#i by the tide promotions

[hussyknee]

Tfw your favourite faux-leftist liberal shill turns against you. 🥲

[literalnobody]

New Act - new vertical thumbnail! This is the image that'll appear if Rose Tide Rising is ever lucky enough to be promoted in Webtoons "Canvas" tab! The above is the "Normal" version, and below 2 are versions with manipulated colour to make the protagonists pop more. Which do you think I should use?

[seafoam-taide]

I make a lot of character based music playlists bc it's fun but most of them are just for my own ocs and are more on a whim then deeply thought out but I'm still sooo proud of my time cookie playlist it's one of the few fandom based ones I've kept and all the songs remind me of them and the songs are in color order and my art is the cover of it... it makes me happy :))

[herhorrors]

... everyone has at least one horror story , this is mine !!!

[orcelito]

Experienced biiiig big plot twist things in tales of arise. I am fucking Reeling. That was so good but also so. So much. Oh my God...

[crystaleevee4]

i am going to start a collection

if you have any other posts of this kind please send them to me

update: this one thanks to @iputmcytsintohydraulicpress (great url, by the way)

this one courtesy of @catamaurrr-star

So I didn’t want to separate it into two images, this was the best I could do- thanks to @blocky-tides! also art is by @/cheeryfairies

thanks @o0recipme0o

hey @igotthisaccountunderduress. less mcyt related but thanks anyways :D

heheh

found another one from my favorite game in stars and time go play it

WE'VE GOT A BIG ONE TO ADD TO THE LIST TODAY. EVERYONE SAY HI XKCD. it's my favorite guy ever... skizzleman mention!

...so anyways here's my self-promotion now that this has almost 15,000 notes and you guys sure as hell won't see it if i reblog

My AO3! Not much there right now besides OC stuff, but more to come!

Situations ask game! pleasepleaseplease send me hc/life series stuff here i need enrichment (some of these are shorter, but i can promise you i will deliver!)

@traffic-smp-headcannons! me and mod tides like seeing your ideas :)

(of note: i also take art requests, but only traditional)

[roboticutie]

Reccomendation algorithms are something we KNOW contribute massively to alt-right pipeline social issues. They also act as incentives for companies to trade, sell, and sometimes steal user data for marketing schemes and sponsors.

Elon musk just blew up twitter by biasing its recommendation feed towards his posts by 1000X more than anyone else's (not an exaggeration, thats the actual approximate number he ordered, one thousand times more likely to appear on your feed). YouTube creators, including LegalEagle himself in the video above, say with vast consistency that the algorithm de-incentivises them to be creative, take risks, and have fun. It's an incentive to do the same thing over and over until the next trend rolls in from the ether, killing all attempt at professional creativity. I've heard of viewers complain that same algorithm does not listen to user input about what they do and do not want to see, and often shows inappropriate or offensive things. If you watch, comment, or react to ONE video you don't like, you are bombarded with them routinely for at least a full week- it works AGAINST the viewer's best interests.

I'm not sure this is a bad thing. It could be skewed or pushed too far into territory that COULD cause the kind of damage warned about, but as it stands, the decimation of algorithmically recommended content alone may be a net-positive. It may even do some damage to echo chambers and open people up to seeing more things they didn't think they'd like or appreciate, but do.

Hey remember when Tumblr banned porn and everyone fled to Twitter and the internet by and large became that much more insufferable? Yeah well, we’re about to get the sequel no one’s been waiting for

A recent lawsuit is calling into question the very law that makes user-generated content possible on the internet and it’s going before a bunch of old people who have no idea how the internet works. If Section 230 gets repealed or modified, the internet as we know it will radically change forever. Content policing will be that much worse; and either the guidelines will be so restrictive it’ll squeeze the life out of their sites, or sites will close their doors all together by not being able to meet the moderation demand and not wanting to risk being liable. 

Unlike SOPA way back in the day, this one is quietly flying under everyone’s radar so there’s no big pushback like last time, so there is a very real possibility this goes down in the worst way possible. So Yeah Ya’ll may want to start saving your favorite content if you feel it’s going to go bye-bye

[51voices]

In the Shadows of Fantasy

Kinkvember Day 2: Roleplay/CNC

Shin Ryujin x Male (????)

TW: Non-Con Themes (first time writing this sort of scenes.)

On a quiet evening in her snug apartment, the bustling world outside felt like a distant dream, imbued with an air of surreal calmness. The remnants of a vibrant day, filled with the excitement of promoting for ITZY, lingered faintly in her mind, but like a gentle tide, it was ebbing away, gradually replaced by the soothing hum of her sanctuary. After conquering the frenetic energy of rehearsals, interviews, and eager fans, Ryujin relished stepping across the threshold into her own little bubble of peace. The muted symphony of the city—a soft hum of distant honks and faintly echoing conversations—enveloped her, whispering tales of life outside while allowing her the comfort of solitude.

Her sanctuary was a refuge, a warm hug against the chill of the metropolitan hustle. As she entered her cozy space, the atmosphere exuded comfort; the soft, golden glow from carefully placed lamps created playful shadows that danced across the walls, turning the stark lines of her apartment into something softer, more inviting. The ambiance wrapped around her in layers of warmth, a stark contrast to the chaos of the outside world. As she sank onto her plush bed, enveloped in a knitted blanket, the remnants of the hot shower she had just indulged in lingered around her, a steamy embrace that melted away the exhaustion of her day. The warm water had worked wonders, loosening her tense muscles and leaving her in a state of relaxed bliss.

Wrapped in her silky pink pajamas—a delicate tapestry of fabric that brushed against her skin like a soft whisper—Ryujin felt a wave of relief wash over her. The delicate lace trim of her pajamas was not just an embellishment; it was a small act of indulgence, a reminder that even in a world that demanded strength and poise, the quiet luxuries of self-care were invaluable. Her long black hair, still damp and slightly tousled from the shower, had been pulled into a loose, messy bun, radiating an effortless elegance as if she were embodying the beauty of simplicity. In this personal space, Ryujin cherished the joy of authenticity, free from the public scrutiny that accompanied her life on stage.

Before fully sinking into the serene embrace of her evening rituals, Ryujin felt the familiar buzz of her phone. She reached for it, quickly thumbing through her messages. A smile tugged at her lips as she read through the lively chatter in her group chat with her bandmates. They were making plans for the night, a rare and precious opportunity to unwind amidst their demanding schedules. She quickly typed her response, crafting her words with care,

“Sorry, I can’t meet up later. I’ve already got plans for tonight.”

A wave of hesitation washed over her. It was true—she had plans, albeit not the kind that involved meeting friends for dinner or drinks. As she sent the message, a flutter of excitement coursed through her, igniting a spark of anticipation. The girls replied with understanding, their supportive words bringing a warmth to her heart. She locked her phone and tucked it beneath the comforting folds of her blanket, her pulse slowing as she glanced around her apartment. The gentle glow of candles flickered soothingly, the air thick with the aroma of serenity, a sharp contrast to the exhilarating chaos she had just left behind.

The scents of lavender and vanilla blended harmoniously, wrapping around her like an invisible shawl. A diffuser on her nightstand sent delicate puffs of lavender oil into the air, its calming properties weaving throughout the room, while a vanilla-scented candle flickered softly on the coffee table, casting moving shadows that danced playfully across the tidy space. Scattered around her were remnants of the day—magazines, photos, promotional flyers—tokens and trinkets of her fast-paced existence. Yet, in this tranquil sanctuary, they felt more like mementos of a bygone affair, whispering echoes of a vibrant life now tucked away as she embraced her present.

Ryujin let out a deep, contented sigh, surrendering fully to the plush comfort of her bed. As her mind wandered, she began to scroll through pictures from the day’s events—captured smiles and spontaneous laughter with her bandmates and the adoring fans who filled the venue with enthusiasm. The vivid memories—bright stage lights, pulsing music, and the electric energy of a crowd—swirled within her, a vibrant tapestry woven from moments of authenticity and connection. Yet, here, nestled in her softly lit living room, with the city humming a lullaby outside, she felt a reassuring sense of peace wash over her. This was her moment, a rare stillness amidst a world that rarely paused to breathe.

With her feet tucked comfortably beneath her, Ryujin relished every second of this quiet solitude. The world outside could wait; tonight, she would luxuriate in her own tranquility, enveloped by warmth, the scent of her favorite candles, and the knowledge that within the chaos of her life, she could carve out a corner meant solely for introspection and self-appreciation. Here, in her sanctuary, she could simply be Ryujin—the girl behind the stage lights, the one finding solace in the quiet power of her own company.

The tranquility of Ryujin's home was shattered by a sudden, deafening crash. The sound, akin to a gunshot, reverberated through the living room, its echoes bouncing off the walls and jolting the young idol from her peaceful reverie. The serene stillness of the dimly lit hallway before her was now a corridor of uncertainty, a pathway to an unknown danger that had so rudely intruded upon her sanctuary.

As the initial shock subsided, the pounding of heavy footsteps against the wooden floorboards sent waves of dread through Ryujin's petite frame. Each thud was a drumbeat of impending doom, the rhythm growing louder and more insistent as the source of the disturbance drew nearer. Her heart, a wild drum in her chest, pounded in sync with the advancing threat, the surge of adrenaline sharpening her senses to a painful acuity.

The darkness in the hallway seemed to deepen, and from its depths, a figure emerged—a menacing silhouette that moved with deliberate intent. Ryujin's instincts screamed for her to flee, but fear rooted her to the spot. Her attempt to cry out for help died in her throat, a silent scream that hung heavy in the air.

As the intruder drew closer, the dim light revealed his obscured features—a black ski mask concealed his identity, and his eyes, those piercing, manic eyes, gleamed with a dangerous intensity that sent shivers down Ryujin's spine. His presence was a palpable threat, a predator in her home, and she knew with a sinking certainty that her world was about to be upended.

With a roughness that took her breath away, the man seized Ryujin by the shoulders, his grip an iron vice that she couldn't break free from. He hoisted her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing, ignoring her frantic struggles and the blows she rained down upon his back. Her attempts to break free were met with a firm smack to her backside, a humiliating assertion of his control over her. His hands, now freed from the task of restraining her, roamed over her body with a sense of entitlement that made her blood run cold.

The journey down the hallway to her bedroom was a blur of panic and disbelief. Ryujin's mind raced, searching for a way to escape the nightmare that had ensnared her. But her efforts were in vain; the intruder's strength was overwhelming, and her bedroom—a space that had always been a haven—was now the stage for her terror.

Tossed onto the bed like a ragdoll, Ryujin's breath was knocked from her lungs. The bedframe creaked ominously under the sudden addition of weight, and she scrambled to regain her footing, to put distance between herself and the monster that loomed over her. But he was on her in an instant, his body pinning hers to the mattress with terrifying ease.

"Stop! Who are you? What are you doing?" Ryujin's voice was a tremulous whisper, laced with the kind of fear that claws at the throat and threatens to suffocate. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison, the air thick with the scent of her own fear and the sickening sweetness of the intruder's breath.

His response was a cruel laugh that seemed to mock her vulnerability, he silenced her attempts to scream. "Silence," he hissed, the command a low growl that filled the room and silenced the last of her protests. His hands, calloused and rough, tore at her clothing with a ferocity that left her exposed and shivering in the cool air.

Ryujin's heart pounded in her chest like a trapped animal desperate for escape as she lay there, her wrists firmly ensnared in the iron grip of her captor. His hands, large and unyielding, were like manacles, pinning her to the cold, unforgiving surface beneath her. Her struggles were futile, her strength no match for the brute force that held her captive.

Tears carved rivulets down her cheeks, each one a silent testament to her terror. Her voice, once strong and defiant, was now a mere whisper as she begged for mercy. "Please, don't do this," she pleaded, her words laced with desperation. But the intruder, his eyes darkened with a lust that brooked no room for compassion, was deaf to her entreaties. He was a man possessed, his mind clouded by a perverse obsession that had consumed him whole.

"You’re mine now," he declared, his voice a guttural growl that resonated with the promise of unspeakable acts. The words hung in the air like a specter, filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. Ryujin's body trembled, not just from the chill of the room, but from the deep-seated fear that gripped her soul. She knew that her life was hanging by a thread, and that the man above her was the only one who held the power to sever it.

His breath, hot and ragged, washed over her face as he leaned in closer, his intentions clear. Ryujin felt a wave of nausea rise within her as she realized the horror that was about to unfold. She closed her eyes, trying to transport herself to a safer place, a happier memory, but the reality of her situation was an unbreakable chain that tethered her to the present.

The intruder's hands roamed over her body with a sense of entitlement, each touch a violation, a desecration of her being. Ryujin's mind raced, searching for a way out, a miracle that would deliver her from this nightmare. But as she lay there, helpless and afraid, she knew that her fate was sealed. The only thing left to do was to endure, to survive by any means necessary, and to hope against hope that she would live to see another day.

The roughness of his hands scraped against her soft skin, leaving a trail of dread in their wake. Ryujin's heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the turmoil in her mind. Each grope, each unwanted caress, sent shockwaves of revulsion through her. His touch was a violation, a harsh juxtaposition to the gentle caresses she had once known.

His fingers, unyielding and intrusive, pried at her most private sanctum, a sacred space now desecrated by his relentless, cruel exploration. The intimate touch that should have been filled with warmth and mutual desire was instead laced with a cold, brutal possessiveness. It was a reminder of her loss of control, her autonomy stripped away by force.

Ryujin felt her very essence recoil from the abomination of his touch. Her body, once a vessel of joy and pleasure, now served as a battleground, a site of abuse. With each passing moment, the vile invasion further tainted her, leaving her feeling irreparably soiled, her spirit crying out against the defilement of her temple.

In the depths of her being, Ryujin's mind railed against the horror, a silent scream reverberating through her consciousness. She clung to the fragments of her dignity, a desperate act of defiance against the physical and emotional ravaging of her person. With each heartbeat, she fought to preserve a piece of herself untouched by the brutality that surrounded her, a small flame of resistance flickering in the darkness of her ordeal.

His depraved taunts sliced through the air, each word a lash against her dignity. "God look at you getting wet, I knew you were a slut hiding as an idol," he sneered, his voice dripping with malicious glee. His words were not just spoken; they were a deliberate and cruel violation of her spirit, an attempt to strip her of her identity and reduce her to nothing more than an object of his twisted desires.

Ryujin's denials were fierce, yet they seemed to dissipate into the ether, unacknowledged and invalidated by the monster looming above her. She mustered all her strength to form coherent words through her sobs, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and outrage. "No, please, you're wrong!" she pleaded, her eyes wide with terror, reflecting the shattered remnants of her once untouchable world.

But her tearful pleas fell on deaf ears. The intruder reveled in her distress, feeding off it, his smirk growing ever wider as he watched her struggle against the nightmare he had forced upon her. With each passing moment, her torment seemed to intensify, a crescendo of emotional and psychological pain that threatened to consume her entirely.

The man who claimed to be her fan, who had morphed into her captor, traced the contours of her vulnerability with a touch that was both invasive and terrifying. With a single finger, he probed her innocence, curling it in a gesture that was as much a violation as it was a perverse display of control. Scooping the essence of her fear and arousal, he brought it to her tear-streaked face, a macabre exhibition to prove his twisted point. "See? Even when you deny it, you love it," he sneered, before indulging in the taste of her terror, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as she watched, paralyzed by the moment, her struggles futile under his oppressive grip.

The chill of his words cut deeper than the physical intrusion. "I've been watching you for some time now, I even attended your fan meet," he growled into her ear, the proximity of his breath a violation in itself. "The way you spoke to me, I knew you wanted this, wanted me." His statement was a delusion, a fabrication born from his obsessive desire to possess her.

With no regard for her well being, he forced his three longest fingers into her, cruelly exploring her depths as she fought against the invasion, her legs flailing in a desperate attempt to deny him access. A swift, stinging slap to her thighs served as a harsh reminder of her helplessness, and he pinned her legs open with his knees, ensuring her resistance was crushed under his relentless assault.

His hands were unyielding, pistoning with a ferocity that ignored her pleas for mercy. The slickness of her own arousal betrayed her, fueling his relentless rhythm. Each thrust was a reminder of her captivity, each cry that tore from her throat a testament to her suffering. But Ryujin was not one to surrender easily. With a surge of adrenaline, she mustered the strength to fight back, freeing a leg and landing a kick that momentarily freed her from his grasp. The brief respite was a fleeting victory, as her attempt to escape was swiftly thwarted by his longer reach and quick reflexes.

"You never know when to quit, do you?" he taunted, a smirk playing at his lips. "I should have seen this coming; you were always so strong." His eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of admiration and malice. "But that only makes it sweeter—knowing how satisfying it’ll be when I finally reduce you to nothing but a toy." His words, dripping with twisted admiration, laid bare the sinister depths of his obsession.

The room that was once a haven of tranquility and self-expression, a scene of unfathomable horror was unfolding. The room, bathed in the dim glow of a solitary lamp, bore witness to a transformation that would leave its occupant forever scarred. This was no longer a sanctuary; it was a site of a struggle that would test the very limits of human resilience.

The walls, once adorned with vibrant colors and personal mementos, now stood as silent sentinels to an act of domination. As the assailant's eyes swept across the room, they settled on an object that would chill the blood of any onlooker: a length of rope, its very presence an ominous harbinger of what was to come. The rope, an everyday item twisted into an instrument of torment, lay coiled and waiting—its innocent origins now a distant memory in the face of its dark new purpose.

With a grip born of malice, the assailant seized the rope, its fibers a cruel contrast to the softness of the skin it would soon bind. The victim, a soul whose light had drawn many, now found herself ensnared by the very space that once celebrated her essence. As she was dragged towards the bed, a symbol of comfort turned into an altar of suffering, the rope in the assailant's hand became a grim portent of her impending entrapment.

"What is this for? You're a kinky little bitch, huh?" he sneered, the words a vile distortion of intimacy. Ryujin's denial was written in the frantic shake of her head and the terror etched across her face. Her gaze flickered towards a drawer.

Noticing her glance, he leaned over and pulled it open, his expression twisting with dark amusement as he uncovered the hidden item. "Well, well," he murmured, lifting the rainbow-colored dildo wrapped in cloth. "Looks like you've got your secrets." His tone was laced with cruel satisfaction as he held her private joy aloft, a personal item now transformed into a weapon for her degradation.

In a swift and brutal motion, she was thrown onto the bed, the force of the action resurfacing memories of what happened just moments ago. The assailant, driven by a desire to dominate and degrade, secured her hands to the bedpost with ruthless efficiency. The rope dug into her flesh, each strand a thread in the tapestry of her suffering.

The decision to leave her legs untied was a calculated one, a means to leave her completely and utterly vulnerable. The sense of exposure was all-consuming, rendering her utterly defenseless against the violence that was to follow.

Ryujin, whose name evoked images of a fierce idol known for her strength, grace and power. Now found herself trapped in a human drama of the darkest kind. Her heart raced, a frantic drumbeat against the silence that enveloped the room. With each desperate pull against the restraints, her unyielded spirit shone through the darkness of her situation, a beacon of resistance that refused to be extinguished.

The moment of violation arrived with a swift and violent plunge, an act that would seek to strip away her sense of self. The toy, once a source of personal enjoyment, was now an extension of her assailant's twisted desires. Its rainbow markings, a grotesque contrast to the act they were now part of, stood in stark contrast to the vibrancy they were meant to represent.

The struggle was internal as much as it was physical. I can't… not like this she thought, but her body, a finely tuned instrument honed through years of dance and performance, betrayed her. A quiet gasp slipped out, her legs trembling as she fought to maintain a composure that was being systematically dismantled. The toy filled her in a way that was impossible to ignore, its movements an unwelcome rhythm dictated by hands that had no right to touch her.

Teetering on the edge of her endurance, her mind spun in a desperate search for an anchor—a lifeline to cling to amidst the relentless onslaught. But the man, a specter of menace was unrelenting, a manifestation of her deepest fears made flesh.

With each passing second, Ryujin felt the invisible grip of inevitability tighten around her. It's too much, she realized, the thought piercing through the haze of her resistance. And just as this realization coalesced into a stark acceptance, her body tensed, betraying her final shred of resistance. A soft cry, born of a place where strength and vulnerability intertwine, escaped her lips as she let go, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation that threatened to consume her whole.

The orgasm that followed was not just a physical response; it was a shattering of the self, a detonation that rippled through every fiber of her being. For a moment, everything else vanished—erased by the pulsating, all-consuming release she had tried so hard to deny. "No, no, not like this—" she gasped, but her plea was lost in the tempest that raged within. The orgasm crashed through her like a rogue wave, her entire body seizing with the sudden intensity, leaving her breathless and exposed.

Her legs shook violently, her control lost to the tide of pleasure that surged through her core in overwhelming pulses. Each throb was a testament to the power of her adversary, a man who watched with a dark satisfaction etched into the harsh lines of his face. His gaze was fixed on her, a predator savoring the sight of his prey coming undone in his arms.

Ryujin's body arched into the pleasure she had tried so hard to resist, her mind too clouded with sensation to mount any further defense. Her composure, once a fortress, lay in ruins, each shudder tearing away the last remnants of her armor. She was completely vulnerable, exposed to the cruel whims of her attacker, a man who seemed to revel in the unraveling of her defenses.

With her legs trembling and the last of her resistance shattered, her orgasm wracked her until there was nothing left to give. She lay there, spent, her breaths coming in shallow bursts as the aftershocks pulsed faintly through her limbs. He held her, still reveling in the sight of his idol succumbing so completely to the moment.

The assault on her dignity continued as he began to undo his pants, letting her glimpse his hardening cock—a sight that was both repulsive and terrifying. He repeated his previous actions, dipping his fingers and letting Ryujin see just how wet she was from being handled against her will. "Just accept it, Ryujin, you're a slut, a slut who loves to be ra-" His words were cut off as a glob of saliva hit his face. Her defiance was palpable, "how dare you say such things, let me go, you freak," she tried to intimidate him despite her position.

This only made the man chuckle, a sound that was incongruously light against the gravity of the situation. He wiped the spit from his face and, without warning, he slapped her pussy and suddenly inserted his full length into her throbbing folds. A sharp gasp escaping Ryujin's lips as her body adjusted to the sudden abuse. His pace was relentless, each movement rough and mechanical, offering no reprieve from the overwhelming sensation.

"Stop… please…" Ryujin whimpered, her voice barely audible as she fought to hold on, her body bucking beneath him as she tried in vain to push him away.

"You want this," he hissed in response, his hips slamming into hers. "You knew what would happen, all those times you were up on the stage, shaking your ass with nothing but shorts that didn’t even cover your ass, you know what you were doing, don’t pretend you didn’t."

The words sent a shudder through her. In the privacy of her home, the fear took hold—would anyone even know to come help her? She should've just gone with the ITZY girls, but this was what she had wanted, a moment to herself, a chance to stay home and relax. Now, her desire for solitude had backfired, trapping her in a nightmare. Her mind rebelled against the raw brutality of it, while her body betrayed her with its responses.

"I… I don’t…" Ryujin gasped, her voice trembling as his thrusts became more punishing, forcing her to feel every inch of him inside her. The sensation was overwhelming—pain and pleasure mixed into one confusing, intoxicating wave.

The man grunted, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "You will take it. You’ll take everything I give you." He forcefully grabbed her hair, using it as a handle as he thrusted harder into her. If she just slightly brought her eyes down, she would be able to see the assault happening to her precious core, a sight that would haunt her long after the physical scars had healed.

Tears of frustration and shame spilled down her cheeks as Ryujin struggled to process the overwhelming intensity. Each brutal thrust tore through her, making her feel both powerless and consumed. Her body quaked with each movement, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought the conflicting emotions warring inside her.

"Please… stop…" Ryujin whispered again, but the plea fell on deaf ears. Her body, traitorous in its response, began to react to his touch, a warmth pooling deep within her core, betraying the turmoil of her heart and mind.

This scene, fraught with a harrowing mix of fear and arousal, is not just a moment but a narrative that underscores the intricate and often misunderstood nature of human sexuality and consent. Her voice, barely a whisper, laced with a mixture of fear and desperation, "No… No… I can't cum like this, not again," underscores the internal conflict that many victims of sexual coercion face. The struggle within her was palpable, a conflict between the primal urges of her flesh and the clear boundaries she so desperately wanted to maintain.

Yet, her tormentor was relentless. "You can, and you will. You want it, your body craves it," he growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate within her, stirring feelings she wished would remain dormant. His words were not just a statement but a command, an assertion of control that left her feeling powerless and exposed.

The intensity of the situation was undeniable, pulling her closer to the edge despite the tears that streamed down her face. Each sob was a silent scream, a plea for mercy that went unheard. She hated how much her body had betrayed her, how it responded to the very touch that repulsed her mind. The paradox of pleasure and pain intertwined, creating a storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Just as his brutal thrusts reached their peak, his voice broke through in a ragged growl. “Fuck, your tight pussy is making me cum. I’m gonna fill you up so well,” he groaned, his member starting to pulsate inside her.

Panicking, Ryujin tried one last time to regain control. “Please don’t—anything but that. I’ll swallow everything, please don’t cum in me. I need to keep my job, please!” Her voice was desperate, her pleas frantic. But he ignored her, too far gone, the sound of her cries only pushing him closer to his inevitable release.

With a final, forceful slam of his hips, he buried himself deep inside her. His body tensed, grunting as the rush of his climax took hold. Ryujin’s body, pushed to its breaking point, betrayed her in the worst way possible. A choked, involuntary cry escaped her lips as she felt a molten heat bubble up from her core. “No, no, no—I can’t cum like this, I can’t—OH FUCK! NO!” Her protest turned into a scream as an intense orgasm ripped through her, unstoppable, her body convulsing against her will..

Every nerve was on fire, her entire being wracked with sensation as her climax overtook her. She could feel him inside her, his length pulsing, pumping one wave of release after another, spilling every drop of his cum deep into her womb. It was too much, her body buckling as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

When it was over, she lay there trembling, her limbs weak and unsteady. Conflicting emotions tore at her—shame and disgust mingled with the unsettling, undeniable relief her body had experienced. She felt a profound sense of humiliation, haunted by the fact that even under such circumstances, her body had responded so intensely, climaxing harder than ever before.

Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as she tried to make sense of the chaotic swirl of sensations and the hollow feeling left behind. Finally, his movements slowed and stopped, his weight pressing heavily into her, pinning her further into the bed. For a moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing, thick with exhaustion, filling the air like an unwelcome reminder.

But then, something shifted. He slowly peeled himself away from her, his movements hesitant, as though the air had grown thick between them. She felt him exit her, and a cold breeze hit her core, leaving her to shiver and her pussy pulsing. He stood, silent, and as Ryujin looked up, she saw him reach for the mask he had been wearing. He pulled it off, the fabric falling to the floor.

Her gaze followed it, and then she looked up, meeting his eyes. Something in his expression made her heart lurch. It wasn’t anger or disgust that she felt now—it was guilt. Sympathy and regret welled up inside her, twisting her stomach.

You stood there, staring down at her with a look of conflict, your shoulders heavy as if the weight of the moment had just settled on you.

“Did you… like that?” you asked finally, your voice soft, uncertain, almost fragile.

Ryujin blinked, trying to sort through the storm of emotions inside her. She had liked it, loved it even—there was no denying the raw intensity of what had just happened. The power of the orgasm had been overwhelming, consuming her entirely. But seeing the guilt in your eyes now made her chest tighten. She hadn’t realized the toll it had taken on you.

“I did,” she admitted softly, sitting up and pulling the blanket around herself for comfort. “But… I didn’t think it would be like this for you. I thought you’d enjoy it too.”

Her voice was tender, her eyes searching for understanding. She hadn’t anticipated this outcome, hadn’t realized that what had been a moment of intense release for her had left you feeling something much different. The realization hit her hard, and suddenly the thrill of the moment faded, replaced by the weight of everything left unsaid between you.

You let out a slow breath, running a hand through your hair. “I thought I would enjoy it. But halfway through, it stopped feeling like an act. It felt… too real.” You shook your head, guilt flashing across your face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ryujin. Even if it’s just role-play.”

Ryujin’s heart sank as she heard the strain in your voice. The plan she had been so excited about—the one she’d been texting you earlier, coordinating in secret—suddenly felt like a misstep. She had wanted to explore this fantasy together, to push your boundaries, but now she saw how deeply it had affected you.

Seeing your troubled expression, Ryujin immediately reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth and reassurance. She shifted closer to you, her fingers brushing through your hair, trying to comfort you. “I trusted you completely, and you didn’t cross any lines. You gave me exactly what I wanted.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at her, but the weight of your emotions was still evident. “I just didn’t expect it to feel so real. Seeing you like that—so vulnerable—it scared me. I wasn’t sure if I should stop. I wanted to make you feel good, but then it felt like too much.”

Ryujin’s heart ached seeing the guilt and confusion in your eyes. She could sense how much you had been battling internally, pushing through the moment for her sake. Her fingers gently traced your jawline as she spoke. “I know it felt intense. I know it was a lot. But you did everything right. You didn’t hurt me. It’s okay to feel unsure sometimes—it means you care, it means you’re thinking of me. And I love that about you.”

She pressed her forehead against yours, her breath warm and steady as she tried to ease your anxiety. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too far,” she whispered, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “This is our time, not just my time. If it ever feels too real, or if you’re uncomfortable, we stop. That’s what the safe word is for, remember? We’re always in control together.”

You exhaled, your body relaxing a little as her words sank in. You knelt beside her on the bed, your hands resting on her thighs, drawing strength from her presence. “I didn’t want to ruin it for you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “You looked so caught up in it, and I didn’t want to let you down.”

Ryujin shook her head gently, her heart full of affection as she cupped your face in her hands. “You could never let me down. You did exactly what I asked of you, and you did it because you love me. That means more than anything. We tried something new together, and that’s what matters. The fact that you care enough to worry about me—that’s what makes this work.”

Your eyes filled with gratitude as you leaned into her touch, feeling the weight of your worry begin to lift. “I’m not mad,” Ryujin continued, her voice soothing as she spoke. “We don’t have to rush back into this. I know it was intense, and maybe we can try again in the future if we both feel ready. But not until you’re comfortable.”

You nodded, your forehead resting against hers. “Thank you… for understanding and for being patient with me. I really didn’t like seeing you cry, even if it was part of the role-play.”

Ryujin smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I know. I could feel it when you hesitated, but I also knew I was safe with you. You did everything right. It’s okay to take things slow next time. We’ll figure out what works for both of us.”

As she spoke, Ryujin wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. She could feel the tension slowly ebbing away from your body, replaced by the quiet understanding that, while you hadn’t shared the exact same feelings during the moment, your love and trust remained strong.

“I love you,” Ryujin whispered into your ear, her voice steady and full of care. “We’ll always figure this out together. Don’t carry this weight by yourself.”

You hugged her tightly, your grip firm but tender. “I love you too. I just… I want to be what you need.”

Ryujin pulled back slightly, her eyes locking with yours. “You already are. Just by being here, by talking to me like this—you’re everything I need.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and Ryujin could see the relief wash over you, your shoulders relaxing as the guilt you’d been carrying finally started to dissolve.

You sat together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the earlier intensity now softened by the quiet hum of the room. The air, still charged with the echoes of your shared vulnerability, gradually became a sanctuary of comfort. The rhythmic thrum of Ryujin’s heartbeat under your ear anchored you, a gentle reminder that in this moment, safety and love surrounded you.

The night hadn’t unfolded as either of you expected. While it was intended to push boundaries, it ended up brushing too close to an edge that felt unsettling. But here, in the quiet aftermath, the true strength of your bond revealed itself—not in flawless moments, but in facing the imperfect ones together.

Ryujin’s hand moved with a tender steadiness, fingers threading through your hair as she held you close. Her eyes, soft with understanding and glistening with unshed emotion, searched yours. The apology she whispered carried the weight of sincerity. “I’m sorry again for making you do something you weren’t comfortable doing,” she said, her voice low and earnest. The kiss she placed on your forehead lingered like a promise, warm and reassuring. “We should always both be enjoying it, okay?”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her words resonated in the space between you, washing away the remnants of doubt that had lingered in the corners of your mind. You nodded, the gesture small but full of resolve. “Okay. If it ever feels like that again, I’ll tell you,” you said, your voice steadying as her hand tightened over yours.

A smile broke through the lingering tension on Ryujin’s face, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she nestled closer. The room felt warmer, filled not just with the heat of bodies, but with the shared understanding that mistakes were not failures—they were lessons. The moments of discomfort were laid to rest, and in their place grew something deeper: the affirmation that your love thrived not in perfection, but in how you navigated the imperfect.

Ryujin’s embrace became your refuge as the minutes passed, her breathing synchronizing with yours in a comforting rhythm. The world outside fell away, leaving only the steady beat of two hearts, learning and loving as one. Trust, communication, and care—these were the foundations of what you had. And in that moment, it felt like more than enough.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello! I loved the seb vettel breathe baby breathe fic! can u make one where seb and y/n are dating and they gte into a really wierd silent flight. they have been super distant for two months now. y/n works as a engineer in ferrari whilst seb is in redbull. they just lost the spark. seb gives one word replies and everything is wrong. one day y/n is sobbing silently in the kitchen and seb comes running. y/n and seb confront eachother. make it majot angst happy ending. thanks!

silence is the killer (sv5)

message from anon - "Hi! Sorry can u change the kitchen to balcony? I want it to overlook the sunset and stuff. sorry for the inconvenience"

The private jet hummed with an oppressive silence. Y/N stared out the window, the clouds mimicking the turmoil in her stomach. Two months. Two excruciating months of strained conversations, stolen glances that held a universe of unspoken hurt, and a gnawing sense of distance that had grown between her and Sebastian. It felt like they were on a high-speed train hurtling towards a destination neither of them wanted.

Earlier, as Sebastian zipped up his duffel bag, a question tumbled out of Y/N, a question that felt heavier than it should have been. "Going out tonight?"

"Party," he replied, his voice clipped. A pang shot through her. He hadn't bothered to invite her. It wasn't like him. They used to spend every spare moment together, decompressing after the pressure of the races, sharing stolen kisses in the motorhome, whispering dreams and secrets under starlit skies.

Their careers had always been demanding, both chasing the ultimate prize in Formula One. But this felt different. The spark seemed to have sputtered out, replaced by a cold, empty space where laughter and warmth used to reside. Every attempt at conversation was met with a one-word reply from Sebastian, punctuated by long, heavy silences that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. It felt like she was talking to a stranger wearing his familiar face, a ghost of the man she'd fallen in love with.

The silence was shattered by a ping from Y/N's phone. A message from Kimi, their teammate at Ferrari. "Big congrats on the promotion, Y/N! You deserve it!" Her heart swelled with a mixture of pride and a deep, gnawing sadness. A promotion – a culmination of years of hard work, a testament to her dedication and talent. Maybe this was a new beginning, a chance for a fresh start in her career, even if her personal life was crumbling around her like a sandcastle under the relentless tide.

Just then, Sebastian spoke, his voice laced with a hint of confusion, a stark contrast to his usual stoicism. "Promotion? How come I didn't know about this?"

Y/N's smile evaporated faster than champagne bubbles. "I told you," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. The words felt heavy on her tongue, a constant reminder of the conversations that never happened, the silences that spoke volumes.

Sebastian's brow furrowed. "What? When?"

"Weeks ago," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "When you were...busy." The last word dripped with a bittersweet irony, a painful reminder of the long nights he spent training, strategizing, anything but spending time with her.

A flicker of something – regret, maybe, or realization – crossed Sebastian's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He blinked rapidly, a sheen appearing in his eyes that mirrored the cityscape lights reflecting in the car windows. Y/N saw it, the vulnerability beneath his stoic facade, a vulnerability that chipped away at the wall of resentment she'd built around her heart. But a bigger part of her was numb. The silence returned, heavier than before, a suffocating blanket that wrapped itself around them, stealing the oxygen from the conversation, leaving only the raw, exposed nerve of their fading connection.

The plane touched down with a soft thud, a jarring contrast to the turmoil within. They disembarked, the familiar routine of retrieving luggage a stark contrast to the turmoil within. Now, they sat in a car, Sebastian driving, the cityscape blurring past the window. Neither of them made a move to break the silence. It was a heavy silence, pregnant with unspoken questions, hurt feelings, and the fading embers of a love that might have been saved, if only they'd spoken sooner, if only they'd fought for what they had. The question hung in the air, a silent accusation: how did we get here?

seb's pov :

Frustration gnawed at me. The silence was suffocating, a tangible entity pressing down on us. Y/N stared out the window, her face a mask of what I could only imagine was hurt. The guilt gnawed at me, a dull ache in my gut.

The truth was, I didn't know how we'd gotten here. Everything seemed to be happening at breakneck speed – championships to defend, sponsors to meet, endless travel. Somewhere along the way, the laughter had died, the late-night talks dwindled, and the space between us had grown wider.

Pulling into the usual spot, I killed the engine. "Lunch?" I asked, the question heavy on my tongue. Y/N shook her head, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"No thanks, Seb. I have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on."

The dismissal stung. Back in the day, she'd have insisted we grab a sandwich, stolen a moment together amidst the chaos. Now, it felt like every interaction had to be negotiated.

I watched her disappear into the building, my gaze falling on Lewis strolling next to her, a playful jab at her shoulder eliciting a short laugh. It was the first real laugh I'd heard from her in weeks. A strange mix of jealousy and relief bubbled up inside me. Relief that she wasn't perpetually shrouded in sadness, but jealousy that it was someone else who'd managed to coax a smile out of her.

The rest of the week was a blur of meetings and debriefs. There were stolen glances across the paddock, a brush of fingers that sent a jolt down my spine, and the lingering scent of her perfume in the air after she'd left for the day. Every night, she leaned in, a ghost of a kiss landing on my cheek before she disappeared into her room. It felt like a plea, a silent attempt to bridge the growing chasm between us.

One evening, I found myself drawn back to our room after dinner. Y/N sat on the balcony, her phone clasped in her hands, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. My heart ached. I knew then that the distance wasn't just the result of our hectic schedules. It was something deeper, something I couldn't quite grasp.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the balcony. "Hey," I croaked out, my voice thick with emotion. Y/N startled, quickly wiping away the tear.

She turned to me, a flicker of hope sparking in her eyes before fading just as quickly. "Seb," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

We stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The silence stretched on, threatening to swallow us whole. But this time, something was different. This time, I wouldn't let it. I had to know. I had to fight for what we had, even if I didn't know where to begin.

The dam broke. Y/N's shoulders started shaking, a choked sob escaping her lips. Before I could react, she spun around, burying her face in her hands. Her body wracked with silent tears, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the quiet night.

My heart shattered in my chest. I rushed to her side, panic clawing at my throat. "Baby," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. Tentatively, I reached out, my hand hovering over her shoulder.

She flinched at first, then leaned back against me, the floodgates finally opening. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. My own vision blurred as a wave of guilt and regret washed over me. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, the scent of her shampoo a familiar comfort amidst the storm.

"Y/N," I choked out, my voice raw. "I'm so sorry. So incredibly sorry."

She didn't speak, just clung tighter, her sobs muffling against my chest. In that moment, the silence that had plagued us for weeks was a distant memory. The only sound that mattered was the ragged rhythm of her breathing, the steady beat of my own heart echoing the frantic rhythm of a race.

Holding her felt like holding onto the last shred of something precious. It was a desperate attempt to rewind time, to claw back the moments we'd let slip away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her sobs subsided into hiccups. She pulled back slightly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, held a vulnerability that tore at my soul.

"My heart hurts, Seb," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It hurts so fucking much, how did we get here seb? When did everything go wrong?."

The words struck me like a physical blow. The weight of her pain was a tangible thing, pressing down on me. I cupped her face in my calloused hands, forcing myself to meet her gaze.

"Mine too," I confessed, tears tracing warm paths down my own cheeks. "More than you'll ever know. Please lets just talk about it, don't give up on us baby please don't.."

The unspoken apology hung in the air, a silent promise to mend what we'd broken. We stood there for a long time, two souls battered by the storm, seeking solace in the wreckage. The path ahead was uncertain, but in that moment, we were together. And for now, that was enough.

We clung to each other, the world fading away into a blur of moonlight and the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Slowly, Y/N disentangled herself from the embrace, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"Talk to me, Seb," she said, her voice hoarse, but laced with a newfound determination. "What's going on?"

Shame washed over me. I hadn't realized how much I'd needed to hear those words. To finally break the silence that had choked the life out of our relationship.

"I... I don't know," I stammered, my voice thick with emotion. "The pressure, it's been building. The championship fight, the sponsors, everything just feels so overwhelming." My voice cracked, a sob escaping my lips. "I just... I shut down. Pushed everyone away, especially you."

Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. Y/N didn't flinch. Instead, she took my hand, her touch a beacon in the storm. Gently, she brushed away a tear that traced a path down my cheek.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. "Let it out."

And I did. The words tumbled out in a torrent, a jumbled mess of anxieties and insecurities. The fear of failure, the weight of expectations, the constant feeling of being on the edge. I spoke of the loneliness that had gnawed at me despite being surrounded by people, the way I'd convinced myself pushing her away was somehow protecting her.

The entire time, Y/N sat beside me, a silent pillar of strength. She listened with a patience I didn't deserve, wiping away every tear that escaped, her touch a soothing balm on my raw emotions.

By the time I finished, I was drained, emotionally spent. I looked at her, bracing myself for the inevitable storm, for the anger and hurt I knew I deserved.

But all I saw in her eyes was understanding. A soft smile played on her lips, laced with a hint of sadness. "It's not your fault," she said, her voice gentle. "This sport, it gets inside you, twists and contorts everything until all you see is the finish line."

Relief washed over me, warm and unexpected. "You... you understand?"

She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Of course I do. We're in this together, remember?" Her voice hitched slightly. "But you can't keep bottling things up, Seb. Talk to me. Let me in."

The words were a revelation. The realization that pushing her away had only served to push us further apart settled in my stomach like a lead weight.

"I will," I promised, my voice thick with emotion. "I'll try my best to communicate."

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy in the air. But this time, it was a different kind of silence. A hopeful one, filled with the promise of a new beginning.

As the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in a kaleidoscope of pinks and oranges, I knew we had a long way to go. But for the first time in weeks, I felt a spark of hope flicker within me. We were broken, yes, but not beyond repair. And with Y/N by my side, I was ready to face the challenges ahead, together.

We sat on the cool floor of the balcony, the city lights twinkling below like scattered diamonds. The weight of the confession had lifted, replaced by a fragile hope. The silence, this time, was filled with a tentative peace, an unspoken promise to rebuild. Y/N leaned against me while I played with her hair.

"So," I began, my voice rough from crying, "tell me about this promotion. You barely mentioned it."

Y/N chuckled, a fragile sound. "It all happened so fast. They needed someone to fill a senior role, and apparently, my name came up."

I couldn't help but feel a pang of something akin to jealousy. "Why didn't you tell me? We should've celebrated!" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, the memory of Kimi's congratulatory text a fresh sting.

Y/N's smile faltered slightly. "I tried, Seb. But you were always so… distant. Lost in your own world."

Her words hit a nerve, a stark reminder of my own failings. Shame burned in my gut. "I'm so sorry. I was a complete idiot."

Y/N reached out, her fingers brushing against mine. "It's okay. Just promise you'll listen now." Her voice held a note of playful challenge.

I squeezed her hand, the warmth seeping into my cold fingers. "Always."

We talked for hours, catching up on the lost weeks. I learned about her anxieties about the new role, the pressure to deliver, the long nights spent buried in technical manuals. She listened patiently as I recounted the grueling training sessions, the never-ending strategy meetings, the suffocating pressure to win.

"And those parties?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Stress relief, or just a way to avoid me?"

I winced. "Neither, honestly. Just… a way to escape for a while. I shouldn't have shut you out."

"Well, maybe next time, you could invite me to escape with you," she said, her eyes twinkling with a playful glint.

A relieved laugh escaped my lips. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep me grounded."

"Always," she replied, mimicking my earlier words before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on my lips. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a spark igniting a long-dormant fire.

"But seriously, Seb," Y/N continued, her voice turning serious. "Are you taking care of yourself? Eating properly? Getting enough sleep?"

The concern in her voice washed over me. "I… I try," I admitted sheepishly. Travel, training, and the constant mental strain often took a toll on my well-being.

She shook her head playfully. "Trying isn't enough. Promise me you'll make an effort. For yourself, and for me."

Looking into her eyes, the love and worry shining back at me, I knew I couldn't refuse. "I promise my love," I said, my voice filled with newfound determination.

The night bled into morning, the city lights giving way to the soft glow of dawn. We still had a mountain of issues to navigate, the road to recovery wouldn't be easy. But with open communication, a newfound understanding, and the unwavering presence of the woman I loved by my side, I knew we could face anything, together.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The air hung heavy with unspoken thoughts, and I knew she could sense my hesitation.

"It's stupid, really," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"Nothing's stupid if it's bothering you," she insisted, her touch a soothing balm on my conscience. Taking a deep breath, I met her eyes.

"Seeing you laugh with the other drivers," I admitted, shame creeping into my voice. "It felt… strange. Like you were a world away."

Y/N's brow furrowed in understanding. "Oh, Seb," she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.

"I know it's ridiculous," I continued, my voice defensive. "We're competitive, all of us. But seeing you smile… it just reminded me of how distant we'd become. When Kimi texted you about the promotion, I damn near wanted to strange him. All those time I declined lunch and Lewis came over and made you smile, I haven't hated myself more."

A small smile played on Y/N's lips. "Jealous of Lewis getting a laugh out of me?" she teased playfully.

"Maybe a little," I admitted sheepishly. "But mostly, I just missed seeing you happy, and having it be because of me."

The raw vulnerability in my voice seemed to soften her even further. She reached out, her thumb gently stroking a tear that traced a path down my cheek.

"We were both drowning, Seb," she said, her voice soft. "The pressure, the distance… it took its toll on both of us. But seeing them smile, seeing you smile, that's not a bad thing. It just means we know how to find joy, even when things are tough."

Her words resonated with me. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. Perhaps seeing her connect with others wasn't a sign of her drifting away, but a testament to her strength, her resilience.

"I guess I just…" I fumbled for the right words. "I just want to be the reason behind your smile."

Y/N's smile widened, brighter than the sunrise painting the horizon. "You are, Seb," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "You always have been, and I hope you always will be."

She leaned in then, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness, a promise for a new beginning, and a reminder of the love that had weathered the storm. We might have been bruised, but we were far from broken. And as we sat there, bathed in the golden light of dawn, a new chapter in our love story began.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ avaspeaks - anon ur such a star <3 i hope u enjoy this ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[reasonsforhope]

"Discarded shells from restaurants and hotels are being used to restore damaged oyster ecosystems, promote biodiversity and lower pollution in the city’s bays...

Nestled in between the South China Sea and the Pearl River Delta, Hong Kong has been seen historically as an oyster hotspot. “They have been supporting our livelihood since ancient times,” says Anniqa Law Chung-kiu, a project manager at the Nature Conservancy (TNC) in Hong Kong. “Both oysters and their shells are treasures to humans.”

Over the past five decades, however, the city’s sprawling urban development, water pollution, as well as the over-harvesting and frequent seafloor dredging by the lime industry – which uses the crushed shells to make construction material – have destroyed Hong Kong’s oyster habitats and made the waters less hospitable for biodiversity.

The more oyster colonies falter, the worse the problem gets: oysters are filter feeders and purify water by gobbling up impurities. Just one Hong Kong oyster can filter up to 200 litres of water a day, more than any other known oyster species. But decades of rapid industrialisation have largely halted their water-purifying services.

The depletion of Hong Kong’s natural oyster reefs also affects the ability of local farmers to sustainably cultivate their oysters in a healthy environment, denting the reputation of the city’s 700-year oyster farming tradition, designated by Unesco as an “intangible cultural heritage”.

Inhabitants of the coast feel abandoned, says Ken Cheng Wai-kwan, the community leader of Ha Pak Nai on Hong Kong’s Deep Bay, facing the commercial city of Shenzhen in China. “This place is forgotten,” Cheng says. “Oysters have been rooted here for over 400 years. I ask the question: do we want to lose it, or not?”

A group of activists and scientists are taking up the challenge by collecting discarded oyster shells and recycling them to rebuild some of the reefs that have been destroyed and forgotten in the hope the oysters may make a comeback. They’ve selected locations around the island where data they’ve collected suggests ecosystems still have the potential to be rebooted, and there are still enough oyster larvae to recolonise and repopulate reefs. Ideally, this will have a positive effect on local biodiversity as a whole, and farming communities.

Farmers from Ha Pak Nai were among the first to hand over their discarded shells to the TNC team for recycling. Law’s team works with eight oyster farmers from Deep Bay to recycle up to 10 tonnes of shells every year [over 22,000 pounds]. They collect an average of 870kg every week [over 1,900 pounds] from 12 hotels, supermarkets, clubhouses and seafood restaurants in the city, including some of its most fashionable establishments. About 80 tonnes of shells [over 176,000 pounds] have been recycled since the project began in 2020.

Restaurants will soon be further incentivised to recycle the shells when Hong Kong introduces a new fee for waste removal – something that is routine in many countries, but only became law in Hong Kong in July and remains controversial...

Preliminary data shows some of the restored reefs have started to increase the levels of biodiversity, but more research is needed to determine to what extent they are contributing to the filtering of the water, says Law.

Scientists from the City University of Hong Kong are also looking to use oyster shells to increase biodiversity on the city’s concrete seawalls. They hope to provide tiny, wet shelter spots around the seawall in which organisms can find refuge during low tide.

“It’s a form of soft engineering, like a nature-based solution,” says Charlene Lai, a research assistant on the team."

-via The Guardian, December 22, 2023

[shinesurge]

Webcomic rings run by people within the community are cool and you should support them

I've been loudly struggling a little bit with corporate webcomic Stuff lately so I want to mention something positive to balance it out: webrings run by small groups of creators earnestly trying to support each other are slowly making a comeback and I for one am delighted.

If you weren't around for them in the before times, webrings were just some folks who hang out a lot who feature each other on their websites. That's literally it lmao. There's generally no money involved and it only really functions the way it's supposed to if people have control over their own websites AND genuinely want to participate and get excited about other folks' work, which means the practice has pretty well fallen by the wayside over the years in webcomic culture given. Everything. In the rare event someone decides to do something like this it's usually in the form of a link list somewhere on their website; this doesn't usually indicate any sort of mutual support, it's just a list of what the creator is reading themselves.

A webring, though, is an official banner or hub that people gather under intentionally where each member is more or less on equal footing. It's essentially the concept of "a rising tide lifts all boats" put into practice, each creator brings their own audience to the table in a passive, opt-in sort of way that's different from working for a publisher since there isn't necessarily a Top Spot or a paycheck everyone's vying for, and individuals retain autonomy over both their own work and how (if) they promote each other. You're all at your own tables in an artist alley rather than fighting over the table in the front of the book store, essentially.

I have two rings and one collective for you today!

Webcomic Ring was brought to my attention AGES ago by Holly, one of the artists featured there, and I might have brought it up at some point but I'm doing it again lmao. This is exactly the kind of thing you ought to be looking for; a small group of enthusiastic folks having a good time making their weird little comics. You probably haven't heard of much in the catalog, that's PERFECT in the context of webcomics that's where the GOOD SHIT is. Finding something like this is A Gift go dig around in the longboxes for a while.

Then a few people have pointed me in the direction of the KNIFEBEETLE collective and that's neat too! Most of the comics there are already fairly well-known, but the vibes are excellent and I haven't seen a lot of talk about the collective /itself/ outside folks already in the know. I think it's important for this sort of thing to be more visible to folks who aren't terminally steeped in webcomic culture already so here I am telling you about it. You were probably reading several of these before I suggested it, but that's how a webring works! For it to do its job you should take those bigger creators' tacit recommendation of the less popular titles as a sign to go read something new and strange. Wild, I know these are practices held over from the old internet, but I think we should try and bring them back.

Lastly, I want to mention Spiderforest, which is a collective (slightly different from a webring) BUT still a very cool project readers starved for new stuff should pay attention to.

You've probably seen Spiderforest kicking around for a long time already; they're wonderful and have always been an overall positive force in the community in my experience. They really focus on building up a community, and especially welcoming newcomers and helping them get their feet under them. Full disclosure, I've been asked to apply by a few different folks over the years and the only reason I never did is I don't have the ability to participate in their forums and such as frequently as they want their creators to; it's a very good system (from my outside perspective) that might contribute to the community staying mostly healthy in ways that art communities usually don't and I appreciate it a lot!

ANYWAYS that's all I got for now, just trying to balance out some bad feelings I've been having by talking about some good stuff. Please go binge an archive this week.

[alltimefail]

I said this over on Twitter, but a really effective thing you can do if you comment on Netflix's posts is promote Dead Boy Detectives instead of just complaining about cancellation. This achieves two important things instead of one. First, it gets the initial attention we desire from Netflix (and Warner Bros. if you tag them, like I do) and second, more importantly, it may convince more people to check our show out, thus helping with our goal of spiking views/getting it back into the Netflix internal "Top 10."

Cussing Netflix/WB out or slighting them is cathartic, but honestly they can and will ignore that anyway. Let's play this smart and use their replies section to our advantage. Gush about the show; share the trailer, compelling screenshots, the promo posters, or even your favorite TikToks that showcase the amazing visuals in the show. We need to not only bug Netflix, but encourage people to watch and fall in love with this show!

VIEWS ARE WHAT WILL CHANGE THE TIDE IN OUR FAVOR. Let's keep streaming and encouraging others to do the same! The more of us in the comments promoting the show, the more likely it is that someone new will give it a chance.

Try to stick to using no more than two hashtags in your tweets: #DeadBoyDetectives, #SaveDeadBoyDetectives, and #RenewDeadBoyDetectives are the most popular ones right now. If you're going to mention anyone in your tweets, I would recommend Netflix and Warner Brothers TV.

KEEP STREAMING AND KEEP SHARING!! LET'S SAVE OUR AGENCY! 💀🔎

[cleolinda]

At a fundraiser in Massachusetts earlier this week, Walz went after Tommy Tuberville, the Republican senator from Alabama, saying, “I feel like one of my roles in this now is to be the anti-Tommy Tuberville, to show that football coaches are not the dumbest people.”

Once again, as an Alabamian I would like to apologize for Tommy Tuberville, the former Auburn coach and current U.S. senator who is dumber than a sack of wet mice—

In an Alabama Daily News interview after the election, Tuberville said that the European theater of World War II was fought "to free Europe of socialism" and erroneously that the three branches of the U.S. federal government were "the House, the Senate, and the executive." He also said that he was looking forward to raising money from his Senate office, a violation of federal law.

—but also a fucking bigot. Please review the lengthy “Tenure” section of his Wikipedia page as to why I hate him, for reasons including but not limited to: voting against the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act; claiming that Democrats are “pro-crime” and want reparations for descendants of enslaved people “because they think the people that do the crime are owed that,” what the fuck; being an election denier and voting against a January 6th commission; being a climate change denier; being transphobic as fuck (a whole section); famously holding military promotions hostage over the issue of abortion availability for service members (yeah, he’s THAT guy); denying that white nationalists are “inherently racist” (“I call them Americans”); and calling Zelenskyy a dictator and supporting Putin TWO MONTHS AGO. Tim Walz, I bid you read this fuckstick for filth. Thank you for letting me vent. Roll tide.

[herhorrors]

ind . sel . pri . ANDREA MARIE ROTH , an original character adapted for ryan murphy's american horror story franchise , with verses for each season ; as written by sam .

[seoulzie]

a cat-astrophic interview

WHEREIN: beomgyu casually mentions he has a little one at home ..

彡 pairing: idol!beomgyu x gn!reader 彡 genre: lil crack & fluff! 彡 warnings: none!

SEUL SPEAKS! ✎ first fic! feedback nd reblogs are greatly appreciated! >< the cats name is miso kekeke

the fluorescent lights of the studio buzzed overhead, casting an artificial glow on beomgyu's face. he was on a talk show, the usual whirlwind of energy slightly dampened by the fatigue of a long day. the host, a bubbly woman with a contagious laugh, was wrapping up the interview.

"so, beomgyu-ssi," she chirped, leaning forward conspiratorially. "txt is known for being a group of close friends, practically family. but do you have a special someone waiting for you back home? maybe someone you take care of?"

the question caught beomgyu off guard. he hadn't prepared for anything beyond the usual questions about music and upcoming promotions. his mind flashed to the image of you sprawled on the couch that morning, hair a mess and eyes glued to a cartoon. a smile tugged at his lips.

"actually," he began, the playful glint returning to his eyes, "we do have a little one at home keeping things interesting."

the host gasped, a flurry of whispers rippling through the studio. staff wondering what the hell was going on. the host's eyes widened. "a little one? beomgyu, are you...?"

"being a dad?" beomgyu finished her sentence with a laugh, enjoying the delightful chaos he was unknowingly unleashing. "not quite! but it definitely feels like it sometimes."

he then proceeded to launch into an elaborate, albeit slightly exaggerated, tale about the trials and tribulations of co-parenting your "little one." he described epic battles over spilled milk (courtesy of miso’s playful swats at his morning cereal), late-night diaper changes (which, of course, involved wrestling a wriggling cat into a new catnip-filled toy), and the constant struggle to maintain a balance of order in your "messy" household.

with each embellished detail, the host, clearly flustered but trying to maintain her composure, peppered him with questions. beomgyu, ever the performer, reveled in the attention, completely oblivious to the potential social media firestorm he was igniting.

▹ time skip

beomgyu bounced into the living room, post-interview glow radiating from him. you were sprawled on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on your lap, engrossed in a reality show marathon.

"did you see the interview?" beomgyu chirped, collapsing dramatically onto the other end of the couch.

"nope," you mumbled, eyes glued to the screen. "busy catching up on the drama between brenda and tatiana."

he chuckled, that adorable crinkling of his eyes you loved so much. "well, you're in for a surprise then."

finally tearing your gaze away from the tv, you raised an eyebrow. "hit me."

"they asked about life at home," beomgyu began, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "and i, being the honest guy i am, mentioned how much fun it is taking care of our little one."

your heart skipped a beat. "little one?" you echoed, a cold dread settling in your stomach.

"yeah!" beomgyu exclaimed, oblivious to your growing panic. "taking care of miso is, like, the best part of my day. she;s such a messy eater, though. catnip everywhere!"

relief flooded your system, momentarily drowning out the rising tide of amusement. "beomgyu," you said, trying to keep a straight face, "our cat is not our child."

beomgyu's smile faltered slightly. "cat?"

you burst out laughing, the tension dissolving. beomgyu, ever the endearingly dramatic soul, looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.

"don't worry," you reassured him, wiping a tear from your eye. "just imagine the headlines tomorrow: 'txt's beomgyu secretly has a love child!' the internet will melt down."

beomgyu groaned, burying his face in a cushion. "this is why i shouldn't do interviews without my members."

the next few hours were a whirlwind of laughter, exasperation, and panicked scrolling through social media. the internet, as you predicted, had gone into meltdown mode. fan theories ranged from a secret marriage to a hidden child Beomgyu had somehow kept under wraps.

when things settled down, a new hashtag, "#BeomgyuIsADad," was trending worldwide. you and beomgyu, snuggled on the couch with a very confused-looking miso curled up between you, couldn't help but laugh.

as beomgyu sleepily mumbled apologies into your hair, you knew this was just another story to add to your collection of endearingly chaotic beomgyu memories.

© 2024 seoulzie

[flowerfelled]

Highlights from the entire MCYT Sexyman Tournament

Before the Tournament Began (Nomination Phase):

-Goodtimeswithscar getting over 2000 nominations for the poll

-Two people's minecraft ocs were nominated, and one of those ocs actually got into the competition

-The runners of the poll telling people not to tell the CCs about this, only for every CC to find out about this poll and start rallying their fans to vote for them

-Joe Hills got very jealous that Scar had more votes than him to the point where he literally used Tumblr Blaze to promote himself, and posted a video of him swimming in a pool on his blog

-Technodad also encouraging people to vote for his son after finding out about the polls

The Main Tournament:

-Dream getting absolutely decked by Seepeekay (deserved)

-Clownpierce and Tubbo's poll ending in 50% by 50% where the people running the poll had to go into the polls literal code to find out that Clownpierce won by only 18 votes

-Clownpierce getting beaten out by Aimsey in Round 2 immediately afterwards

-Quackity and Schlatt losing their polls at first, only for people to churn out propaganda, and getting them the wins by very close calls

-The Dominion SMP fandom made alliances with other fandoms (the Lifesteal fandom being one of them) to try and get Vikingpilot more votes

-JimmySolidarity looking at the polls and seeing that someone called him a "wet paper bag of a man"

-Martyn voting for his friends in the polls

-One Tumblr blog made a straight up news channel for the polls

-Someone else also made an easier way to read votes on polls

-Another person converted the voting data into line graphs

-Scott calling Jimmy a queerbaiter when their characters went up against each other

-The Scar vs Techno fight, the Wilbur vs Joe fight, and the Grian vs Quackity fight, all happening in the same round

-Huge amounts of voter fraud

-Grian winning his fight with Quackity, only for Quackblr to change the tides in the last few minutes (perhaps one of the craziest fights I have ever seen)

-The poll made it onto Tumblr trending

-Quackblr made an alliance with the Ethogirls, which eventually led to fanart of Quackity and Etho together, along with a few "infamous" edited photos (you know what I'm talking about)

-The voter fraud in the poll eventually lead to the possibility of Tumblr actually dealing with the pornbot situation

-The whole entire event had powerpoint presentations for peoples favorite blorbos, propaganda, fanart, alliances, even a few written oneshots

-Literally just every poll with Quackity

-Other people made polls inspired by this one (@mcytblrcringefail as one example)

-The fact that the poll literally revived the entire fandom

-The poll became canon in Jimmy’s 30 day Minecraft Hardcore server

-And most importantly, Joe Hills, the one MCYT who did the most campaigning, won the polls against Scar

Thank you @mcytblrsexymen. You have done an amazing job.