#excess wealth

[master-sass-blast]

I HAVE MADE MORE SEVIKA ART!

BEHOLD IT WITH YOUR EYES!!!

Say one word about the ugly curtains and I will do unspeakable things to you sdlkfjsldfjsdlkfjldsfjk.

Close ups and artist commentary beneath the cut!

God, I struggled on this one. I started this piece back in July of this year. It did spend some time sitting while I stared at it in a deep state of ennui, so it's not like I was actively working on it for *counts on fingers* three-ish months.

This is what I get for trying to make a whole fucking scene instead of just drawing a character with no background.

I am pleased with how everything came out, but I still have a lot of frustrations with this piece. A lot of the perspective is off, the floorboards got lost because I noodled with them too much and you can't erase marker, and the rug is just bad sldjfdslkfjldskfjdlskjf. Still, I had fun (mostly) doing it!

A close up of our lady! (The colors got really washed out on my phone, but the warm filter made everything too red, so *shrugs*.) I wanted to stick her in clothes and an environment that was a complete antithesis to her character -soft, feminine, opulent. The baby pink was my first choice, and while I don't regret it, I had second thoughts (after putting the color down, naturally) about picking green instead because of its association with money. I think baby pink, however, was the right choice in the end.

I went with body jewelry like I did for her formal look. However, I stuck with something less opulent this time because I wanted more focus to be on the lingerie and lace. The glove she's wearing was supposed to be sheer -like her stockings-because I thought it was cool, but it didn't translate well on paper, alas.

I was so excited to do her scars, but they got lost/muted in the shading/shadowing under her arm. I tried to use some acrylic paint to boost them up, but they uh... got too boosted sdlkfjdslfkjldskjflskjf.

Arm close up! I hated drawing and detailing this! There's a reason I hid her arm under a cape in the first piece I drew of her!

I didn't want to just draw her "pre-explosion," though, because there's a lot of prosthetic erasure in fandom (in general) already. The highlighted bits were done with metallic gold paint. Also pls appreciate the lil fiddly scenery details I worked very hard on them sdlfkjdslfkjdslfkjdslf.

Materials used: water and alcohol based markers, colored pencils, and acrylic paint for highlights and details.

Lessons learned: spend more time plotting the background before jumping into drawing the character dslfkjdslfkjdslkfj. Also, pick a color palette first.

Tagging @abitohoney and @sevikasleftpussyflap. Also, Professor Flap has requested that I draw something of Sevika spanking a Reader insert. I've never drawn NSFW art, so I don't know if I will, but it did make me think about what y'all would like to see. I can't promise I'll take every suggestion/request, but if you have ideas, feel free to send them my way and I'll see what I can do.

[thespoonisvictory]

also idc I love the citadel and all its wizard hubris I love the intersection of innovation and horror and progress and crushing others underfoot AND also clothes that magically put them on themselves and Citadel Made bouncy balls and secret societies and universities!!! and espresso and arcane discovery and and and

[the-black-manor]

The Little Moments

Summary: You enjoy a good fucking in the tub with your master.

Warnings: Cervix fucking, unprotected sex, cnc.

Kinks: Vampire, oversized cock, excessive cum, cum inflation, breeding, shower/bath, master/pet, dom/sub.

Characters: You and your loving Master.

Words: 2,632

More writing on Patreon.

Soft classical music draws you subconsciously to your master's bedroom, where you pad silently on bare feet across the dark wood floor to the bathroom door. You don't bother knocking before you turn the brass knob and step inside. Within the dimly lit room sits your master in a large, black claw-foot tub, whose golden accents have worn and faded through the many years it's belonged to him. If you didn't know any better, you might think that your master was sleeping. His pale skin seemed almost to glow as the moonlight filtered in through the tall window opposite you to light upon his face. He looked like a statue, chiseled expertly from marble by the deft hands of a master sculptor.

You were suddenly very aware of your own presence in the room and how much of a blemish you seemed to be amidst this picturesque scene. For the briefest moment, you wanted to sneak out of the bathroom without your master knowing you were ever there. But you stayed. He already knew you were there. He always knew when you were there.

"Master?" you called quietly.

He didn't respond, only lifted his hand out of the water and held it out toward you. He liked to wear gloves, your master, and while no one else knew why, you did. His hands bore the sign of his age. They were a roadmap through the many centuries he had been alive. Deep lines crossed his wide palms like canyons, and his fingers were thick and long, tipped with crimson nails. You padded forward and rested your hand in his. His skin was gray, almost translucent here, thin, and pulled too tightly over pronounced tendons and bone, like a corpse. He is a corpse. You knew this, and yet, despite the lack of a heartbeat, the absence of breath in his lungs, and the cool of his skin, he always seemed so very alive to you. Warm, despite no blood to flow through his veins, with bright eyes and a smile that could bring gods to their knees. Alive, dead, undead, it didn't matter. These were just words to you; they held no weight. He was perfect.

His fingers curled around yours, firmly, but not tightly. Pink peonies floated on the surface of the water, and the faint aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, and other warm spices drifted into the air, carried by the steam. He liked to use oils in his baths to keep his skin from becoming leathery, and this one was one of your favorites. The water was so still, it looked like glass, and didn't obscure any of what your master had to offer. Long legs with strong thighs, a thin waist and stomach with just the barest definition of abs partially hidden by dark hair leading down to his crotch, where his cock rested, always semi-firm, between his legs. His chest was covered in the same dark hair as his belly, strong and toned, and he had muscular arms that he, unfortunately, liked to keep hidden beneath dress shirts made of expensive fabrics.

Your gaze wandered toward his, where he peeked at you through one half-open eye, a smirk on his delicate lips. Your face heat up in embarrassment, and you looked away. He only chuckled, a deep reverberation through the room akin to the first rumbles of thunder that precede a storm.

"Are you going to get in, or not?" he asked, and your heart skipped a beat. His voice was music.

He gave your hand a squeeze and you looked back at him. No matter how many times you had slept together, how many times he had touched you, how many times he had looked at you with those pale green eyes, it always felt like the first time, and you felt how David must have felt when he stood before Goliath. You were so small in comparison to this man, this creature, that stood taller than life.

All the same, you nodded, then lifted a foot over the edge of the tub. Your master took very hot baths, but a dip of your toe confirmed that it had cooled enough for you to enjoy the water comfortably.

"Can I sit on your cock?' you asked sheepishly, like a child asking for a second cookie.

"Of course," he smiled, and sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight.

He knew you would ask. You always do.

He scooted back to make room for you and helped you keep your balance as you stepped into the tub. You settled between his legs. The water reached well past your chest, and you could feel the weight of his manhood on your lower back. You knew he would need a moment to get himself ready, so you sat upright, making sure not to obstruct his access to himself. His fingers brushed against you, sending a chill up your spine, as he curled them around his cock. The stillness of the water was broken as he began to stroke himself, creating little waves, one of which carried a fluffy peony right to you. You cupped the flower gently in your hands, and lifted it to your nose, where you breathed deeply, picking its scent out from the rest. You closed your eyes, enjoying the heat of the water and the soft melody drifting through the air.

Your master groaned behind you, and his legs tensed around yours. It never took him long to get ready. You imagined it wouldn't take you long either, if you were always ready to breed someone like he was. Sometimes you wished you had the ability to have sex for hours on end and still be aroused when the session was over. Other times, you saw the look on his face, and knew that he was only barely winning the fight with his instincts. You saw how he would shift throughout the day to try and get comfortable, how he would squeeze his legs together to try and give his greedy cock some friction. In those times, you pitied him. You wished you could give him more of what he needed. You'd told him that you would never say no to him, that he could do whatever he wanted to you, but still he held back. If he didn't, he would break you, and so he was never truly satisfied.

You felt his cock throb against your back, and your own legs clenched in response.

"You can sit in my lap now," he said.

You set the flower back in the water, then used both sides of the tub to lift yourself up just enough for him to position himself beneath you. His hands found your hips and he pulled you backward. Your arms shook as you held your position, waiting for him to line up. His cockhead found its way between your folds and prodded at your entrance. He wiggled, only ever so slightly, but his knee collided with your leg, and you lost your grip on the tub.

You collapsed onto him with your full weight, and his cock slid inside without warning. You cried out and tried to stand, but his arms snaked around your torso like prison bars. He laid back and pulled you with him, holding you firmly against his chest. Your eyes watered and you clenched around him in pain. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and gently rubbed your stomach.

"Hush, love, hush. Stay still. The pain will pass."

You relaxed as best you could and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Almost instantly, the pain began to subside. Your master insisted over and over that whatever magic or powers he had weren't for healing, but you knew that his touch could relieve pain at the very least. You had experienced it more than once.

You whined and turned your head to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His soft beard, neatly trimmed and shaped, brushed against your forehead.

"There, that's it," he purred.

One of his hands traveled up your body to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them around between his fingers, while his other hand found its way between your legs and gave your clit the same attention. Just when you began to think that you were getting used to the size of him, you were reminded just how big he really was. His cock alone made you feel full. He stretched you well, and even while his cockhead was pressed hard against your cervix, he wasn't completely inside of you. You could feel the thick vein beneath his girth massaging your g-spot as he adjusted to get comfortable.

You hummed and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into him, to give yourself to him fully. You were limp in his arms, a toy to be played with, nothing more, and he took full advantage of that. His nails were more akin to claws, but he kept them filed down for you, and you were silently grateful for it as he worked your clit. He moved his fingers just right, and the pleasure that traveled up your spine was like lightning, causing your back to arch involuntarily..

You whined as he pulled you back down with a strong arm and a chuckle.

"Already so sensitive to my touch, and I've only just begun."

You knew he was grinning without needing to see it. He liked to tease you, and he was very good at it, and you had come to know exactly how he responded to certain things. In this case, a grin was predictable. You only wished you could see it, see those fangs that he cared so diligently for.

You buried your face further into the crook of his neck, breathing him in as he rubbed your stomach, massaged your clit, and began moving gently in and out of you. Pain came first, as it always did, but quickly gave way to pleasure as his cockhead kissed your cervix with each thrust, and the girth of his cock filled you deliciously. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and nuzzled against you with a content hum. When you finally managed to contain your squirming to the occasional buck of hips and tensing of abs, he released his hold around you and brought his hand up to card his fingers through your hair. He took a fistful and pulled gently, and you moaned in reply.

He found a comfortable pace for you and settled into it, moving quickly, but gently, providing just the right amount of friction inside of you. Paired with the slow, almost lazy attention to your clit, it took no time at all for the embers of arousal to ignite in your core, burning low, but hot.

You closed your eyes and released a small whine, to which he responded with a groan of pleasure.

“You always feel so good… You hold me just right, pet.”

“Master…” you breathed as your walls clenched around him tightly. “I’m close… Please fill me. Please, Master.”

He pressed his lips to your temple and you felt him smirk as he placed a gentle kiss there. Wordlessly, he picked up the pace, and water splashed over the edge of the tub. Strong waves carried the peonies over as well, until it was just you and your master in the tub, with him thrusting into you hard. Your breathing picked up as the coil in your stomach tightened and tightened ready to spring. Your master groaned again, and his cock was hot inside of you. With each growl he let past his teeth, your climax came closer and closer, with each moan and whine, the spring tightened, until he was panting in your ear as he fucked you and you were milking his cock with your walls. 

“Oh god… Master… I’m gonna cum. Please can I cum?”

“Fuck, yes…” he breathed. “Cum for me sweetheart. Milk me.”

His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, and you cried out as your climax tore through your body. You tried to arch your back, but his arms were wound tightly around you, holding you fast.

“Fuck… fuck,” you swore as you felt him still, pushing hard against your cervix. 

Pleasure clouded your vision as he thrust farther inside, forcing his cockhead to open your cervix and push into your womb. The edges of your vision darkened as his cock throbbed, unloading thick ribbons of hot cum directly into your thirsty uterus. He growled loudly as his climax overtook him, and he held you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. Still you came, waves of pleasure washing over you in time with the throbbing of his thick cock. 

You could feel it moving inside of you, pulsing, and the warmth of his cum seemed almost hotter than the water around you. You squeezed your eyes shut to stop the room from spinning and rested a hand over your stomach. It began to grow beneath your palm as your womb filled with his seed, stretching to accommodate as he filled you with more and more, until you were bulging and braindead. All you could think was “Yes, Daddy, yes!” as your stomach swelled like a balloon, spurring your orgasm on.

After what seemed like ages, your master let out a whine and sucked in a deep breath. He relaxed back and you fell, limp, on top of him. Your hand slid from your stomach, which was so large, the top of it sat well above water-level. One of his strong hands replaced your own, and he rubbed soft, comforting circles over your swollen belly, soothing the taut skin there and bringing you down from your orgasm.

You couldn’t move, and as you gasped for air, you became very aware of his cock still nestled firmly inside of your cervix. 

“M-master…” you whined. 

“Hush, darling.”

A moan escaped your lips when he shifted to get more comfortable, and he chuckled.

“I know, darling. Doesn’t it feel nice?”

You nodded. “Mmm… feels nice…”

“Good, we’re going to stay here for a while, okay?”

You nodded again and he kissed your temple once more. 

“My good pet. My sweet little cum-hungry toy,” he purred. “You and I are firmly knotted together, aren’t we?” he mused. “Well, that’s no trouble to me. It looks like we’re just going to have to stay here until I soften enough to pull out of you.”

You whined.

“B-but..”

“But I’m never soft?” he smirked. “Yes, I suppose that could be a problem… for you.”

He settled in, holding you and stroking your big belly with a smile on his red lips as you clenched around him. Each movement he made was a mix of agony and ecstasy, and you couldn’t stop your walls from reacting in kind. It wasn’t long until he was hard again, filling you full with his cock, stretching you wonderfully. He was inside of you fully, every last inch of him, and he used this rare opportunity to his advantage, rutting into you gently.

While your eyes drooped and sleep tugged at the back of your mind, he used your body to pleasure himself. You didn’t complain. He felt amazing, and the spring in your core was tightening again. You would do anything for your master, including remaining thoroughly stuck on him so that he could use and fill you as he pleased. You sighed and relaxed back. There was no fight in you, not that you wanted to fight it anyway. You smiled as he moved inside of you. It was your purpose in life to please him. You were, after all, his good pet.

His sweet little cum-hungry toy.

[katnissandpeetamellark]

I saw someone say it was weird the fashion was so different from TBOSAS to THG

like it’s been 60 years do you really think they’d have stayed the same ?

[akkivee]

The Yamada Family's Special Curry: Hypmic Curry Drama Track TL

Jiro: A curry battle huh…? They sure came up with a weird idea this time around…

Ichiro: I also think it’s a strange concept, but I still want to prove we’re the best. Will you two help me out?

Jiro & Saburo: Of course!!

Ichiro: Glad to hear it!

Saburo: We’re used to making curry so I think we should get started immediately!

Ichiro: Ah, about that… *places down a plate* I actually went ahead and made a prototype curry!

Saburo: As expected, Ichi-nii, you prepared something beforehand!

Ichiro: If we’re going to win over everyone, we can’t just use our usual curry. I was hoping you guys could help me perfect the ultimate curry!

Saburo: Then we’ll try the prototype so we can start ameliorating any flaws it may have!!

Jiro: A-Ameli…?? I don’t get what he just said but you can leave its flavour to me!!

Ichiro: Thanks, you two! Then, why don’t you go ahead and give it a taste?

Jiro & Saburo: Absolutely! *eats*

Jiro & Saburo: Mmm??

Jiro: This isn’t the flavour of our usual curry…! Did he really forget the most important part…??

Saburo: It’s greasy and tastes terrible…! I don’t want to say something Ichi-nii made is unpleasant but…!!

Ichiro: So how is it??

Jiro: I-I’ve never had anything like it before…

Saburo: W-what did you put in it?

Ichiro: *starts bringing out ingredients* So for the roux, I decided not to use anything you can buy from the store and made a completely original spice blend! I also used domestic A5 graded black beef and fatty mackerel!

Jiro: Yeah…?

Saburo: I see…

*phone rings*

Ichiro: Sorry, I gotta take this, it’s a work call. …Hello, how may I help you?

Jiro: *downs a glass of water* Hey Saburo, what did Nii-chan do to this curry??

Saburo: How am I supposed to know?? I can only assume he was so focused on beating the competition, failed to give it any rational thought.

Jiro: Damn it…! Even though Nii-chan’s usual curry is already the most delicious…!

Saburo: My thoughts exactly! He didn’t need to use these fancy ingredients, Ichi-nii’s curry is already exquisite…!

Jiro: We gotta bring Nii-chan back to his senses!

Saburo: As loathe as I am to work hand in hand with incompetence, there’s no other way…!

Ichiro: Sorry, guys, I’m back! So, what should I add to improve the curry?

Jiro & Saburo: *nods at each other*

Jiro: Aniki, I’ll give it to you straight. No matter what you add, this ain’t gonna be our curry!

Ichiro: What??

Jiro: I get where you’re coming from, but you shouldered this by yourself without even talking to us… Isn’t that messed up?

Saburo: I feel similarly to Jiro. If we’re going up against the other divisions, shouldn’t our bonds as brothers shine through?

Ichiro: Our bonds as brothers…?

Jiro & Saburo: And so, we should use our usual curry!

Ichiro: But, if we use our usual curry, wouldn’t you be able to tell the roux uses store bought curry and ingredients that were on sale? If we want to beat the others, then—

Jiro: But that’s what makes it our curry!

Saburo: Just like with our rap as the Buster Bros!!!, there wouldn’t be any point to winning if it’s not who we are!

Ichiro: You guys… *eats the curry* …Yeah, you’re right, this isn’t our curry. I understand what you mean!

Jiro & Saburo: …!!

Ichiro: Okay, let’s head out to the store to buy the stuff we usually use in our curry!

Jiro: Yeah! Once we hit up the shopping district, I’ll find the best bargain after a few rounds around the shops!

Saburo: According to my research, the type of roux that’s favoured across multiple age generations would be one that’s a bit sweet and hits the medium range in spiciness!

Ichiro: Thanks! I’m counting on you guys!

Saburo: Oh, there’s one more thing…

Jiro: What? We’re about to head out.

Saburo: No, it’s just, since we’re going to have to sell it, doesn’t that mean we need to come up with a name for our curry? I think the usual naming conventions revolve around the main ingredients used in the product.

Jiro: We got vegetables, fish, meat… If we go off of that, we’ve just got a variety curry.

Ichiro: We don’t even have to worry about that! No matter the ingredients, this is the “Yamada Family’s Special Curry”! And with it, the three of us will beat all the rest!!

[featherssideblog]

motorcity / transformers crossover my beloved . . . I cannot stop thinking about it. Ah heck. Just gonna mumble about it over here untagged for a bit.

Mike and Dutch tow a Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse back to the Burner’s garage. *Admiring oohs and aahs all around from the gang of automobile enthusiasts.* In the early twenty first century, that Bugatti model was one of the fastest street legal cars in the world. This particular vehicle has several incomprehensible mods going on under the hood, components that none of the Burners have ever seen before. And the parts that are recognizable are just - wrong.

Chuck opens the fuse box and stares in bafflement at the segmented metal plates stacked neatly in the place of actual fuses.

“The battery doesn’t have terminals,” Julie says. “I’m not even sure it’s a battery.”

Texas leans in next to them and taps the engine block with a wrench “I don’t need to understand how the dang thing works to use it! Let’s just take this out and hook it up to Stronghorn, Dutch!”

The Burners are shoved back as the car somehow flexes and bends. The hood of the Bugatti snaps shut with a firm clack. And it drives away.

*cue chase sequence at over 200 mph ending with a disgruntled Drift transforming and declaring their driving to be “truly remarkable for organics”*

[slaygentford]

Thinking about the housewife comment thinking about that smashed macaron and how it was almost certainly Louis sighing and scraping it off the wall. thinking about "clean up the mess". Thinking about both a spouse’s and child’s entitlement to the time and effort of the person in the house who assumes that "housewife" role out of desire but also necessity........... the grind of daily intimacy in a family... we should repair the fireplace

[weirderscience]

doodle of some first generation style genelines that prioritized style over function. you can still see these patterns emerge in the modern era, and its not unheard of for well preserved citadels to still have the technology to make designer babies like this. however a lot of loamcats find it impractical, wasteful, and sacrilegious (or adjacent) to use the technology for something so surface-level

[topnotchquark]

saw u say pato is a delhi boy in spirit and literally laughed for 17 minutes!!!! also omfg did not know u were from here what are the odds

Look at Pato and tell me he doesn't look like he drives an MG hector down delhi-gurgaon expressway at full speed. This man was built to inherit a family business of lighting fixtures/washing machines/wedding clothes in Chandni chowk but due to an accident of birth he ended up open wheel racing in Mexico. I can literally see him fighting cops on Shanti Path. He is getting into road rage related hijinks and trying to flex his wealth in the argument. Literally he is partying somewhere in 36 Avenue in gurgaon on a Saturday (derogatory). He is matching with ig baddies on bumble and taking them to Khan market perch for the first date. He is bathing himself in dior sauvage everyday and he shops at the city walk H&M. He's even 5'6, which is the average delhi guy height.

Also ur right lol I didn't expect to see another delhi person on motogpblr but I suppose we are everywhere, glad to see you! (I'm not from Delhi though, I only moved here for work a few years ago). Tell me which other motorsport personality seems delhi to you, I think Jorge Martin from MotoGP also seems very gurgaon to me too lol.

[adaine-party-wizard]

i am so like horribly morbidly fascinated with the american phenomenon of homecoming and the amount of proms and dresses. like in canada there’s a lot of bleed of cultural stuff from the states but we don’t have any of this to the extent you do. we have senior prom. i didn’t know homecoming was a thing until uni and that’s more like a drinking excuse. but seeing all of these gowns and the hair and the makeup and the shoes and the excess and i cannot help but think about the just massive financial cost or like burden of participating in this but also the social cost of not. you have the get a new dress and get all pretty for homecoming or else you’ll be socially ridiculed. same for prom. for like four years it seems. that’s so excessive. the pageantry the putting on just the excess of it all really. i hate it but i can’t look away i will never understand but i desperately want to i am horrified i am fascinated

[byanyan]

byan might be an awful, violent little creachur, but if they were to ever somehow end up with a lot of money, they'd donate most of it

[tomorrowusa]

The richest 1% flaunt their excessive wealth by polluting on the rest of us. These mega wealthy individuals have been dubbed "the polluter elite".

The richest 1% of humanity is responsible for more carbon emissions than the poorest 66%, with dire consequences for vulnerable communities and global efforts to tackle the climate emergency, a report says. The most comprehensive study of global climate inequality ever undertaken shows that this elite group, made up of 77 million people including billionaires, millionaires and those paid more than US$140,000 (£112,500) a year, accounted for 16% of all CO2 emissions in 2019 – enough to cause more than a million excess deaths due to heat, according to the report. For the past six months, the Guardian has worked with Oxfam, the Stockholm Environment Institute and other experts on an exclusive basis to produce a special investigation, The Great Carbon Divide. [ ... ] The Oxfam report shows that while the wealthiest 1% tend to live climate-insulated, air-conditioned lives, their emissions – 5.9bn tonnes of CO2 in 2019 – are responsible for immense suffering. Using a “mortality cost” formula – used by the US Environmental Protection Agency, among others – of 226 excess deaths worldwide for every million tonnes of carbon, the report calculates that the emissions from the 1% alone would be enough to cause the heat-related deaths of 1.3 million people over the coming decades. Over the period from 1990 to 2019, the accumulated emissions of the 1% were equivalent to wiping out last year’s harvests of EU corn, US wheat, Bangladeshi rice and Chinese soya beans. The suffering falls disproportionately upon people living in poverty, marginalised ethnic communities, migrants and women and girls, who live and work outside or in homes vulnerable to extreme weather, according to the research. [ ... ] “The super-rich are plundering and polluting the planet to the point of destruction and it is those who can least afford it who are paying the highest price,” said Chiara Liguori, Oxfam’s senior climate justice policy adviser. The twin crises of climate and inequality were “fuelling one another”, she said.

The Top 1% may be bad, but the Top 0.1% are proportionately far worse.

The report says this is bad news for the climate on multiple levels. The extravagant carbon footprint of the 0.1% – from superyachts, private jets and mansions to space flights and doomsday bunkers – is 77 times higher than the upper level needed for global warming to peak at 1.5C. The corporate shares of many super-rich are highly polluting. This elite also wield enormous and growing political power by owning media organisations and social networks, hiring advertising and PR agencies and lobbyists, and mixing socially with senior politicians, who are also often members of the richest 1%, according to the report.

By owning large media entities, they exert great influence on public policy by manipulating the news narrative. We're looking at you Rupert Murdoch and Elon Musk.

They want to distract you with irrelevant trivia rather than let you focus on their complicity in the problems they themselves perpetuate. Culture wars and glib irrelevancies like "but her emails!" and "Biden's age" are components in the toolkit of the climate-denying industrial complex.

[the-black-manor]

MASTERLIST

A collection of my erotic short stories.

More on Patreon.

Work Break - Oral with your boss beneath his desk while he talks with someone.

The Little Moments - Soft sex in the tub with your vampire master.

Bad Decisions - Your first intimate encounter with your vampire master.

Hunger - Breeding drabble.

Midnight Guest - Vampire sneaks into your room one night. Noncon.

Within Temptation - A demon takes advantage of a young virgin priest when the priest comes to investigate the church it's living in. Noncon.

[muddypolitics]

(via MacKenzie Scott Doubles Donations in Spite of Elon Musk's Accusations)

Elon Musk accused Jeff Bezos' ex-wife, MacKenzie Scott, of destroying Western civilization with her philanthropy. Then she quietly doubled her donations.

[orionsangel86]

I've always been a bit obsessed with the 18th century - the lavish costumes, the excessive wealth, the huge class divide and ordinary people rising up against the ruling class (US and French revolutions, Golden Age of Piracy, etc) but I realised that its not just me. TV seems to be having a bit of an 18th century obsession as well atm. All my fave shows are either set in the 18th century or at least have scenes, flashbacks, or short stories set during it.

For example:

Outlander

The Great

Harlots

Our Flag Means Death

Marie Antoinette

Even Good Omens, The Sandman and BBC ghosts have 18th century based scenes.

Plus there are two exhibitions in London this summer based around 18th century fashion and Georgian art which I am visiting.

All in all a good year for an 18th century fan!

[okidenshi]

Y'know when i was younger I used to think "Why don't really really rich people just use their money to fix huge problems like world hunger or poverty??" and then it hit me that a person usually only becomes that rich because they don't actually care about people or humanity as a whole.