lip. The thought of spending more time with Quinn is surprisingly, not that unpleasant. 

“Alright,” She says, with a smile. Butterflies flutter in her belly, “If it’s your treat.” 

-

“Sam?” Tara calls, as she cracks open the door, as if she’s scared of what’s behind it. 

You press against her back, impatient. 

“Baby, hold up,” She says, gently, “I don’t want you seeing something.” 

“They’re not going to be fucking on the dining table, babe.” You say with a roll of her eyes as you push past her. 

“Someone should.” Says Tara, voice pointed. 

You look around. 

The apartment is quiet. 

Not a peep from Sam’s room. The door is open, the bed messy and unmade. But it's empty. 

Tara drops her bag over the counter. 

She picks up a small, handwritten note. 

“Out for the day, back later.” She reads. 

“With Quinn?” You dare ask. 

But Tara only smiles back at you. 

“Not for much longer,” She says, sounding pleased with herself, “As soon as Sam’s back and out of Quinn’s clutches, I’ll send the texts.” 

She moves forward and loops an arm around your waist. Presses a hot kiss to your next. 

“Now, about that thing you wanted to do this morning,” She says, voice low. 

You cock an eyebrow. 

“I think it’s safe to say the moment has passed.” You say. 

You squeeze her hips.

“But, babe-“ Tara says, with a whine, “You said-“ 

“Another time,” You promise, “Besides, don’t you have a test to study for?”

Tara sighs. 

“I’m majoring in film, babe, I don’t need to study.” 

She looks up, bottom lip in a pout. 

“Why don’t I quiz you?” You suggest, “It’ll be fun.” 

Tara thinks.

“And if I get all the answers right then I get to rail your ass?” 

It earns her a smack. 

“You’re not going anywhere near my ass if that’s what your intention is.” You tell her. 

“I’ll go slow, babe, I promise,” Tara assures, taking your earlobe between her teeth, “I’ll go so slowly you’ll be begging for it by the time I’m done with you.” 

Your stomach flutters.  

“Maybe later tonight,” You think after a moment, “If you nail it.” 

Tara brightens. 

“Not the only thing I’ll be nailing tonight.” She grins. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You warn. 

-

Sam comes back mid-quiz. 

Tara hasn’t gotten a single question wrong, and you’re starting to sweat. There’s a hungry look in her eyes, as if she’s hunting down her prey. 

You welcome the distraction. 

“Hi girls,” Sam says, as if nothing in the past twenty-four hours has changed, “Do you want lunch?” 

“We just ate Sam, thanks,” You say, and she hums. 

You catch Tara’s eye. 

“Sounds like you had a good night.” Says Tara, a little snarky. 

Sam sighs. 

“Don’t start, Tara.” She warns. 

Tara folds her arms. 

“Just don’t come crying to us when she breaks your heart.” She says, a little pointed. 

“Tara-” You say, but Sam just rolls her eyes. 

“Noted. What do you want for dinner tonight? Cauliflower tacos or lentil spaghetti?”

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

“Why don’t we make dinner for you, Sam?” You interject, hurriedly, before Tara can speak, “It’s the least we can do. You cook for us every night.” 

Sam blinks, a little surprised. 

And then she smiles. 

“Alright,” She says, sounding happy, “That sounds nice.”

Sam disappears into her room. 

Tara pulls out her phone, giving you a pointed look. 

She taps a few buttons and then smiles, pleased with herself. 

“Operation you-know-who-must-die is in action,” She mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, “Now finish the quiz. I’m ready to take my prize.” 

-

Tara aces the quiz.

Not a single question wrong. 

In truth, there’s a part of you who had hoped she’d fail. But there’s another part of you positively gleeful she hadn’t. 

Tara kisses you with a victorious grin, and then smacks your ass with her hand. 

“Go get ready for me,” She says, voice low, “I’m all ready for you, baby.” 

“It’s 4PM,” You say, biting you lip, “Maybe we should wait until tonight-” 

Tara groans. 

Your skin feels sensitive, tingly. The anticipation over the last few questions has you in a hot flush. 

It feels exciting. New.

The fact that your girlfriend is preening only adds to the excitement. 

“You promised,” She whines, “Stop moving the goalposts. You want me to beg? I’ll beg. Please, baby, let me fuck your ass-”

“Tara.” Sam groans as she emerges from her room, gym bag in hand, “Boundaries, we talked about this-”

Your face flushes red. 

You’d die on the spot, if the option were possible. But Tara doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I don’t think you can lecture me on boundaries considering the noises that were coming from your room this morning.” Tara says, curling an arm around your waist. 

Sam huffs. 

“I’m going to the gym,” She mumbles, “YN - something healthy for dinner tonight? Please?”

“You got it, Sam,” You mumble, face bright red. 

But Sam is unperturbed. Nothing phases her, at this point. She leaves the apartment with a click of the front door. 

“All alone,” Tara murmurs, looping her arms around your waist and squeezing your ass, hard, “So you can be as loud as you want, baby.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Let me get ready,” You mumble, “Meet you in the bedroom in a bit.” 

-

When you’re showered and ready, you make your way into the bedroom. 

Tara’s already laid out her arsenal. 

Her strap-on, a bottle of lube longer than your forearm and a grin that tells you this almost certainly won’t be the first time she takes you like this. 

You drop your towel. 

And watch Tara’s gaze sink down. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Tara murmurs, as she reaches you out to take her in your arms, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” 

She pulls you down for a searing kiss. 

You’re nervous, but she always finds a way to soothe you. Firm hands on your hips, her mouth working wonders against your lips. 

She pulls you on top of her, and then pulls back, nudging her nose against yours. 

“We can stop anytime you want,” She promises, “If it’s too much, just say.” 

She brushes a strand of rogue hair out of your eyes, “I love you, baby,” She whispers against your lips, “I want you like this, but if it hurts too much, just tell me. I won’t be annoyed. Promise.” 

She seals her promise with a kiss. 

You don’t doubt her for a second. 

You capture her lips once more, arousal pooling in your stomach as you feel her against you. 

You’ve denied her before, like this. 

You wanted her to work for this. 

 But in the process, you’ve been denying yourself your own desires. 

You slip your tongue into her mouth, grind down against her, ready to give her everything. 

And then the front door slams open.  

“Tara!” Sam calls, sounding anything but mellowed after her gym session, “Get your ass out here, now.” 

The mood shatters. You pull away from Tara, head turning. 

Sam sounds pissed. 

Tara groans.

“Fuck off, Sam, I’m busy,” She says. She flips you onto your back, nudges herself between your legs.

Sam bangs on the door. 

You almost jump out of your skin. 

“Quinn told me everything,” She says, voice dangerous, “Get out here now or I’m coming in.” 

Tara freezes. 

Your heart jumps. 

Hastily, Tara slides off you. 

She fumbles around for a spare t-shirt and tosses it your way, running a hand through her hair. As if her worst nightmare has just come to realization. 

“Tara!” Sam bangs once more. 

“I’m coming, Jesus, Sam.” Tara says. 

You pull the shirt over your head, fumble around for a pair of sleep shorts. 

By the time Tara opens the door, Sam is standing behind it, red-faced, fury in her eyes. 

She holds up her phone.

Although you’re squinting, you can still make out Tara’s text messages to Quinn. 

“This is next level pathetic, Tara,” Sam says, voice hot, “Even for you.” 

“Sam, I can explain-“ Says Tara. . 

“You don’t need to explain,” Says Sam, “I know exactly what this is. You trying to prove Quinn is using me. But it didn’t work. She showed me the texts. So now what, Tara?” 

“I was just trying to help,” Tara says, voice even. 

Sam scoffs. 

“You were trying to help?” Sam asks, “You can help me by minding your own business and staying out of it.” 

“She’s using you, Sam,” Tara explodes, “It’s obvious to everyone except you. Why can’t you see it?” 

“I don’t care if Quinn’s using me,” Says Sam, “I’m using her too, in my own way. That’s what we all do as people, isn’t it? Use each other? For love, for comfort, for sex? Why do you care so much that it’s her?” 

“Why does it have to be her?” Growls Tara, “We hate her, Sam. We kicked her out of our apartment, for crying out loud. She tried to ruin our relationship-”

“But she didn’t,” Says Sam, eyes wild, “I have nothing, Tara, don’t you understand? Why couldn’t you let me have this?” 

Tara blinks. 

You swing your legs over the bed, move to Tara’s side. 

“We were just trying to protect you, Sam-” You say, voice a little shaky. 

Sam looks over at you. 

“You don’t need to protect me,” She says, “Quinn’s fun. Quinn’s easy. I need a little bit of that in my life.” 

“She’s certainly easy,” Says Tara, folding her arms. 

Sam’s face flashes.

For a moment, you think she might actually hit Tara. 

But then she clenches her jaw, and her shoulders draw. 

“I’m going away for a while,” Says Sam, after a long moment, “I’m going to stay with Quinn. I can’t even - look at you right now, Tara.” 

Tara blinks. 

“I was trying to save you.” Says Tara, “You’re going to punish me for that?” 

“It’s hardly a punishment,” Retorts Sam, “You don’t want me here anyway, you’ve made that much clear. Now you can do whatever you want.” 

“And what about rent?” Asks Tara, voice hot. 

Hurt flashes through Sam’s features. Your breath catches in your throat knowing Tara’s said the wrong thing. Again. 

“Rent?” Sam asks, voice incredulous. 

She scoffs. 

And then turns. 

You and Tara follow her out, a little hasty. Sam returns to her room and pries her suitcase from under her bedframe.

She starts tossing items in as Tara scrambles. 

“No, wait, Sam- that isn’t what I meant,” Says Tara as Sam throws her suitcase onto her bed, “That’s not the most important part of this. YN and I want you to stay. Not just because of rent.” 

Sam offers her a weak smile. 

“You don’t need your big sister cramping your style,” She says, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I should have just got a second job in California and venmoed you the rent.” 

“We’re glad you came, Sam,” You say, a little urgent, “We like living with you. It’s a small apartment, of course we all annoy each other. Tara annoys me everyday. And I annoy her too. That’s just how it is.” 

Sam sighs. 

“That isn’t how it should be,” She says, “I shouldn't be here, God. I shouldn’t be in your space. I should have left you both alone.” 

Tara has a weird look on her face. 

“Sam, don’t leave,” She asks, sounding crestfallen, “Please.” 

“It’s for the best, Tara.” Answers Sam. 

She zips her suitcase closed. 

“If you leave me again, I can’t promise I’ll let you back in.” Tara says. Her eyes are hard, but her voice shakes. 

Sam sighs.

She touches Tara’s shoulders, and then pulls her in for a long hug. 

“I’ll be gone a week or two,” She says, “I’m not abandoning you, Tara. We just need some space from each other right now.” 

“If you leave,” Tara repeats, “You’re not coming back.” 

Sam smiles, a little sad. 

“I won’t be gone long.” She says, “God, Tara, I'm just so mad."

She pauses, a moment.

"But I love you. Always."

Tara's face hardens.

And she doesn’t say it back. 

Sam leaves. 

And you deal with the fallout.

[aturnoftheearth]

virgin taylor swift who refuses to directly dispel the bisexual allegations in fear of losing a single dollar from her billionaire status vs chad misha collins who used the bisexual allegations to milk his career for years before accidentally coming out and then having to walk it back

[artificialconditions]

my mom’s boss sure lives a life. one time he was in chicago and he went into this fancy ass upscale restaurant (like his wife was wearing an evening gown etc) and he sees this dude eating dinner in like. jeans and a t shirt. chad (boss) assumed this must be a billionaire or something because i guess super rich people are like that. so chad and his wife end up sitting next to this dude and his wife is just CHEESING and ends up starting a convo. they’re chatting it up with this guy and his wife and they’re both super nice apparently and end up talking all through dinner. well then they leave and back in the car chad is like “okay who was that.” and his wife tells him it was patrick stump!!! and apparently she loves him!!!! and chad is like literally WHO is that so his wife has to play like four fall out boy songs until the name rings a bell 😭

[itsnotmyfaultsomepeoplecantread]

I've decided to rebrand the Greek gods based on absolutely nothing.

Athena - goddess of autists

Artemis - goddess of queers

Ares - god of anger management issues

Apollo - god of chads

Aphrodite - goddess of mean girls

Demeter - goddess of overprotective moms

Hera - goddess of karens

Zeus - god of fuckboys

Persephone - goddess of seasonal affective disorder

Hades - god of depression

Poseidon - god of billionaire playboy philanthropists

Hermes - god of adhd

[lsleofthelost]

desperately going to need you to elaborate on chad's dream being a racecar driver actually hdjkfdsfklsdfds

that’s actually from my mutual’s @thebluestbluewords tags!! also i think there was some tie in media where he said it?

but as someone who’s into formula 1 i will take this opportunity to talk about it.

it’s no secret that racing is a very expensive sport to get into. so like 99% of all the drivers come from wealthy backgrounds. and as fans, we all accept that as a reality of the sport. but like i said, what i’m picturing for Chad is something of a Lance Stroll situation.

if u don’t know who that is, Lance Stroll is a driver competing for Aston Martin at the moment. and well, he’s not a bad driver by any stretch of imagination (or he wouldn’t have made it all the way to formula 1), he even was the second youngest person to get a podium iirc. BUT he is the son of multi billionaire Lawrence Stroll who is a part owner of Aston Martin. so yeah i think his family would invest in a team to secure a spot for him lol

so like. there are a couple of ways we can go here.

one would be, if he is the oldest son, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to pursue something like f1, since it’s so time consuming. so, let’s say, he gets into karting, gets into an academy, and he could probably get to f3 or even f2 before getting pulled out for his duties. but he loves the sport, the feeling of adrenaline, the speed. he’d probably be able to go karting recreationally but it’s not the same. he probably goes to as many grand prix as he can, keeps in contact with the drivers from his grid, hangs out with them during the off season, and talks wistfully about it in his interviews. i think people make sad edits of him about it

the other way, if he’s not the heir apparent, he would move up to formula 1. i think he’d start with a middling team. as a rookie, his first race would be a bit of a disaster, maybe even dnf, which causes ALL the gossip sites to rag on him but eventually he does get himself together and even has a podium finish in that season. he spends a couple of seasons there while his parents prepare the team for him and goes there. first season there is a dip in his previous ratings as the team is still getting used to it all but after that i think he’d have a solid career and is generally well liked by the public because he proves himself as a driver. he’s also really funny.

ALSO important to me. i think he definitely has a bit of a one sided rivalry going on with another driver on the grid, dating back to their karting days.

also also. maybe down the line he even has a hamilton-rosberg-brocedes thing with a teammate (if u don’t know it don’t look it up the lore will consume u)

people definitely make thirst edits of him taking off the helmet/stretching in the suit/spraying celebratory champagne. there are constantly articles and thinkpieces on whether he deserves his place in the grid. there are videos on youtube titled “(actual prince) chad charming being dumb for 10 minutes” and “charming team radio but it gets more chaotic”

[humblefryingpan]

I feel like so many shows make the worst people the main character and rely on people rooting for them just bc they're the main character

(This is a long ass really bitchy post about lots of fandoms I'm in sorry in advance if you choose to read this. Also these are just my opinions, please don't be mad at me 😅)

Once upon a time - Emma Swan screws Regina over billions of times (if you put up your child for a closed adoption, that means you can't go steal him back because his new mum is a bit mean to you??) but whenever Regina is an asshole back (or a lot of the time when she didn't do anything) she's the "evil character"

How I met your mother - Ted Mosby is full of himself, never developed as a character and doesn't really care about any of his friends feelings.

Batman - Bruce himself. What the fuck, why does he treat his kids like that??? Tim's 16th birthday? In some older comics he punched Dick? Also he's a ✨billionaire✨ in a city that's such a mess and never tried to help with that (to my knowledge)

Heathers - Veronica is a bad person that acts like she's amazing. No one in this is really meant to be a fully good person though so moving on.

Hazbin Hotel - I know I'm meant to root for Charlie's dream but holy shit can she stay out of other people's business for once? Her "rehabilitation" is peer pressure from an adult woman who acts like she's 12

Miraculous Ladybug - Marinette is a literal stalker. She's such a an awful person and I swear every season I've watched she's got worse. Just because you're a "hero" doesn't mean your life is more important than someone else's

Most Alice Osman books - Angel from IWBFT, Francis from radio silence, I forgot her name because I didn't get that far in but the girl from loveless, all drive me crazy. They're so self centered (Francis sees someone crying and immediately makes it about her?)

Also Ted from the lorax (self centered and a bit creepy), Harry Potter (billionare wizard chad), Mirabel from encanto (self centered and victim complex) and most anime protagonists

And there are a bunch of shows where the asshole main characters are intentional they still get so much more development than these people (blitz from Helluva boss, the main character in doki doki literature club, etc)

[theplottdump]

Spring started with rain.

It couldn't have been more than two weeks into the new year when he got the call from the Director.

Chad felt like he had landed his stomach in the direct path of rather nasty sucker-punch; all the wind had been knocked out of him. Dazed, he watched himself put one foot in front of the other as he descended the final steps onto the main level of his fiancé's office.

Chad: Val- Val: Just a second, finishing off some minor transfers, you know billionaires really shouldn't keep offshore billing accounts if they can't even bother to set up a half decent firewall.

Chad: Valerian. It's important. Val: And so is half-decent cybersecurity but no one seems to want to put in the proper effort anymore. The vault at the Starlight had better secur- Chad: Val I just received an invitation to speak at my father's memorial service.

Val: Oh that's just terrible. Now tell me, did he die slowly and painfully, or quickly in some sort of blood explosion? Was he possibly alone and friendless in his final moments? Chad: Valerian Reed Plott. Please. Val: Did they send pictures? And can I see them? Chad: VAL.

Chad: Can we- can we just talk? Please?

[xxx0oo0xxx]

My 2¢ Opinion :

"Men Don't Approach Me!"

TRANSLATION : "Average Men on my level approach me all the time but I deserve a 6'3" Chad Billionaire with a Six Pack Abs who wants to raise my five children by four different fathers I still hook up with when I'm bored - WITH YOU."

[rabbitrah]

The chad 100+ year-old who rests and dances and prays and drinks wine and helps take care of her great grand-kids vs the virgin tech billionaire who eats 5 million supplements and uses his teenage son's blood to never die.

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

III. Public Relations

In which Alex makes a friend.

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Contents: discussion of death, partying

.....

“He’s really good at kissing ass when he wants to be.”  Alex lays sprawled on her dorm mattress, Thomas Mallory’s charity event playing on her laptop.

Cass blows a raspberry as she picks through her closet.  “Why don’t you like him?”

“We’ve spoken maybe five times since I met him at mom’s funeral.  I think he regrets taking me in.  I’m not a big enough charity to be worth his time.”

“Look on the bright side,” Cass says.  “You’re rich now.”  She shakes a skimpy red dress in front of her in question.

Alex shakes her head.  “He’s rich.  I’ll be rich if he dies.”

“When.”  Cass holds up another dress.

“When what?”

“When he dies.  You’ll be rich when he dies.  No one lives forever.”

“That’s rather morbid.”

“Sorry.  But it’s true.  Okay, time to stop moping.  We’ve got life to live.”  Cass tosses something at Alex.

Alex guesses it’s meant to be a dress, but she can’t figure out how the scrap of fabric is supposed to cover all the important bits.

Cass helps her into it and slaps her hand away as she tugs at the short hem.

“Why can’t I wear my dress?” Alex asks, not deterred from tugging.  “Mine fits me.”

“Because,” Cass says.  “You’ve been wearing the same one dress for eight years.  It still has the fake blood stains.  You’re rich now.  You could afford to buy a new one.”

“I’m not -”  Allex cuts off as Cass levels a Look at her.

“Just accept it.  You look great.”

“I’m going to freeze.”

“Beauty is pain.”

“Right.  I forgot.  At least I’ll die pretty.”

“Now you’re getting it.”  Cass grins.  “Let’s go make some friends.”

…

Alex can hear the party before she can see it.  Tuneless music pours into the street.

Cass disappears almost as soon as they arrive, leaving Alex to mingle with drunk strangers.  Her favorite activity.

Alex stands by a wall, holding an empty red cup to avoid unwanted attention.

“You’re supposed to make friends,” Cass says in passing before she disappears again in the crowd.

“Hey!  Baby billionaire!”  Some guy, Charles or Chad or something, pushes his way over.

Alex grimaces.

“Hey,” Charles-Chad says again when he’s closer.

Alex gives a curt nod and stares at his feet.  They stand awkwardly for a beat.  Charles-Chad is clearly waiting for Alex to say something.

When she doesn’t, he says, “Bet you’d have great parties, Baby Billionaire.”

Alex tilts her head.  Charles-Chad is distracted by someone in a dress somehow smaller than Alex’s.

Despite the cool air, Alex makes her way to the back porch.  It isn’t quiet, but the crushing noise from inside is dulled.  A couple makes out in a dark corner, and someone is passed out one of the deck chairs, but the porch is otherwise unoccupied.

Alex leans against the railing and fiddles with her cup.  She glances over as she is joined by deck chair guy.

“Did I wake you up?” she asks, though she knows she can’t compete with the noise from inside.

He smiles and ducks his head.  “Not many people make it out here,” he says to the yard.  “I’m here to give you your next quest.”

“Oh noble messenger,” Alex plays along, “I’m not sure I’m yet ready for a quest.”

“Never fear.  I have procured items to prepare you.”  He shrugs off a bright flannel shirt and holds it out to Alex.

“I can’t take your shirt!”

“Yes, you can.  You’re turning blue, and I’ve got three more layers to spare.”

Alex nods reluctantly but is grateful for the warmth.

“I’m Roger, by the way.  Roger Lemmings.  Certified quest bringer.  I live here, if you want to return the shirt.  Once you’re properly attired for your adventures, that is.”

“Roger Lemmings.”  Alex stuck her hand out from the too long sleeve.  “Alex Mallory.  Certified bringer of … of something cool.  Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

…

Alex can’t stop smiling.  Walking back to the dorm, trudging up three flights of stairs, getting ready for bed.  Her face is sore from smiling.

She hadn’t expected to have so much fun at the party.  But Roger Lemmings.  He was a surprise.

Alex falls asleep thinking about next time.

Cass gets back early the next morning, looking tired but content.  Her eyes light up when she sees Alex.

“What is that?” she points to the flannel hanging over the back of Alex’s desk chair and gives a little shimmy. 

“That’s a shirt,” Alex teases.  “I’m sure you’ve encountered them before.”

“This one’s new.”  Cass grins, all traces of tiredness gone.  “You didn’t have it last night.  Tell me everything.”

Alex grins back.  “I did what you said.  I made a friend.”

[absentabsolution]

One thing I’ve noticed in online dating discourse between the sexes is that men do project in many ways onto women. I’ve noticed that the most in this whole discussion of the mythical Chad/Alpha. A lot of dudes don’t get how most women don’t think their men are particularly “hot” in that sense of the word, and certainly not beautiful in an aesthetic sense.

While there are women who yes, choose on appearance, or your wallet, many women simply date guys because they like them, make them laugh, make them feel safe, usually a mix of those things, and not simply because he’s an Adonis or a billionaire.

The entire redpill space is a somewhat homoerotic and homosocial larp of men who don’t really understand women (or masculinity for that matter) and as a consequence don’t really regard them properly, and base their entire exercise of masculinity around things that get male approval — which is going to be a very hit or miss approach for actually getting with women at best, and is usually rather misogynistic and consumer oriented.

And to be clear I’m hardly some woke or PC person, I’m a troll who’s taking the time to be serious because I’m tired of seeing lonely men in a self defeating spiral of doing things that earn them validation from grifters who act as psuedo father figures and profit off of their loneliness.

Going to the manosphere for life advice is about as smart as relying on Tinder to find you a life partner — these things are only profitable as long as you’re alone because that keeps you as a paying customer. So there’s an incentive to give you advice that sounds true with minimal critical thinking “these women are whores who want me to be jacked and loaded,” which may seem true due to confirmation bias rather than “women are people who get into relationships for different reasons, maybe if I treat them as a person and use nuance, that will improve my outcomes.” Because that advice might actually get you to find someone, and that loses them a customer.

Another issue that we often fail to recognize is that dating discourse often takes place on social media platforms whose algorithms are designed around interactions. The best way to farm interactions and engagement is via publicity and controversy, which means that social media will rarely be a hotbed of nuanced and well reasoned takes and will instead be a mix of cynical garbage that’s meant to appeal to one ideological extreme and aggravate another.

At the end of the day we’re all humans who want to be loved because we’re social beings, however we have a fear of rejection and being hurt and we often come with scars from childhood or past relationships. There is no grand conspiracy, there is no quick method of success. Relationships take work and nuance because people are complicated. Condensing an eternal being into a tinder bio or a witty one liner while half drunk in the club is never going to be the solution to finding a partner any more than buying a Bugatti will be.

Peace and Love