#the stronger the east becomes

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

it’s only a matter of time before russia will be reconciled with the west once and for all. it won’t happen anytime soon but i do believe it will happen. and i think it is a goal to strive for.

[luckycheesefoodie321]

I love that Sanji reports to Luffy he’ll be leaving for a bit before running after the samurai

It’s these subtle things that show he respects his Captain but Luffy is so laidback (a. Bc he doesn’t impose his position very often and b. He’s confident Sanji can handle any trouble that comes his way) that he just says go for it without looking to see him off. And Sanji runs off without another word.

Also love that Nami sent Zoro with Brook and Sanji, not for back up but to keep Sanji focused on fighting with Zoro and not perving on her body XD

Body swapping antics done so damn well man. I love that for the most part, the other Straw Hats aren’t skipping a beat at the mixed up bodies and just accept it as the current norm that will likely be resolved down the line.

[darcylindbergh]

I have no idea what Harris' actual views on I/P are, but even if she is fully pro-Palestine wouldn't she still have to meet with Netanyahu? I mean realistically any change the US can possibly make would have to involve talking to Israel, right? Presidents meet with Putin even if they hate him/Russia's actions because that's how international politics works, it doesn't mean they like/agree with him

Well, theoretically, there's a bit of political game playing involved yes. But because the ICC has issued warrants for Netanyahu's arrest, if we're strictly following international law, Netanyahu shouldn't have been meeting anybody, he should have been arrested. But we're not doing that because the US currently thinks the ICC is wrong, which is a bad look for the US and which undermines the strength of international law, so I think this is bad and also wrong, but that's what's happening at present. And although US presidents etc have historically met with Putin, they would not at this point because Putin also has warrants out for his arrest. The difference between how the US has treated Putin v Netanyahu is, as it seems, pretty hypocritical.

Practically speaking, as you say, meeting with Netanyahu is a bit of a political game. The US has historically been a very strong ally to Israel and the US has historically been very much involved in the normalization of relations vis a vis Israel and the rest of the Middle East, and the US would very much like to remain involved in brokering a lasting peace, which involves not seriously alienating Netanyahu and Israel et al. Netanyahu and his far-right government are the ones holding up the ceasefire, and the US is only able to exert pressure so long as they are a valuable ally to Israel - if Israel has nothing to lose, in other words, the US loses its ability to exert pressure. And Harris wants very much to hang onto that ability, because she's setting herself up to exert more pressure than Biden has.

Harris has been critical of Israel. Harris is the highest-ranking Dem that has been critical of the situation in Gaza. She has been upfront about highlighting the suffering in Gaza. She's not oblivious to the conversations going on re: Palestine and the ongoing genocide. She's not sticking her head in the sand on it.

“The images of dead children and desperate hungry people fleeing for safety, sometimes displaced for the second, third or fourth time - we cannot look away in the face of these tragedies. We cannot allow ourselves to become numb to the suffering and I will not be silent.”

But she's trying to walk a very careful line on public sentiment re: Israel and Palestine. She's going to be very cautious to condemn anything with even a whiff of antisemitism in strong terms. She's going to be very cautious to affirm Israel's right to exist and to defend itself, which she does in the article linked above, with the caveat that "how it does so matters." But her willingness to call attention to the crisis ongoing in Gaza and her willingness to imply wrong-doing by Israel in how that crisis has been created signals to Netanyahu that her government will have stronger limits than Netanyahu has encountered previously. Will she be a perfect candidate? No. Will she always align with my moral compass? No. Will she be totally evil? Also no.

As voters, what does this mean for us and how we support Gazans and Palestinians?

To me this is very simple. Harris is a candidate who is willing and able to exert pressure on Israel to end the genocide and, ideally, to broker a long-lasting peace. Trump is a candidate who is willing and able to exert pressure on Israel to blow Gaza off the face of the earth. Between "willing to tell Netanyahu this is unacceptable" and "willing to tell Netanyahu to break out a nuke," I'm voting for the former every fucking time.

Not voting or voting third party doesn't actually tell Democrats anything except that you didn't care. They don't have a list of people who would otherwise have voted blue if only they'd taken harder pro-Palestine stance, they're not cross-checking your voting status against your social media posts and going, oh, nuts, we lost that one. Not voting or voting third party doesn't exert pressure on the Dems to go more left, you're not "teaching them a lesson," you're not making a point. It's non-information. It's not a boycott - it's a white flag. It's giving up.

You know how you exert pressure on politicians? You call. You write. You protest. Are you still calling your representatives about Gaza every day? Are you going to town halls and asking them about what they're doing to stop the genocide? Pressure is exerted through participation.

Progress is made by the people who show up.

If the Dems lose, you can pressure them all day and it won't make a difference because they don't have any power to make a difference. And the racist, anti-Muslim, anti-Middle East far right won't be listening no matter how much you shout.

I'm not giving up on Palestinians just because some greyface anon on the internet tells me I'm a bad person for choosing to vote for the candidate I can pressure to make a change.

I'm also not going to give up on people here at home who's lives are hanging in the balance. I'm a queer woman with a uterus and a pre-existing condition - I simply do not have the luxury or the privilege to stay home in November. I do not have the luxury or the privilege of being a single issue voter. I'm not going to give up on trans kids or immigrants or BIPOC or women or disabled folks or poor folks. I'm not going to give up on healthcare or on libraries or on public schools or on the environment or on the court systems. I'm not going to give up on safe workplaces and livable wages and safe products. I'm not going to give up and let corporate monopolies and censorship and AI and five rich dudes decide what the future will be.

Don't you care? Don't you look around you and care about the people in your own communities? Or are those people too real, too complicated? Do you only care when you can win points off it in someone else's inbox on tumblr dot com?

Is Kamala Harris going to be the perfect pro-Palestinian candidate? No. But I'm not inviting her to brunch. I don't need her to be my bestie. I don't need her to be my moral compass - I have one of my own, thanks.

I just need her to step forward instead of back.

Progress is made one step at a time.

[oxygenisachoice]

I don’t know if this has been done before but hear me out… Kuina lives Au

Not as in she faked her death, but as in she lived INSTEAD of Zoro. Everything else is the exact same. They still made their vows to become the greatest swordsman and to fight every day, but instead of Kuina falling down the stairs, Zoro died in some other sudden way.

Now I’m no expert with One Piece lore or anything, but from the way I’m imagining it, it could be that literally nothing would change about the plot of the main story. I like to imagine that, after Zoro’s death, Kuina goes through a similar character shift where she realizes she has to carry out both of their dreams. I always loved that Zoro’s three sword style represented the way that he was fighting in both of their names, and I feel that Kuina would have done the same thing in his honor. Zoro really seemed to inspire her with his determination that anyone can be great, and I don’t find it unreasonable that she also would have left the village to fight stronger opponents, likely even ending up as a strong bounty hunter in the East Blue, as Zoro did.

Now I don’t feel that we really saw a lot of Kuina’s personality relating to situations other than her and Zoro’s rivalry, but it’s pretty clear to me that her and Zoro are similar in a lot of ways. Kuina had more of a defeatist attitude about her future, but that was a product of the environment she was raised in. She clearly still had a strong fighting spirit, and once Zoro encouraged her (in his own way lol), she seemed to be susceptible to the dreamer mentality that Zoro— and many of the Staw Hats— have. If Zoro died instead, I think it would only add to the motivation she felt about overcoming her perceived weakness.

I’m not sure how exactly this would change the strawhats’ dynamics, though I think there would be something interesting there when it came to her relationship with Sanji, as I don’t imagine she would appreciate his flawed outlook on women.

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind. 

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[mitigatedchaos]

Kontextmaschine is Dead

(~1,000 words, 5m)

Noted blogger @kontextmaschine is presumed dead, following the discovery that the sole resident at his most likely residence was found deceased during a wellness check initiated by concerned Redditors.

Prior to his last post on Aug 22, which indicated a serious health problem, he reported taking over twice the dose of creatine he had been taking at the beginning of his lengthy post-COVID health saga, in which he also reported becoming bisexual, having "zero" anxiety, gaining 3D vision after years of not having it, becoming incredibly convincing, and having to learn to walk and use his muscles properly again. At the time, he felt he was becoming trimmer and physically stronger, and reported engaging in a long project of yard work, although photos from the inside of his house generally looked somewhat messy.

A Tumblr user who met him briefly in person after the beginning of the health saga but before these most recent events reported that he was friendly, charismatic, hospitable, and clean, but "physically, a mess," with motor control issues on one side of his body.

Topics of discussion were similar to the content of kontextmaschine's blog, such as differences in east and west coast government in America, said to be "totally on brand," but it was said that the prolific poster seemed "less self-grandiose" in person.

Redditors theorize that the decline of kontextmaschine's health following his first self-report of COVID-19 infection may have been due to undiagnosed brain cancer, which could be more consistent with observed changes in behavior than the after-effects of a viral infection, given that most reports of "long covid" are about effects like fatigue, and not total loss of anxiety or alteration of sexual orientation.

Despite multiple suggestions, from both anonymous and pseudonymous users, kontextmaschine refused to seek professional medical care for his condition.

Regarding the mourning of public figures, in 2018, a period of increased Progressive sensitivity during the Trump Administration, kontextmaschine wrote,

through the years realized that through whatever blind groping the ‘90s-ass “edgelords” were desperately trying to save us from this, through proper gatekeeping and filtering at first I’d thought it was gratuitous and supported it being relaxed, maybe not shaming everyone who publicly mourned a suicide, mea culpa, mea culpa, I have debts to pay

In 2019, he added:

That was how we kept the internet culture from growing mawkish and cry-bullyish: basically, if you were so weak as to get weepy over corpsemeat you got cancelled, the shame would follow you forever and you’d never be allowed to forget it.

Given his writing, it is likely that kontextmaschine would not have supported excessive public mourning over his death, though in 2017, following the theft of his motorcycle, when the popular blogger @argumate jokingly criticized him by writing, "no references to pinball, no insight into historical Americana, this isn’t the kontext I signed up for," kontextmaschine wrote,

“when bad shit happens people mock me accurately” is the community I’ve been looking for my whole life so

Like argumate, perhaps the most famous of the rationalist-adjacent bloggers on Tumblr, screenshots of kontextmaschine's Tumblr posts would end up on outside websites.

Kontextmaschine was generally considered an interesting, if controversial writer. One Tumblr user characterized him as a member of the "obnoxious Tumblr right," though another user asked, "wait, how is kontextmaschine is right wing?" After another user claimed that the nuclear bombing of Oregon would be a net improvement in the world due to kontextmaschine's residence in Portland, tumblr user @random-thought-depository wrote a 2,400 word theory post arguing that kontextmaschine's philosophy was a means to coordinate to join a future political coalition favoring the formation of a more brutal and oppressive hierarchy in pursuit of his own advantage.

Though kontextmaschine's ideology advocates that humanity should adopt "r-selection," meaning more offspring with less investment in each (or youth, sex, and death), this blog dissented against the coalition theory, arguing that motorcycles, kung fu, women, Hollywood, and not having to report to HR are all traditionally cool, and the causality of the kontextmaschine ideology could easily run the other way.

Though he had a period of identifying as female in his youth, appropriately LGBTQ for a Tumblr user, his 2011 statement of principles, including "the lesser yields to the greater" and "suffering is the mark of a wrong person," and general body of work, could be described as a strain of right-wing thought, though not of the traditionalist Christian or rational technocratic varieties.

Prior to the post-covid health saga, kontextmaschine's health posting was primarily about his bipolar disorder, with both manic and depressive phases.

Kontextmaschine maintained generally friendly relations with other bloggers in his sphere of discourse, sometimes debating but rarely aggressive, except in response to anonymous hatemail. In response to one particular piece of hatemail, kontextmaschine stated that as a writer, of course his primary form of influence would be his posts.

In a post chain reblogged by dozens of Tumblr users, multiple Tumblr users wrote that they enjoyed his writing and are disappointed by his death, describing him as a unique thinker that will not be easily replaced. Several felt that there was not much they could have done, as after returning from his covid infection, he was not taking medical advice.

One Tumblr user wrote, "rip. Inspirational manic poster," while long-time and prolific poster argumate described him as, "one of the bloggers of all time."

Internet users speculate that Kontextmaschine is survived by his outdoor cat, Badger, about whom he posted frequently. He may also be survived by other members of his family, with whom he apparently did not live, and rarely spoke about.

It is recommended that enthusiasts of kontextmaschine's blog make backups of his writing for archival purposes.

[teambyler]

Will's anti-Vecna song should be David Bowie's "Heroes"

We know from the new BTS pic that he has headphones and a Walkman. Like Max, he might be fending off Vecna:

Max's anti-Vecna song was highly personal to her. It helped her through her guilt and depression and feeling like she deserved to die.

For Will, "Should I Stay or Should I Go" is cute, but it doesn't have emotional weight. It might have helped a child Will in the Upside Down in s1, when it made him think of home and Jonathan, but he's all grown up now. He's changed.

If Byler becomes realized, David Bowie's "Heroes" is the perfect song for Mike and Will's relationship that would help Will resist Vecna. It's canon that Will likes David Bowie: kid Mike prefers the androgynous rock star over Kenny Rogers (s2e1).

@surferbeto on YouTube comments:

This is a heroic love song. Bowie starts out crooning but pretty soon he ramps up and belts it out hard. This song is about risking getting shot by East German border police and dragged over barbed wire for love. This is about young love against impossible odds. It's about that gloriously tragic fantasy... of giving our life in some grandly romantic way to save the life of our beloved. Maybe by taking a bullet for them and dying in their arms in the shadow of the Berlin Wall.

Having David Bowie's "Heroes" in the show would call-back to Peter Gabriel's somber 2010 cover from s1, when Mike hugged his mom thinking Will was dead. But Bowie's original is defiant, triumphant, and bittersweet. (Seriously, if you haven't yet, listen to it before reading further. It's perfect.)

It would play when Mike and Will have their first kiss. Their song of losing each other is now of finding each other.

If Byler is realized, it could play as Mike and Will dare to hold hands in the school hall, as we fade out to the end credits.

Will would put it on his Walkman. If Will and Mike are bullied for their relationship, "Heroes" perfectly expresses their defiance and willingness to love each other despite the harm that might come to them.

It's the song that would most help Will in case he gets Vecna'd. It doesn't just remind him of Mike; it culminates his journey over the five seasons. As a kid he told Jonathan he's not a baby, not just a victim. Despite seeming shy and weak, he has a huge amount of quiet courage, but his struggle in s3 and s4 was largely internal. ("I'm not gonna fall in love.") Show creator Matt Duffer says about s5: "Will's going to be a big part and focus... We're starting to see his coming of age, really... You're starting to see him come into his own." If Byler becomes real, then his fight becomes external, confronting the homophobia in Hawkins and the literal hell threatening his friends. He will rise to the occasion.

"Will really takes center stage again in [season] 5," Ross Duffer told Variety. "This emotional arc for him is what we feel is going to hopefully tie the whole series together. Will is used to being the young one, the introverted one, the one that’s being protected. So part of his journey, it’s not just sexuality – it’s Will coming into his own as a young man."

In s2, Will only allowed Mike to protect him because he didn't feel pitied by Mike; Mike saw his strength. A stronger Will will pay him back and protect him from the twin dangers they face.

It's Will's turn to be the hero. His fight for others is his fight for himself. "Heroes" perfectly expresses his journey of defying all odds to fight for HIS RIGHT TO LOVE.

-teambyler

[magicalbunbun]

Sun demons

How did sun demons got into existence?

Yoriichi was by his wife grave while watching the blue spider lily's move around by the wind, slowly he rip one of them and move it to his lips, thinking that it may kill him he start to eat the each of the flower, because of it he start to vomit and be in pain as he try to call out for help but nothing come out of his lips while his teeth got sharper he start to calm down becoming the sun demon.

From strongest to weak:

1.yoriichi (leader)

2.Y/n (trainer specialises)

3.gyutaro (weapon specialises)

4.tamayo (doctor)

5.ume (helper)

Information about sun demons

*they are stronger then normal demons or lower,upper ranks,

*able to walk in sun,

*don't like to come out at night,

*get quickly aggressive to new people,

*very over protective of family members,

*y/n was the wind hashira but after getting a tsugko he retired from it,

*yoriichi isn't a hashira but lives next to HQ meaning he gives protection for kagaya who is very happy about it,

*ume and gyutaro have the same feelings to others as the orginal.

*tamyao this time lives at sun easte(yoriichis place)

*all sun demons live at sun easte.

[honeyed-latte]

Thinking about a Hiccup that ran away with Toothless after the episode in DoB where Berk thought the Gods were angry at Toothless.

After his electrocution did nothing to prove to the others that it was the metal, Hiccup instructed Stoick to remove the posts- and ran. If Toothless wasn't welcome, then neither was Hiccup, which suits him just fine.

Hiccup spends all his time rescuing Dragons, hoping from island to island to help, and he forms a sanctuary of his own in a way. He and Toothless head it as a two-man defacto Queen.

The island that would have been Dragons Edge becomes Hiccups Sanctuary, this brings his warpath to The Hunters front door and after skirmish after skirmish, hunt after hunt, auction after auction is upended and the dragons all freed. Money and men being lost by the handfuls, Viggos attention is most thoroughly snagged by who his men are calling "The Black Blight".

He doesn't believe them at first, who would? A man in all black on the back of a Night Fury pushing back all their operations away from the east, getting all too close to their bigger centers for Viggos comfort.

He comes face to face with this Blight not long after he confirms the mans existence, he knew where he'd hit next and patiently waited for the mystery man to rear his head and eureka, there he was, right on schedule.

It's surprisingly less violent then Viggo anticipated for a warrior his men had taken to calling such a... resonating moniker, but it was fitting that his guest is so sure of himself.

Hes a tall, slender thing doused in blackened sturdy armour, the kind of creature that moved with confidence and calm assurance even surrounded by Viggos Hunters. He was impressed by the candor and the mind that lurked beyond the empty, inscrutable eyes of the sleek helm, but they have mush to discuss if this was going to end in a way that favoured them both.

Viggo isn't surprised when the Dragon Master agree's to talk things over as opposed to battling it out, neither of them are unreasonable after all, but he is surprised when he takes off that intimidating (and beautifully crafted) helm and the man under it...is hardly a man at all.

A boy, rather, a feral and beautiful boy with eyes as quick and green as his Night Fury's.

Once they're properly introduced, they talk.

And talk.

And talk.

And drink.

And talk...

Until they find common ground, until they find agreement; Viggo will learn how to more reliably supply his economy with trade, non-lethally and without the selling of dragons while letting the dragons he currently housed free, and in return Hiccup will help Viggo expand his reach to make up for the gap in his gold and stop attacking all Hunter ships.

The sun is high up when they sign their names to the document outlining the agreement, its a thing that makes the feral scoff, what good is the name of an Exiled viking really, but who cares if it makes Viggo stop hurting dragons.

They work together, closely together, to make sure neither of them goes back on their word. True to form, Hiccup teaches Viggo how to appeal to a dragons gentler nature, and Viggo opens up Trade in the east- scaled armour, recycled metal and scrap from traps, Gronkle Iron, weaponry.

They help eachother scout new dragons, forge new inventions to trap and release them. They end up being a Team more often then not as the Hunters undo their years of harm, and Hiccup undoes years of loneliness (in Viggo and himself.)

Slowly, Hiccup and Viggo enter a more romantic relationship as well, they're a perfect match and together they build a stronger empire. Hiccup is free to come and go as he pleases, he saves even more dragons with Viggo as his partner, and having Hiccup around further soothes Viggo's people- he's a kind man after all, helpful. Even if Ryker loathes him, even if Viggo is at risk of assassination at the hands of old allies, even if Hiccup see's Berk less and less. Its all worth it, because they have eachother and they're making the world safer for dragons.

[tomorrowusa]

California has gotten its first tropical storm watch ever. The last time a tropical storm hit California was in September of 1939 just after Hitler had started World War II. They didn't issue such watches in those days.

Major Hurricane Hilary in the Pacific is way stronger than low energy Hurricane Don in the Atlantic a few weeks ago; the latter spent only a few hours as a hurricane as it spun around aimlessly away from land.

Hilary will weaken from the current Category 4, but how much it will weaken is still not certain. If it maintains sustained winds of at least 74 MPH/119 KMH when it reaches California, then it will become California's first ever official hurricane.

Hurricane Hilary is expected to hit Southern California as a tropical storm, with a punch that could include flash flooding and significant amounts of rain, according to the National Hurricane Center.  A tropical storm watch for much of Southern California was issued Friday morning. The National Weather Service's San Diego outpost said this was the first time such an advisory had ever been issued for the region. 

As somebody who's been through half a dozen tropical cyclones on the East Coast, I would advise our California friends that rain is a bigger hazard than wind – in most cases. People in areas which have the potential for flooding should particularly remain on alert.

The 1939 storm, called El Cordonazo, became the first and only tropical storm to make landfall in the state in the 20th century, according to the National Weather Service. NWS says the storm, which was at one point a hurricane, originated off the southern coast of Central America before moving north and eventually coming ashore at San Pedro, California.  Resulting floods from the storm killed at least 45 people across the Southern California region and caused $2 million in damage to structures and crops, the weather service reports. Another 48 people were also killed at sea.

There were far fewer people in California in 1939 when El Cordonazo caused deadly flooding.

Here is the current forecast for rainfall potential.

Keep up with the track of Hurricane Hilary here. Southern California should begin to feel the effects of Hilary on Sunday afternoon. Monitor local emergency information and follow advisories.

And if you're wondering why this is happening...

Our oceans are the warmest in recorded history. This is why it's so concerning

[g0ldgauntlet]

Hilichurls and "Tribal" Portrayals.

While we're talking about Natlan, I also want to mention how awful it is that a section of the fandom tried to make us all out to be crazy years ago for pointing out how racist the portrayal of the Hilichurls are.

Quick content warning for mentions of slavery, colonization, genocide, and anti-Indigenous racism. (Image description is in alt text)

Hoyo used Indigenous people as references for these in-game enemies, which we literally have video proof of, provided by the company itself (Timestamp: 1:30).

The Hilichurls were constantly belittled by Teyvat's people, with an Inazuma npc likening them to demons. I remember Paimon acting like the items they collected were meaningless or pieces of junk during the earlier parts of the game.

They become a lot more sympathetic later due to their actual origins in-game (which I'm sure @phoenix-creates can confirm for me because I know you're farther ahead in Genshin than I am right now), sure, but I always found it strange that Hoyo used Indigenous cultures to portray these "monsters" who have lost their sense of selves (meanwhile their human forms are white), as if to imply that Indigenous cultures are more "wild" or "savage."

Genshin fans of color, since 2020, have pointed out the racist undertones that Teyvat's people were perpetuating against the Hilichurls due to them acting the same way that racists irl act towards non-White cultures, but they were told that they were overreacting and this was swept under the rug as a result. The very next year, it's brought up again with more people finding out about it, and we were still being told that we're overreacting.

So now that we're at Natlan, is it seriously that hard to believe that Hoyo straight up just doesn't respect Indigenous cultures? Black (and many brown) cultures too, because it's very telling that Iansan, the Natlan character with the darkest skin so far, is given a more stereotypically "tribal" look on her design with a bunch of bones used as her accessories despite that not being what her actual inspiration looks like.

(Artist for picture on the right: vieirapx on Instagram)

Sucrose has confirmed in her "Something to Share" voiceline that she collects Hilichurl bones, which is similar to colonizers taking the bones of dead Indigenous people with this added context.

Also, please read or reread the Teyvat Travel Guide Vol. 1. Alice basically confirms that she wants to enslave the Hilichurls for labor and also feed the weaker ones to the stronger ones.

That latter point is cannibalism. I know that many people are fans of Alice, but a lot of what she talks about in the first guide is why I don't like her.

Yes, it can be argued that Indigenous cultures are not the only inspiration for the Hilichurls, as it's been said that they may take inspiration from goblins, Bokoblins from the Zelda franchise, and the Amanojuku from Japanese mythology. Answer me this question, though.

Why is Hoyo capable of referencing a creature and not a human being when it comes to the Japanese inspiration for the Hilichurls, but this does not apply to the Indigenous references? It's dehumanizing, and it feels like another double-standard that needs to be addressed.

Hoyo has casually made black and brown cultures in Genshin appear to be less civilized and more "tribal" compared to our White and East Asian peers, both with the human characters and the non-human ones. Sumeru's quests and enemy npcs had multiple examples of this, with the Traveler and Jeht even destroying almost the entire Tanit tribe with the narrative justification being that, conveniently, most or all of them were selfish, bloodthirsty, and manipulative (Jeht's profile on the wiki page goes into what happened with more depth). They had to die because the tribe was dangerous - even though the main problem seems to be Babel - and Jeht's white, blonde companion needed to help save everyone from these evil, power-hungry savages.

(Sidenote: I think this is the second time overall that Hoyo has come up with an excuse to justify Traveler committing genocide on an entire group of people, with the first being the Iwakura Clan.)

I'm sure that the same thing is going to happen with Natlan's quests and npcs because Hoyo has always been weird about the portrayal of black and brown-inspired characters. The question is not whether any of the creatures or humans from specific groups are bad, suspicious, or designed to fit a specific image. We know the answer to that. The real question is why they are portrayed like this, and why it keeps happening more commonly to the black and brown cast members compared to our lighter peers.

[madmachaca]

I love that Buggy, in that sorry state he was, basically called them mediocre pirates.

"But Buggy is mediocre too"

Well, yeah, if he had trained, he would have been strong.

But he knows what he is, and he is a pirate, a weak one, maybe, but ultimately a pirate, and Roger's former crew member.

He never trained to get better because he felt he didn't deserve it. He never thought of being big outside of the East Blue because he thought he was not good enough. And now these guys, who are stronger than him, come and decided (in his eyes) to be just mediocre?

And this may be the moment when he finally accepts he put himself down all his life. He always played safe because in his own eyes, he wasn't enough.

"Shanks had so much promised ahead of him, I gave up on my dreams"

Since Shanks was the promising one, the talented one, the strong one, Buggy put himself down. All for Shanks, but he forgot to tell Shanks about it.

Remember after he was given the warlord title he fantasized about becoming an Emperor and later King of the Pirates?

He didn't say that because he got carried away. That had been his dream all along

A childhood dream he is claiming back. It may be impossible, delusional, and complete madness, but he, in his desperate state, is taking a chance

They may hurt him and humiliate him again later, maybe that would happen, I haven't caught out with the manga yet, but, for this moment, Crocodile and Mihawk can't do much because, as much as they let him be Emperor just for show and as much as they use him for their own convenience, they are not the ones all those pirates are following. It's Buggy.

He is the one with followers. He is the one who is loved, and he is the one for whom hundreds of people would fight (and maybe even die for).

After the indignation and rage cools down, he probably would be scared again, but for now, he doesn't care.

[chronically-ghosted]

between the earth and sky (lover, share your road - prologue) series masterlist | AO3 Link | part i

chapter rating: T (series: E)

word count: 1.1K

chapter summary: how Joel Miller's forefathers came to settle the southern plains

chapter warnings/tags: references to genocide (human and animal), racism

a/n: Miller County was a real place!

Vincente Ramón Morelos with his wife María Guadalupe Rodríguez Saldaña went in search of a better life in 1848.

Exhausted from the bloody revolution against Spain, then the devastating loss at the hands of white “rebels”, the childless couple leave the southern hill country by the San Antonio river to go north, to find peace, in a place that the Anglos have never touched — so promised Señor De La Cruz, a former comandante like Vincente, who shared his dream of wide, open spaces, and a sky that stretches into infinite possibilities.

This land they marched across, with its barren trees and flat golden spreads, is nothing like anything they’ve ever seen before. The wagon chain the Morelos follow whispered in hushed, awed tones. María reached out the side of the wagon, letting her hand brush against brown thistles, watching how the reed springs under her fingers, how it tickles her palm. She never knew the earth could be so soft – teasing her with some great secret it’s eager to share. She looked to her husband and he glowed beneath the rich blue sky and bronze sun. Maybe this was God showing her how to fall in love with a new home.

Towns became few and far between. In a transitory cattle town, Vincente listens to two vaqueros tell stories over a loose game of poker about a briefly-disputed patch of land, five hundred miles east, one that exchanged ownership three times before disappearing into obscurity. But a single name settled permanently, before its township ever could: Miller County. Vincente quietly related to that blurring of identity, a loss of a permanent place to be known and loved, so when going through towns of white Texan Anglos that distrusted his olive skin and aquiline nose, he told them his name was Vincent Miller and he was, like all others, looking for a place to call home. He found it north of what would become Amarillo, and south of what would be Dalhart, between the Canadian and Red River, rivers that never seemed as endless and deep as the Gulf from his childhood. 

By the spring of 1852, Mary (formerly María) and Vincent, established on their acre of land, had welcomed two girls and were expecting a third child, who ended up being a boy. This boy was given the name John (though his mother called him Juan at home) Tomás Miller, after Mary’s grandfather. As a boy, John learned from his father Vincent to listen and trust the Kiowa, the Comanche, the Gods of the Grass Sea, who were said to have been born with a heart of a buffalo. Who walked with prairie chickens and raced the pronghorn antelopes. Recognizing a kinship with nomadic blood of the Millers – once Morelos – the Comanche taught them what it meant to use the land as one uses a brother for support. Use in kind, but treat just as kindly. Avoiding what the Anglos referred to as “dry farming” because it was only the Anglos who believed, by sheer force of will, they could make rain come down from the sky. The Comanche were shocked by their arrogance. As he grew older and stronger beneath that heavy sunshine that had endeared his mother to these foreign lands, John maintained his father’s relationship with The First People, even aiding them in keeping the encroaching Anglo homesteaders off the lands of the buffalo and the blue grama grass. 

When John married in the summer of 1885 a woman whose skin burnt easy in the sun, but had hands rougher than a sailor’s, Vincent was surprisingly happy for his son, because Jennie Sarah Hansen was quick-witted, brave, and possessed a rare quality when it came to the regards of the Tejanos and The First People – compassion. Disowned by her own family for such a trait, Jennie came to live with John, his father Vincent, his mother Mary, with letters from John’s two sisters and their families coming from down south every month. 

Joel Ramón Miller was born in the late fall of 1891, followed shortly there by his brother, Tom – Tommy, because Tom was too serious for a boy with a smile like that – and the lineage of working under blue skies in endless dunes of buffalo grass was passed down, third generation of Vincent, who lived to see his oldest grandson turn five before quietly, with dignity, leaving this world in his sleep. 

Tommy Miller continued to look towards the sun and, as a young man, followed it west. But Joel, like his father, like his grandfather, like the land itself, kept watch over the ones he loved from the porch of that a-frame house, the one his father built for his mother. For a time that included a woman with dark skin and darker eyes out of Alabama. And then it was just the baby who came from her, who came from him. Sarah, named after his mother who was as fierce and resilient as the buffalo grass and as beautiful as the endless sky. 

As far as Joel Miller was concerned that was enough. The two of them – him and his babygirl, with the plums and the maize, and the secrets of this wide wilderness handed down in partnership from the Comanche and the Kiowa, because the Millers knew what to keep and what wasn’t theirs, or anyone’s, to own.

Until the day came when the buffalo were slaughtered by the thousands, and the once great Gods of the Grass Sea were felled, both driven to extinction by a force that held no compassion or concern for the lands it swallowed. 

The cowboys over in the XIT, runners of cattle in the land that used to tremble beneath the hooves of thousands of buffalo, started to complain first. Rumbled that no good was to come of any of it; the American government gave too freely; real estate agents and land developers promised too much. Those arriving in the prairie came only for the green that the wheat boom offered, and had misjudged the quietness of the plains for emptiness.

Joel Miller watched as towns bloomed overnight, model E’s rumbled off the new railway lines, and nesters and sodbusters burrowed into their dugouts like wolf-spiders — at the cost of the beautiful, bellowing sea of grass. The bison were long dead, the Kiowa and Comanche now ghosts between the stalks of blue grama, and a wind was coming in from the north. 

It whispered to those who could still listen and would heed its warnings. 

And Joel Miller, with his only daughter, listened and waited and didn’t like what he heard. First, the drought came. Lasted ten years. Then the economic freefall that blew out entire financial systems on a global scale. 

And then, like a ghoulish nightmare, a specter of death that came from the ill-resting spirits of the bison, came the dust storms. 

The air crackled with electricity, car radios clicked off, overwhelmed by the static. Ignitions shorted out. Waves of sand swept over the roads. Children were lost and found thirty feet from their back doors, dead, suffocated on dust. Five thousand feet tall, wider than entire cities, this was blind vengeance, a reckoning well-deserved.

And for the first time in his life, Joel Miller was afraid.

series masterlist | part i

[beanghostprincess]

Something I think about a lot is the order in which the Strawhats joined, how that affects their relationships, and how we as a fandom perceive them (this is about the Romance Dawn trio and Sanuso, by the way).

Zoro and Nami were the first two to join Luffy. The Romance Dawn trio. Luffy's first mate and Luffy's navigator. Luffy's anchor and Luffy's compass. He would not know what to do if something happened to them. And of course he loves all the Strawhats. Of course he does. But there's just something about Zoro and Nami that it's personal and intimate in a different way. It's not that they're more important to Luffy, but they're their special people. Their main two. His specialest boy and his specialest girl. Whatever. The thing is that, if we consider this inside the East Blue crew, it just makes sense that Sanuso were so close at the start.

I'm always mentioning how much I miss pre-ts Sanuso because they had more scenes together, whether I referred to background silly scenes or important, character-driven ones. But it's quite literally because they were the only two left. Let me explain:

Sanji has this thing about not wanting to take up much space. Like, his whole personality is to serve and please others, and he isn't used to taking what he wants. Usopp is an anxious mess and he thinks he doesn't deserve to be where he is because he assumes the others are stronger and better than him. They just naturally feel out of place. And they're sharing a ship and an adventure with three other people that, apart from knowing each other before meeting them, they take up so much space in the world without a care. They're shamelessly taking what they want. Slicing people in two, stealing, becoming kings. That leaves Sanji and Usopp in a place of-- Not really loneliness, that's their family now and for once they feel like they belong somewhere but, y'know, they belong without feeling like they deserve it.

I think Sanuso works so well, too, because of their numbers. Usopp was the third one to join. Sanji the fourth. Usopp joined when the Romance Dawn trio was already a thing and he actually hesitated about joining them. And Sanji then met them when they were already like, an actual crew and not just some idiots (well, they are. But y'know, at least four people is better than just two). That thing about 'three's a crowd' and all that? Well, I think there's just some sort of barrier between the Romance Dawn trio and Sanji/Usopp. Not really because, again, they have their own bonds and it works in different ways and the East Blue crew is extremely intimate but please tell me you see what I mean. The Romance Dawn trio wouldn't be a thing if I wasn't right here.

So Sanji and Usopp bond for being the third and the fourth and I think the fact that they don't feel like they belong in the place they should feel at home the most just shows that they just... Feel like they don't belong anywhere. Except when they're together. They're alone together. I think that's why they work so well.

[bestedoesmeow]

Charles Leclerc X Y/N

Instagram Au

Charles's yearning becomes stronger every day since his girlfriend is ill and can't attend his final race before the holiday break. But he is finally able to fly to his lover's hometown.

f1newss

liked by user5 and others

tagged : charles_leclerc

Leclerc sent his girlfriend, Y/N, a message through our cameras, he also mentioned that the two would be reunited soon. He seemed quite tired but happy as well while talking about the past season and Ferrari.

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user13 : He is a cutie pie, look at that little heart :,)

user15 : Anyone knows why she couldn't make it?

user6 : I heard she got covid so she probably is in quarantine :/

user16 : Poor Y/N I hope she gets well soon.

user25 : Definetly a boyfriend material SHE IS LUCKY...

-MEANWHILE, MESSAGES-

yourusername ( private account )

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 456 others

tagged : charles_leclerc

Our boy has arrived, y/l/n family couldn't be happier. We got lots to gossip about, welcome home Percival @charles_leclerc

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lorenzotl : Have fun children, don't even consider sharing our family secrets Charlie😜

yourusername : He already has... His mouth is not so tight🤐

liked by lorenzotl

pierregasly : Poor dog, I bet poor thing can' t even breathe... charles_leclerc : Shut up Gasly yourusername : Make him 😋 ( in a seductive way) pierregasly : Yeah Leclerc, come on make me charles_leclerc : I can't compete with you two...

y/f/u/n : Welcome home Charles🎉 liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, esteban_ocon and 678.456 others

tagged : yourusername

A little bit ill, but still can gossip like a master, she is tired from all the chatter I guess, missed you amour ❤️

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yourusername : You made me talk more than I thought, my throat is sore, you are the gossip master.

charles_leclerc : Maybe true?

user35 : We knew you were the real gossip when you asked Carlos to text Lando about the contract🙄

liked by y/u/n

user45 : The type of relationship I need...

alex_albon : Poor Y/N :( have a nice holiday guys!!

liked by charles_leclerc

Hey everyone!

The south-east of my country is totally ruined by the devastating earthquakes. People and animals there are hungry and cold; they need help. Lots of people are still under ruins and they are dying of hypothermia. Our rescue teams are not enough, and there are lots of people waiting to be rescued. People are trying their hardest to help them out, but it’s not enough. Lots of people are dying since they haven't been reached by the rescue teams, yet thousands of people died; it has nothing to do with international politics; this has nothing to do with karma; we are talking about thousands of innocent beings. Please be aware of the situation, send your prayers, we need your help. #prayforturkiye 🇹🇷

[i-love-love]

Chrissy's Earrings and What They Mean About Her Family's Social Class

Hello and welcome to a stupid mini rant about Chrissy Cunningham's earrings and their social implications!

So for context: I have spent a decent amount of time in (and have a large family from) the American South, where there are alllllll kinds of stupid little social rules and secrets that signal things to others who know The Codes. Obviously this isn't limited to the south, but it's v prevalent there. And among the Codes are some rules about pearl jewelry. I learned this mostly on accident because I wanted to buy myself a pearl necklace as a college graduation present and stumbled across some very opinionated blogs while researching.

Pearls are kind of a big deal in the south. Less so these days, but back in the days of Debutantes (so like… two generations ago. My grandmother's debutante ball pictures are still on the wall of a local restaurant in my family hometown), ~Ladies~ all had (and wore) a nice string of pearls. And one of the ways you showed how classy you were was obeying a system of rules around who is allowed to wear what pearls. This set of rules extended up most of the east coast. It seems to have been stronger in the bible belt, but this would not be unfamiliar to folks in, say, Kentucky or Connecticut. Obviously it's 2024 and you can do whatever you want with your jewelry (and even 60 years ago it's not like you'd be sent to jail for wearing the wrong kind of necklace, you'd just be viewed as socially inept or possibly trashy), but for the purposes of this discussion, here are the formal rules.

The main thing is size. Pearls can be bought in different standardized sizes. Before lab-created pearls really took off, the only way to get them was out of a clam oyster. The longer the pearl sits in the clam, the more layers the clam oyster is able to put on it, and the bigger it gets. Thus, it takes more time to acquire a larger pearl, making them more expensive. Pearls are measured in millimeters, with small pearls being about 6-6.5mm, and large pearls being about 13.0-13.5mm. To make a piece of pearl jewelry, you need to match a handful of pearls as closely as you can in terms of size, shape (they don't all come out perfectly round), and color (pearls can be white, pink, yellow, black, etc.). Thing is… young women are not allowed to wear big pearls. The general guidelines are:

5-6.5mm: given as "first pearls". Typically you wait until a girl is a little older to gift her her very first pearl jewelry. This might be done as a flower girl present, but 16 is often considered a good age for a girl to receive her first strand.

6.5-7mm: permissible for girls 16 and up. Often given as a birthday or high school graduation present. Might also be gifted to your bridesmaids as a thank you for appearing in your wedding.

7-7.5mm: permissible for women 18 and up. Often given as a high school or college graduation present, birthday/mother's day/anniversary/Christmas/valentine's day present. This is kinda considered the "all purpose" size for women.

7.5-8.0: permissible for women 25 and up.

8.0-8.5: this is where they're generally considered to be more ~luxury~. The jewelry becomes its own statement, rather than a standard all-purpose foundational accessory.

8.5-9.0: permissible for women in their mid-30s or older. Often gifted when a woman makes a significant achievement or attains some power, such as a promotion. (An achievement is not necessary to receive these as long as the age requirement is met; conversely, a woman younger than her mid-30s may be gifted this size if she has a sizable enough accomplishment.)

9.0-9.5: permissible for women when they either A) reach their 40s, or B) become "high-powered"-- upper management, CEO, etc.

Basically, you have to "earn" your right to wear larger pearls, either with age or power. You're allowed to wear any size you've "graduated" from (an older or powerful woman can wear any size, if you're in your mid-20s you can wear anything 5.0-8.0 but not above, etc.), but you shouldn't wear sizes you haven't attained the "right" to wear, as this is tacky. Even when you have the "right" to wear big ones, it's worth considering occasion-- larger pearls are more luxurious, so you may choose to wear your 7.0mm strand for your day-to-days and bust out the 9.0s when you have a fancy event. Alternatively, you might wear your 9.5s to work every day to remind everybody what a badass you are.

So now that that's sorted, these are Chrissy's earrings:

They're… big. I'd estimate maybe 10-11mm based on this picture, assuming GVD has normal-sized ears. The sizes listed above are for necklaces, and you can go a little bigger for your earrings, but a 17 year old girl really shouldn't, according to pearl rules, be wearing 11mm earrings. Like, she could get away with 7.5s even though she hasn't graduated/isn't 18, but 11mm is crazy.

For reference, here's what 10-11mm looks like on a jewelry store model-- about what Chrissy is wearing:

And this is a 6-7mm, which is "age appropriate" for her:

Chrissy's possession of these indicates that her family is not aware of pearl rules. She shouldn't even own earrings this big, let alone be wearing them to cheer practice and drug deals. Maaaybe Laura could have them, if she works outside the home and has a high power career (not outside the realm of possibility), but Chrissy would probably not be stealing Mommy Dearest's earrings for a pep rally, based on their characterizations.

Chrissy's family is obviously shown to have money. However, they aren't aware of the opaque rich people social codes. Thesis? The Cunninghams are nouveau riche and that’s why image is such a big deal for them. Laura's very careful composition in public, that family portrait oil painting, their huge/pristine house, and all of the fanon decisions made about Chrissy's need to uphold a reputation/Laura's pressures and expectations of her... they're all to help the family force their way into the moneyed community of Hawkins and pretend they belong.

(Edit: to the girlies tagging this as hellcheer I am kissing you on the lips)