#2024 Red Power Round Up

[uniqueartisanconnoisseur]

Yesterday’s Memories, the Van Haag Truck Museum

During the 2024 Red Power Round Up in Spencer, Iowa this summer, they offered a few tours, one of the ones that my husband Keith and I jumped to join was the Yesterday’s Memories truck museum in Sanborn, Iowa. This museum is the story of John C. Vander Haag Jr. their business, their collection, and his amazing success that led to this huge truck museum. South Side Junkyard From 1939 until 1955…

[curtins]

touch me there! gojo satoru. minors dni.

prologue. who knew that the strongest man to walk the earth, the closest thing humanity had to a god, was this weak just from your touch?

warnings. handjób, óverstimulation (m. receiving) and gojo being a slút for you

mp3. touch, touch, touch. thought about you way too much! — touch, katseye (2024)

a/n. made my own gifs for this one! i actually really enjoyed that 😭 today i learnt the difference between a web-dl file and a remux file. gifmakers are so strong...

you know that gojo's power is an indomitable force, and with a snap of his fingers, mountains would crumble, the seas could part, and the skies themselves would darken in his wake. no mortal, no force of the heavens above, no...nothing can touch him or shake his resolve. or at least that's what people say when they whisper about him. when other sorcerers point and wonder what it must be like to be the most unshakeable man on the planet.

well you've had your hand around his pale berry-pink cock for an hour, and you can say with full clarity of mind that there is one thing that can undo the divine power that is satoru gojo.

his thick shaft is slick with pre-cum, and the skin is smooth yet taut, supple and throbbing. his head has fallen back in exhaustion, frustrated from your teasing just as he gets so close to his release. hates how you draw your hand back suddenly leaving him high and dry, and aching furiously

but its just not enough for you yet, and he sees something soo godly within you right now. how is it that you've just undone him so easily, had him squirming and shaking like a whore?

he thinks its your nails that have him so delirious, for they reach for the underside of his cock and gently grasp his heavy balls, so painful that they ache, running the light tips of your fingers over the folded skin

"baby - please, no more. i don't think i can - can," and he's twitching under your touch. and yet despite his words you see the flush of amusement still dancing on his face, red brushing over his cheeks and leaving a rosy dawn behind on his gorgeous face

"ohh, satoru, so messy today aren'tcha?" and he bucks his hips up at the way you just purr out his name, a staccato tempo of him fucking himself up into your clenched fist, absolutely leaking a thin, milky fluid that leaves the both of you dizzy

its intoxicating for you too, starting at the base of his cock right where light curls of pale hair tickle at your knuckles. then you slowly drag your hand up, until your thumb comes to rest on the fat mushroom tip, a glowy-red as you lovingly run the digit back and forth, drinking in at how gojo is practically whining, chest heaving and littered with the marks and bruises left from your adoring teeth

but the killing blow, the one that leaves him feeling like he's been cleaved in half (too soon?) is when you dip your hands to the moist sheen between your legs, the slick gloss that has gathered from you, coating your fingers liberally. and how you use that same hand, still covered in your arousal to pump him more furiously

in the end, he's got tears pricking his eyes when he reaches his climax, beading in the corners of his brilliant blue gaze, weepy and leaking. and you're left to marvel at how thick, white seed shoots out and plasters all over your hand, over your torso as you had been leaning over him and before you can blink, he's beaming up at you, muttering about sensitivity but still positioning your hips right above his freshly milked cock for round two, no, three? four?

[kenziebluex]

All I Need

♫ Lloyd - All I Need

Kyōjurō Rengoku - Kinktober 2024 Day 8 - Flogging & Cock Warming

Story Description: Sensei Rengoku was not pleased when you arrived late to your Kendo training.  He felt that a fitting punishment would be something enjoyable yet also serve as a reminder not to repeat your tardiness. In other words, he wanted to make sure your bottom was as red as his fiery hair.

Tags: Flogging, Cock Warming, Sensei Rengoku, Spanking, Handjob, Teasing

Today of all days just had to be the first time you were late to training. Rengoku sensei has always been strict about tardiness. Today, you decided to put in the extra effort of ironing your Hakama skirt before heading off to Kendo class. Little did you know, your clock was one hour behind and just like that you were already 10 minutes late for class.

As if the universe wanted an encore, all of the sparring partners had been taken when you finally showed up. You meander your way to a practice dummy in the corner and fasten your ‘men’ helmet on your face. You grip your bamboo sword with both hands aiming it low towards the faceless straw man. 

Warm, heavy hands gripped your shoulders, slowly massaging them. Your nipples stood taut and the fabric of your uniform felt flimsier than usual.  You took in a deep breath as a deep husky voice floated against your ear.

“Your shoulders are sturdier than Mount Fuji. You’ll never get in a good swing in this form.” Rengoku Sensei warned. His brassy voice sent shockwaves through your chest as he continued the press rounded motions against your shoulders. You could feel the heat of his body radiating behind you like a human furnace. 

His hands slowly traveled down your shoulders and under your arms towards your wrist. He was practically hugging you from behind but you tried to convince yourself that he was just fixing your form. You tried to ignore the rigid chest cushioning your head and his stiff girth brushing atop your ass. However, Rengoku sensei wasn’t making any effort to hide it. You wanted to test the limits. 

You relaxed your shoulders as he instructed while shamelessly grounding your ass against his agitated member. He hissed and his hands went from gripping your wrists to firmly clutching your hips.

“Is this better?” You asked breathily as a small curse escaped Rengoku’s lips. The noise from clashing wooden swords echoed across the room and the practice dummy was situated far enough away in the room for anyone to notice what you were doing. 

“I’m afraid not.” He responded quickly. He’d always been responsible and polite. His domineering attitude as he taught the way of the sword was powerful, admirable. His booming voice echoed every corner of the room that surely spooked some of his opponents. What everyone typically focused on was his windswept golden locks dipped with red tips and piercing red eyes. But you were focused on other things. 

You never missed the way his sweat gleamed down his face escaping into his uniform and how his hair clung to his neck in fierce resistance. You focused on the clearness in his voice that commanded a room. But today he sounded like a beast quelling his sanity. Rugged huffs mixed in between his breaths. His chest heaved against you and he hovered closer to your ear, his fiery locks setting ablaze against your shoulder. 

“You were late today. After training, you are going to face punishment for it.” He spoke with promise. Rengoku released your body and his touch still burned on your skin as you anticipated the punishment he had planned for you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shouldn’t have expected much. After everyone cleared the dojo except for you and your sensei, Rengoku only had you perform practice swings for the last 10 minutes. He sat criss crossed and his burning gaze followed your every movement. Every time you performed a combo you looked for his approval only for him to say…

“Again!” His focused gaze made you anxious and you could feel your body ready to give out soon. Before you were able to obey his command, you dropped your wooden sword. The clacking of the sword echoed against the tatami mat as you looked to your sensei to brace for his reaction. For a long time he just looked down at the limp sword and watched as you leaned over to pick it up. 

“Y/n, come here.” He ordered. After picking up the sword, you approached him and matched his criss crossed seating position. The absence of his usual proud smile was daunting however, and was replaced by a look in his eyes you weren’t sure what to make of it yet. 

You continued taking kendo after becoming an adult but there were rarely any instructors for adult kendo students until you got a recommendation from one of your close friends about the new young teacher Rengoku sensei. When you first came, you attempted to fade into the background while taking all the teachings you wanted from him and then high tailing your ass outta there. You figured that he would be paying more attention to the struggling newbies anyway so you typically cruised your way through his classes.

Today, however, was your one slip up. 

The sweat from under your Keikogi made the uniform stick to your skin and you desperately wanted to loosen the protection padding that was on top of your uniform. You wondered if Rengoku noticed your fatigue as he reached towards your helmet and unfastened it from your head, placing it next to him. 

You knew your face was flushed, lips parted trying to catch your breath. His eyes traveled to your parted lips and his throat bobbed taking in a nervous gulp. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes with his eyebrows tying together in torment.

“Get on all fours.” He commanded without opening his eyes. You were startled by his sudden command and your eyes dropped down to a sizable tent parading between his thighs. His knuckles were clenched white.  You began to maneuver to your knees and placed your palms flat on the mat, gaze glued to the floor. Strangely, you felt like a school aged kid getting punished for misbehaving. 

But you were a grown ass woman. There was no way Rengoku’s method of discipline was-

“Ah!” A fevered scream was pulled from your throat. Your hand caught your scream as you looked to the side to see Rengoku’s hand was clenched firm against your ass. Your body vibrated with shock after he spanked you and your pussy shivered with excitement. 

“Damn this ass is beautiful.” You heard him murmur under his breath. A statement that clearly wasn’t meant for you to hear. 

“Rengoku sensei….” You whined as your thighs flexed while he started to massage the place that he slapped. 

“If you drop it again, that is going to replace my hand next time.” He directed his gaze towards the wooden sword. His taunt electrified your senses and you were already thinking of ways to drop your sword on purpose. Rengoku’s face was glued to the spot he lashed, his teeth abusing his bottom lip and his cock throbbing beneath his hakama. 

“Yes, sensei.” You sighed. You shuffled back to your feet and attempted to practice your swings again. His strike was rough and you can still feel the pain throbbing on your right cheek. You could tell he didn’t use nearly all of his strength but the frenzied thoughts of him using the wooden sword next time dampened your underwear. 

Rengoku sat back more relaxed this time. He rested a palm on the floor while holding himself up behind him. He hung a lazy elbow over his propped up knee and allowed his thighs to spread making more room for his clothed cock. His face was flushed and his typical, sharpened eyes were relaxed as he waited for your next screw up. 

It didn’t take long for you to ‘accidentally’ drop your sword and Rengoku was twice as fast getting you back on your knees. This time, your stomach laid across his lap with your ass perched in the air. He set you free from the protection padding and threw it to the side. Your underwear is practically dripping onto the floor. 

You waited for Rengoku to begin his punishment but instead he shoved your hakama skirt up and over your back. Your moist folds pierced by the cold dojo air as your body shivered. Rengoku used two fingers to trace the lining of your pussy through your underwear.

“Did you think I was going to let your hakama protect you this time?” His voice is low and almost teasing which is unlike his usual candid nature. You bit back a groan as he teased your clit through your underwear. 

“Did you drop your sword on purpose?” He asked. Your head fell forward and you shook it fiercely, shamelessly lying.

*Slap*

“Ah fuck!” You shrieked. Burning wood of the bamboo sword branded your right cheek. The already painful throb from his palm slam escalated into a swelling torture. Your body shook and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You had never endured such strength before and you could tell he was holding back. You whipped your head to the side and up to try to catch a glimpse of his face. 

His eyes were focused but mildly hooded. A teasing smile spread across his lips while a gentle red hue formed on his cheeks. You blinked up at him.

*Slap*

Another painful shriek was torn from your lips. Rengoku lashed at you again as if to tell you to pay attention. Although this time, the spank was delicious and you sucked up the pain that turned into pleasure for your aching core. Desperate whimpers escaped your lips while the mark of the bamboo sword seemed like it was going to be tattooed on your ass forever. 

“P-please.” A cracked whimper fell from your lips. Rengoku clicked his tongue as he briefly put the wooden sword down. He pulled your underwear to the side and allowed your wet folds to be bare to his eyes. A moan rumbled from your throat when he used his fingers to tease your clit.

“It seems like I haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve.” He cooed. With quick work he palmed your underwear and slid it down your thighs and you heard a tear in the fabric. You hissed at heat that soaked up your entire body and the chilled breeze that chilled you from below. 

He gripped your left cheek with his left hand and stretched his thumb to tease your swollen clit like a joystick. You began to squirm and he squeezed your left cheek to keep you still. You couldn’t help but to gasp and sigh in pleasure as you felt your sweating skin nearly sticking to the floor.

*Slap*

*Slap*

“Don’t run baby.”

*Slap*

Rengoku spanked your ass with the wooden sword while playing with your clit in tandem. This time when he whipped you, he pounded against both cheeks and your pussy lips making sure he stimulated you fully. Each time he came back down with the sword, you sang more screams laced with moans into the dojo floor. 

His thumb moved faster, daring you to come all over the sword, all over the floor and to drench his hands. Everytime you moaned, his cock twitched from under your chest. 

With one final slam your thighs tightened and you curled into yourself, cumming hard. Rengoku groaned as he watched you cum all over his hands and coated your slick on the wooden sword. You attempted to take time to catch your breath but Rengoku pulled your head up by your hair and slammed his lips against yours. You groaned against his mouth because you were still coming down from the effects of your orgasm.

You traveled down to his pelvis to grip his stiff length. You started to stroke him slowly and he exhaled a long moan in your mouth. He loosened the tie on his bottoms and his cock sprung free and standing at full attention. Rengoku was already panting like a dog in heat. Desperate to be trapped in your walls and to make a home in your womb. 

He pulled your legs to straddle him and lowered your spasming pussy to clutch his swollen length. He hissed when he breached your walls. He popped the head through and waited for you to adjust to his size. Gripping your ass with both hands, he pressed your further down earning a labored moan as he filled you to capacity. The sting from his stretch outweighed the pain ringing from your ass but Rengoku slammed a few more bare palms to remind you of its presence. 

He dug his head into your neck as soft groans vibrated against your collarbone and left a hot trail of kisses to mark his claim. You were too tight and your insides were eating away at his sanity. He held you still, unmoving and allowing his cock to camp in your pussy. 

Your sweat was breaking. You needed to move or you just might go crazy. Rengoku’s face was twisted, he seemed like if you moved he might cum the second you rose up on his dick. His hands held you down and you were unable to move an inch. You were connected and now that you were sitting pretty in his dick, he was not going to let you go.

“Rengoku please!” You cried. He felt amazing. You were dying for him to scratch that itch inside of you that was desperate for a second orgasm. You wanted him to fuck you but he was to busy relishing in you begging for it. He was eating up the fucking delicious flutters your pussy performed on his cock. He didn’t move; instead, his hands went from on your ass to wrapping around your waist into a hug. 

His body heat was scorching and his muscled arms prevented your body from shifting an inch. You gasped as his grip tightened. He released another strained groan into your neck. The sound of your tireless begging drove him crazy. The arrogance you often showed in class was finally bested by his punishing cock that he won’t even allow you to enjoy fully. 

Poor you. He thought devilishly. He tongued his way from your collarbone to your ear. He was willing to stay there for hours, testing the limits of your tight pussy, teasing the pain from the lashings of the wooden sword. 

Maybe then you’ll think twice about coming late to practice.

Terms:

Kendo- A Japanese form of fencing while using wooden bamboo swords as a safe form of sword training.

Hakama- long skirt used for kendo training.

Men- a protective helmet used in kendo similar to the helmets used in fencing.

Keikogi- a long sleeved shirt used for martial arts training.

taglist: @nousija @kanamethekasugaicrow  @beetusbritt @staygoldsquatchling02

-kenzie

[fanficsandfluff]

The Wild Robot: A Funny Task

Fandom: The Wild Robot (2024)

Characters: Roz, Fink

A/N: NO WAY LEAVE ME ALONE MY FIRST FIC IN ALMOST A YEAR!

It was hard for Fink to be vulnerable. Even the thought of the word made him want to crawl into his den and never reemerge -- good riddance, island!

Then he'd curl close to the ROZZUM's carefully crafted fire pit in the chilly autumn air and succumb. To the warmth. To the softness. To the petting--

"Hey!"

The fox sprung to his paws and faced the wild robot. She'd grown some moss around her neck joints and along her back, making her appear all the more cuddly-- stop it, Fink! Roz had her thick finger pads buried close into Fink's fur for the previous seconds up until he jumped away from her.

"That was uncomfortable for you?" she posed as straightforward as a robot does, but with Roz's acquired gentleness.

"No, I'm fine," defense, defense, defense.

Roz's blue lenses refocused in on the fox and she skillfully grabbed him by the nape of his neck and placed him in her lap. Not a place Fink hated to be, but he usually did so while Roz was powered down, unable to witness, never to know of his cuddly side. So Fink squirmed.

"What is this, Roz? You gonna keep me here? Against my will?"

"Your will hasn't clawed at me yet, Fink," Roz astutely pointed out. Her fingers started their descent back into Fink's auburn fur, then flatted out last minute so it was mostly her palm doing the work. She stroked down the fur on his back. And Fink shivered and melted instantly.

"Wh-What's this for?" the fox grew shy, meek in his question.

"I've acquired a new task in the interim while Brightbill is gone. Make Fink comfortable. Are you satisfied with the service?" a playful tone was wafting through Roz's voice, odd and unheard before... or was Fink's mind playing tricks on him and she sounded perfectly normal?

"It's-It's great. It's definitely new, I mean, I haven't-- no one's ever-- Hey! Not the tail, please," a huge shiver shot up Fink's back when Roz ran her entire hand, cupped and feathery, gliding and tubing his tail from root to tip. Fink noted Roz's lenses crinkling from the bottom, which meant she was pleased. Why was she not taking in any of his concerns?? She wasn't affected! Even though it was all an affect, how would she know that??

His tail shook itself out over the lower rounded half of Roz's torso. An orange light emitted through her sensors on that side when he did so. Not the red of pain. Not the blue of understanding.

It took a second of silence, of Roz glancing down at her own side where the light shone, then on to Fink where she darted one speedy finger over the fur on his side. Fink stifled a noise, but his body flinched.

"New task acquired."

"Roz--"

The robot caught Fink once more before he did try to flee. She fluttered fingers into the soft underbelly on the fox's white fur and Fink kicked his legs out as giggles erupted from him.

"Roz! Nahahahahoho! Nohot cool! EEmmph! Hmmmhmhm!" Fink was still trying to fight it: his vulnerable side. Eck, that word again...

"A ROZZUM always completes its tasks," Roz mused, matter-of-fact, informative... and downright teasy.

"Whahahat task is this exACTly?" Fink shimmied as much as Roz's large robot appendages would allow.

"Make Fink laugh."

With that, Fink dared a look up at the robot's face, and he could swear if she had a mouth she'd be smiling. He knew she was. His tail whipped and flicked wherever it pleased, mostly trying to get at Roz's midsection. He was trying to keep track of when her sensors flashed that orange color. Clearly she was feeling this, too.

From the petting to the tickling, Fink didn't know which way was up. He was laughing, that's for sure. So, "Tahahahask complete! Stahahappit!" then a snort and Roz made a sound Fink knows he's never heard before.

It was a staccato trill of Roz's higher-pitched robot voice.

"Oh, wh-what have weHEEHEE - ROZ! Nooooohohohoho ahahaa!" Fink was almost back in control, almost back to his typical snarky self, and that's when Roz went for his ears. Oh it tickled, it tingled. But she laughed! Fink was certain of it!

"MIhihihission complete! Abort! Stop! Rohohohoz *snort* ihit ticklesss!" Fink was starting to feel self-conscious of the laughter coming from him. It was so much squeakier and lighter than a typical guffaw of his. He was having fun (BUT WOULD NOT ADMIT IT), and Roz was out here giggling her butt off at his expense! What was this world coming to!?

Roz's robot fingers found their way back to Fink's soft belly and his small paws pushed at her hands. She had lenses crinkled and glowing a newfound orange and pink hue, like a sunset. She was mimicking his laugh, that's what it started to sound like. ROZZUM was a talented mimic after all. But it was definitely morphing the longer she was at it into something unique and hers.

Roz took Fink up in both of her hands, holding him out in front of her. She used her thumbs to bury and knead once more into his now exposed sides. Fink's whole lower half curled up and his toes wiggled, tail thrashing. His giggles were in full swing.

And Roz stopped, resting Fink back on her lap, thoroughly pleased in her work.

"Lihihisten, is-is that all it took? Humor never got to you out there, we've tried. You're laughing at my expense!?"

Another brighter sound made it out of the wild robot. A burst of titters. Happiness. That's for sure.

Fink was lying on his back where Roz placed him, gazing up at her much larger form. He even chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I very much enjoy your laugh, Fink."

The fox's ears pressed flat to his head as his eyes grew wide as saucers, shrinking just as fast with a pink tinting his cheeks, "I, uh, yours ain't half bad, either." Look at him, laying belly-up, ripe for the taking again, all because he had fun and wouldn't mind having fun again. But Fink's overprotective side broke through and he flipped himself over. Making Roz laugh was the highlight of this season. That is for certain.

"More of this for now, then," Roz sat herself close to the fire and lifted her arm for Fink to rest comfortably in the nook between her body and metal appendage.

"Task complete," the words were verbalized, but not from the expected source. Fink sat cuddling close to Roz as the fire blazed, smiling at his quip. He nuzzled his head a little extra into Roz's side under the guise of getting more comfortable, and he was once more rewarded with the warm orange glow, and the buzzing giddy sound coming from his wild robot.

Maybe letting his vulnerable side show wasn't going to be the end of the world. More like the beginning of a beautiful one.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

1939 MSG Nazi rally

+

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 27, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Oct 28, 2024

I stand corrected. I thought this year’s October surprise was the reality that Trump’s mental state had slipped so badly he could not campaign in any coherent way. 

It turns out that the 2024 October surprise was the Trump campaign’s fascist rally at Madison Square Garden, a rally so extreme that Republicans running for office have been denouncing it all over social media tonight. 

There was never any question that this rally was going to be anything but an attempt to inflame Trump’s base. The plan for a rally at Madison Square Garden itself deliberately evoked its predecessor: a Nazi rally at the old Madison Square Garden on February 20, 1939. About 18,000 people showed up for that “true Americanism” event, held on a stage that featured a huge portrait of George Washington in his Continental Army uniform flanked by swastikas. 

Like that earlier event, Trump’s rally was supposed to demonstrate power and inspire his base to violence.  

Apparently in anticipation of the rally, Trump on Friday night replaced his signature blue suit and red tie with the black and gold of the neofascist Proud Boys. That extremist group was central to the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol and has been rebuilding to support Trump again in 2024. 

On Saturday the Trump campaign released a list of 29 people set to be on the stage at the rally. Notably, the list was all MAGA Republicans, including vice presidential nominee Ohio senator J.D. Vance, House speaker Mike Johnson (LA), Representative Elise Stefanik (NY), Representative Byron Donalds (FL), Trump backer Elon Musk, Trump ally Rudy Giuliani, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., right-wing host Tucker Carlson, Trump sons Don Jr. and Eric, and Eric’s wife, Republican National Committee co-chair Lara Trump. 

Libbey Dean of NewsNation noted that none of the seven Republicans running in New York’s competitive House races were on the list. When asked why not, according to Dean, Trump senior advisor Jason Miller said: “The demand, the request for people to speak, is quite extensive.” Asked if the campaign had turned down anyone who asked to speak, Miller said no.  

Meanwhile, the decision of the owners of the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post not to endorse Democratic presidential candidate Vice President Kamala Harris seems to have sparked a backlash. As Will Bunch of the Philadelphia Inquirer noted, “in a strange way the papers did perform a public service: showing American voters what life under a dictator would feel like.”

Early on October 26, the Washington Post itself went after Trump backer billionaire Elon Musk with a major story highlighting the information that Musk, an immigrant from South Africa, had worked illegally when he started his career in the U.S. Musk “did not have the legal right to work” in the U.S. when he started his first successful company. As part of the Trump campaign, Musk has emphasized his opposition to undocumented immigrants.

The New York Times has tended to downplay Trump’s outrageous statements, but on Saturday it ran a round-up of Trump’s threats in the center of the front page, above the fold. It noted that Trump has vowed to expand presidential power, prosecute his political opponents, and crack down on immigration with mass deportations and detention camps. It went on to list his determination to undermine the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), use the U.S. military against Mexican drug cartels “in potential violation of international law,” and use federal troops against U.S. citizens. It added that he plans to “upend trade” with sweeping new tariffs that will raise consumer prices, and to rein in regulatory agencies. 

“To help achieve these and other goals,” the paper concluded, “his advisers are vetting lawyers seen as more likely to embrace aggressive legal theories about the scope of his power.” 

On Sunday the front page of the New York Times opinion section read, in giant capital letters: “DONALD TRUMP/ SAYS HE WILL PROSECUTE HIS ENEMIES/ ORDER MASS DEPORTATIONS/ USE SOLDIERS AGAINST CITIZENS/ ABANDON ALLIES/ PLAY POLITICS WITH DISASTERS/ BELIEVE HIM.” And then, inside the section, the paper provided the receipts: Trump’s own words outlining his fascist plans. “BELIEVE HIM,” the paper said. 

On CNN’s State of the Union this morning, host Jake Tapper refused to permit Trump’s running mate, Ohio senator J.D. Vance, to gaslight viewers. Vance angrily denied that Trump has repeatedly called for using the U.S. military against Americans, but Tapper came with receipts that proved the very things Vance denied. 

Trump’s rally at Madison Square Garden began in the early afternoon. The hateful performances of the early participants set the tone for the rally. Early on, comedian Tony Hinchcliffe, who goes by Kill Tony, delivered a steamingly racist set. He said, for example: “There’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico.” He went on: “And these Latinos, they love making babies too. Just know that. They do. They do. There’s no pulling out. They don’t do that. They come inside. Just like they did to our country.” Hinchcliffe also talked about Black people carving watermelons instead of pumpkins. 

The speakers who followed Hinchcliffe called Vice President Kamala Harris “the Antichrist” and “the devil.” They called former secretary of state Hillary Clinton “a sick son of a b*tch,” and they railed against “f*cking illegals.” They insulted Latinos generally, Black Americans, Palestinians and Jews. Trump advisor Stephen Miller’s claim that “America is for Americans and Americans only” directly echoed the statement of Adolf Hitler that "Germany is for Germans and Germans only.” 

Trump took the stage about two hours late, prompting people to stream toward the exits before he finished speaking. He hit his usual highlights, notably undermining Vance’s argument from earlier in the day by saying that, indeed, he believes fellow Americans are “the enemy within.”  

But Trump perhaps gave away the game with his inflammatory language and with an aside, seemingly aimed at House speaker Johnson. “I think with our little secret we are gonna do really well with the House, right? Our little secret is having a big impact, he and I have a secret, we will tell you what it is when the race is over,” Trump said. 

It seems possible—probable, even—that Trump was alluding to putting in play the plan his people tried in 2020. That plan was to create enough chaos over the certification of electoral votes in the states to throw the election into the House of Representatives. There, each state delegation gets a single vote, so if the Republicans have control of more states than the Democrats, Trump could pull out a victory even if he had dramatically lost the popular vote.

Since he has made virtually no effort to win votes in 2024, this seems his likely plan. 

But to do that, he needs at least a plausibly close election, or at least to convince his supporters that the election has been stolen from him. Tonight’s rally badly hurt that plan. 

As Hinchcliffe was talking about Puerto Rico as a floating island of garbage, Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris was at a Puerto Rican restaurant in Philadelphia talking about her plan to spread her opportunity economy to Puerto Rico. She has called for strengthening Puerto Rico’s energy grid and making it easier to get permits to build there. 

After the “floating island of garbage” comment, Puerto Rican superstar musician Bad Bunny, who has more than 45 million followers on Instagram, posted Harris’s plan for Puerto Rico, and his spokesperson said he is endorsing Harris. 

Puerto Rican singer and actor Ricky Martin shared a clip from Hinchcliffe’s set with his 16 million followers. His caption read: “This is what they think of us.” Singer and actress Jennifer Lopez, who has 250 million Instagram followers, posted Harris’s plan. Later, singer-songwriter and actress Ariana Grande posted that she had voted for Harris. Grande has 376 million followers on Instagram. Singer Luis Fonsi, who has 16 million followers, also called out the “constant hate.”

The headlines were brutal. “MAGA speakers unleash ugly rhetoric at Trump's MSG rally,” read Axios. Politico wrote: “Trump’s New York homecoming sparks backlash over racist and vulgar remarks.” “Racist Remarks and Insults Mark Trump’s Madison Square Garden Rally,” the New York Times announced. “Speakers at Trump rally make racist comments, hurl insults,” read CNN.

But the biggest sign of the damage the rally did was the frantic backpedaling from Republicans in tight elections, who distanced themselves as fast as they could from the insults against Puerto Ricans, especially. The Trump campaign itself tried to distance itself from the “floating island of garbage” quotation, only to be met with comments pointing out that Hinchcliffe’s set had been vetted and uploaded to the teleprompters. 

As the clips spread like wildfire, political writer Charlotte Clymer pointed out that almost 6 million Puerto Ricans live in the states—about a million in Florida, half a million in Pennsylvania, 100,000 in Georgia, 100,000 in Michigan, 100,000 in North Carolina, 45,000 in Arizona, and 40,000 in Nevada—and that over half of them voted in 2020. 

In 1939, as about 18,000 American Nazis rallied inside Madison Square Garden, newspapers reported that a crowd of about 100,000 anti-Nazis gathered outside to protest. It took 1,700 police officers, the largest number of officers ever before detailed for a single event, to hold them back from storming the venue.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[rhaenella]

CL16 & MV1 | Charm Offensive

pairing: charles leclerc x max verstappen

genre: one shot ✿

summary: max missed charles terribly over summer break and does everything in his power to talk to him

warnings: none (just a healthy dose of awkward mutual pining)

word count: 4,250

masterlist

also posted on ao3

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“I got you something—or, well actually, I got Leo something.” 

Pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Max held up a tiny, round-shaped charm with thin lines running crisscross over its surface. Charles stepped closer, squinting at the shimmering object.

“Is that–”

“A miniature stroopwafel to pimp up Leo’s collar?” Max nodded, dropping the silver accessory in the Monegasque’s palm. “Yes, it is.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

It was Sunday, August 25th, 2024, and Max Verstappen, three-time Formula 1 World Champion—usually as cool as they come—was nervous. Actually nervous. And not because of today’s home race or the shitty car his team was forcing him to drive this season, or the fact that said team was slowly breaking apart at the seams—no, it was because of his main rival. Charles Leclerc. The Sun of Maranello. Il Predestinato. 

Spa was the last time they’d spoken. A brief and, like most of their interactions, awkward goodbye marking their separation for the long Summer break. Max had known that after they would fly back to Monaco—each on their own—he wasn’t likely to hear a word from Charles until the Dutch Grand Prix. And he’d been right. Four weeks of radio silence ensued. He’d heard nothing. Zilch. Nada.

It had been absolute torture.

Finally it was race week again, at Zandvoort no less. Max’s home turf. But Thursday rolled by… then Friday… On Saturday the Dutchman was sure he’d get the opportunity to talk to Charles. But alas, Max got P2 and Charles P6, which meant no post-Quali catchup for the two drivers. Because of course not… Those odds were rarely in his favour nowadays. Therefore, Max had to turn to more dramatic measures and that included going to the Ferrari motorhome himself, waltz in like he had every right to be there (he hadn’t), and play his final card (aka the ultimate excuse): to meet Leo Leclerc and give him and his daddy a gift he’d been keeping in his back pocket for months now.

It was also the main reason for his nerves. One glance around the Ferrari red motorhome and Max’s stomach dropped a little. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his white fireproofs and blue racing suit still hung low around his hips. Thankfully most of Ferrari’s pitcrew and employees were already geared up in the garage, getting ready for the race. However, the few people that were present immediately ceased their conversations upon his entrance, and downright gawked at him, confusion written all over their faces. No one said a word, but the question on everyone’s mind was loud and clear: what the hell are you doing here?!

Max sighed discreetly. You don’t wanna know… he thought to himself.

Forcing a smile, he gave them all a friendly wave as he walked past them in the direction of where the drivers’ rooms must be, the confidence in his gait surprising even himself. He didn’t have much time to spare, for the race’s opening ceremony would start soon and all drivers were obligated to attend. Luckily, Max quickly found the correct room, and once he did, he couldn’t help but snort as he read the nameplate. Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc — Illegitimate Prince of Monaco. Carlos’ doing, no doubt. Chuckling, Max knocked twice and waited. It was too late to second-guess his actions now anyway, best to just get on with it. And accept that he was probably going to make a fool of himself. Not even ten seconds later, the door swung open, revealing the man himself, all suited up for the race. Except for his bare feet.

“Max?” Charles frowned, glancing down the corridor, looking even more confused when he realised that it was just him. “What are you doing here?”

Max’s smile faded a little, his nerves getting the better of him as he awkwardly shifted his weight. Oh, for fuck’s sake, man up! 

“I came to see Leo. I still haven’t met the little lad,” he explained, squinting past Charles to see if he could spot the cute puppy inside. “Can I come in?”

Charles didn’t move as he studied him for a moment, effectively blocking Max’s way into the very private room. He didn’t buy the lousy excuse for a second, but surprisingly enough, still seemed to consider letting him in. After what felt like an eternally long minute, he made up his mind and moved aside. “Yeah, sure.”

Max managed a smile. “Thanks.”

He stepped inside, letting his eyes travel over the minimalist furniture—a couch, table with chairs, a bed—as well as Charles’ clothes and other belongings scattered around. But no dog. Not even a dog bed. Or toys. Max turned around, his puzzled eyes landing on Charles who had just closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but Leo isn’t here.”

“What do you mean?” Max frowned. Then why did you let me in?

“He’s back home staying with my mother, likely peeing all over her new floors,” Charles laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “So, uhm, I guess you’ve risked a rumour spree for nothing.”

“Oh… Okay… I see.” He really didn’t, though. Then his frown deepened. “Wait. What rumours?”

“About you being here? At Ferrari?” Leclerc tilted his head like it was obvious. “Or did you not think about the consequences of you showing your face here?”

Max stiffened. Yes. No… In all honesty, he had tried very hard to not think about it. But Charles was right. Him being here was only going to add more fuel to the fire that was his relationship with the Ferrari driver. Not that he cared about what the public thought per se. However, he did care about what Charles thought of it. So why did you let me in?!

“I have, but–”

“You don’t give a shit about what they write,” Charles finished with a smile.

“No, I don’t,” Max huffed a laugh. “Do you…?”

“I mean, not really. It’s always rumours versus truth anyway. And the truth is ultimately the only thing that matters, right?”

“It is,” he nodded. But what was the truth between them? 

They were silent for a moment, their gazes locked, almost like they were in a ‘who will blink first’ competition. Charles broke first, shaking his head as he chuckled softly. “You’re really gonna make me ask, huh?”

“Ask me what?”

“About the rumours… If there’s any truth to them.”

Max blinked. Was Charles actually straight up asking him about their…? Oh, fuck.

“So, is there?”

A swarm of butterflies erupted in his stomach, his racing mind scrambling for an answer, but he couldn’t—he simply couldn’t. Charles raised a quizzical brow when all Max did was stare, prompting him to say something. He shook himself, and with great difficulty managed a deflective: “Uhm, I don’t–uhm… How do you feel?” 

Smooth, Max, very smooth…

Charles canted his head. “How do I feel about the future, you mean?”

The future. Us. All of it. Max swallowed, then nodded. “Yes… the future.”

“Hell, I don’t know, Max,” he threw up his arms, chuckling lowly. “I honestly haven’t the faintest idea. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh,” he laughed again, walking up to him. “You never told me how you really feel, so how the fuck should I know what the future holds?”

Max’s eyes never wavered from Charles’ approaching form, who stopped merely a few paces away, his green eyes softening as he looked him up and down. Apparently able to read all of his thoughts and feelings with a single look.

“Look, I get it. That feeling of uncertainty. The constant fight between your head and your heart. Asking yourself whether this will ruin everything or not. I truly get it…” Charles spoke, sincere, pausing for a moment to let those words land. “But whatever you decide, staying at Red Bull or not, I’m sure you’ll–”

Wait… What?

“Hold on a second,” Max held up a hand, alarmed. “At Red Bull… You’re talking about the future of my career?”

Charles’ eyes narrowed. “Yes? What else did you think we were talking about?”

Max felt the temperature in his cheeks rise. God, how could he be so stupid?! Of course, Charles was only talking about his career. That’s what everyone else was speculating about in the press. Not this thing between them. Whatever the hell that even was.

He needed to backtrack. And quickly.

“I–uhm, never mind,” Max shot him a crooked smile. “Thank you… for your words. Uhm, you’re right, it has been on my mind quite a bit lately, and yeah… I have struggled with it.”

It was an optimistic attempt. It truly was. But Charles knew him better than most other drivers on the grid—growing up together, they’d been through it all. The good and the bad. Naturally, he saw straight through Max’s act. But when the Monegasque’s own cheeks tinged a soft pink and he started fidgeting with the clasp of his race suit, Max knew he had nothing to fear. They were both two emotionally-unintelligent idiots, completely incapable of revealing their true feelings. And right now, Max was grateful for it. 

Charles cleared his throat. “Right. Like I said, I get it.”

“Yeah, I know…” Max mumbled, following his lead to swiftly move past the slip-up. “Ferrari’s not been doing much better lately, are they?”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed, his eyes immediately darkening, even as part of him was grateful for the change in topic. “After winning Monaco… I was on such a high, and next thing I know it’s all gone to shit again. It almost seemed like one curse was lifted only for another to settle down over me. And just… Sometimes I don’t understand the team’s decisions anymore, you know? As if I can’t rely on them like I used to. Well, as much as I ever could.”

Max nodded sympathetically. He knew that feeling—that burden—all too well unfortunately. Not being able to deliver and perform to your maximum capacity because your team screwed up on strategy. Or worse, back at the factory. Meanwhile it’s you who gets the blame in the eyes of the masses. He also knew that that last bit weighed especially hard on Charles.

“Has it been on your mind as well?”

“What? Leaving Ferrari?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell no.”

They both laughed, the last bit of uneasiness disappearing like snow in the sun. Leaving, staying… It was never that simple, and they both knew it. The history either driver had with their team, their second family really, was not easily cast aside. Call it loyalty, or faith in what they both knew their teams could achieve, but those were the facts. However none of that stopped Max from poking his rival, just for the heck of it.

“Really?” he smirked. “You’re not even considering it a teeny-tiny bit after I’ve lapped you twice in the last four races?”

“Twice?!” Charles scoffed. “You got your facts wrong, mate. It was just the one time in Silverstone. Granted that was one time too many, but still.”

Max held up his hands in mock surrender. “Oh shit, you’re right, I’m sorry…”

“Thank you.” 

“Although… you have to admit, I got pretty fucking close in Austria too.”

Charles rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. “Oh my god, shut up.”

“Fine, fine, I will,” Max bit his lip, looking down to hide his amused smile.

That’s when something curious caught Charles’ eye. A white, powdery substance was sprinkled over the front of Max’s blue team cap, causing his lips to stretch into a full smile this time. Max, the paddock’s ultimate neat freak, seemingly had no clue he’d been walking around with a dirty hat, and somehow that made it even more adorable.

“Hey, what’s that on your cap?”

Max looked up and startled—surprised to see that Charles had managed to silently sneak up on him, and was suddenly standing right there. He didn’t give him much time to think about his question either as he was already lifting his hand to gather some of the white powder off the rim with his finger. Charles sniffed it, and his brows lifted. 

“Cocaine?! You sneaky little boy. So that’s your secret, hm?”

“What?! Fuck off,” Max snorted, bringing his own hand up to see what exactly was on his cap.

He grinned, licking his finger. “Nope, never mind. It’s too sweet for cocaine.”

“Uhu, and how would you know?” 

He shrugged, smiling coyly, and Max chuckled, examining the white powder on his own fingers. Realising what it must be, he exclaimed: “Oh, I know what it is! They made me participate in a PR event at the poffertjes stand earlier today, some of the powdered sugar must have landed on my cap…”

He was about to take it off to clean but Charles stopped him. 

“Wait,” he murmured. “Let me.”

Not waiting for permission, he stepped further into his space, close enough that Max could feel Charles’ breath tickling his skin. His heart rate ticked up, like it would during ‘lights out’ at a race start, and he quietly held his breath. 

Leclerc’s teeth sank into his lower lip as he gently brushed the sugar off of Max’s blue hat. As if enchanted, Max’s gaze swept over Charles’ delicate features, from his perfect cupid’s bow all the way up to his birthmarks—savouring this rare moment where he could study them up close. However, once Charles was satisfied—which was way too soon for the Dutchman’s liking—he immediately stepped back, nodding once. 

“You’re all good.”

“Uhm, thank you.”

They exchanged a brief smile before a curious look passed over Charles’ features, effectively yanking the Red Bull driver out of his all-consuming thoughts.

“I thought you did that last year, by the way. Making, uhm… poffertjes?”

Max’s eyes lit up. He remembered? 

“No. Last year was stroopwafels… But speaking of those,” he grinned, fetching something from his back pocket. He would’ve almost forgotten his little gift. “I got you something—or, well actually, I got Leo something.” 

Pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Max held up a tiny, round-shaped charm with thin lines running crisscross over its surface. Charles stepped closer, squinting at the shimmering object.

“Is that–”

“A miniature stroopwafel to pimp up Leo’s collar?” Max nodded, dropping the silver accessory in the Monegasque’s palm. “Yes, it is.”

“Oh my god!” A wide smile broke on his face as he turned the little stroopwafel in his hand. “It’s so cute! Thank you! You didn’t have to…”

“You’re welcome! I stumbled upon it a couple months ago when I was visiting my family and I just had to–”

“A couple months ago?!”

Max pressed his lips together, nodding shyly. “Yeah, now do you see why I had to meet Leo today.”

“You could’ve dropped by in Monaco too, you know.” Charles’ eyes glimmered knowingly. “You didn’t have to wait all this time.”

“I know, but,” Max shrugged, trying to come up with another awful excuse. “It’s only fitting. To give it here, I mean. In Zandvoort. Because, well, it’s a Dutch delicacy, and I thought that would make it extra special if I would give it–”

His rambling was promptly interrupted by Charles wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Max froze for a moment, his pulse spiking to unprecedented levels. Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if his team would still deem him fit to drive like this. This… bloody yearnful state. When he finally found his wits, he returned the hug, boyish grins painting both their faces. Yeah, this was definitely worth the trip into Ferrari territory. No doubt about it.

All too soon, they had to pull apart. Except this time, Charles didn’t move too far away from him.

“Thank you, Max. Truly. I love it so much. I’m sure Leo will too,” he smiled at the Red Bull driver, whose cheeks were once again flushing. “And please don’t hesitate to drop by after Monza. You’re welcome any time to meet him,” he added with a wink.

Max didn’t know what to say. He was completely stunned to silence. The man before him, who refused to follow him on social media, who had given him the cold shoulder on more than one occasion whenever they crashed together on track, who, if it wasn’t for groupchats, would never have given Max his phone number, was now openly inviting him to ‘drop by’? Flirting, even? What the hell was going on today? There must be something in the air, he thought. There has to be.

Much to the amusement of his rival, Max opened and closed his mouth several times, his brain once again failing to form any coherent sentence. But he ultimately didn’t have to, for he was saved by the bell. Or, rather, the ringing of his phone. Scrambling to get the device out of his pocket, Max looked at the screen to see who was calling him. GP. Great fucking timing, mate, he grumbled internally. Why he was suddenly so annoyed that his engineer ruined their (his) very awkward moment, he didn’t know. 

Or did he?

Shaking his head, Max shoved his phone back into his pocket, and glanced up at Charles, who cleared his throat and gave him a small smile. The intensity of their previous moment officially lifted. Thanks, GP. 

“Don’t you need to get that?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Max said, sounding anything but.

The time until lights out was dwindling with each passing minute, but Max didn’t want to leave their little bubble just yet. Outside, there were expectations, a nagging pressure to perform—to not let all those fans that showed up just for him down. In here, it was just them. A different kind of pressure for sure, but one Max relished nonetheless, and wasn’t ready to say goodbye to yet. Because really, he didn’t know when—if he would have this again.

As if Charles could read his mind, a careful hand found Max’s bicep. “Are you ready?”

“For the race?”

He nodded.

“Of course.” It wasn’t a lie. Racing itself was never an issue, not when you were born to do it like they were. “As much as I can be. I mean, this car… it’s just,” Max shook his head. “It’s obviously not where we want to be, but I’ll make sure to maximise its potential the best I can.”

“And not crash,” Charles smiled.

“That’s always step one.”

“The most important one, really,” he quipped, striding over to the couch to put on his shoes.

“Exactly,” Max agreed, running a hand down his face. It really was time to get going, or else they’d be late. “I just hope those updates are gonna pay off soon.”

“Ugh, me too. That Summer break was nice to recharge and all, but now I want nothing more than to get back in the car, and the sim this week, to learn as much as I can and make sure we don’t fuck up next weekend. We simply cannot afford any more mistakes.”

“I feel you... However, that break could’ve lasted another week or two, if you ask me.”

“Hm, maybe you’re right,” he grinned. “It wasn’t that awful to relax a little and forget about the last few races.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, it definitely looked like you enjoyed yourself.” 

Charles’ head shot up, instantly making him realise his mistake. Damnit. You fucking idiot!

“And how would you know about that?”

“Oh, uh, I see things… online… when, uhm, scrolling, every now and then…” And liking your friend’s instagram posts like a truly seasoned, inconspicuous stalker.

His hand went up to his ear, tucking a piece of way too short hair behind it. Only, Max realised that fact a little too late. Like always. Jesus… He really needed to stop acting like a flustered schoolgirl, this was on the cusp of getting embarrassing now.

“Right,” Charles trailed off, fastening the clasps on his shoes with a knowing smile. 

He knew damn well Max regularly checked his social media, even without following him. He himself did the exact same thing. Not that he would ever let him in on that secret, seeing Max Verstappen all flustered was far too enjoyable.

There was a knock at the door, making both their heads turn simultaneously. Max let out a long, deep breath, genuinely happy with the interruption this time. But of course that didn’t go unnoticed by Charles, who chuckled as he made his way to the door. 

“Coming!” he called, still grinning widely as he opened the door on a very angry-looking assistant.

“Why are you still in here?!” the woman shrieked, startling both drivers. “The ceremony is about to start. You can’t miss the national anthem, you know this! Get your stuff and let’s go!”

Charles opened his mouth to answer but at that moment Max’s phone started ringing, claiming everyone’s attention, and consequently revealing his presence. The Ferrari employee bristled something inaudible and pushed her way inside, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw what the reason was for the delay. Or rather; who.

“What the fuck is Verstappen doing in your–”

But Max ignored the scary woman and opted to finally pick up his phone instead. It was Christian calling this time. Which did not bode well.

“Max, where are you?! No one’s been able to reach you. You should’ve been on the grid ten bloody minutes ago!”

Max winced, his right eardrum shuddering thanks to Christian’s tinny voice screeching in his ear. His eyes locked with Charles’ from across the room, who grimaced painfully and mouthed, “We should probably go.” 

Yep. They probably should. 

Or risk getting another reprimand by the FIA. But in this season, neither of them had the luxury to gamble on such a risk.

“Max, are you there? Do you hear me?! You need to get over here, NOW. You are not allowed to miss the national anth–”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Christian. I’m on my way!” And with that Max clicked off, bolting towards the door. “Let’s go,” he declared, clumsily hurrying past Leclerc’s fuming assistant. 

Charles snatched his cap and dashed after him. “Right behind you!”

“You better run fast or you won’t make it!” the woman yelled after them. 

But they were already gone, sprinting out of Ferrari’s hospitality like madmen. Once outside, the drivers zigzagged through the paddock, trying their best not to run into fans, journalists, or flashing cameras. Max glanced at Charles, his mouth curving into a wry smile. They would surely be trending topic in no time now, there was no way around it… 

Helmut was going to be absolutely thrilled. Ha.

Charles felt his stare, and looked to the left. “Just so you know, if we get called to the stewards, I’m blaming you.”

“What do you mean? I thought you appreciated my gift.”

“I do! But not when it leads to a grid penalty!”

Max laughed. “You can’t have it all, my friend.”

“Watch me,” Charles winked. Laughing when it nearly caused Max to run straight into two fans on their way to the paddock club.

“Shit, sorry about that. Are you okay?”

The fans’ eyes widened when they realised who they’d run into. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. In the flesh. They could scarcely believe it.

“Hey! What are you two doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on the grid already?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded sheepishly, still facing the couple as they continued in that direction.

“You’re gonna be late,” one of them pointed out. “Duncan Laurence is all set and ready to go.”

“Fuck… Really?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was the artist performing the anthem this year. Shit, shit, shit… The thought of Helmut no longer brought a smile to his face. The Austrian would likely murder him for this little stunt.

“Yeah, you gotta hurry, man!”

Max pulled a face. “We know… Thanks… Oh, and uhm, enjoy the race!”

The two fans watched the drivers gain speed again and shared an amused look, deciding to switch to Dutch.

“Thanks! En succes zo, Max!”

“Ja, zet die Monegask weer als vanouds op een ronde!”

Max laughed awkwardly and gave the fans a thumbs-up as they rushed on towards start-finish where he could already hear the music playing loudly. No Wilhelmus yet, thank god. They might just make it on time.

Charles glanced back over his shoulder, frowning. “What did they say about me? She said ‘Monegasque’, didn’t she?”

“She did… Are you sure you wanna know?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Okay then,” Max pursed his lips. He knew better than to argue with him. “She said to make sure to lap you… like old times.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah…”

Scoffing, Charles whirled around, running backwards now. “Vous rêvez, madame! Ça n’arrivera plus jamais!”

Max winced. “You realise we’re not in America, right? People tend to speak multiple languages here.”

Now it was his turn to shrug. “Do I look like I care?”

“Eh, you kinda do,” Max snorted, studying his rival as he turned back to face him, Leclerc’s mouth twitching into his signature, lewd smile.

“Oh really? And what do you see exactly?”

They slowed their pace once they crossed pitlane and entered the track. They made it! The crowd roared at the sight of the two star drivers, especially with one of them being their national hero—the reason why anyone was even here today; why Zandvoort was back on the calendar. But Max wasn’t thinking about any of that as he gazed into Charles’ eyes, too in awe of the fire blazing brightly in those mesmerising green orbs. Only one word came to mind to describe what he saw:

“Passion.”

****

a/n: thank you for reading this little story! and special thanks to my dearest french translator @xeresmalfoy !! as always, feedback is adored <3

translations:

En succes zo, Max! — And good luck in a minute, Max!

Ja, zet die Monegask weer als vanouds op een ronde! — Yeah, lap that Monegasque again just like old times!

Vous rêvez, madame! Ça n’arrivera plus jamais! — You wish, lady! That won’t ever happen again!

[yourreddancer]

The terrifying perils of appeasing a warlike Russia

THE ECONOMIST

Finland’s cold-war past offers urgent lessons for Ukraine’s future

Nov 16th 2024

IN BARRACKS SQUARE in old Helsinki stands an unusual monument to a war. A towering sculpture of a soldier’s winter snowsuit, its polished steel body is pierced with large round holes, as if still standing after a strafing by cannon fire. It is Finland’s national memorial to the winter war of 1939-40. During that conflict, Finnish troops withstood a huge Soviet force for 105 days, inflicting heavy casualties on the invaders before succumbing to the Red Army’s larger numbers. The Soviet Union imposed harsh terms, taking 10% of its neighbour’s territory. Peace proved fragile, and Finland was soon swept up into the second world war, fighting with Nazi Germany against the Soviet Red Army from 1941-44.

Unveiled in 2017, the memorial’s message is more timely than ever. The winter war has new resonance for Finns. Their country has known 80 years of peace. It boasts one of Europe’s most capable armies, backed by extensive military service for young men and large reserves. Yet even after ditching decades of neutrality to join NATO in April 2023, Finland remains haunted by Russia, its former imperial ruler and neighbour along a 1,340km shared border. “When Russia attacked Ukraine it was as if Finland’s wars were happening yesterday,” says a member of Finland’s tight-knit establishment. Indeed, this old hand worries about younger Finns being “too bold” in denouncing Russia. Membership of the European Union and NATO is all very well. But Finland is a small country whose fate has often been decided by great powers, and Russia will always be there. “We know that the big guys can always agree things above our head. We can always be alone.”

This is a moment for all Europe to ponder that memorial in a Helsinki square. For that battered, but still-recognisable uniform—hollow and headless, with the sky visible through its many holes—presents an important question. What can a country afford to lose, and what must it preserve, and still be true to itself? …

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Squall

Words: 924 Characters: Danny Fenton Warnings: Some light body horror, but only about what you see in the show. Danny's not distressed. For Ectoberhaunt 2024 Day 11: Dark and Stormy Night

The storm rolled in a little after sunset. 

Danny was busy playing a few rounds of Doomed with Sam and Tucker when it did–with his eyes on the screen and headphones on, he didn't notice it until the audio from the both of them cut out.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

“Guys? Guys?” Danny asked. He did a little dance in front of Chaos.

Chaos blipped offline, followed shortly by Friar Tuck. 

“Huh,” said Danny, and ended the game.

The lobby was empty, too. After a minute neither of them had picked up the call again, so he hung up and sent them a text.

Danny: You guys okay?

Tucker: As long as I have my sweet Theresa

Sam: yeah

Danny: ghost?

Sam: Look outside you dork 

Sam: Power’s out

Danny blinked. His room still had power.

And then he remembered that his parents had installed some kind of complicated backup power system that meant that technically, the city paid them money. 

Right.

He pulled off his headphones just in time for a rumble to shake the house, followed quickly by the patter of rain in a dull crescendo.

Well, that explained why the power might be out. 

Through the rain-streaked glass, the neighboring buildings were dark. This wasn't all that unusual–occupancy on their street had been low before the portal, and had plummeted after. But even the occupied buildings were dark, the only light on the street outside from Fentonworks.

Danny went ghost and slipped through his window. The raindrops beat on his face and back as he flew up, and by the time he was level with the ops center it had plastered his hair to his head. 

Fentonworks was visible, outlined in eye-searing neon. Cars slipped between the silhouettes of buildings in streams of white and red. In the distance, Amity General and Axion were both illuminated. But most of Amity was dark. 

Above it, the clouds were a boiling patchwork: dark shapes stitched together by lighter seams. Their edges were rough like they'd been torn apart, and as Danny watched, they melded together, churned, and separated again. Now and then, lightning flickered within.

The wind blew another flurry of rain into his face. It whipped around his body and pulled his tail behind him like a pennant. Danny let it. He stood fast against the wind for one moment longer, savoring the turbulence rippling his tail, and then he let the wind sweep him away.

Near the buildings and ground, the wind rushed pell-mell in different directions. It careened down buildings and up streets, battered across intersections. As the wind carried him along, Danny relaxed. His muscles fell slack, and his bones followed suit. His borders went fuzzy, and then he was nothing more than a vaguely boy-shaped shadow, light as the air he drifted in.

The beat of rain on his head stopped, replaced with little paffs of sensation as it fell through him, instead.

Like that, the wind blustered him past dark windows and brickwork, under idling cars and along sidewalks until, finally, he hit an updraft that hurled him above Amity's roofline, spinning madly. 

Danny closed his eyes and let himself tumble higher, higher. The wind tugged him this way and that, folding and unfurling him across the sky in turns until Danny felt like nothing more than dough in a mixing bowl and then it stirred him more. 

Danny laughed breathlessly. He rattled like a fancy drink, twisted like a rollercoaster ride–

And finally, the wind batted him into a temporary calm.

He opened his eyes.

Far above, Amity was aglow again. It was spinning manically at a tilt, lights carving out arcs around a central point. Beneath him, the clouds churned. This close, it was easy to see their scale – dark forms the size of hills – even if everything else was a blur.

Danny willed himself back together from the diffuse cloud he'd become. Now too dense for wind alone to carry, he began to drop.

As he did, he felt his bones condense like hailstones inside him. The first to finish were his largest, followed by a line of kernels connecting his skull to his ribcage, his ribcage to his pelvis. With a pleasant chill, they popped into vertebrae. His wrists regrew as a solid mass before crunching into something more flexible, followed by five long icicles for each hand, which proceeded to do the same.

By this point, the carousel of light had spread out above him, the nearest lights growing from hairline scratches to pencil lines, and Danny slowed his descent and his spin. The windows below him resolved into individual squares, still hundreds of feet below.

It took Danny a few moments to locate Fentonworks – not because it was hard to spot, but because his eyes kept spinning without the rest of him.

The last of his ghostly flesh melted back into place. Danny shook himself to dislodge any rainwater that might’ve gotten stuck, and headed for home, flight path a little unsteady.

He landed back in his room with a flash of transformation rings and padded over to his computer. His phone was still sitting beside it, front screen lit up with new messages.

Sam: Power’s back. Where are you?

Tucker: Dude?

Danny: Went 2 check storm out. Pretty cool

Sam: We’re in the lobby

Doomed was still open, launch screen playing out the welcome animation over and over. The electronic tones of the main theme filtered up to him from his headphones.

Danny rolled his chair close, put his headphones on, and hit join.

[mitigatedchaos]

Election 2024

EigenRobot's opinion for you all this election eve.

I expect that whoever wins this election, I'm going to have to shift my writing towards the other side.

Unless Kamala suddenly becomes assertive and independent-minded, very much unlike what we've seen so far, and starts disciplining the left coalition, the capability of institutions is likely to continue to decline under a Harris administration, with something like an amnesty grant making direct future challenges less feasible. Today's left are off-the-charts conformist - I've never seen anything like it - and with this, there is a tremendous disregard for inconvenient reality in the face of social opinion. (It's anti-agentic, which is bad for the meta-rational thinking needed to update formal systems.)

Their selection criteria for personnel disregard merit in favor of credentials, and use credentials as political rewards. With each round the quality of personnel will get worse. This is not sustainable, so it will not be sustained - alternative institutions will have to grow in the shadow of declining state capacity.

If Trump wins, and they start cutting back on agencies, there is likely to be more economic growth, but Republicans don't have a good stack for actually replacing all of these agency personnel with highly agentic, highly intelligent, mission-driven individuals. In a sense, this limits the potential damage, as they'll have to continue hiring a lot of blues due to manpower shortages, just as they already do.

However, the reduction in agency power may lead to increased corporate power, leading to increased influence suppressing the re-emergence of agency power on a correct trajectory and lead to a cyberpunk dystopia. Today's US left aren't set up to even discuss how to prevent a cyberpunk dystopia, because they're all-in on censorship, to the point that they can't even consider the implications of the science fiction stuff happening all around them.

There are two big changes to the dimensions of human life coming down the pipes during the next 20 years.

The first is the obvious one, artificial intelligence. AI increases the dimensionality, the richness of the response, of machines in production systems. This makes capital, as controlled by AI, more like labor.

It is the opinion of Samo Burja that automation will not arrive fast enough to outpace tightness of labor supply caused by collapsing birthrates, which are falling all over the world.

The second big change is genetic engineering.

While people weren't paying attention, the FDA have approved multiple monogenic gene therapies. The costs are staggering now, running a range from around $500,000 to $3 million dollars, but if it's anything like gene sequencing costs, which fell from $100M to $1,000 per genome over about 25 years, it will fall rapidly towards the price of surgery.

If the price does fall, this means that a gene is no longer a life sentence. Something that's genetic will be more likely to be something that can be changed. Most major ideologies right now are based on the assumption that genes can't be changed. Gene therapy has not yet reached the periphery of people's social networks, so, mentally, people still treat it as "sci-fi."

So that's my assessment. The blue candidate is low-variance short-termism. The red candidate is high-variance medium-termism. You have to decide how comfortable you are with risk. You have to estimate what you think the current rate of burn is.

If you can't bring yourself to accept either of them, you can still vote and leave the "President" portion of the ballot blank.

The good news is, both vice presidential candidates are smarter and more civilized than both presidential candidates. For what it's worth, my read is that Vance is smarter and more focused on long-term issues than Walz.

[uniqueartisanconnoisseur]

Summer tractor shows!

I get the comment a lot, “Are you ever home?” The answer is yes, and no! Yes, I spend a lot of time going, and I spend a lot of time writing about the exciting places (exciting to us that is) that we have been. It is fun to relive our summer tractor show travels as I write about them, research them, and share them. Sometimes, it is almost like traveling twice! The fourth of July has already come…

[van-yangyin]

Trapped Ghost Eyes for All Ages 【Simblreen 2024】 - Weekend 1 ~ 19th

Don’t you dare to look directly into the pupils of those who possess these eyes… Because that ghost trapped in the spider’s web are the souls of all those who had that curiosity. But you’re lucky because with Make-Up version you can now impersonate them even if you don’t have their power! Author’s Note: Wearing them doesn’t protect you from being caught if you meet one of them, so be cautious of the entities to whom you direct your gaze.

Hope you enjoy this gift! 🍬🍭

🎃51 swatches, 17 swatches for each sclera (white, black and red) Go to CAS to see all them ASAP 😏 🎃All ages ～ All genders and agender  🎃Categories: make-up face and occult eye lid [Last one need CAS Unlock to unlock category on some ages] (Feel free to change any category with Sims 4 Studio for your own needs). This time there is no non-default eyes, but let me know if you want them! 🎃Base game Compatible  🎃Texture eye made by me from scratch 🎃If you want them to have same eye color, but their sclera changes, I’ve put a higher Sort Layer number in Make-Up version so that you can place it on top of occult eye lid version with different color or sclera. 🎃separate packages or merged package 🎃HQ Compatible* 🎃Custom Thumbnails  ⚠️Known problem: Rounded pupil details or sliders don’t match/work well with this eye shape, or also can make interesting variants.

If you download my CC it means your agree with my T.O.U (English/Español/日本語). TLDR here

~🎃DOWNLOAD LINKS🎃~ ※Choose the one that best suits your needs or choose the two of them with MERGED file.※ (If you don’t understand between merged or not merged feel free to ask me)

🎃PATREON or SFS🎃 (Always free, no adf|y)

*If you have HQ mod you can see it this way:

Let me know if you find any problem. 🙏❣️

Happy spooky weekend! 🎃

📻 @simblreenofficial, @maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz @alwaysfreecc @public-ccfinds, thank you❣️

🛹 You can find me on Patreon | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Ko-Fi | My F.A.Q. 🛹

[eustasscapitankid]

Eustass Kid x Reader | GN! AFAB! Challenge: Kikitober 2024 "Loyalty" Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Tags: Hate, Swearing, Revenge, Swearing, Grief, Loss Summary: You never knew how much it would hurt to lose everything. Word Count: 903 ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Notes: This series will include graphic material. As such all chapters will be marked as 18+ regardless of their content.

This isn’t going to be easy.

Unfortunately for you, the man who took your lover’s life is far from ordinary—or weak. Granted, if he had been killed by anything less than a powerful opponent you’d have brought him back from the dead just so you could kill him yourself…

You fucking prick. Why did you have to go and die?

There is not a chance in hell you can take on his whole crew. Honestly, it won’t be a piece of cake dealing with him on his own. You’re going to have to get this fucker alone. Not that that was going to be a piece of cake. As for the rest? Well, you’ll still have to figure that out...but you have time. Intel will be crucial, and it would take time to gather. After all, either this plan succeeds...or you reunite with Kid earlier than anticipated. You’ve got nothing to lose. Dead or alive—you’d do anything for that wild red-haired man. You’ll be happy either way.

I will get revenge—or die trying.

Calm down. You need to do this right. Tracking him down is going to take a lot more than wild rage. Pirates are rarely alone and you doubt Shanks is an exception. As much as you adored Kid, following in his hot-headed footsteps would definitely see you reunited. The object of your new sick obsession was a Yonko for fucks sake. A fate preferable to a time after you’ve exacted your revenge—not before.

These thoughts and a million more clouded your mind—a cacophonous lullaby. Sleep came easier than it should have. A smile plastered on your face. The kind that graces someone’s lips when they give away everything they own. When they tell their loved ones how much they care for them while giving away their belongings. It wasn’t the manifestations of a need for vengeance that greeted you—it was him.

You were back on the Punk Victoria, your home, and he—everyone—was alive. You could feel his rough hands wrapped around your waist tucked under your shirt, his fingers laced together on the small of your back. His cologne was the sea, spiced with iron and gunpowder. His laugh echoed across the ship. That wild, reckless, boisterous laugh that often borders on maniacal. Music to your ears.

“You really think you can take me on?” he teases, his voice sending vibrations through your body like a distant thunder. He pulls you closer. You return his question with a snarky retort, eliciting another rumbling laugh from the muscled man holding you. You always challenged him—and he loved it. Though, to be fair, your spars often started on the deck and ended in his quarters. He went easier on you in the bedroom than he ever did in your fights. And that was saying something, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You were in love.

Today though, he wasn’t in the mood to fight first. He hoisted you up before you could protest, swinging you over his shoulder like piece of cargo. A booming laugh vibrated through you as you sent a round of punches you didn’t mean into his back—telling him to put you down. You both know you didn’t mean it.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled “I’ll put you down.”

Already at his door, your feet met the floor as he set you down gently. Kid’s arm reached for the handle, and he stepped inside. A cruel twisting feeling began to snake through your body—a pit forming in your stomach large enough to swallow you whole. In horror you watched his body started to unravel. You clawed at the air in front of you, traces of his image filtering through your fingers. If you could just call out to him—tell him you love him...maybe... Your mouth moved, but couldn’t form a single word. The smell of metal that clung onto him like cologne dissipated. You tried to scream, but produced no sound. Then he was gone.

You resolve to follow him, taking a decisive step over the threshold. You didn’t need to know what was waiting on the other side to follow him through. Wherever he went you would follow. If he was there that was all that mattered. Your foot crossed the threshold, but instead of making contact with the Victoria you found yourself falling through her floor—cascaded into an endless red void.

Your eyes snapped open. The sting of tears on your cheeks roused you. Sweat and tears drenched your clothes and bed, sticky and cold. You sat up, trying to regain your bearings, tugging at your wet shirt. Then reality hit you all over again. Like a ton of bricks, it brought you down with a force, the weight almost crushing you. He was gone. The steel returned to your back quickly enough though, as you recalled your resolve last night.

No matter what it takes, no matter what it costs, I’m going to make you suffer.

Peeling yourself off your bed, you grabbed your only change of clothes. A large, ratty t-shirt with illegible text, and a round spiked jolly roger on the back. Held together by various thread, safety pins, and a prayer. You pulled it over your head, taking a moment to inhale it’s scent as you pulled it over your face.

The smell of the sea, iron, and gunpowder.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

[mythaura-blog]

Development Update - September 2024

Hello folks! Miyazaki checking in with our development updates for the month of September. Between getting our newest art team member onboarded, cooking up some really exciting Fall Quarter concept art, a new color, and a new Mutation, it's been a really creative month for us.

Koa and Sark are hard at work on the back end, creating the systems that power the game. We've got functioning inventories, and Koa was able to have a Beast successfully use a healing potion in the Wild Area! I'm making headway on our intro quest, working in tandem with the art team to create assets to bring our very first area to life.

All in all: some solid progress this month!

Also, for Tumblr users: the August update didn't get posted here (I apologize!), but you can read it here.

Inventory System

This month, we focused on refining Mythaura’s inventory system, with special attention on making starting items function as expected. One of the most exciting additions is the Satchel feature. The satchel begins with 18 slots and can be expanded using non-premium currency, allowing for plenty of space to bring essentials on your adventures.

When preparing to explore, only provisions can be transferred from your stash to the satchel, but along the way, you’ll be able to pick up and store all types of loot. Additionally, the first row of your satchel is now displayed as a hotbar while exploring, enabling quick use of items like the Godspeed Potion, which boosts your movement speed, or a Torch to light your way in the dark.

However, be cautious—if you’re defeated while exploring, you’ll drop your satchel, leaving your items behind. You’ll need to return to the floor you were defeated on to recover it. If you’re defeated again before retrieving your original satchel, those items will be lost for good.

Fall Quarter (2024) Concepts

It’s the first day of Fall Quarter 2024, which means we’ve got new Quarterly Rewards for Sponsors to vote on on our Ko-fi page!

Which concepts would you like to see made into official site items? Sponsors of Bronze level or higher have a vote in deciding. Please check out the Companion post and the Glamour post on Ko-fi to cast your vote for the winning concepts!

Votes must be posted by October 27, 2024 at 11:59pm PST in order to be considered.

All Summer 2024 Rewards are now listed in our Ko-fi Shop for individual purchase for all Sponsor levels at $5 USD flat rate per unit. As a reminder, please remember that no more than 3 units of any given item can be purchased. If you purchase more than 3 units of any given item, your entire purchase will be refunded and you will need to place your order again, this time with no more than 3 units of any given item.

Summer 2024 Glamour: Corona Dragon

Summer 2024 Companion: Venomous Stalker

Summer 2024 Solid Gold Glamour: Solid Gold Griffin (Young)

Custom Color Contest Winner

In another round of incredible color concepts pitched to our team, we came away with an exciting new color, courtesy of user Noxith: Canyon!

Their reference images were canyons with a beautiful gradient of reds and oranges, along with other geographical features of the American Southwest, such as mesas.

Canyon adds a wonderful richness to the Mythauran color wheel. We encourage you to share your Canyon creations made in the Beast Creator with us!

New Mutation: Celestial

Astrology plays no small part in Mythauran culture, so perhaps it's not such a surprise that the genes of some Beasts born in Mythaura are mutated to show a map of brightly glowing constellations around their bodies.

As a reminder, Mutations are not Specials that can be applied via item. Instead, a Beast can rarely be born with a Mutation or they can rarely be obtained via a late-game boss encounter.

Mythauran Astrology: October

The month of October is referred to as Greenbright's Close, representing the official beginning of autumn and the winding down of greenery as foliage turns gold and red. This month is also associated with the constellation of the Physician and the malachite stone.

Mythaura v0.32

Dependency upgrades were made to improve stability.

Implemented new inventory services

Created satchels and added services to manage dropping and retrieving them.

Added energy and position tracking to wild area sessions.

Implemented filtering and context actions for inventories.

Starting items were created for each class and are automatically delivered to the satchel at game start.

Added battle item structure and functionality.

Added the ability to use an item from your satchel in battle.

Added functionality for health & energy-related items.

Added functionality for revival items.

A Hotbar with adjustable keybindings has been added to the UI when exploring.

A semi-final version of each skill tree was fully populated and began implementing said skills.

Thank You!

Thanks for sticking through to the end of the post, we always look forward to sharing our month's work with all of you--thank you for taking the time to read. We'll see you around the Discord.

We are also keeping all those impacted by Hurricane Helene in our thoughts. We hope you and your loved ones are all safe.

[isawthesainz]

Race Recap 14: Belgium

Sunday 28th July 2024

Build-Up:

On 23rd July, it is announced that former Ferrari chief Mattia Binotto will join Audi to lead their F1 project

On 24th July, it is announced that Max Verstappen will take a 10-place grid penalty after having to replace his ICE for the fifth time

On 25th July, it is announced that Esteban Ocon will join Haas for 2025 on a multi-year contract

Also on 25th July, it is revealed that Bruno Famin, the current Alpine principal, is expected to leave the team after the Belgian GP weekend

On 26th July, Alpine announce that team principal Bruno Famin will leave his current role by the end of August

On 26th July, it is announced that Yuki Tsunoda will take a 60-place grid penalty due to a new power unit

In FP3, both Tsunoda and Oscar Piastri run wide over the gravel due to heavy rain, briefly bringing out the yellow flag. Practice is red flagged after Lance Stroll’s aquaplanes and hits the wall at Eau Rouge, breaking the front suspension. After the restart, the session is interrupted by a second red flag due to a large amount of standing water on the track. The red flag is removed with just two minutes left on the clock

Despite setting the fastest time in qualifying, Verstappen will start from P11 due to a grid penalty, with Charles Leclerc taking pole position

Race Highlights:

At the end of Lap 3, Zhou Guanyu reported that he was losing power. However, by Lap 4, his Race Engineers managed to fix the issue without a visit to the pits and the Sauber driver was able to continue the race

On Lap 7, Zhou enters the pits and retires the car due to a hydraulics issue

After the first round of pit stops, Carlos Sainz (who is yet to pit) leads the race with Lando Norris (also yet to pit) in P2

A brief yellow flag is shown on Lap 15 as Sainz runs wide over the gravel in Sector 3

Norris pits on Lap 15, with Sainz pitting on Lap 20

Mercedes call Lewis Hamilton into the pits on Lap 26. Meanwhile, George Russell asks the team to consider a one-stop strategy

During the second round of pit stops, Oscar Piastri pits on Lap 30, overshooting the box and hitting the crew member holding the front jack. The pit stop takes 4.4 seconds and he rejoins the race on P4

By Lap 33, Russell is leading the race, having only had one pit stop. Hamilton is in P2, followed by Charles Leclerc and Piastri

Piastri overtakes Leclerc on Lap 36 to take P3

By Lap 41, Hamilton is within DRS range of Russell, who’s tyres had now completed 30 laps

By Lap 42, Piastri is closing in on both Mercedes drivers, whilst Russell defends agains Hamilton

Sergio Perez pits on Lap 43 to set the fastest lap time from P8

On the final lap, Hamilton locks up into Turn 1, dropping back from Russell

Russell finishes the race in P1, followed by his teammate Hamilton for a Mercedes 1-2. Piastri finishes P3

However, shortly after the race, it is announced that Russell has been disqualified from the race after his car was found to be 1.5kg below the minimum weight requirement. The decision means that Hamilton inherits the win from his teammate, to take his second victory of the season

Race Results:

1st Place: Lewis Hamilton

2nd Place: Oscar Piastri

3rd Place: Charles Leclerc

[lady-of-tearshed]

Weak spot

Eris Vanserra x OC! Alessia Mors

[Spin off from my series A Court of Sins and Nightmares] [See Alessia Mors' description here!]

Eris Vanserra Week 2024

@erisweekofficial

Day four: Hounds

Summary: Alessia Mors is far too pleased to have discovered another weakness of her husband... And Eris' "loyal" hounds invite themselves to Alessia's torturous game.

Word count: 715 words

Warnings: None, I think. Lots of fluff. Slight mention of a knife, teasing threats, too.

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears 🤎

“Your hair are quite messy this morning, dearest,”

Alessia glowered at Eris, tightening her soft velvet robe around her shoulders to protect her from the chill temperature. A smell of fruit and freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, and by the way Eris was already meticulously dressed underneath his apron, Alessia knew she had surely overslept, again.

Not that she cared. She was High Lady, High Lady of both the Autumn Court and the Court of Nightmares, actually. Surely these titles came with the privilege of sleeping in now and then.

Her heavy feet dragged her to the cabinet, the place where they kept their most valuable substance: coffee. But of course, Eris' big head was in the way, as always. Alessia was starting to get suspicious that his intentions were to piss her off.

“Coffee?”

“I'll do it myself,” she mumbled, voice still groggy with sleep, “Move.”

She dug her finger into Eris' side to move him out of the way, and a sound escaped his lips.

Eris' jaw tightened, and the quick smile that had crept on his lips vanished quickly, masked by a face of indifference. He moved to the side slightly, all while resuming his task of chopping the fruits for their breakfast.

“Did you just…” Alessia grinned, leaning her hip against the counter. She crossed her arms, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Eris Vanserra, don't tell me you're ticklish?”

“No.”

But his answer was too quick for Alessia to believe it. She had seen the grin on his face, had seen how his body had twitched, and she was positive that she had heard a chortle coming from Eris.

“No?” She purred, sticking a finger out and aimed for Eris’ ribs once again.

“Don't,” Eris snapped his eyes to his mate, his voice a low warning growl. “Alessia Mors, I swear to the gods that if you dare poke your nasty finger there I'm going to-”

“You're going to what?”

“It’s dangerous. I'm holding a knife,”

“We've played far more dangerous games, my dear,”

So Alessia striked again. Her fingers wiggling against Eris skin, her smile wondering with each melodious laugh that her husband reluctantly made.

Eris desperately tried to escape from his lovely witch's grip, wiggling out like a worm trapped in a bird’s beak. Vile words and growls joined every deep laugh booming out of Eris’ chest.

Cerberus and Brat came rushing when their fine hearing caught the cacophony escalating in the kitchen. Seeing Eris laugh, they started barking, their tails wiggling when they thought their master was trying to play a game with them.

“Cerberus, Brat-” Eris warned the hounds that started to circle him. Cerberus moved, circling Eris with Brat in a way that would make their master trapped between the wall and Alessia.

“Faithful beasts you said,” Alessia snorted when Eris back pressed against the wall. Her fingers twitched, readying for another round of torturous ministrations before a pair of soft amber eyes struck her dumb.

Eris was looking down at her, panting. Sweat sticking his red curls to his forehead, cheeks rose and probably painful from laughing too much. His hands snuck down to her hips, and when his fingers softly dug into her flesh, Alessia felt her knees buckled.

Eris spun her around, switching places. He lifted his wife off the floor, pinned her back against the wall and settled his knee between her legs to hold her up. His lips found hers, and she couldn't help but let a moan slip between their parted lips when his tongue caressed hers.

Eris kiss affected her more than any powerful spell she knew of. His lips always made her body grow weak and her mind fogged with desire. She gasped against him when his mouth ventured down to her neck, and he took her hands in his left one to settle them both up above her head, giving him more space to…

“ERIS VANSERRA!” Alessia cried out, trying to wiggle out from this human body trap when Eris' long and sneaky fingers met her armpits.

“Oh trouble, you know how I love when you scream my name,” Eris purred against the shell of her ear, his voice filled with malice and promises. “Now, I hope you're ready to beg for mercy, Miss Alessia Vanserra-Mors.”

A/N: So hopefully this is up to your expectations, sweet @acotar-lover 🤎 Hope you're enjoying Eris Week so far!

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover

[misfitwashere]

October 27, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

OCT 28

I stand corrected. I thought this year’s October surprise was the reality that Trump’s mental state had slipped so badly he could not campaign in any coherent way. 

It turns out that the 2024 October surprise was the Trump campaign’s fascist rally at Madison Square Garden, a rally so extreme that Republicans running for office have been denouncing it all over social media tonight. 

There was never any question that this rally was going to be anything but an attempt to inflame Trump’s base. The plan for a rally at Madison Square Garden itself deliberately evoked its predecessor: a Nazi rally at the old Madison Square Garden on February 20, 1939. About 18,000 people showed up for that “true Americanism” event, held on a stage that featured a huge portrait of George Washington in his Continental Army uniform flanked by swastikas. 

Like that earlier event, Trump’s rally was supposed to demonstrate power and inspire his base to violence.  

Apparently in anticipation of the rally, Trump on Friday night replaced his signature blue suit and red tie with the black and gold of the neofascist Proud Boys. That extremist group was central to the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol and has been rebuilding to support Trump again in 2024. 

On Saturday the Trump campaign released a list of 29 people set to be on the stage at the rally. Notably, the list was all MAGA Republicans, including vice presidential nominee Ohio senator J.D. Vance, House speaker Mike Johnson (LA), Representative Elise Stefanik (NY), Representative Byron Donalds (FL), Trump backer Elon Musk, Trump ally Rudy Giuliani, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., right-wing host Tucker Carlson, Trump sons Don Jr. and Eric, and Eric’s wife, Republican National Committee co-chair Lara Trump. 

Libbey Dean of NewsNation noted that none of the seven Republicans running in New York’s competitive House races were on the list. When asked why not, according to Dean, Trump senior advisor Jason Miller said: “The demand, the request for people to speak, is quite extensive.” Asked if the campaign had turned down anyone who asked to speak, Miller said no.  

Meanwhile, the decision of the owners of the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post not to endorse Democratic presidential candidate Vice President Kamala Harris seems to have sparked a backlash. As Will Bunch of the Philadelphia Inquirer noted, “in a strange way the papers did perform a public service: showing American voters what life under a dictator would feel like.”

Early on October 26, the Washington Post itself went after Trump backer billionaire Elon Musk with a major story highlighting the information that Musk, an immigrant from South Africa, had worked illegally when he started his career in the U.S. Musk “did not have the legal right to work” in the U.S. when he started his first successful company. As part of the Trump campaign, Musk has emphasized his opposition to undocumented immigrants.

The New York Times has tended to downplay Trump’s outrageous statements, but on Saturday it ran a round-up of Trump’s threats in the center of the front page, above the fold. It noted that Trump has vowed to expand presidential power, prosecute his political opponents, and crack down on immigration with mass deportations and detention camps. It went on to list his determination to undermine the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), use the U.S. military against Mexican drug cartels “in potential violation of international law,” and use federal troops against U.S. citizens. It added that he plans to “upend trade” with sweeping new tariffs that will raise consumer prices, and to rein in regulatory agencies. 

“To help achieve these and other goals,” the paper concluded, “his advisers are vetting lawyers seen as more likely to embrace aggressive legal theories about the scope of his power.” 

On Sunday the front page of the New York Times opinion section read, in giant capital letters: “DONALD TRUMP/ SAYS HE WILL PROSECUTE HIS ENEMIES/ ORDER MASS DEPORTATIONS/ USE SOLDIERS AGAINST CITIZENS/ ABANDON ALLIES/ PLAY POLITICS WITH DISASTERS/ BELIEVE HIM.” And then, inside the section, the paper provided the receipts: Trump’s own words outlining his fascist plans. “BELIEVE HIM,” the paper said. 

On CNN’s State of the Union this morning, host Jake Tapper refused to permit Trump’s running mate, Ohio senator J.D. Vance, to gaslight viewers. Vance angrily denied that Trump has repeatedly called for using the U.S. military against Americans, but Tapper came with receipts that proved the very things Vance denied. 

Trump’s rally at Madison Square Garden began in the early afternoon. The hateful performances of the early participants set the tone for the rally. Early on, comedian Tony Hinchcliffe, who goes by Kill Tony, delivered a steamingly racist set. He said, for example: “There’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico.” He went on: “And these Latinos, they love making babies too. Just know that. They do. They do. There’s no pulling out. They don’t do that. They come inside. Just like they did to our country.” Hinchcliffe also talked about Black people carving watermelons instead of pumpkins. 

The speakers who followed Hinchcliffe called Vice President Kamala Harris “the Antichrist” and “the devil.” They called former secretary of state Hillary Clinton “a sick son of a b*tch,” and they railed against “f*cking illegals.” They insulted Latinos generally, Black Americans, Palestinians and Jews. Trump advisor Stephen Miller’s claim that “America is for Americans and Americans only” directly echoed the statement of Adolf Hitler that "Germany is for Germans and Germans only.” 

Trump took the stage about two hours late, prompting people to stream toward the exits before he finished speaking. He hit his usual highlights, notably undermining Vance’s argument from earlier in the day by saying that, indeed, he believes fellow Americans are “the enemy within.”  

But Trump perhaps gave away the game with his inflammatory language and with an aside, seemingly aimed at House speaker Johnson. “I think with our little secret we are gonna do really well with the House, right? Our little secret is having a big impact, he and I have a secret, we will tell you what it is when the race is over,” Trump said. 

It seems possible—probable, even—that Trump was alluding to putting in play the plan his people tried in 2020. That plan was to create enough chaos over the certification of electoral votes in the states to throw the election into the House of Representatives. There, each state delegation gets a single vote, so if the Republicans have control of more states than the Democrats, Trump could pull out a victory even if he had dramatically lost the popular vote.

Since he has made virtually no effort to win votes in 2024, this seems his likely plan. 

But to do that, he needs at least a plausibly close election, or at least to convince his supporters that the election has been stolen from him. Tonight’s rally badly hurt that plan. 

As Hinchcliffe was talking about Puerto Rico as a floating island of garbage, Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris was at a Puerto Rican restaurant in Philadelphia talking about her plan to spread her opportunity economy to Puerto Rico. She has called for strengthening Puerto Rico’s energy grid and making it easier to get permits to build there. 

After the “floating island of garbage” comment, Puerto Rican superstar musician Bad Bunny, who has more than 45 million followers on Instagram, posted Harris’s plan for Puerto Rico, and his spokesperson said he is endorsing Harris. 

Puerto Rican singer and actor Ricky Martin shared a clip from Hinchcliffe’s set with his 16 million followers. His caption read: “This is what they think of us.” Singer and actress Jennifer Lopez, who has 250 million Instagram followers, posted Harris’s plan. Later, singer-songwriter and actress Ariana Grande posted that she had voted for Harris. Grande has 376 million followers on Instagram. Singer Luis Fonsi, who has 16 million followers, also called out the “constant hate.”

The headlines were brutal. “MAGA speakers unleash ugly rhetoric at Trump's MSG rally,” read Axios. Politico wrote: “Trump’s New York homecoming sparks backlash over racist and vulgar remarks.” “Racist Remarks and Insults Mark Trump’s Madison Square Garden Rally,” the New York Timesannounced. “Speakers at Trump rally make racist comments, hurl insults,” read CNN.

But the biggest sign of the damage the rally did was the frantic backpedaling from Republicans in tight elections, who distanced themselves as fast as they could from the insults against Puerto Ricans, especially. The Trump campaign itself tried to distance itself from the “floating island of garbage” quotation, only to be met with comments pointing out that Hinchcliffe’s set had been vetted and uploaded to the teleprompters. 

As the clips spread like wildfire, political writer Charlotte Clymer pointed out that almost 6 million Puerto Ricans live in the states—about a million in Florida, half a million in Pennsylvania, 100,000 in Georgia, 100,000 in Michigan, 100,000 in North Carolina, 45,000 in Arizona, and 40,000 in Nevada—and that over half of them voted in 2020. 

In 1939, as about 18,000 American Nazis rallied inside Madison Square Garden, newspapers reported that a crowd of about 100,000 anti-Nazis gathered outside to protest. It took 1,700 police officers, the largest number of officers ever before detailed for a single event, to hold them back from storming the venue.

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