#peruvian lives matter

[carito-dorito]

WE ARE NOT TERRUCOS WE ARE NOT EVEN FOR CASTILLO ANYMORE WE WANT FREEDOM

INDIGENOUS TEENS, CHILDREN, WOMEN ARE DEAD NOW

THE DEATH TOLL GOES BEYOND 60 PEOPLE AND WE'RE THE SECOND COUNTRY WITH MORE DEATHS IN PROTESTS AFTER COLOMBIA

EVERY MISSED AND DEAD COP AND PEOPLE ARE IMMEDIATELY DISMISSED BY THE CONGRESS (2021-VRAEM AND CURRENTLY WITH THE COP WHO WAS BURNED ALIVE) THEY WANT TO PUT ALL THE BLAME TO THE PROTESTERS

THE ARMY AND COPS ARE EVERYWHERE READY TO "PROTECT DEMOCRACY"

DINA IS THE PUPPET OF THE ALT RIGHT THAT HAS CENSORED RAPISTS, MURDERERS AND DEFENDED THEM

THEY ARE THE REASON WHY WE HAVE STRICT ANTICHOICE LAWS

THERE ARE COPS AND SOLDIERS ON THE STREET

IF YOU SAY YOU CARE FOR MINORITIES PLEASE REBLOG, REBLOG AND SHARE THIS EVERYWHERE

[jesusislord3333]

[yeonjuns-beanie]

As It Was

warnings: 18+, weed usage, smut, unprotected sex, soulmate au(kind of), little hatefuckin before real fucking, reader is a brat, mentions of suicide, oral(f receiving, logan is an EATER), claws come out when he…, little bit of primal play, breeding kink, daddy kink, implied age gap cuz i think it’s hot, im prolly gonna write him like an animal, think that’s it!! LOL

Logan Howlett x female!reader

summary: after saving his world from extinction, wade brings home a wolverine. you feel a tether to him but can't quite figure out what it is, but logan does. as the days go by you slowly chip away at the wall between you two and things slowly return to as it was.

word count: 4.5k

title is inspired by the hozier song of the same name....

It’s been three months now and you still couldn’t figure out the pull you felt toward Logan. The moment Wade brought him through the door, Mary Puppins in hand, you felt a tie to him. Now, it was as if the Red String of Fate was punishing you for not remembering your connection with him. It was haunting, aggravating, and pushing you towards sexual frustration because no matter how much you tried to remember, your thoughts would instantly become clouded with your attraction to him. He was brooding, grumpy, and humorous when he wanted to. The stoic exterior of him was just that, a shell. You just weren’t quite sure how to crack his nut yet.

You were sat in the main room of the apartment grinding up some green to pack a morning bowl. As you were getting ready to fill the glass you heard Wade’s voice echo through the apartment.

“You always grind Aunt Mary so hard. Don’t you think she would like to be loved tenderly, sugarbear?”

“And the last time I gave you the grinder there might as well have been a whole nug in the bowl. You damn near burned half my stash.”

“You’d think living with three addicts would be fun, but it’s more like babysitting toddlers fighting to see who can ruin my day first. Spoiler: it’s everyone.”

You chuckled, slotting the bowl into the joint of the bong, and pointed at Wade with it.

“You wanna hit this or not?”

“‘Course I do. How could I pass up a wake n bake with my girl?”

Wade jogged over to you, plopping dramatically on the seat next to you. Rolling your eyes, you took the first hit letting Wade finish off the remaining smoke in the shaft. Exhaling you spoke while the smoke billowed out of your mouth.

“Wade, baby, I love you, but I’m not your girl. What about Nessa?”

Before he spoke, he had his coughing fit like clockwork. Every time, no matter the method, resulted in a cough so bad he looked like a drooling dog. It was free entertainment but you tried your hardest not to laugh out loud because every time you did, it made it worse.

You couldn’t hold it

It was like watching a court jester and when Wade finally caught his breath he was staring off at a wall in the apartment mindlessly reaching for the glass. When his hand was left fondling the air reaching nothing, you let your laugh echo through the apartment.

“You sure you want another one?”

“Just gimme the weed, gorgeous. And to answer your question. Vanessa and I are on a break of sorts, but I’m wounded that I now have lost you too. It’s cause I brought Peanut here isn’t it?”

Wade was feigning heartbreak, just busting your balls in an effort to see if you’d crack. Your relationship was always like this and that was probably why you two got along so well. Nothing was ever too serious and yet still completely vulnerable. As wild as he was, Wade was a safe space for you and for some reason this morning, you felt like sharing.

“Perhaps.”

His head whipped so fast you thought it’d fly off. Coupled with his dramatic gasp and chest grab you nearly regretted your admission.

“I knew it!”

“Will you keep it down, it’s not that serious.”

“Au contraire. This is probably the most serious thing since Blind Al ran out of Peruvian marching powder.”

Rolling your eyes, you swallowed your pride as you knew Wade wouldn’t let it go until you told him every detail possible. As much as you pretended you hated divulging this information, it was kinda nice to let out to somebody. You’d been wrestling with so many feelings since Wade brought Logan to stay with you guys and the weight of it was becoming painful.

“Well, he’s hot obviously.”

“Tell me something more interesting, we all disrespectfully gawk at the honey badger.” Wade quipped.

“The problem is I feel this weird attachment to him. Like I’ve known him before. Maybe we met before they tried their best to wipe my memory, but I can’t shake this one. I’m drawn to him but he won’t let anyone get close enough to figure that out.”

You had your own run-in with the TVA a few years ago and instead of dumping you into the void, they were nice enough to plop you in Earth-10005. You were grateful considering the stories of this barren garbage heap that Wade and Logan told you about but you couldn’t remember why they sent you here in the first place.

You had no real memory of your life before this or what you did that fucked you up so badly. It always haunted you. Maybe you were a murderer. A merciless killer and that’s why they snagged you. A similar fate to Wade’s but they decided somewhere that you weren’t equipped for the job and the TVA orphaned you to another universe.

You weren’t complaining, you loved the life that you had now you just wanted to remember the rest of you. You were roaming this universe, a husk of your former self and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t bother you, it did. It kept you up at night. Until Logan walked through the apartment door.

Slowly, things started to reveal themselves to you but only in a dream. You were forced to piece together your life with the shattered fragments of what your dreamscape gave you to work with. You’d wake up from the most vivid dreams only to remember one instance where you were walking down a street, the sky pouring rain in a godly attempt to cleanse you. Your hands were always coated in crimson when you looked down.

It’d come in flashes and it’d end just as fast. You were patient with yourself but a lot of times you tried to drown out the feeling with various substances. Weed being your vice of choice as alcohol made you suffer. Making you wish that an attempt of self-mutilation or the bittersweet release of dancing with death while your wrists stained the floor garnet succeeded.

They never did.

So you tried your best to make peace with your life and you were doing alright until Logan showed up. Now the universe was mocking you. Testing to see if you’d slip up and forget everything you learned.

“I think he’d like to figure you out, y/n. Do with that what you will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wade shrugged his shoulders handing you the bong back. As he stood up you took one last hit and left the glass piece on the table. As you exhaled, Logan’s voice pierced through the silence.

“Jesus. D’ya have to stink up the apartment with that shit? Can’t go outside?”

“Easy, peanut. The art of the wake n bake is sacred. Plus, talk to the gardener if you have requests to make, not me.”

Wade pointed to you as he wandered off into the kitchen and you reached for the bong motioning it to Logan.

“Wanna hit?”

Logan hit you with a short ‘no’ and it almost hurt your feelings. Your gaze flicked over to Wade who was mouthing to you something you couldn’t quite make out but he was pointing to Logan while doing it. Your brain spazzed for a moment before coming up with a response as you stood.

“You want coffee or something, Lo?”

“Sure, kid.”

You walked into the kitchen with Wade and started whispering to him.

“What the fuck? Of course, he comes out while I’m blowing up the house.”

“I don’t see why you’re worried, he doesn’t seem upset.”

You turned around trying your best not to look suspicious.

“Yes, the fuck he does. I’m gonna fuck this up before I even get the chance to start-”

“-You two morons know I can hear you, right?”

You hung your head in defeat finishing up the two cups before setting one in front of Logan and holding yours while you stood. The air was thick, but not uncomfortable. It just felt like everyone needed to get something off their chest and didn’t know how to start. Before you opened your mouth to speak, Wade’s voice cut you off while he sent a text message.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you lovebirds to it. I’ve got a pegging date.”

Again. Mocking you. The universe seemed to just have it out for you and apparently, today was the day of honesty. You took a seat across from Logan wondering where to direct the conversation.

“You hungry? I can make us something.”

“I’m alright kid, not too keen on stoner food in the morning.”

“Hey, I’m still a good cook when I’m cooked. I just wanted to offer.” You paused.

“Also if you have a problem with it, I’ll find a new spot. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“No need. Just giving you guys a hard time. We all have something to cope with our shit.”

You nodded knowing he was referencing his drinking habit, or problem if we were feeling honest. You left your coffee cup on the table and stood up, wanting to Irish goodbye in your own home. But you didn’t want to add any more bricks to this wall even though it felt like the silence was already doing so.

“Well, um. I’m gonna chill out for a bit in my room if you need anything.”

He hummed to let you know he heard you and you walked down the hallway to your bedroom before stopping in your tracks. Something possessed you and you had to get this out. The test was walking away and if you finished that journey into your bedroom and locked the door, nothing would be resolved. Turning on your heel, you walked back into the kitchen and faced Logan.

“Why do you hate me?”

He nearly choked on his coffee, the noise echoing in the cup.

“What?”

You sighed, trying to not feel silly about your admission.

“Why do you hate me? And if you don’t, why do you act like it? It’s so hard to get through to you and it feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall.”

“Kid-”

“And stop ‘kid’ing me! If it’s out of endearment it doesn’t feel like it.”

Your heart rate was rising and you could feel your skin getting hot. The months of pent up emotions were finally boiling over and you couldn’t stop it. You needed to know why.

“What is it then, y/n?”

“Why can’t I get through to you? Every time I try, you shut me down by being curt with me and I’m left with the same feeling as before. I can’t shake this feeling that I know you and I can’t even get close to you without you shoving me away like I have a fatal disease. So why, Logan? All I wanna know is why?”

He sighed knowing there was no easy way to escape this.

“Kid–sorry. It’s complicated. I know that feeling. I feel it too, but I know why it’s there and I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

Again?

“What do you mean again?”

Logan sighed and said nothing. Hanging his head in what you thought was shame but most definitely could be avoidance. It frustrated you even more so because why couldn’t he just talk to you?

“Here we go again, nothing?! Is it so hard to just say what this is?”

“It’s not that simple, bub.”

You scoffed and turned around to walk to your room. You needed to clear your head because it was more than apparent that a solution would not be provided for you. Logan didn’t have the courage to reveal what he knew so a walk away from him would have to suffice.

“Y/n! Where are you going?”

“I need to clear my head since obviously you don’t have the gall to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Slipping your shoes on, you tried to move past Logan but he was blocking the doorway.

“Move.”

“Y/n. Just-”

“I said move, Logan.”

One wall after another you kept hitting, except this one was physically him. He nearly filled up the doorway and his frame was imposing. You tried to figure out how you’d slip past him but you were so heated that you were about to settle for dramatics before he moved his body just enough for you to slip past. You stared at him, looking for something in his eyes to tell you to stay but it just made you more irritated. You walked down the hallway and almost made it to the door before you felt his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Do you get a kick out of torturing me or something?”

“Sweetheart, if you just—just sit down and let me say what I need to say.”

“Oh, now you wanna fucking talk. Let go of me. I’m not in the mood to talk anymore.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened as you struggled against him and you pushed on his chest trying to get him off of you. He was stunned by your actions and so were you but you couldn’t stop. You kept pushing him away from you until he grabbed your upper arms stabilizing you but you still were pressing your hands against his chest. He was calling your name trying to calm you down but you were too lost in your emotions. You thrashed your head up, trying to plead with him silently to let you go even though you knew that was the last thing you wanted.

When your eyes met his, one of his hands cradled the back of your head and before you could register it, his lips were slotted against yours in a moment of desire and exasperation. Bated breath, fury, and sexual confusion fueled the kiss but you’d be a liar to say you didn’t enjoy this feeling. His body flesh against yours, the heat bouncing between the two of you nearly suffocating and it had only been seconds. Logan had you pressed against the wall his hands roaming the curves of your body and his knee slotted itself in between your thighs, completely caging you against him.

He pushed his knee up into the apex of your thighs applying a delicate pressure to your center. You moaned against him, your body rolling your hips into the feeling. His hands were roaming over your body in a frenzy, like if he didn’t touch you fast enough you’d disappear. Your hands wrapped into his hair, pulling on his sandy brown locks as you tried to stabilize yourself into the feeling.

Logan pulled away from you, a string of spit the only thing left connecting you two until it broke and you felt the cold air vaporize the heat on your swollen lips. You were staring at his features, locked in his gaze hoping that if you didn’t break eye contact he’d stay right here. His gruff voice broke the heady silence.

“Since you wanna be a brat and not talk anymore, I have no choice but to show you how I feel, sugar.”

Logan slid his hands down until they were underneath the swell of your ass and told you to jump. As your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked down the hallway to your room. His senses were incredibly heightened at this moment and when he breached the threshold of your room, he was intoxicated by the smell of you swirling the room.

As he laid you down on your bed, your scent wafted off of the sheets with a gentle breeze and he was soon surrounded by a nest of you and your arousal. He prowled over your body, taking you in and memorizing every inch of you, how you were restless against him, and how your lower half mindlessly moved against him in desperate need of some sort of friction.

He uttered a low growl against you as he snaked up to your neck leaving a string of hot kisses against your skin. The scruff of his beard nearly overstimulated you and had you clawing at his skin, frantic in your efforts, soft moans escaped your lips in wordless need of feeling something more.

“Don’t wanna talk but I got you whimpering for me, huh princess?”

“Lo-”

“Shh, baby. I got you.”

Logan bit your ear, pulling at the skin before he tugged at the bottom of your shirt and you lifted your back just enough so that he could slip it off of you. Your upper body was fully exposed to him as your tits pancaked on your chest. As he lowered his face back down to your body, he trailed down your skin with his nose inhaling every last inch of you. The action was so subdued in comparison to the rest of his demeanor that you got completely lost in the feeling.

As his face met your stomach, the scent of your arousal was incredibly inebriating, deluging his mind with salacity. He traced the waistband of your shorts with his nose, encasing his teeth around the elastic piece of fabric before replacing his mouth with his hands as he languidly pulled them down your legs. Tossing them across the room he looked up at you.

“You want this?”

“Please.” You mewled out.

Logan shoved his nose against your panties inhaling your scent before rubbing your bud through the fabric as he came back up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He pulled your panties from your body, your slick stretching as the fabric left your messy lips. The cool air was welcomed but was soon replaced by the warmth of Logan’s mouth against your petals.

He lapped at you like a dog. A wanton primal need taking over his senses. He wanted to be enveloped in you and you in him. In every timeline, he’d claim you and this one was no different. You tangled your hands in his hair, rolling your pussy into his face as he sloppily ate you out. His hands were wrapped around your hips holding you in place as he greedily drank you in.

You could feel the spit dripping down your folds and forming a cool pool of fervour beneath your skin. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy you could feel your orgasm begin to settle in your lower stomach, heat rippling across your skin. Your moans increased in frequency but became more breathy in nature as you came closer to your high.

Logan’s hand snaked up your curves and his fingers teased your nipples, pulling and pinching at the sensitive skin as he felt your body grow more tense with desire. Dragging his calloused hands down your body one last time, he inserted a finger into your wet, libertine cavern and you sucked him in with need. The stretch of him adding a second finger pushing you right to your edge as he curled them inside of you.

“Lo- I’m gonna-”

“I know, sugar. Let it out. Lemme hear you”

He immediately put his tongue back on your clit, and let you ride out your high against his face. Your moans gained volume completely immersed in the pleasure. When the ripples of euphoria finally dwindled, you looked down at Logan and pulled him up to your face so you could kiss him. The tang of your sex was still present on his lips and it ignited something within you.

“You got too many fuckin clothes on, Daddy.”

You were breathless. Lost in a licentious rhapsody as you had him hovering over your body and when Logan paused his movements to look at you, you thought you ruined the moment. He could smell the change in you and spoke before you had the chance to apologize for nothing.

“Say it again.”

He could feel you heartbeat pounding in your chest, arousal returning to the forefront of your mind.

“Wanna see you. Feel all of you, Daddy.”

Your voice was dripping sex, his personal psychedelic. He freed himself from his beater and you palmed his bulge through his sweats. Slipping your hand past the waistband, you stroked his heavy cock.

“Lemme make you feel good.”

You were getting ready to flip your bodies over, but Logan pinned you to the bed his eyes boring through you. You felt so small underneath him, like he could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him. When he spoke he broke you from the trance.

“Another time, sweetheart. This is about showing you how I feel about you since my baby needs me to spell it out for her.”

Slipping out of his sweats his cock was on full display, so heavy that it didn’t have the spring to bounce against his stomach. It hung in front of him, heady and in desperate need to be inside of you. Precum and prurience leaked from his tip. Logan crawled on top of you, the tip of his cock rubbing between your folds, coating your slick across his shaft.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You squeezed around nothing, the action not going unnoticed by Logan. You mewled against him, just wanting him to ravish you in every way possible. You wanted to be marked, for everyone to see that you belonged to him but you couldn’t find the words to articulate this feeling while this sexual heat was radiating off of your bodies and numbing your mind.

Logan slowly pushed his tip into your rapt cunt before pulling it out and sliding it against your clit. The withdrawal of pleasure bringing you to your senses.

“I want you to make me yours. Wanna belong to you, Lo.”

You were wanton with need. The desire for him became nearly unbearable and it was all soon resolved as he pushed his cock past your pious walls, defiling you of any innocence you had left. You wanted to be claimed, he’d claim you. Animal instinct took over as he rocked his hips into your cunt, your walls fluttering around him in ardor. Low growls left his throat as he nipped at the skin on your neck, alternating between kissing the marks and swiping them with his tongue. He was marking you, making you his own.

It was like he couldn’t get close enough to you as he thrusted into you. His arms wrapped around your body as you fell limp to the pleasure. You felt another orgasm on the horizon and you tried your best to warn Logan by sinking your nails into his back, leaving red trails of morbid desire to mark him as yours. You didn’t realize the amount of pressure you were putting on his skin, but the groans that left him had that concern pushed to the back of your mind. Your orgasm washed over you and your pussy squeezed so tight around him that you nearly pushed him out of you. You were entranced, drunk on him and his cock, still desperate for more.

It was like he could hear your thoughts because as soon as you thought of a second round, Logan was flipping you on your hands and knees and you arched your back as he rubbed his hand along the small of it, accentuating your arch. His cock filled your sugared walls one more time and as he buried himself to the hilt. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he brought your body flesh against his.

“Gonna fuckin breed you. Never gonna forget you who belong to, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the preemptive squeezing of his cock at the mention of him breeding you. The thought of him filling you with all of him was grossly erotic and Logan took the chance to taunt you.

“Oh? You like that, huh? Want daddy to breed your pretty little pussy?”

You hummed, your eyes lidded as you tried to see him over your shoulder. Sweat was sticking your bodies together and you only noticed how hot it was between the two of you when he pushed your body forward, cool air hitting your back as he began to mold your cunt to the shape of his cock. His tip was kissing your cervix and repeatedly hit that spot deep inside of you that made you squirm against his body.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy, his breaths ragged and you could feel your third orgasm of the night creeping on you. Low growls complimented the whimpers that were leaving your mouth and being somewhat muffled by the fabric of your sheets. You couldn’t hold his hips against you to ensure that he stayed inside so you just whimpered out a small ‘inside’ as you felt your orgasm begin to wash over your body.

Logan wasn’t far behind, one hand resting on your hips and his other by your head steadying himself above you. Sinking his teeth into your neck, you cried out in avidity and rapture filled his veins before painting his seed across your walls. You heard a faint schwing and as you opened your eyes, you saw that his claws were extended. As you moved your hips back into him to fuck you through the rest of your high, you accidentally nicked yourself on one of his blades. He hissed against you uttering a strained ‘don’t move’ as the luxuria dissipated in his body.

As he calmed down, his claws retracted back into skin and he gently rolled you over to gaze over your features. He moved a few sweat-stricken pieces of hair off of your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, which was such a contrast from before. Pulling out of you he pushed himself off the bed.

“Be right back.”

Returning with a warm towel, he cleaned you up and grabbed a shirt from one of your drawers waiting for you to put it in before sliding next to you in the bed. You curled into him, tracing patterns into his chest. Looking up at him, you felt none of the tension from before in the room and you decided that this would be the time.

“So, what did you mean by ‘again’ earlier?”

Logan sighed but not out of exasperation like it was earlier, it was softer this time.

“In my world, we were together. That’s the pull you feel. But in like so many other areas in that timeline, I fucked up and I lost you. I’d rather have kept you at a distance than not have you at all, but I fucked that up too, now.”

He laughed the last bit out, a touch of humor apparent in his delivery. Sighing, you felt like something could work here between the two of you.

“Well, whenever you’re ready to tell me what happened between your timeline’s me and you, I’ll wait patiently for it. But until then, know that you’re not losing me here. I’m yours as long as you want me.”

You didn’t expect a response from him, nor did you feel like you really needed one. You wanted to relish in this moment between the two of you and soon enough sleep overtook both of your forms.

© yeonjuns-beanie '24

~Just as it was, baby Before the otherness came And I knew its name The love, the dark, the light, the flame~

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I'm doing some worldbuilding and you seem like you could be connected enough for me to find an answer to the problem of dwarven agriculture. Many problems are created by the requirement of no sunlight, as even the common response of mushrooms still need light to break down decomposing matter as a primary energy source. Currently, we're thinking that they use a special type of mushroom that breaks down rocks in an energy-producing reaction, giving them enough energy to absorb nutrients and grow - this would serve a second purpose in explaining why building a massive hollowed-out mountain fortress doesn't produce an equally large amount of gravel.

Any thoughts? We're grasping at straws kinda lol

Well, some thoughts:

There's plenty of cave systems (especially Karst Systems) that are at least partially open to Sunlight- especially the kind that have rivers running through them, which is something else that's really helpful for agriculture.

For Example: This Cool AF Sinkhole cave in china that has an entire Forest in it

Now There's a view to put outside the city Gates!

Karst specifically is a landscape where underground rivers hollow out the limestone underground and then the cave roofs fall in. This kind of landscape answers your gravel question nicely: the hollowed out mountain does produce an equal amount of gravel, but the gravel turns up as the sandy banks of the river system hundreds of miles away.

So, there's your sunlight that can be used directly, or reflected or magically transferred deeper into the cave system.

Or they just put more holes in the roof! Unless your dwarves are also vampires, there's no reason for them to not hollow out a few Skylights into the mountain too.

But let's talk some other cave ecology and agriculture!

For starters, your dwarves could be sitting on top of a literal gold mine that would allow them to trade for a lot of needed materials and crops.

And by gold mine, I mean Salt Mine.

Historically, salt comes out of hollowed-out mountains and is worth more than gold.

Also something the humans have historically fought a bunch of wars over, so there's some free political tensions if you needed that!

I can also mean the possible fucking enormous piles of bat guano that accumulates in Karst caves, which is the world's most insanely good fertilizer, and ALSO something that has been worth more than it's weight in gold.

Speaking of Gold, another thing that often lives in sinkhole caves in abundance is BEES. turns out, limestone stalactites are a terrific place to build a hive that is difficult for predators to reach, stays dry and the stone substrate means the hives can reach many tons in weight before they start having structural issues. That sweet, sweet insect-derived liquid gold is already important to Dwarves in a lot of folklore- it's really hard to have a Traditional Dwarven Mead Hall without the honey to make the mead, you know?

So you got your mushrooms, you got your sunlight-grown sinkhole crops, you got your traded goods and you got your source of alcohol- the only thing really missing from an ancient food pyramid here is a staple carbohydrate. To that end, may I propose our good Peruvian Friend: The Potato.

Grain crops aren't actually all that nutritious and were kept around in ancient societies more as legal tender that kept the peasants busy, because wheat or rice takes months to grow, an enormous amount of labor to harvest, and wheat also needs to be milled before it can be turned into food- all enormously time-consuming processes that keep peasants busy and easy to rule tyranically over.

Potatoes though? Pop one in the ground in spring and you can dig up fingerlings all summer, and if you make potato towers, you can harvest up to 40lbs of delicious, easy-to-prepare-and-store carb out of a single plant- a real space-saver for the limited sinkhole skyspace.

If your dwarves have cheese, the potato makes even more sense, because Potato+dairy is the easiest, most nutritionally complete survival food there is.

Finally, consider: Dwarven Vodka.

This post is open for anyone to comment suggestions on, but that's my take: put your dwarves in a Karst-sinkhole cave system, give them a highly in demand resource like salt or guano, bees, and taters. Boom. Whole agriculture, economy and political scheme starters.

[mitamicah]

Happy Valentine's :D

Who's surprised that I chose to draw these two today x'D Outside of being my comfort ship they were also the most suggested pairing on IG and tumblr combined x'D

I wasn't sure if I liked the paint or the flowers (or both) the most so here's all of them x'D

Flower meanings under the line

These flowers are called Aloestromeia or Peruvian lilies; they are said to symbolise love and friendship, devotion and in many different forms.

The yellow lily symbolises happiness and fun which in my mind decribes Bojan and Jere's relationship pretty spot on. Their energy and humour made them click right away. I mean one of the first stories we have of them is that they communicated and bonded by making silly faces to each other (still so freaking cute btw).

The orange lily symbolises warmth, joy, happiness (again) and appreciation -building on top of what I already mentioned of the yellow flower I feel the appreciation is the key word here since the boys seem to really resprect and appreciate the other and find joy being in each other's lives no matter how long they are apart.

The pink lily (outside of having the perfect queerplatonic vibes!!) symbolises romance and playfulness - the prior especially when developing romantic feelings out of a friendship ... I feel like this is the most obvious and the most delulu at the same time but let me have it, it's Valentine's x'D

Source

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This lush penthouse in Lima, Peru is a plant lovers dream. 3bds, 3.5ba, reduced from $4.5M to $3.7M.

Is this not a stunning living room with a full 2-story view of the roof top garden? Look at the wonderful shelf-lined mezzanine above, too.

Hanging plants frame the entrance to the magnificent conservatory, directly open to the dining room.

A more casual sitting room is also open to the conservatory and has a beautiful black marble fireplace.

Here's a small, cozy sitting area with sliding doors to the patio decorated with potted plants.

Is this not amazing? Imagine sitting here among the gorgeous plants? Now, I wonder if they convey.

This is the epitome of bringing the outdoors in.

This is crazy. I wouldn't want it if the plants don't come with it. Then, it's beautiful, but empty. Look at the potted plants on the above shelf.

View from above shows the sizes of the mature plants. Just amazing, aren't they?

Love the Art Deco furnishings, too.

Speaking of Art Deco, how cool is this bathroom?

Family room off the mezzanine.

The spacious primary bedroom opens to the mezzanine and lush greenery along the railing. I recently saw a possible reason why the most expensive homes never show a kitchen- b/c the wealthy don't care about such matters as cooking. They have a chef for that. Could be plausible.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

i don't remember in which book, but there is an episode where Narcissa takes Draco away from a clothing store (Madame Malkin, I think) because they cater to muggleborns. i understand it was a political statement...

but with that in mind, question is: how far is pureblood bigotry actually goes?

are there shops exclusively for purebloods and we just don't know about them bc harry didn't go there, or were they decades ago... do purebloods buy products invented by blood traitors like the Potters and Weasleys? after all, they are good quality, but it is not good to give money to dirt yk. at the same time, most shops probably fall away from public bigotry bc even if they are run by purebloods who believe in pureblood supremacy, they will still serve everyone, because money in the first place.

this is an interesting topic for research, in my opinion, and very comparable to reality

Like, my immediate answer was: Very far.

I mean, once the most blood purists of their society gain control of the ministry they are literally rounding up muggleborns to be sent to Azkaban.

That being said, casual blood purity, like you mention, seems to not go as deep as Narcissa would like you to believe. Like, we see Draco using Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in book 6, which was invented and only sold by Fred and George. I think, like with a lot of irl bigotry, it's a lot of performance.

Like, blood purists would talk a lot about not buying from filth and mudbloods, but if a blood traitor has a good idea or a good product — they don't put their money where their mouth is. They'd buy from blood traitors and muggleborns if it's the better product. They do copy ideas from the muggles. Like, I'm sure blood purists who have access to the Floo ridicule the concept of the Hogwarts Express and the Knight Bus, thinking of them as filthy muggle inventions; but I'm certain they were all too glad to bring indoor plumbing into Hogwarts and their mansions because it's an invention they liked.

We also see a dark pureblood store like Borgins & Burkes hire filthy, poor, orphan Tom Riddle. He was good at his job, he probably wasn't paid a lot, and so it didn't matter his blood purist employers/customers thought he was a mudblood and filth if he was good at what he did. They'd hire, buy and sell to muggleborns and blood traitors if there is money on the line.

We see this attitude with Slughorn as well. He's surprised by Hermione and Lily being muggleborns and exceptional witches and potion makers because he doesn't expect it (the bigotry of low expectations, which we also see irl). But, he does invite them into the Slug Club and he expects them to then be able to get into positions they usually can't because he basically vetted them as 'talented filth'. They're okay and good to hire by purebloods because they're good at what they do. Now, I don't think Slughorn is a bad person, and he's actually doing a very useful service for talented muggleborns in the bigoted society they live in by opening doors for them, but I digress.

I think it's telling that an ancestral house of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, the "always pure", is a muggle house. Grimmauld Place is a house built by muggles, for muggles, that the Blacks decided to have as their own. They have muggle plumbing, muggle baths, muggle toilets, and muggle wallpaper, and they like it. but if you asked them, they'd call their house a "wizarding home", even if every brick was put in its place by muggles without a drop of magic.

We are told by Pottermore a good chunk of the Malfoys' inherited wealth is muggle. Their manor is also, most likely, muggle-built. They live their pureblood lifestyle, thinking themselves oh so much better than blood traitors when the food on their table was put there by muggle money. That the reason they can act the way they do, that they have more money than the Weasleys — is because their ancestors made business deals with muggles. And they know it but choose to pretend to have forgotten.

The point is, yes, blood purists would talk all day about how they want no filth in their house and how everything muggle is lesser, but when muggles/muggleborns/blood traitors have something good going, when they have a good product or are themselves talented, they'd be blind to their filthy blood for the sake of money/good idea. They'd tell themselves whatever lies they needed to tell themselves to believe they weren't blood traitors for installing a toilet. That they're not supporting muggle ideas by living off of muggle instructors.

They're bigoted hypocrites is what I'm saying.

[leporellian]

19th Century locomotive operations mogul Martin Vargas (1815-1873), photographed here in an 1854 daguerrotype with his two children, Carlos (left) and Lenore (right).

(content warnings- xenophobia, just general child emotional neglect)

Despite the financial successes enjoyed by Martin Vargas through his founding of the Calatrava Rail Company, the Vargas family household was always tense. Due to a stressful childhood and the early deaths of his siblings, Martin was an emotionally distant man who struggled to connect to his wife and those around him. This was only aggravated when, one warm Arizona night, a woman arrived at the door claiming to be the mother of Martin's illegitimate son.

Fallout was pretty immediate. The CRC was successful enough to inspire an Arizona boomtown in its name (where the Vargases lived), and Martin had become the town's biggest celebrity. Overnight his reputation changed, and his wife soon after left him to raise both his children- Lenore, the elder legitimate child, and Carlos, the younger illegitimate- alone.

Martin cared about both of his children but it was hard to tell whether or not he loved them. He seemed to think of Lenore as less her own person and more as a symbol for his company; after all she had to go on to marry the next company head. She was 'the perfect child', and while she thought fondly of her father it was clear he made her feel deeply uncomfortable (making comments about 'her future paramour' since she was in a crib) and burdened her with too much responsibility from a young age. Meanwhile, Carlos was something of an afterthought. Martin thought of it as a great kindness to take Carlos in, "despite everything", but beyond that he didn't do much to support his son, as he knew he couldn't let his bastard child become the face of his company for PR reasons. Furthermore, Carlos was half-Mexican by his mother, and it was clear this made the (quite xenophobic) Martin rather uncomfortable. Carlos became desperate to please his father and earn the love he felt Lenore had; no matter what he tried though nothing seemed to work. The children themselves disliked each other. They had enough moments of camaraderie that they did not truly hate each other, but they projected their father's failings on one another and competed for his attention.

Martin's company, in the long run, was fine: the CRC didn't fall apart and profits continued. But his reputation tanked. Earlier he had been seen as mysterious and standoffish but overall affable and a great boon to the citizens of Calatrava, Arizona. But afterwards the town rather disliked him, knowing that whatever affability he had just had to be a sham. (The whole 'emotional neglect of children and xenophobic views towards his own son' thing was, sadly, not as much a concern.) This only made Martin more scrutinizing of Lenore: she had to be twice what he was to save their reputation.

This all came to a head many years later, when Martin attempted to stop his daughter from eloping with a Peruvian stranger in a moment of her rebellion. But it didn't go as any party had seemingly expected it to. One moment, the gun was in his potential son-in-law's hand. The next, Martin was found dead, face down in his own blood, with a bullet in his neck.

Things have not fared well for the Vargas children since that day.

[lynxfrost13]

heyaa!!! 31, 40, 53 for the "get to know ya" ask thingy!!

HI STAR :D

31. 3 random facts

I don't know if these have to be about me specifically so this is my chance to mention the bleeding toad because did u know!!! They were thought to be extinct after Mount Galunggung erupted in the eighties since they only lived on that island, but they were found again in the early 2000s (they're really awesome lil guyes)! Okay now we can do two me facts . 2) I speak english and spanish!!! I'm peruvian and tomorrow’s actually peruvian independence day :] 3) When I was a wee little lee I was absolutely convinced I was becoming a lizard person (I had dry skin and a great mind)

40. favourite memory

I can't point to something and immediately say thats the one bc my favorite memories tend to be the little things (fuckin around with friends and family no matter what we're doing is always gonna be up top there)... that one time I got kissed by a girl was pretty sweet though and lives in my head rent free

53. 5 things that make me happy

LETS DO THIS

going on long walks

talkin with the mutuals (Hi star you're one of em :D )

TUNA. FISH. SANDWICH.

saying good mornin to the beaft <3

making people laugh and being over the top

[minipisi-is-dumb]

why do you headcanon tails as venezuelan?

no clue if this is a genuine question or not but <3 ty for giving me the chance anon

im venezuelan so it can be a easy "why not" is not like our existence in media much less representation is a thing so i can believe anything i want

but !!!! if u want more specific stuff let's go then

1) Mobius is basically latin america. they're all latinos your honor

not just that sonic in general is basically The Franchise in latam ever but also that a lot of other characters are coded as latinos (ex. Sonic as brazilian or argentinian depending on who you ask, knuckles jamaican/peruvian, silver chilean etc are popular hcs) for mannerisms and story and funzies.

Oh and let's not forget The World Map where Mobians live basically in latin america no i will not let it alone

mobian uza is literally just latin america i cannot. point at it enough

2) color pallete!!!!!! is real easy since his whole colors are yellow blue white and red in similar tones to the flag so. another win for the venecos (imma put this old image i made some time ago)

3) his tendency to use even the most "useless" objects and make crazy inventions with it (yes i will acknowledge the paperclips in this one because it's been in different shows and games)can be interpreted in many ways, but is a very huge value for us to just have to go on and fight for better or for worse, we don't let ourselves give up so easy and our working culture has shown that really what's stopping us is the state of our country

there's a really common stereotype for venezuela that we're criminals or lazy or don't work, and that's far from it. idk i feel like tails' story connects with that sentiment of fighting for more no matter what you have ANYWAYS

4) SCIENCE AND HISTORY BABEY!!! Venezuela has been really important historically not just for promote independence in South American nations, but also our scientists and petroleum industry have been contributed a lot to the world.

examples like the diamond scalpel, citgo being an originally venezuelan company, the vaccine against leprosy, the corner clamp and i could go On. but tails being a science enjoyer AND being venezuelan is also a cute detail :)))

that's really it. put projection alongside cute clues ive found and details from venezuelan history (as i am a huge nerd of it) and you get little venezuelan tails!! thanks for the ask anon lol

viva la patria

[globalworship]

Ceramic Nativity scenes, Andean Peru

Nativity scenes by Peruvian artist Pablo Jerí Quintanilla

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The artist lives in Quinua, Ayacucho, Peru https://www.facebook.com/pablo.jeriqintanilla

The artist at work:

and

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He also made this Nativity scene in 2010:

nacimiento andino pequeño de 9 piezas small 9-piece Andean nativity scene

+++

He also created these smaller Nativity scenes:, posted on his FB page in 2010

+++

+++

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https://ictys.org/cni-021/

+++

See more of his work, with different subject matter, at https://foroperuanodelasartes.blogspot.com/2016/01/pablo-jeri-quintanilla.html

which also includes this information about the artist, translated from the original Spanish:

"Pablo Jerí Quintanilla comes from a family of ceramicists. His father was a representative of clay sculpture. He worked tirelessly alongside his sons at a time when violence began in the southern Andean highlands. His father's work has its own characteristics and his representations are closer to sculpture, due to the sizes and stylistic treatments that he developed, especially prioritizing the work of the author. The authenticity of each of his objects was one of his greatest virtues and he knew how to transmit this feeling not only to his heirs but also to his artistic community…"

+++

https://ictys.org/cni-020/

+++

"Pablo Jerí Quintanilla's hands and creative strength have modeled in clay tragic peasants crushed by the weight of years and poverty, but also proud country men in the process of liberation from the weights that crush the centuries. From an early age, Pablo was already aware of the human drama. When he was 13 years old, he was awarded a prize for capturing the figure of a peasant shouting furiously with his hoe and pickaxe in hand looking at the sky…" -- Translated from the original Spanish at https://foroperuanodelasartes.blogspot.com/2016/01/pablo-jeri-quintanilla.html

[cryptid-killjoy]

Valentine's Day

Kuzco and Clopin have celebrated many o' many holidays together. At this point in their lives between birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, and all the others inbetween it could leave gifting to run a little dry. This was especially true when they had the attitudes of people who could live off of nothing if they had to as Kuzco's once so coveted "off the grid" life, but now also were back to having the wealth of royalty. They wanted for nothing and needed nothing. They'd given each other everything usual and so much of the unusual. They'd given each other detrimental and completely mental. This year Kuzco was going back to nostalgic and sentimental. Their roots.

Being back in Peru was familiar and strange all the same. It was a place he was welcome and yet also a place he was never quite welcome to begin with. Of course after his disappearance the place was welcoming him back with open arms like some long lost commodity. It didn't mean he'd forgotten what it was like before, what he had been running from, why he ran into Clopin's arms to begin with. Having his long lost relative's namesake ended up being a heavy burden no matter how many generations had passed. A big part of him wanted to run back to the other half of his heritage in Italy. Being back here started to become a stark reminder of it all despite his daughter starting to change the government, the world there at large.

Memories stung. Clung. But, there were good ones too.

Machu Pichu.

He recalled the first time he took Clopin there. He opened up to him and told him of how he played there as a child. He played hide and seek and used all the ruins and structures like hide outs and secret forts. He had one in particular he'd hide from the secret councel in. He'd go there and they'd search and search. The whole village would be looking and he'd be right there hidden on the mountain happy as can be all alone. Then he'd get scared when it'd start to rain too hard or he'd get hungry and finally have to go home. He felt sneaky and he felt like he had a fun story to tell this too cool off the grid guy that he had it in him to be like him too. He wanted to convince him. That was the area of Machu Pichu he was taking Clopin for Valentine's Day.

He had a picnic ready. The New Chef helped him with a lot it, but he had a lot of the brainstorming going on. He had samples of all the different sorts of Peruvian candies a person might sample if first coming like they were tourists again just for kicks. Then he had Peruvian lilies mixed with roses in a vase with some pear cider wine.

It would be all set up when they'd arrive at the familiar spot. Kuzco's groove would be softly going in the background. It wasn't Smashing Pumpkins today. It was Electricity by Theme Song Guy. This particular song had been Kuzco's song for a long time and it might have been titled the same power that their dear friend Flo had, but that was actually coincidental and had nothing to do with why it was Kuzco's song. It was a metaphor chosen for his groove magic. His groove magic was like the feeling of electricity, like coming alive.

This was very important for today inside Kuzco's feelings. He'd been stuffed up a long time between hiding on their private island, raising their daughter, staying on Laveau land, just all of it. Now here they were. Piper changed it all. They'd been through so much and he wouldn't change a thing. They always made the best of every single day and he knew they always would. But, what do you get someone who has everything and needs nothing who means so much to you? Sure, he could go for another funny gift. He could. He usually did. He liked to laugh. But, this year felt different to him. Everything felt different. Valentine's Day never felt like a big deal to Kuzco but today it did.

He sat down with Clopin and even though he'd heard the song before because he recalled telling him TSG gave him this song he still made sure he listened to every lyric as he poured their drinks.

I can't really explain it I haven't got the words It's a feeling that you can't control I suppose it's like forgetting Losing who you are And at the same time Something makes you whole It's like that there's a music Playing in your ear And I'm listening, and I'm listening And then I disappear

And then I feel a change Like a fire deep inside Something bursting me wide open Impossible to hide

And suddenly I'm flying Flying like a bird Like electricity Electricity Sparks inside of me And i'm free, I'm free

It's a bit like being angry It's a bit like being scared Confused and all mixed up And mad as hell It's like when you've been crying And you're empty, and you're full I don't know what it is It's hard to tell

It's like that there's some music Playing in your ear But the music Is impossible Impossible to hear

But then I feel it move me Like a burning deep inside Something bursting me wide open Impossible to hide

Then suddenly I'm flying Flying like a bird Like electricity Electricity Sparks inside of me And I'm free, I'm free

Electricity Sparks inside of me And I'm free, I'm free Ohhhh-oh-whoa... I'm free.

He let the music continue to play without words softly behind them as he spoke after.

"Remember? He wrote that about my groove. So I wouldn't feel bad about getting in trouble when I couldn't control my music when I was younger. It was part of me. It made me free. It was the only time I felt like me. Everyone always wanted to supress me and he found a way to make sure I could still be me with the Theme Song Guy Band so I could still go outside. So I could live the best he could figure out anyway."

He nodded his head. His chest hurt a little recalling memories of TSG. But, there was a point to all this he was trying to get to.

"I don't know Papa Cougs. I think something changed along the way. I love you and all that. We know that. That's always been a given or we wouldn't be married. Okay look. What I'm trying to say is I brought you out here to say, you're my groove. Like you are my groove. If I've never said it before I need to say it right now. I can't groove without you. I used to need groove to feel free, to be me. But, now I need you to feel groove in like everything else I do because I can't do anything without groove. I don't function without groove. You spark my groove. Yeah. You're the spark to my groove. That's it. You ignite it. You bring me to life inside. I just felt the need to say that today."

The music got louder as he spoke behind him as his hype in figuring out his words formed with his aged, chubbed, but ever boyish, charming face.

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Bridge of San Luis Rey. By Thornton Wilder. Harper Perennial, 2021 (original publication: 1927).

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction

Series: N/A

Summary: On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below. With this celebrated sentence Thornton Wilder begins The Bridge of San Luis Rey, one of the towering achievements in American fiction and a novel read throughout the world.By chance, a monk witnesses the tragedy. Brother Juniper then embarks on a quest to prove that it was divine intervention rather than chance that led to the deaths of those who perished in the tragedy. His search leads to his own death -- and to the author's timeless investigation into the nature of love and the meaning of the human condition.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: attempted suicide

Overview: I don't know much about Thornton Wilder (or about 20th century American literature, for that matter). I haven't read or seen Our Town, so my evaluation of this book is coming out of complete ignorance. I happened to find it on a list of recommended historical fiction novels, and the premise was intriguing, so I gave it a go. Overall, I was surprised by how much I liked this book. Wilder's characters were eccentric and compelling, and his prose style brought them to life in rich, vivid detail. While I can see some readers become frustrated with the lack of an overarching narrative, the individual character portraits were so captivating that this book gets 4.5 stars from me.

Writing: Wilder's prose is superb. It feels elegant without being overly lyrical or formal; it brings characters to life with descriptions evocative of a 18th or 19th century folktale. I really loved the hint of "wisdom literature" that Wilder injected into his writing, and I loved that the book felt old-fashioned yet fresh and new at the same time.

Plot: There isn't really a plot to this book so much as there is a number of character portraits that are brought together following the collapse of a Peruvian bridge. When the bridge of San Luis Rey collapses and sends 5 people falling to their death, a witness named Brother Juniper resolves to investigate in hopes of convincing the locals that their deaths were part of God's plan. The bulk of the novel, then, includes descriptions of the victims, their backgrounds, and their lives so that Brother Juniper may definitely answer the question "why did these 5 people die?"

If you like plot-driven stories, then you probably won't enjoy this book, but if you like character-driven works, this is a spectacular example. The characters all have unique quirks and an array of desires, and many of them have an almost obsessive preoccupation with the object of their affections. Doña María, for example, is desperate for her daughter to love her while Esteban is so connected to his brother that his death leaves him feeling empty. Themes such as love/obsession and religion/spirituality are woven so deftly throughout the novel that it was a delight to see them reappear at different points, each exploring a new facet.

I also very much admired the way Thornton made all the characters feel interconnected. Though they didn't always interact with one another, they belonged to the same community, often crossing paths with prominent secondary characters. This meant that their deaths didn't feel random, but didn't feel like a punishment, either. Instead, it felt like Thornton was painting a picture of a tragedy, one that is deeply felt by the whole town and which has ripple effects across different strata of society. It was incredibly satisfying to read.

Characters: There are quite a few characters in this book, so I'll speak about them more generally rather than giving a detailed critique.

The five victims of the bridge were complex, somewhat eccentric, and very well-realized. I loved that each of them felt unique but all fit into the same world without issue, and I appreciated the way they were used to explore the major themes of the book. While each of them were some mixture of good qualities and bad ones, I didn't get the sense that I was reading about heroes and villains. Each one had attributes that made me like them or feel sorry for them, and each had things that made me side eye them a little bit.

Secondary characters were also masterfully used, often showing up as anchor points across multiple chapters. Both the abbess and the actress, for example, are powerful personalities, and they have unique relationships with each of the victims that makes this book feel like a series of interconnected, overlapping paths. If you enjoy those kinds of "composite novels," you'll definitely appreciate Thornton's work here.

TL;DR: The Bridge of San Luis Rey is a masterful meditation on the meaning of human life, made all the more impactful by its elegant, gnomish prose and cast of complex characters. While some readers might be turned off by lack of a tight narrative and the open-endedness of the denouement, this book is a wonderful study of character, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in creating memorable, impactful character vignettes.

[thesinglesjukebox]

LENIN - "INTIRAYMI"

Next, from Jessica, a Peruvian house banger with layers...

[7.46]

Jessica Doyle: Don't worry about the backstory yet, there's no rush. Let's start by enjoying a party jam whose ambition shows in its structure: in an era of two-minute songs and dance tracks with no actual rhythm, "Intiraymi" has not only the required bouncy chorus that ends with "ĄEs un carnaval!" but a distinct repeated pre-chorus and a distinct bridge during which to gear up for the final dance. Also, let's face it, this is the best use of strings in a K-pop or K-pop-adjacent song since the legendary "The Ghost of Wind." Even the song's more subtle touches -- that Lenin ends the initial rounds of the chorus on a lower note, so it has more impact when he doubles himself going higher at the end -- work in its favor. Okay, now we can throw in the backstory: Lenin Tamayo Pinares is the son of an Andean folksinger and native speaker of Quecha, and not only a self-produced musician but one committed to using contemporary Andean music as an agent of collective empowerment for indigenous minorities (and hopefully getting an undergraduate thesis done on the topic while he's at it). Fun is fun, and "Intiraymi" is well-crafted, contagious fun no matter how little time you want to invest in it, but you do need a little bit of context to understand why I want this man to realize all of his ambitions and then some. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: "This is not only a positive message," he said of his music. "It's a battle." [10]

Taylor Alatorre: If I were to listen to this without looking any further into Quechua culture, I'd have to guess that the Intiraymi is basically akin to a Copa América celebration. Lenin shows more interest here in creating sounds with cross-border appeal than in putting centuries of suppressed history on display, as is fully his right. Those violin breaks act as tethers to a living past rather than dusted-off artifacts of an ancient one, more evocative of extended family gatherings than Inca and Chanka glories. The sense of forced fun is never entirely absent, but that's something it has in common with family gatherings as well. [6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Intiraymi is a (Southern Hemisphere) Winter Solstice festival, so it feels appropriate to review "Intiraymi" as I experience the Northern Hemisphere equivalent. This is a banger for the shortest day of the year, a concentrated, poised delivery of hooks that eventually folds into a giddy, delirious fit of ecstasy. [8]

Ian Mathers: Of course, there are only so many combinations of different letters out there; when different languages share the same character sets, you're going to get some weird and/or funny overlaps. Which explains why someone going by Lenin is singing the praises of an Incan festival for the sun god. He's got an interesting background, but I don't have the context to know how significant the subject matter here is. But that's all kind of just background; I don't even need the subtitles to tell that the chorus is celebrating some sort of carnival, and infectiously so. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: An ebullient little house-pop charmer. It's a bit too cheery for my tastes, but those strings are something to celebrate. [5]

Brad Shoup: LENIN's very unsweaty take on K-pop is the draw for sure, but dig that chorus: it sounds like Suede. [7]

Michelle Myers: When you're a K-Pop fan, everything starts to sound like idol music. Tate McRae? She's K-Pop. Ed Sheeran? Totally K-Pop. Nu Metal? That's just Ateez with guitars. But Lenin Tamayo is different. He's purposefully trying to make music that sounds like the Peruvian equivalent of an early 2010s Kenzie banger. [8]

Frank Kogan: This is excitement from the start, the danceable violin riff and the floor beats coming in, a melody with punch and lilt, and on from there: fiddle breaks, sensitive idol star interludes, absolutely sing-a-long-able chorus. His voice is as small as Hilary Duff's, and the wails are more gestured at than actually wailing; so he's getting by on brains more than vocal cords. That's not bad at all, if the arrangements and songwriting get the music to go where he wants it, which they emphatically do here. [7]

Kayla Beardslee: It's so hard to go wrong with a rousing piano-house banger, and this one certainly doesn't! [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: The Inca had a pretty advanced understanding of astronomy. Based on the ruins they left behind, we know they could calculate the solstices with an impressive level of precision. They knew they lived in a clockwork universe, that the days would get shorter until a calculable date, after which they would start to get longer again. And yet, despite this scientific certainty, they still devoutly observed the Inti Raymi, a nine-day festival around the winter solstice dedicated to worshipping the sun god Inti. It's possible there were a few people in those crowds who gave themselves over fully to the supernatural, who worried that they days would keep getting shorter forever unless they properly demonstrated their devotion, but I think most people knew that the sun would return no matter what. That didn't make the Inti Raymi any less important to them. The return of the sun demands celebration, regardless of how your personal cosmology explains it. Anyway, I've been playing this song a lot lately. Today is the shortest day of the year. Tomorrow will be five seconds longer. I'm not saying I caused that, but I'm also not going to stop playing the song. Praise Inti. [9]

Will Adams: How refreshing for a cry of "es un carnaval!" to actually sound like it. How crucial it is for dance-pop bangers to be a little cheesy. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: Power in cheese. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[stvnmvrsh]

back to the old house - the smiths

Stan's right hand gripped the grimy steering wheel of his overworked pick-up truck as the other ran through his hair. Visiting his parents back in South Park was always difficult for him. He lived in San Diego now, working in construction as a senior project manager and living in a typical sloppy bachelor pad. He was now paying a visit to his hometown after his most recent major project at the request of his mother. South Park and its familiar embrace of snow-capped mountains, evergreen woods, and dysfunctional nature should have been comforting, but not to him.

He could feel his resolve crumble as he drove deeper into the town. His eyes scan his surroundings. At the elementary school that all his friends attended. There was the community center his parents had meetings. Craig's house, where Stan and his friends convinced him to use his birthday money to start a Peruvian flute band. Clyde's house, where his mother died on the toilet. That damn bus stop. Butters's house, where his horrible father grounded him constantly. Eric's, where he thought he could fly so he jumped off his roof. Then, his own. Stan's stare was trained on the house he grew up in.

He could feel his heart clench as he pulled into the driveway. He kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, his hand now resting on the door handle. He sighs dismally as he allows his vision to stray next door. Just as it has always been, that olive green house stood. Kyle's house. Out of all his childhood friends, he had at least expected Kyle to keep in touch with him. Except they hadn't. Too busy, he supposed. The last he heard from him was that he was pursuing a career in law, just like his father.

His eyes grow misty and he tilts his head back, trying to keep his tears from falling. Regret and longing fill his gut as he thinks of Kyle's curly, red hair. His aquiline nose, wispy lashes brushing up against gold-framed glasses, and smart mouth. His thoughts drift back to memories of years ago.

---

They were at Stark's pond where Kyle asked to meet up.

"I got accepted, Stan! Holy shit, I can't fucking believe it! I'm going to Yale! The Yale, Stan!" Kyle was elated, gripping the front of Stan's brown coat, whooping and bouncing up and down. Stan's smile was uncontrollable, reciprocating Kyle's.

"Confuckingrats, man. I'm so proud of you! If anyone does, you totally deserve it." Stan was brimming with the feeling. He watched Kyle excel in their academic careers, his intelligence rivaling Wendy's and Tolkien's, their class's valedictorian and salutatorian. He remembers holding up flashcards for him, helping him study at odd hours, and accompanying him on trips to the library. All his hard work paid off.

Suddenly, Kyle deeply frowned. Stan didn't have any time to ask him what the matter was as he saw Kyle's lower lip wobble. He found himself enveloped in Kyle's arms, holding onto each other tightly. He could smell the jojoba oil in his coiled tresses.

Kyle was wailing profusely into the crook of Stan's neck. His breath tickled Stan so bad, he erupted into goosebumps. "Are you shitting me? I couldn't have done this without you, you idiot. Sure, I had the brains to get this far, but you- you had my back when I needed you. You didn't have to do anything of the sort, but you did."

Stan melted further into Kyle's warmth as his throat tightened, burning. "I'd do anything for you, dude."

He thinks that was when he realized he loved Kyle for the first time.

---

Slowly but surely, they drifted apart. Being 2,865 miles away wasn't helping. Life simply just got in the way. Thus, Stan finds himself in his childhood house's driveway, relentless, involuntary tears running down his face, brooding over his incessant love for his friend.

He didn't know why he was so angry. Was it because they fell out? Or because he didn't put more effort into maintaining their relationship? Because he never got to tell Kyle he loved him?

Perhaps, it was all of it.

[its-actually-minicika]

Hiii, first of all, this is not a request, I just wanna say I love your work especially with The Harshest Winters, you portray that psycho so well ♥ Second of all, for some reason the HW Aemond bot does not save our chats but it doesn’t matter bc we end up into each others neck every time lmao we can not pass the enemies phase, lady tully has nothing on me. The most funny thing is that since I’m peruvian, I insult him in spanish and he in high valyrian😭we both don’t have a clue at what the other is saying but we know that we are insulting each other lmao. And third of all, I am planning to shift to house of the dragon and for some reason, I feel your fic is gonna be in my subconscious and that psycho is gonna end up kidnapping me fr…So do not worry girls, I am gonna adapt the fic into a live action for you all (i am literally gonna piss myself in my first night at harrenhal tbh) xoxo🥳

PLEASEEEE THE MEME

I love this ask so much

First of all, I wanted to thank you for your kind and sweet words - they really mean the world to me. 💗🫶

Second of all, I have to see some of those chat screenshots now - they sound too funny to miss, oh my God! I've received so many asks in regards to the HW Aemond AI - though most people say that he's way to clingy and obsessive LMAO

Third of all, good luck on your endeavours! But holy hell, I do not recommend THW universe as a place to shift to 😟 I pray if you do end up doing it, you won't have to face the calamity I created (if you do tho, totally keep me in the loop, and say hi to Cain - also tell him that i'm sorry i permanently crippled him)