#friend or foe? [anonymous]

[automaton-otto]

Can Jiro dress up as Chainsaw man then for Halloween~?

(Thanks for the ask anonymous)

"Eh...no thanks I have too much self respect."

"I'd be a bitchin' Jack Cayman though."

[anotherhumanpet]

*CRASH!*

MUSIC ANON, OPEN UP (man it's been a long minute)

Fish In A Birdcage, Rule #4

"My man! Welcome back! I missed you. I love you and I like this song."

[pontiffv]

im actually so glad u gave kak more weight like come on teenagers are not 69 lb 💀💀

lkjflkajsdflkj anon i hope you know when it says his weight is 69 it's in kg. which translates to 143 pounds.

[sheavoid]

anonymous asked: purple humanoid alien with shoulder canons                     badly describe my muse  //  accepting

“Huh    ,    I  thought  it’d  be  worse.”

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

“WASHINGTON — President Donald Trump claimed Wednesday that sky-high new taxes on imported goods would be “reciprocal,” meaning they were payback for tariffs other countries have slapped on U.S. exports.

But the reciprocal tariffs turned out not to be based on actual levies imposed by other countries. Instead, they’re based on a formula made up by the White House ― and widely mocked by experts.

Douglas Holtz-Eakin, a conservative economist American Action Forum and former director of the Congressional Budget Office, called it “malpractice” in response to another conservative economist who called it “embarrassing.”

The formula, which resulted in wildly different tariffs for various foreign countries, including several uninhabited islands, first came to wide attention thanks partly to analysis by an anonymous social media user who reckoned the percentage rate of the tariffs matched other countries’ trade surpluses with the U.S. divided by their exports. The journalist James Surowiecki also noticed the correlation.

“They didn’t actually calculate tariff rates + non-tariff barriers, as they say they did,” Surowiecki wrote. “Instead, for every country, they just took our trade deficit with that country and divided it by the country’s exports to us.”

In other words, the supposedly reciprocal tariffs, which are supposed to combat arbitrary foreign barriers to U.S. goods, are themselves based on an arbitrary formula.

In a response on X, the website formerly known as Twitter, White House spokesman Kush Desai called the analyses “incorrect” and pointed to a fuller explanation of the formula from the U.S. Trade Representative, which claimed that other countries’ “non-tariff policies” cause them to sell more goods to the U.S. than we sell back to them.

“If trade deficits are persistent because of tariff and non-tariff policies and fundamentals, then the tariff rate consistent with offsetting these policies and fundamentals is reciprocal and fair,” the USTR said on its website, which included a seemingly more complicated math equation and several academic citations.

Alan Cole, an economist with the Tax Foundation, said he suspected Desai didn’t really understand the equation.

“So they thought, ‘Our thing is more complicated and smarter-looking than that. It has more fancy Greek letters. It can’t possibly just be a very, very simple division,’” Cole told HuffPost. “After you cancel it out, it’s the same formula.”

Still, Trump has long claimed that trade deficits are inherently bad, and the formula could be said to reflect his zero-sum view of global trade, in which U.S. consumers are getting ripped off if they spend more on products from abroad than people in foreign countries spend on goods made in the U.S.

“Our country has been looted, pillaged, raped and plundered by nations near and far, both friend and foe alike,” Trump said Wednesday.

Trump has talked about using tariffs as leverage against Canada, Mexico and China to stop the flow of fentanyl into the U.S., and he’s said the U.S. would be better off if Americans made more of their own products. He’s also said tariffs should be a more significant source of revenue for the U.S. government.

Cole noted that the U.S. purchases a lot of consumer goods that are made more cheaply in other countries and that the outgoing dollars are often reinvested in American companies and government debt, rather than simply hoarded by foreigners. He questioned the wisdom of trying to upend the global order by making it more expensive for Americans to buy clothing and electronics made in Indonesia, for example.

“The U.S. is this hub for all sorts of investment, and people love our financial assets, and they have to give us goods in exchange, and that’s kind of how the world’s been working for a long time, and that’s why we’ve run a trade deficit,” he said. “Why should Americans be sewing shirts together, for example? A huge fraction of these tariffs are based on bilateral trade imbalances with Southeast Asia, where they’re good at making textiles.”

Since the tariffs are paid by U.S. importers who can raise prices to recoup all or part of the cost of the tariffs, Trump’s “liberation day” announcement this week could be tantamount to the largest tax increase on U.S. consumers in decades. At the same time, economists have said the tariffs could increase price inflation and slow economic growth, potentially even throwing it in reverse and triggering a recession.

“This has to be one of the biggest unforced economic policy errors in US history,” wrote David Beckworth, an economist with the Mercatus Center, a right-leaning think tank.

The Nobel-Prize-winning liberal economist Paul Krugman called the crudity of the “reciprocal” tariffs formula shocking.

Big money interests are running the government — and influencing the news you read. While other outlets are retreating behind paywalls and bending the knee to political pressure, HuffPost is proud to be unbought and unfiltered. Will you help us keep it that way? You can even access our stories ad-free.

“When the fate of the world economy is on the line, the malignant stupidity of the policy process is arguably as important as the policies themselves,” Krugman wrote. “How can anyone, whether they’re businesspeople or foreign governments, trust anything coming out of an administration that behaves like this?”

Another explanation for the tariffs is that Trump is simply using a power that Congress has delegated to the White House and nobody can stop him.

“Tariffs are a tool the president enjoys because it’s personal power,” Rep. Ryan Zinke (R-Mont.), who served as interior secretary during the first Trump administration, told HuffPost this week. “It’s personal ― he doesn’t have to go through Congress. He can exercise personal power.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

🎀 ANONYMOUS asked:

It’s been a while since I saw you write a fem x fem reader…so I had an idea if you were comfortable with it. I’m obsessed with Arleccino right now and was hoping for a story about her! One where the reader is kind of the polar opposite of her. Reader is open with her feelings and bubbly, maybe ventures with Lumine/Aether sometimes and that’s how they met. Reader isn’t in the least intimidated by Arleccino, and shakes her hand with a smile. Maybe even showing how yandere Arleccino will go for her, if anyone even dared look in her direction. Thank you Ana!!!

Fontaine was well known for its natural landscape, cultural escapades and the occasional dabbling in the various sciences. By stepping foot in the nation of Hydro, there was always a plethora of things one could do and never be bored.

The intimidating Fatui Harbinger did not feel like indulging in any of those activities on this fine spring day.

She sat in in a small but cozy cafe, hidden away in the shadows from any prying eyes and curious ears. If by some chance anyone would glance at her direction, that person would be struck with a sort of primal fear, the type of feeling which is etched deep inside of your mind since the day a person is born. That chilling sensation was meant to keep humans alive and any sane one would obey the tiny voice which would scream Run! inside their mind. Throught the years, she had managed to hone that feeling, to use it to her advantage against all of her foes. Be it a fool or someone actually worthy, it was indeed a useful skill to possess.

However, even with such visibly sharp thorns, there would always be individuals who would strive to grasp the head of the pretty red rose. It did not matter to them that their flesh would be marred with deep gashes and painful cuts, for the mere pleasure of enjoying the flower with their own two hands was more than enough to satiate their desires.

This was how the Harbinger Arlecchino viewed a lady she had the pleasure of meeting in Fontaine.

From the corner of her eye, the refined Harbringer caught the swishing of a long poofy skirt, to which she imagined to be a pretty shade of sakura pink. Sipping on her herbal tea, she was pleased to see that her assumptions were proven right. She placed down her dainty cream coloured cup on the table and took in the sight before her - with a radiant smile there stood a sweet lady, covered from head to toe in a fine silk shawl, an adorable dress with a sweetheart neckline. Pretty pearls shine softly on the darling lady's neck, to which the Harbringer smiles.

Her little lady was wearing her gift. How splendid. Truly.

This became a routine for the two women. They would meet up daily, always in a different location but the endgame was always the same.

Her little starling never failed to make her smile.

That was the nicknmae she had picked out for her little lady friend, to which she would always blush so tenderly as she would bashfully hold her cheeks, much to the Harbringer's delight.

The sharp Knave often inquired why someone like this could fathom to be with her. She was no fool, she undertood that even looking into her eye was no easy task for some people, let alone holding an actual conversation. Sweet sterling would do her best to dodge the question or give vague non answers but in due time, the watchful Knave started to pick up on the subtle signs. Laboured breathing, the tight grip on her golden fan, the not so subtle sweat on her forehead, all telltale signs of a bloosoming romance inside a lady's heart.

The Knave had allowed her thorns to make way for the lady, to inch closer to her. Day by day she would become more bold, her lips inching closer and closer towards the icy cheek of the Harbinger, her soft lips just shy of a kiss.

The Knave never made the move to pull away. Never.

For it would have been a sin to do so.

The temptation was saccharine, almost otherworldly. The urge wrap up her lovely starling started to become overwhelimg, much to the Knave's surprise. She was used to keeping her emotions in check, accustomed to being a sturdy rock in hard times. Even the toughest rocks can shatter to bits if hit in the right spot and that bullseye was achieved once the Harbinger felt her starling kiss her.

It was a chaste kiss, one filled with pure emotions, all of which came pouring out in a matter of moments. If she could stay like this for eternity, wrapped in sweet bliss, the Knave would gladly stab her own heart out, gauging out the beating organ and offering it up for her beloved to take and cherish, for it was hers alone. No one in this world would be allowed the privilege of knowing what it felt like to be revered by Arlecchino. Her thorns had subsided for one person and that person but even that came at a cost.

No one else would be allowed to step into their Eden which was so carefully cultivated.

She kept her starlight close, locked away behind a wall of safety and thorns, all of which threatened to prick and stab any outsider who had the nerve to try to step in. All were dealt with swiftly beneath the moonlight. No one would hear them scream, no one would come to their aid and mercy was a far cry away.

The scent of copper stuck to Arlecchino like a perfume of sorts, the stench never quite being able to be washed away no matter how many times she tried to put on a flowery perfume. In due time, she grew to like it.

Dare she say love even.

In this world of darkness, she had managed to secure herself a sliver of hope, a spark of joy which was meant for her only. And she would be damned if she ever let that go.

[chervbs]

undying devotion — a. ancunin

pairings: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: you have a very limited time to free everyone, including duke ravenguard, from the iron throne. It seems easy enough until you realize you may not make it out before gortash destroys the entire prison, and you along with it. and with your new but thriving relationship with your vampiric companion, you have more to lose than just your life.

warnings: angst, mega angst, main character death, spoilers for act 3 (specifically the iron throne quest), mentions of c*zador, resurrection, hurt/comfort, happy ending, maybe ooc astarion because I’m still getting used to writing these characters, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: hello my angels! I hope you all enjoy this short little angsty piece I came up with for everyones favorite vampire. anonymous requested some angst for astarion and I immediately thought of this moment that happened in my first playthrough of the game where the only person I couldn't get out of the iron throne was my tav. it was a scary moment until I remembered what my man withers was there for. the characters in the game don't actually have a reaction to tav not making it out so I came up with this. any feed back is greatly appreciated! <3

ao3 link

Of all the battles fought between the crash of the Nautiloid ship and now, the Iron Throne is proving to be potentially the most perilous.

The plan had seemed simple when you all waited for the submersible to dock the underwater prison. Get in, free as many prisoners as possible, and get out. Of course the creatures guarding the prison would be an obstacle, but your party had defeated a plethora of foes before, how difficult could this mission be?

You all shared the sentiment, until the projection of Lord Enver Gortash had made an appearance.

“Aren’t you the intrepid little adventurer?” The man’s smug voice startled everyone aboard, shoulders growing tense and glares growing fierce. “Digging and diving where you don’t belong. And I thought we were friends.”

Astarion watched as you squared your shoulders, looking the projection right in the eyes. “Fuck you, Gortash.” The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but it didn’t last.

Gortash made it clear that if you continued on your quest, he would destroy the Iron Throne, and you all with it.

You had glanced back, communicating with Astarion, Halsin, and Karlach silently. Each of you wonder if this is worth the stakes. Worth all of the lives that could be lost if you failed. Then you looked at your captain, Redhammer the Deviser, and nodded for him to dock the ship.

“That was a mistake.” Gortash scowled. “When the corpses start to wash up on the shore, remember–you could have prevented all of this.”

There wasn’t much time after you docked to accomplish what you came for, so the four of you climbed the ladder with swiftness. The moment you stepped down, your tadpole began to wriggle as a familiar voice spoke to you.

“Halt. You must act with haste. Duke Ravenguard is held within these walls. He must be extracted.” It was unmistakably Omeluum, the mindflayer you’d made friends with in the Underdark.

You knew there was no time for questions. “Tell me what to do.”

“Duke Ravenguard is held in the security wing. Be careful, there are many hazards. This structure is collapsing. Act with speed, act with efficiency. Good luck.”

Swords, arrows and spells were used to get you all through the prison with haste. The Sahugin guards were inconvenient, but not the priority. You only attacked when they were in your way, and dodged them the rest of the time.

Astarion and Halsin were able to make it to Duke Ravenguard, freeing and healing him while also taking down the obstacles sent by Mizora. The security was the closest to the center of the ship and the two men made quick work of the guards still lingering there.

You and Karlach had each taken separate wings, hoping to free as many people as you could. Karlach freed the few prisoners in her wing before she came across Omeluum. Once he was freed, he was able to teleport the two of them back onto the submersible.

It was only as you fought your way through yours that you regretted not bringing someone else with you. The wing you took held the most prisoners and it seemed as if every guard your companions didn’t defeat decided to flock to the area.

Time was running out and you knew it. Your tadpole wriggled again.

“You must return. The prison will be destroyed any moment now.” Omeluum warned. His voice was monotone as any other mind flayer, but you could sense veiled concern.

You took one last look at the crowd of Sahugin in front of you, your heart pounding in your chest. You lacked enough energy to be able to misty step back to the entrance, and there was no time to look for a useful scroll.

“Did everyone make it on board?” You asked, slashing the guards in front of you.

“Indeed.”

You sighed, tears welling. “Then tell them I’m sorry.”

Astarion was the last to climb aboard the submersible after Halsin. Water sprayed onto the platform as the structure began to give way. Halsin reached down to grab his forearms, pulling him the rest of the way. He’d just barely began to search for you within the ship when Karlach spoke up.

“Where’s Tav?” She asked shakily, as if she had already realized the answer.

Astarion’s eyes widened, as did everyone’s. “No.” He whispered, darting over to the window.

There was a split second before the explosion, the force of it rumbling within the water. “No!” He cried, knees buckling as he collapsed.

Karlach slapped a hand over her mouth, tears already falling from her eyes like a waterfall. Halsin bowed his head, sad eyes closing as Astarion lets out a heart wrenching scream.

It didn’t matter to him that his companions had never seen him so distraught, not even after he’d delivered the killing blow to Cazador. No, this pain was entirely different.

This pain was like having his heart ripped out, then his soul extracted then his body mutilated. Every part of him ached in a way he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. Though it shouldn’t surprise him. In the time since meeting, you’d taught him many things about himself. And even in death it seems he’s still learning from you.

Astarion was more silent than Karlach and Halsin had ever seen him. As they received their reward from the Wavemother and talked to Duke Ravenguard, Astarion dragged behind them, silent tears escaping consistently.

Only once they reached camp did Astarion seem to return to his mind, paying no attention to the surprised and concerned stares from everyone else. He was only focused on storming over to the camps undead resident.

Withers did not looked fazed nor surprised by the vampires rage, closing the tome he had been focused on the staring blankly.

“Bring them back.” He demanded, voice thick with emotion. “Bring Tav back.”

Astarion faintly heard a few gasps from the crowd that had gathered behind him, the rest of the party hearing of your death for the first time.

The creatures hollow, echoed voice responded. “There is a cost to do so.”

Astarion’s jaw clenched. “What is it?”

“A matter of coin.” Withers replied simply.

A pale hand reached back into his travel pack to pull out the pouch of coin Astarion had collected throughout your travels. He shoved it against the undead’s chest. “Here!” He snarled. “Take it! Take all the coin we have, I don’t care how much it takes.”

Withers calmly opened the pouch, peaking inside. “That won’t be necessary. This is more than enough.” He said, dropping the pouch to the ground. “I recommend keeping thy distance for a moment.”

Everybody took a step back besides Astarion, only until Karlach placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and pulled.

Withers lifted a bony hand, speaking his words like a prayer. “By doom and dusk, I strike thy name from the archives. Rise!”

There was a brief flash of light that had everyone shielding their eyes. In a matter of seconds, you appeared, stumbling like you’d been thrown back on earth. Which, to your credit, is what it felt like.

Your breaths were quick and heavy as they had been in your final moments, and you patted your body to ensure you really were alive.

There wasn’t much time for you to linger in your thoughts before you were essentially tackled, toned arms coming around you in a crushing embrace. As you heard the sound of weeping, you registered that it was your love who had lunged at you.

A choked sound escaped your lips before you could even realize you yourself had started to cry, arms wrapping around Astarion’s torso.

Through your foggy eyes, you could faintly see your other companions standing a few feet away, some wiping tears and others smiling somberly at you. But they were far from your mind at the moment.

You could only focus on the man in your arms, the both of you collapsing to the ground. “My love.” He whimpered out, surely leaving fingernail markings with how hard he was gripping you. “My little love, I thought you gone for good.”

A watery chuckle escaped, one of your hands coming to lace within the white curls of his hair. “I’m so sorry, Star. Never. I could never leave you.” You sobbed.

His embraced loosened, hands traveling to your face and pulling your forehead against his. His crimson gazed peered into yours, full of desperation. As if he would never be able to look into them again.

“I have never known pain,” He whispered to you hoarsely. “Like what I felt when that wretched place exploded.”

Your lips quivered with another onslaught of emotions. You placed your own palms against his cheeks, thumbs stroking the smooth, alabaster skin. “I never would have made it on time.” You sniffed. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He shook his head lightly, removing his forehead and replacing it with his lips instead. He pressed a kiss there, then to your cheek, and then a final one to your lips, lingering again as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share. You only separated once oxygen became a concern.

“The others are waiting.” You sniffed, though you made no move to leave his side.

“Let them.” Astarion said, a small, relieved grin growing on his face. And you did.

The rest of the world could wait until the end of time for you to part from your Star.”

[citruslullabies]

That last DogDay x reader fic was too cute (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) Would you pretty please do DD with a reader who jumps on CatNap's back to protect him only to be knocked over, and that's when DD finally finds the courage to fight his former best friend? I would appreciate some fluff afterwards 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you!

Btw, your blog's aesthetic is so pretty :3c 🩷

Coming right up!! And awh, thank you! That's so sweet<333

Trigger warnings: blood, descriptions of violence

Requested by: anonymous 🩷

Romantic/platonic?: neutral (not specified)

Category: angst ending with fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x reader

Word count: 620

You Saved Me, So I’ll Save You

Finding a friend with so many foes was a rare thing for your situation, but you were lucky enough to have found Dogday. The canine, despite its lack of legs, was loyal and forever in your debt for your kindness. You were his angel, his savior. That's why he never wanted you to get hurt.

But catnap ambushed you two, leaving you to try and defend two smaller beings against one large one with a bigger advantage. He watched in horror as Catnap approached him with eyes so dark and cruel, knowing that his former best friend would be the one to take his life.. or so he had thought. He slowly opened his eyes when he heard a loud cat-like scream echo the abandoned building, looking up to see you on his back while he was trying to get you off like some bull-riding competition.

“Dogday! Quick, get his legs or ankles or just, something-!” You called out desperately, feeling the large cats spine dig into your stomach and chest as you dug your feet into its ribs to try and balance yourself to stay on. Dogday tried to run with his old re-stitched back on legs, but found himself in a predicament.. he couldn't hurt Catnap. He couldn't bring himself to do so, the idea alone made him feel nauseated.

But that feeling quickly disappeared when he saw you fall and hit your head roughly against the ground, causing you to lose consciousness. His eyes widened as he panicked. “ANGEL!” he yelled out as he quickly dove to get to you, lifting your still breathing body up to his as he caressed your head.

“Angel? Angel wake up!” He said, panicking. His eyes only left from your face when he heard the crooning of a feline behind him, as if it was cackling as it moved at your despair. His body acted before his brain did, growling and quickly charging at the monster In front of him. That thing wasn't Catnap, it was a monster. Catnap had died in the hour of joy, a monster being housed inside of his former friend's body instead.

You gained consciousness with blurry vision, feeling bandages being wrapped around your head in various ways as if Dogday didn't know how to properly bandage your wound. He got it to stop bleeding so heavily, but he wanted to cover it quickly. You spoke up hoarsely. “Dogday..?” You asked in a weak wheeze, causing his ears to practically shoot up in relief. He immediately hugged you close and tight. “Oh god.. Angel, I.. I was so worried I thought.. I thought I lost you for a moment!” He said through whimpers and whines.

His fur was matted with blood, specifically around his mouth and paws. But he didn't care about that right now as he snuggled his head against you and held you dearly. You blinked slowly as you remembered what had happened.. before mustering your strength to sit up and hold Dogday close, cradling his head against your chest. You sighed and rubbed his back, smiling warmly at him. “Hey.. hey.. it's okay. I'm okay, see? I'm right here.”

Despite your reassurances, the dog continued to pathetically whine and nuzzle against you as tears fell from his eyes. “I'm so glad you're alive, I don't know what would've happened if I lost you. I don't want to imagine a world without you in it, Angel.” He said softly through sniffles. You carefully scratched behind his ear and felt him relax in your warm touch, your weak eyes filled with relief and adoration as you comforted him with a warm smile.

“I don't want to imagine a world without you in it either, sunshine..”

Thank you for the request!

[collapsedsquid]

The questions asked of several current and former officials up for top intelligence and law enforcement posts revolved around two events that have become President Donald Trump’s litmus test to distinguish friend from foe: the result of the 2020 election and the Jan. 6, 2021, assault on the U.S. Capitol, according to the people, who, like other interviewed for this report, spoke on the condition of anonymity because of the matter’s sensitivity. These people said that two individuals, both former officials who were being considered for positions within the intelligence community, were asked to give “yes” or “no” responses to the questions: Was Jan. 6 “an inside job?” And was the 2020 presidential election “stolen?” These individuals, who did not give the desired straight “yes” answer, were not selected. It is not clear whether there were other factors that contributed to the decision.

Next democratic president is clearly going to have to abolish the CIA and FBI, and hey they may just have established the authority to do it.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

S.V. Dáte at HuffPost:

WASHINGTON — President Donald Trump on Wednesday gave America its largest tax increase in at least three decades — more than $2 trillion over 10 years — by imposing an across-the-board 10% levy on all imports, with higher rates on dozens more countries and a further 25% tax on all foreign cars. “Foreign leaders have stolen our jobs, foreign cheaters have ransacked our factories, and foreign scavengers have torn apart our once beautiful American dream,” Trump said at a chilly, overcast ceremony in the White House Rose Garden attended by most of his Cabinet and hundreds of invited guests. “Our country has been looted, pillaged, raped and plundered by nations near and far, both friend and foe alike,” he said. The 10% rate is half of the 20% Trump had spoken about on the campaign trail, but nevertheless will cost American importers about $2.1 trillion in additional taxes over the next decade, costs that are passed along to consumers, according to a Tax Foundation estimate. Erica York, the group’s vice president of federal tax policy, said the total will be greater than that because of the higher tariffs charged to some countries.

That would make Trump’s tax hikes larger than the three that have been perennial targets of Republican wrath through the years: Republican George H.W. Bush’s increases of 1990, Democrat Bill Clinton’s in 1993, and Democrat Barack Obama’s in 2010 to pay for the Affordable Care Act. Trump, by invoking emergency powers, is going around Congress to impose the tariffs. He has created a base 10% tariff but is taxing imports from many countries more, based on how those countries tax American imports. For example, imports from European Union nations will be taxed at a 20% rate because Trump’s advisers claim its tariffs and “currency manipulation and trade barriers” amount to a 39% tax on American goods going into the EU. But while Trump and his aides claimed these tariffs were “reciprocal” ― merely matching the tariffs charged on U.S. imports by the country in question ― in reality, the rates were an arbitrary calculation of a country’s balance of trade with the United States. “The trade deficit that we have with any given country is the sum of all trade practices, the sum of all cheating,” a Trump aide told reporters on condition of anonymity on a conference call just before Trump’s speech. It’s unclear how precisely imports from Canada and Mexico — the two other signatories in the United States’ biggest free trade agreement — will be treated. Trump had imposed 25% tariffs on goods from those nations, supposedly to punish them for allowing fentanyl to be smuggled into the U.S., but then delayed implementation for a month. The order Trump signed Wednesday says that it excludes products “compliant” with the trade agreement but did not offer definitions.

[...] In reality, tariffs are merely taxes imposed on imported products. When goods arrive at a U.S. port of entry, the importer — sometimes a private individual but more often a manufacturer, a wholesaler or a retailer — is required to pay to U.S. Customs the import tax due before the goods are released into the country. That expense is then added into the production cost of the goods, which is ultimately paid by the American consumer in the form of higher prices. Whether Trump understands how this works is unclear, even though his businesses often purchased both raw material and finished goods from other countries, including China.

Wednesday afternoon on "Liberation Day", Donald Trump imposes an economy-crushing tax hike by declaring a 10% tariff rate minimum for all nations besides Mexico and Canada (with several countries getting slapped with much higher rates).

See Also:

PoliticusUSA: Complete And Total Incompetence As Trump Slaps Tariffs On Penguins

The Left Hook (Wajahat Ali): Everyone Gets Tariffs, Trade Wars, and Turmoil on Bizarro Trump’s “Liberation Day.”

Daily Kos: Trump marks ‘Liberation Day’ with bizarre rant, conspiracies—and lame props

The Guardian: Trump announces sweeping new tariffs, upending decades of US trade policy

[kaialone]

Official Guilty Gear Anthology- Short Story "Drifting Mirror" (English Translation)

This will be a full English translation of the short story "Drifting Mirror", written by an anonymous author.

It’s the third out of five short stories included in the "Official Guilty Gear Anthology", which was available online for a limited time only from April 1st to April 8th 2024, as part of April Fools’ Day celebrations.

--

Drifting Mirror

"Funny isn't it? Against all my best judgment, you're the only one I have fun swinging this sword at."

She laughs. At none other than herself.

However, the blade she holds in her hand does not tremble in the slightest. Its tip remains firmly between my eyes, latched onto my life, refusing to let go.

I misjudged her. I just assumed she was a performer who speaks with actions rather than words. This conversation is completely off-script. She's obviously ad-libbing all of it. Is she going for a monologue? Venting her frustrations? Having a discussion? In any case, this is pointless. There's no drama in this.

"I hate to admit it, but you're fighting your own battle. It can't be easy, being nobody's friend or foe—Not having anyone to rely on. You didn't choose your path, so why accept it?"

Seems like she thinks of my state of being as an "eternal curse". She's biased, of course. But, I can't completely deny it, either. For starters, I myself don't even have the words to accurately describe the chaos that resides within me. Because I've forgotten every last one of them. Feelings and memories. Forgetting is one of the few virtues I have. In other words, that "curse" is what makes me who I am, I guess.

"Don't tell me I'm the only one who can save you?"

No, you're not gonna save me. Man, why did it have to be you?

Win or lose, there's nothing in it for me. Only self-containment. Nothing but myself, beyond the entangled cause and effect. I can see the conclusion. No creative freedom, no room for interpretation. A tale of self-importance to the end. What value could something like that hold?

"My blade can't touch folks who don't doubt themselves. But you—You've rejected yourself entirely, but your reason for being holds firm. Something keeps you tethered. But what? How can you possibly win? What do you hold in your heart? Atonement, salvation, ruin, hope, desire, equilibrium. You're prepared for all of it?"

I don't mind. I forgot about my resolve in two seconds, though. I'm honestly fine with anything, or nothing at all. Whatever she sees and feels it to be. 'Cause I'm not the one who chooses. It's whoever's inside me.

"I don't get it. That's a hell of a way to find out how weak you are."

And then there's her.

She's not looking at me, she's staring deep into my very being. By doing so, she brings me, and more importantly, herself, into sharp relief. Like a mirror without light. I thought I'd abandoned myself somewhere along the way. But there I am, standing right before my eyes. Along with the fear I'd given up on ever feeling again.

Something like this is necessity, not drama. Just a sad excuse for a one-man show. I'm sure we'll never stand on the same stage again. This must be our cause and effect.

But, even if that's the case―

"I've never seen an eye like that before."

"That's 'cause I've never seen one like you before."

―the old me must've had the freedom of choice, too.

--

[automaton-otto]

i'm so sorry but that jiro emote made the "DISGUSTANG" sound effect play in my head ajsdfkjh--

(Thanks for the ask anonymous)

I'm glad! It's still my favorite Jiro face

He looks so done.

[thisismysafeescape]

'INNER' BANKS: AN OBX SMAU - Masterlist <3

Summary — Follow our favorite Outer Banks Characters, alongside some intriguing new faces, while they all find themselves ensnared in a deadly game of secrets and lies.

An anonymous blog has surfaced, casting a sinister shadow over their lives by threatening to reveal their dirtiest, darkest secrets to the world.

As the web page exposes betrayal, cheating, addiction, and sinister pasts, the tension between friends and foes escalates. Trust becomes a rare and valuable commodity, and the bonds that once seemed unbreakable begin to fray. Relationships are pushed to their breaking points, as each character grapples with their own hidden demons and the fear of exposure.

Every corner of the Outer Banks holds a secret, and this anonymous puppet master seems to know them all. As the characters scramble to uncover the identity of the person behind the web page, they must confront their own past actions and face the consequences of their deceit.

Who is the mastermind pulling the strings, and what is their ultimate goal? All we know is that no one is safe, and no secret is too buried to be unearthed.

High School AU - Original Characters - Mature Themes

Authors Note — Hi everyone! This is the first time I have ever tried something like this! I've been working on this idea for a while now and have finally started bringing my thoughts into reality. The idea came to me while I was watching Gossip Girl (for the 100th) time, and I had just finished Outer Banks.

I've created some OC's that I think will bring an edge to the OBX world.

I really hope you all enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Meet The Characters & Aesthetics's

The Kooks | The Pogues

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | To Be Continued.....

[pontiffv]

astra inclinant, sed non obligant .

@sovrapppensiero

the stars incline us, they do not bind us!

[manmadezine]

man* made//made man*

quarterly diy digital zine of all things trans masculine.

artwork, poetry, photography, events, love letters, fashion, networking, music…

if it’s man* made, it’s found home.

FAQs

What Can I Submit?

All submissions are done thru the link in our bio! We take any format or medium of work as long as it can be published online, whether it be artwork, poetry, deep confessions, video essays, experimental dance, workout routines, recipes, or promotion for your band. If it’s in the realm of creativity or wellbeing, and promotes our ethos of trans masc joy, then we want you!

Do I Have to be Trans Masc* to Submit?

Man* Made//Made Man* is a digital space dedicated to anyone who identifies as a trans man, trans masculine, or any gender fuckery within that realm. We exist to promote trans masculine joy, and positive masculinity.

It is not a requirement for you to disclose any part of your identity when submitting work. We also ask you do not assume the identity of submissions, especially those submitted anonymously. It is not our place as a platform to decide who does or doesn’t fall in to this category. The beauty of self ID is that you decide!

Where Do I Submit?

Send us an email over at manmadezine@gmail.com. If you have any questions PLEASE reach out either through Instagram DM or Email and we will do what we can to help!

Is There a Word Count?

No minimum word count, but a maximum of 2000 words! Sadly I am only a one man team (as of now!) and do not have the capacity for longer written submissions. This may change in the future however if our team grows…

How Many Times Can I Submit?

Once per edition, please! This zine exists to give space to those looking to platform themselves, often for the first time, and to make it fair we would like to keep it to one submission per person, per edition.

Can I Submit to More Than One Edition?

Yes! Please! We love working with creatives and building lasting relationships within our community and would love to platform people as often as we can!

Is There a Payout for Submissions?

Sadly, we are not in a financial position to pay those who have submitted work. As a one person crew, I don’t even have the ability to pay myself! We don’t expect anyone to make brand new work for this zine, it is a place for us to platform and network with others in our community.

If things happen to grow in the future we would love to be able to pay accepted submissions!

Are There Age Restrictions For Submitting?

We ask for explicitly sexual work to be kept until we are ready to publish an 18+ edition of our zine. We do not include nudity as being explicitly sexual, but may have to censor genitalia for the safety of our readers who are not yet 18. Due to the intergenerational community we exist in, we want to include every age range possible! Transness is for everyone, not just adults, and we all deserve a space to platform and promote ourselves.

Can I Edit After Submission?

It depends!

Have we made a spelling mistake for your name/handle/pronouns/etc? Drop us an email at manmadezine@gmail.com and we will get it fixed ASAP!

When Do Submissions Open?

Submissions open on a quarterly basis and will remain open for a month. This gives us another two months to do the rest of the work that goes in to publishing a zine!

This editions submissions open at midnight March 17th. so tell all your friends and foes, strangers and lovers…

When will I find out if my submission has been successful?

We aim to get back to all applicants by 2 weeks post submission deadline.

If you have not been successful this time, please do still submit to future issues! It may be our current theme doesn’t entirely align with your submission, and you may be suited better for a later edition!

Where Can I Find the Zine?

We are currently working out the logistics for a webpage to keep a digital archive of our zine that can be accessed by anyone, but for now we are working on creating a format that can be emailed! We will also be featuring accepted submissions on our Instagram page!

Sadly we do not have the financial backing to publish our work physically, but would love to work with independent publishers, queer spaces, and bookshops to (hopefully!) give us a home in the future!

How can I help?

If you’d like to get involved please either email us at manmadezine@gmail.com, or send us a dm! Currently it’s just one person running the whole zine, and could very much do with some extra hands!

Sadly we are unable to pay those who help in the creation of this zine. This is a one man, unfunded passion project and solely exists to help the trans masc* community. If possible in the future we would love to be able to pay everyone involved, but for now this is a DIY and voluntary position.

[victusinveritas]

🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as you make them smile. Please feel free to respond to this ask by listing some of your happiest memories, favorite qualities about yourself, or discussing something you are super passionate about. You may send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile (but no pressure).🦉

Also I need funding for my tesla graveyard in Narragansett Bay

This is a Rhode Island specific memory. I agree that a Tesla Graveyard would be a great reef and possible shoal (because fuck those ships that can't be bothered with harbor pilots and updated charts) for the Bay. One of my happiest memories was sitting on the steps of the side yard of my grandfather's house with Geno (said grandfather) shucking ears of Rhode Island sweetcorn picked out off the truck from Belmont in Wakefield (pre-remodel and fancification, which is lovely but also killed the little friendly grocery store vibe once and for all). I was on corn silk removal duty along with chucking the husks in the back. There was a tape-player playing "Sittin' by the dock of the bay" (Clapton, a terrible racist, yeah, yeah, but it was the early 1990s and he still had a mythic status among white people who did not pay as much attention as they should have) and my grandfather sang along with what my mom always called an "Irish tenor." I still have no idea how that differs from a non-Hibernian tenor, though I just Googled it and apparently it's a John McCormack-esque thing, which tracks for my grandfather. He was one of the few people who could call me John John and ruffle my hair, and he did so any chance he got. I would have been about seven or maybe eight. It was before my grandfather broke his hip on the ice while getting the mail and his health (mental and physical) declined rapidly. His hip was fragile because of the shrapnel in it from D-Day (different from the shrapnel from the Bulge). The doctor apparently apologized to my grandmother for not being able to get "the metal out," assuming I guess that there had been some sort of car accident or something. According to the story she just kinda looked at him and said, "Sweetie, it's been there since the Woore." (she had a Cranston accent, though not as strong as some, it came out when she was stressed). Something I am supremely passionate about is the Spanish Civil War. I can talk about it for hours, both political and military dimensions. I had a second cousin who served in the International Brigades (Connolly Column), so my support falls entirely to the Republican cause and further with the POUM/FAI--doesn't matter because they're all dead and pretending otherwise is just a particular sort of historical cosplay--a cute pin referencing the IB is fine, maybe a POUM propaganda poster on a T-shirt, but fight the struggle you are in currently, not the one from 90 years ago, however tempting it might be to slip back into old habits and patterns (that the foe in these conflicts, Fascism, hasn't changed, can make this difficult, and I'm not going into more depth here because I have 'shit to do' today). Another happy memory, this one reoccurring and more of an experience than a memory, though owl related, is being in bed, snug with my comrade-lover, on a cold winter's night, like single digit cold, with the snow deep on the ground and a dog snuggled up either between us or on my leg under a blanket, and an owl hoots out into the chill air. Another owl will hoot back from somewhere else, and the tin roof somehow conducts this all into the bedroom and it is like the owls are right on top of us (they're not, I've seen them hanging out in a particular tree in the back yard, which is about 100 feet away from the house). Any folks who want to answer this, anonymous or otherwise, I'll be happy to share your moments of joy here. Good weekend, comrades.