#social good summit

[virtchandmoir]

tessavirtue17: HER MARK takes Saskatoon!

Almost 200 high school girls.

11 Olympic and Paralympic athlete mentors.

22 varsity athlete role models.

Exercise, nutrition, and thoughtful dialogue around empowerment and fostering confidence.

What a feeling 💪🏻

Thank you, @katebeirness

[inkskinned]

there's this video you've probably seen already where a woman is shaking in front of a microphone and delicately tries to ask - how can i make my husband listen to me, i've tried everything, i don't want to seem ungrateful and the other man laughs - the problem is that you married a man, we're only listening 25% of the time and we only understand 5% of that! and the audience laughs and the woman laughs and you just sat there, phone in your hand, letting the sound of it echo

and the thing is that people make think-pieces about it (isn't this one of them) and satire versions and "flipping the script" which is good and fun but at the end of the day, there's some truth in that man's response about men-not-listening. and you have tried to language that feeling for years, this sense that you can only take up 33% of a conversation before others view it as being "dominating".

it's not that they aren't listening, it's that the action they're taking is purposefully silencing. it's different. you accidentally-don't-listen a lot; just because the world is loud and you're distracted. you don't mean anything by it. and the truth is that the man who spoke is relying on that to be true of you; the way it's true of everyone. but there is a different undertone to his kind of not-listening. what he means is they don't respect you and you shouldn't expect them to. there is a difference between oh shit i forgot to take the trash out and why didn't you remind me to do it, just like there is a difference between i didn't realize you wanted to go out this weekend and why do you expect me to plan things why can't you just tell me where we're going.

and the thing is that it isn't just him, and it's actually not just because of your gender - your skin, your class status, your weight, their ableism - it happens often. so often it feels like a tightness around your throat and a weight in your stomach. you're not even "really" allowed to be upset about it, because to them it's a joke. and they laugh. and you know exactly the amount of work that goes into every conversation. how you have to work to condense down your thoughts into intelligent, crisp soundbites; worried someone will try to swoop in and cut you off. and there's this sense from everyone else - oh stop being so sensitive, are you really upset just because they weren't listening and you don't know how to say the way that feels when it happens constantly.

there's that video of the science summit where a woman in the audience finally says let her speak please! and the whole crowd bursts into applause and the man leading the summit holds up his hands and bows his head and says oops, sorry! like what he did was awkward and embarrassing, a little social gaffe that happens easily. later in your meetings, you're asked to take notes, and you don't say anything, you just hear let her speak please! ringing in your head and know that you'll never be brave enough for that kind of thing. and besides. think of all the people who agree this was a one-off, he just got excited and all of the people who say one man is not indicative of all of society

at the dinner table you're talking about someone you don't like and how he's not good to his girlfriend and how she always has to remind him to put the effort in and before him, she was glowing with curiosity and passion but now she just seems... tired, unhappy. that he likes the way she burns out; she stays home and takes care of him and their 2 kids. and your father sniffs and says that men take a while to learn those kinds of things. and you just stare at him and think about your childhood and are like - no wonder i turned out like this

and you want to say - there's no fucking secret school or mystic form of communication. i was not sent to Rearing a Child University. i did not graduate from Getting Chores Done College. i ask questions and i listen and i pay attention, because that's basic fucking human decency. it stems from respect, and how i respect others and their agency. i clean the house because someone should clean. not because it comes "naturally".

hell, you had to google "how to boil an egg" the other day, just because you usually make them scrambled. you can never remember which of the 2 bathroom cleaners make chlorine gas, only that two of them definitely do. you've accidentally bleached your clothes. it took you like 3 years of self-teaching before you figured out how to actually cook things correctly - for that whole time, you burnt or undercooked everything. but you did teach yourself; just like you taught yourself how to listen with empathy. just like how you taught yourself to think before you speak. to be kind first, to be better at communicating. it seemed like a good thing, an adult thing.

the joke the man in the video makes is that women say i'm fine! when they are not fine. and you think about the 150 conversations that happened around that; about how she probably has had so many arguments with her husband. how she said i'm upset you don't take me anywhere and he got mad at her because of course i do, you made me go to that stupid restaurant like last week and she probably said that's not what i'm saying and he said now i'm supposed to be psychic or something and she said no of course not and he said how am i supposed to know what to do when you don't even like everything and she said i do like things and he said well how am i supposed to win? and her pastor probably told her to be more grateful because they do things at all, even if she has to plan them and her mom probably told her that's just how men are honey and she probably cried over her journal, trying to figure out why the fuck she "has everything" and is still so bitterly, horribly unhappy

and how, in your life, for so many reasons, you looked down the barrel of another argument; of explaining yourself and being vulnerable and begging for help again. how many times you just said i'm fine because it was better than doing that again; it was better than wringing yourself out when it's literally easier to just pretend. because he wasn't going to listen. your father wasn't going to be better and your boyfriend wasn't going to be better and your boss wasn't going to be more respectful.

and you sit in front of a video of a woman shaking, looking horrible and guilt-wrought that she's even asking this question. and you know; deep in your heart - that's you. in a different life, you are her. you've stood in her spot. and you had to listen while someone else cackled - why would we bother to notice when you talk?

[writingquestionsanswered]

hiya! for writers who are complete beginners, kinda sorta maybe write at a high school level, can't describe to save their lives, have overall bad flow (as in they can't decide what little moments scenes to think up and even write, if they do, they're no good), have been told countless times to write daily and just read more but that doesn't cover the basics or foundations of creative writing, not like they can learn from a book bc they're a hands on learner anyway and p.s they're super broke so can't afford writing classes and no library near them offers free ones ---- aka me :( --- do you have any advice? lol i feel kinda doomed and that maybe writing isn't for me, but I don't wanna get my hopes down!! with the right tools, it's possible.

Free Resources for Learning How to Write

I want to start with addressing why you've been told so often "to write daily and read more" as a way to learn how to write. It's very difficult to learn and excel at a craft if you have no experience with said craft. You can read all the information in the world about how to forge a sword, but that doesn't mean you'll be able to pick up a hunk of metal and be able to forge a beautiful sword. You need to spend a lot of time watching other people forge swords, and spend a lot of time actually practicing each step yourself if you want to get good at it. Writing works the same way. Reading lets you experience what fiction should be, writing lets you practice each step for yourself.

Fortunately, there are lots of ways to read fiction for free. You can borrow books from friends, family members, and members of your community. You can check out books and e-books from your local library if you have one. You can look for Little Free Libraries in your neighborhood. There's also a lot of legally free fiction available online. Project Gutenberg, Planet E-Book, Bartleby, Literature.org, Classic Literature, Classic Short Stories, Wattpad, Archive of Our Own, Library of Short Stories, Levar Burton Reads, and sites like Kobo, Amazon, and Audible often offer freebies of both e-books and audio books.

Other free ways to learn how to write:

1 - Follow bloggers and vloggers and authors on social media who talk about the craft of writing. Some of my favorites are: Joanna Penn/The Creative Penn, K.M. Weiland, Liselle Sambury, Abbie Emmons, Hannah Lee Kidder, Brittany Wang, Alyssa Matesic, Bethany Atazadah, Lindsay Puckett, Alexa Donne, Shaelin Writes, Ellen Brock, The Writing Gals, and Sincerely, Vee.

2 - Follow writing craft blogs here on tumblr: (some suggestions) @writingwithcolor, @howtofightwrite, @heywriters, @cripplecharacters, @lgbtqwriting, @fixyourwritinghabits, @wordsnstuff, @yourbookcouldbegayer, @lizard-is-writing

3 - Watch writing craft videos on YouTube: If there's something specific you want to learn about, say, "how to structure a scene," type it into YouTube and many different videos will pop up that walk you through how to structure a scene. Just look for one that strikes you as appealing!

4 - Look for free writing resources online: many authors (especially indie authors and writing gurus/coaches like Joanna Penn, K.M. Weiland, Bethany Atazadeh, Brittany Wang, and Abbie Emmons) offer free writing resources on their web sites or by signing up for their newsletters. Often you'll see writers participating in free online writing summits/workshops which you can sign up for and either watch the videos live or via video playback that is offered for a short period of time (like 24 hours.)

5 - Do a Google Search: believe it or not, there's not a single thing you could want to learn about writing that you can't find for free on Google. If you want to learn how to improve your grammar, go to Google, type in "tips for improving grammar" and you will get a million articles that will tell you how to do just that. Want to learn how to improve your story's flow? Google "how to improve story flow" and you'll have your answer. You can even search for free worksheets, guides, and workbooks on just about anything you want. "Free character development worksheet" brought back a ton of nice looking free worksheets. "Free worldbuilding workbook" brought up several free workbooks and worksheets to help you with worldbuilding. Everything you could want to know is out there.

And, bonus: you can always read through the posts in my WQA master list to get help with a wide variety of craft and writer-related issues.

Happy learning! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

1. Amazon deforestation falls over 60% compared with last July

Deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon fell by at least 60% in July compared to the same month last year, the environment minister, Marina Silva, has told the Guardian.

The good news comes ahead of a regional summit that aims to prevent South America’s largest biome from hitting a calamitous tipping point.

2. 4,000 Rescued Beagles, Bred for Research, Found Homes and Best Friends

A heartwarming story unfolds as a beagle named Fin marks the end of a heroic 60-day mission to save almost 4,000 dogs from distressing conditions at a breeding facility. Beagles once underfed, sick, and mistreated have found their way into loving homes, enjoying grassy romps and birthday cake celebrations.

From "Sir Biscuit of Barkingham" to "Nervous Nellie," these four-legged heroes are adapting to their new lives with wagging tails and leaps of joy.

3. 'Cancer-killing pill' that appears to 'annihilate' solid tumours is now being tested on humans

A "cancer-killing pill" has appeared to "annihilate" solid tumours in early research - leaving healthy cells unaffected.

The new drug has been in development for 20 years, and is now undergoing pre-clinical research in the US.

4. Petting other people's dogs, even briefly, can boost your health

It turns out even short, friendly interactions with canines can be good for our health. Evidence is accumulating that levels of the stress hormone cortisol drop in people after just 5 to 20 minutes spent interacting with dogs — even if it's not their pet.

5. FDA approves first pill for postpartum depression

The Food and Drug Administration on Friday approved the first-ever pill for postpartum depression.

The medication, called zuranolone, is taken daily for two weeks. In a pair of clinical trials involving women who experienced severe depression after having a baby, the drug improved symptoms — such as anxiety, difficulty sleeping, loss of pleasure, low energy, guilt or social withdrawal — as early as three days after taking the first pill.

6. Taylor Swift Gives Bonuses Totaling Over $55 Million to Every Person Working on Massive Eras Tour

The pop superstar recently gave bonuses totaling over $55 million to everyone (from her dancers to riggers, sound technicians and catering, among others) working on her massive show.

TMZ previously reported that Swift, 33, gifted truckers on her tour $100,000 each ahead of her concert stop in Santa Clara over the weekend.

7. Successful room temperature ambient-pressure magnetic levitation of LK-99

In summary, this paper provides confirmatory synthesis and enhanced magnetic levitation of LK-99 at room temperature. The results support the possibility of intrinsic high temperature superconductivity in this system, but lack electrical evidence. More measurements and theoretical work are still needed to conclusively demonstrate and explain claimed room temperature superconductivity in this apatite material.

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Support this newsletter ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog.

[waitineedaname]

I have caved. here is my pitch for why Shigeo "Mob" Kageyama needs to win the @autismswagsummit (or at the very least get to the finals)

people have already talked about his intense autism coding (difficulty reading social cues, low empathy/high compassion, strict moral code, flat affect, bluntness, hyperfixating, emotional dysregulation/emotions being all or nothing) but I'm going to put my English degree to good use and talk about the narrative importance of Mob's autism

the entire plot of Mob Psycho 100 would not exist without Mob's autism

first and foremost, the 100 in Mob Psycho 100? it's a symbol of Mob's emotional dysregulation. the narrative uses a percentage counter as a device to indicate Mob's emotional state -- the percentage till Mob's "explosion." emotions and psychic powers are directly related within the narrative, and because he fears the strength of his emotions/powers, he's been repressing his emotions since he was a child. however, as anyone who tries to repress their emotions can tell you, that only works for so long. the percentage meter indicates the build up of emotions until he cannot repress them anymore -- until he essentially has an emotional meltdown through a psychic explosion. these explosions aren't strictly negative emotions either; they can range a wide spectrum of emotions, from rage and sadness to gratitude and trust. any buildup of emotions can be overwhelming and trigger a meltdown

aside from that, the core thesis of the series is self-acceptance. Mob starts off the series with painfully low self-esteem, for a number of reasons -- he dislikes that he doesn't fit in, he feels massive guilt for allowing his psychic powers to hurt his brother when they were little. he wishes he didn't have these powers (which, I cannot emphasize enough, are a metaphor for autism) and he wishes he could just be "normal." over the course of the series, it is emphasized over and over that psychic powers are normal, they're just another trait a person can have. there's good parts of them and bad parts, but at the end of the day, they are a neutral trait. you can understand why "your autism is a normal part of you, not something to be hated or feared" is an important message

which brings us to the final arc of the series. Mob Psycho 100 does not end with a climactic battle with some big bad, but rather with a confrontation between Mob and the part of himself he's locked away. this other part of him symbolizes a lot of things, but most importantly it symbolizes his psychic powers and his autism. since he realized as a child that his psychic powers (autism) could potentially hurt someone if he's not careful, he's been shoving that part away from him and attempting to mask and be "normal." this manifestation of his psychic powers/autism is, understandably, pretty bitter and angry about this. at the end of the day, he just wants to be accepted for who he is -- not for the face he presents to the world, but for who he really is on the inside. the culmination of the whole story comes through his loved ones showing him that they love him in his entirety, even when he's volatile or upset. they love Mob as who he is, and because his psychic powers (autism) are part of him, they love that part of him too. the resolution comes when Mob finally accepts all parts of himself, even his psychic powers (autism) because they're nothing to be feared or hated. they're just part of him.

genuinely, Mob Psycho 100 is the best representation of autism I've ever seen. Mob isn't the only autistic coded character in the series (I could go on and on about Serizawa's adult autism or the relationship between Ritsu's gifted kid syndrome and his undiagnosed autism) but his autism is definitely the most important to the plot of the show. his autism is presented realistically, with kindness and nuance and, most importantly, with neutrality. even if you don't vote Mob in the autism summit (which, you should. come on.) if you're ever wanting a show about autism and self acceptance that is kind without being saccharine, I cannot recommend Mob Psycho 100 enough

also if this isn't a damning indication of the importance of autism in Mob Psycho 100, I don't know what is

@autismswagreblogs

[ketrindoll]

List of russian lies in the UN or during diplomatic speeches:

1. In January-February of 2022 russia claimed in the UN that they will not invade Ukraine, that they have no plans to invade Ukraine, and evidence of upcoming invasion are lies made by the US or others.

End of the same month russia launched a full-scale invasion.

2. Russia claimed in the UN that the reason they attacked Ukraine was to fight some "local nazis" and that they are indeed good guys fighting Ukrainian hatred. That, however, does not explain why: a) russia opposed the grain deal until Turkey threatened to make it work one way or the other, showing their intention to starve hundreds of millions of people in neutral countries for no reason whatsoever, b) russia refused to allow UN or Red Cross etc to observe the conditions of POWs or to open humanitarian corridors for people to escape from Mariupol or other conflict zones, with thousands of witnesses reporting abductions, filtration camps, and shelling of retreating civilians, c) russia claimed to only want to protect local russian population, yet completely destroyed whole cities in majorly-russian-speaking Eastern Ukraine, like Mariupol (satellites showing mass graves), and bombing mainly civilian targets - schools, hospitals, theatres, a shopping mall during peak hours, a train station where people waited for evacuation, apartment buildings, etc. Currently we can see that there is no effort on the russian-controlled side of Dnipro river to help people in flooded areas, with videos and citizen testimonies reporting shelling of all disaster aid attempts, d) russia claimed that they only hate the "nazi" Ukrainian government, yet they openly shelled Ukrainian power grids during winter, for no other reason than to leave innocent civilians with no gas or electricity.

3. Russian state TV, public figures like Solovyov, former President and Prime Minister as well as head of security council of russia Medvedev openly stated either on national TV or in their social media pages that they want to "exterminate" Ukrainians. That the whole country should not exist, that Ukrainian language is fake, etc etc. This is genocidal speech and it is not limited to Ukraine either. The Baltic States, Poland, etc also received such claims - that they "do not exist" that they "belong to russia" or that they "should be invaded". Makes it very obvious who the imperialistic, colonist aggressor actually is. Medvedev also repeatedly threatened Western European countries with missile or even nuclear attack, yet they claim to only be "defending themselves".

4. Lavrov got laughed at during a summit in India for claiming that "russia was invaded by Ukraine". Do I even need to explain why this is a lie? If I do, check 1st point again. Or just turn on your brain.

5. Then there's more sci-fi nutjobby official russian claims (or lies) about - bioweapons in Ukraine, pidgeons carrying disease or weapons to russia, Ukraine having some super-soldiers, or even dark magic, as indicated by russian Ministry of Defense changing the goal of their "special military operation" from "denazification" to "desatanization".

And that's just a few of the main ones. More is discussed in the latest UN meeting, you can watch the video on their official website.

So, knowing all of this, why the fuck would you believe ANYTHING they say? Especially about the destruction of dam?

Russia has repeatedly shown aggressive attitude towards neighbouring countries, claimed their wish to occupy them, russian officials called for extermination of whole nationalities, and both President putin and Belova have enough evidence against them for ICC to issue a warrant for them for GENOCIDE AND WAR CRIMES.

If you still believe in russia, despite anything they themselves say, you're either a genocide-supporter or unbelievably stupid.

[asksythe]

MXTX Interview with Risa Wataya for Subaru Magazine P.5

Character's Allure

Risa: Among the cast, my favorites are the Nie brothers. Nie Huaissang and Nie Mingjue. As I read, I constantly prayed that Nie Shi (House Nie) would not fall. 

Mo Xiang: Shocking! I have yet to see this kind of attitude toward the Nie brothers. In the place of Nie brothers, I deeply thank Risa! Nie Mingjue was created as a foil and reversed mirror image of the 'extremely socially adept' Jin Guangyao. Nie Mingjue is someone who would rather break but never bend. Jin Guangyao is someone who would rather bend but never break. One embodies unbendable justice. One is a cunning smooth operator. I thought about these two contrasting and contradicting kinds of characters and then created them (Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao). A cunning faker (*) like Jin Guangyao, once he meets a 'violent god' (**) Nie Mingjue would become absolutely powerless and can only flee. Their situation would be quite interesting should I continue to write it. Although for them, it definitely would not be a fun time. 

(*: 狡猾 jiaohua: someone who is pretty/righteous on the outside but rotten inside, a faker, a pretty snake masquerading as a saint) 

(**: 凶神恶煞 xioengshen esha: a powerful, brutal, violent god that is consumed by the slaying of evil so much he starts to do evil himself. Someone who should be good but is consumed by rage and violence and becomes no better than the evil he seeks to destroy)

Risa: Nie Huaissang is extremely smart. Nie Mingjue still acts even though his body has been split into multiple pieces. I absolutely love these brothers' opposing approaches to life. 

Moxiang: The more the character personalities contrast with each other, the clearer their conflict and transformation is portrayed. It also makes the story even more compelling and exciting. Nie Huaissang was built on the foundation of Nie Mingjue as a character. They both use sabers as their weapons. Nie Mingjue is more or less straightforward inside and out. Nie Huaissang, on the other hand, looks weak and cowardly on the outside but is actually immensely insightful, patient, and crafty on the inside. The characters of Qinghe Nie Shi were actually complete quite early into the writing. 

Risa: The characters of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" mature into different kinds of people depending on their relationship with their parents. In terms of lineage and family ties, what were your thoughts while writing? 

Moxiang: I think the environment a person grows up in is a very important factor. The parent generation's joy and sorrow will create an increasingly greater impact on their children. Furthermore, children will inherit specific things from their parents. Only when you look at the profound yet incidental similarities between parents and children, you will see that family ties are something very real. 

Risa: Some characters in the book had a very difficult childhood. Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang, and Wei Wuxian. One type of character experiences misfortune in their childhood and then grow to become bad people. One character, on the other hand, steadfastly holds onto his good heart no matter what. Both types exist in the same book. 

Moxiang: To be honest, the character's childhood was the last thing I considered. My creative method starts with imagining the zenith of a character's life when they are shining brightly at the summit. Then I think about narrative developments leading to and from that moment, and then the character's childhood as the finishing touch. After that, I fill out details on their parent generation. The parents mostly act as supporting characters. Their designs are based on the main cast, to contrast or to complete. 

For example, first, I think of what kind of person Wei Wuxian is. Then, I think of what kind of parents could have such a child. I base his parent's characters on his character. 

Looking at it from within the story, it's that parents will inevitably influence their children. But from a structural writing standpoint, it's the children that influence the parents.        

To be continued (We are about... half-way through the interview transcript)

Translator: Sythe / NPD Khanh

[mysteria157]

Chapter 3

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~4k

CW: Profanity, drinking,

Summary: Flashback chapter. When it comes to work, Nanami likes to follow a specific code for people like you. And he would like to think it’s working so far. But one too many drinks and things change.

Notes: Hi! Thank you all for sticking through. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

“Nanamin! I didn’t think you would show up!”

Gojo’s tall form stood out in the crowd of the izakaya, sunglasses covering his abnormally bright eyes.

Nanami normally didn’t do this kind of thing. At least not as frequently as Gojo and his coworkers. But after the stressful week and being ‘forced’ by Yaga to participate in this last event to close out the summit, a whiskey (or three) seemed to be the only incentive for getting this night over with.

“I had no choice. And stop calling me that.” Nanami sat himself down at the large table that was already crowded with his coworkers.

Gojo slid a glass of liquid toward Nanami, the contents dark brown and the smell already hitting his nose with the promise of an escape.

“I got you the most expensive whiskey on the menu.”

He took a small sip, lifting an eyebrow in surprise as the Nikka whiskey hit his lips.

“Thank you.”

“Nanami, you’re looking exceptionally fed up tonight.”

Like Nanami and Gojo, Geto Suguru rose to the status of Director of Research and Competition within a few years of joining the company. He wasn’t as loud and annoying as Gojo, but for some reason they stuck together like glue. While he didn’t have the alien beauty like Gojo, he was unique in looks in his own way. An unusual purple hue painted his irises, sharper facial features, long black hair that was either half up or pulled back into a bun and bangs that never seemed to be in control. Geto didn’t have to loudly boast about his intelligence or prowess at work, his efforts spoke in the things he produced. And even though both him and Gojo were probably certifiably insane, Geto provided some sort of moral compass to Gojo that Nanami never really understood.

He gave Nanami a relaxed smile, eyes closing before he threw back a shot of sake.

“I know you’re probably fed up with this summit. Most of us are.”

“Something like that.” 

“This entire week has been fucking annoying.” Gojo spoke around his straw before taking another long sip of what looked like a stawberry—most likely virgin—daiquiri. “Team building exercises don’t help your work improve if your IQ is already in hell.” Geto snickered, elbowing him playfully before turning his attention to people watch. “The branch from Sendai are the only ones who made it fun.”

“Do you even know their names besides Omelia’s?”

Even though Geto’s eyes were elsewhere, his comment still made Gojo choke on his drink, blue eyes blinking rapidly and cheeks flushing before he began arguing with his friend.

As they fought with one another, Nanami pulled in a long sigh, pressing the cold glass to his lips and taking another long gulp. The alcohol stung in a good way as it slid down his throat, soothing away his discontent and slowly providing a thin veil over his irritated nerves. More of their coworkers filtered into the izakaya, ordering drinks and yakitori and plunging the large table into a loud hum of socialization.

Shoko Ieiri, while not a coworker, was a lifelong friend of Geto’s and sat herself next to him and immediately began complaining about her day of work at her clinic. Her eyes held a naturally sleepy look to them, a permanent expression of boredom unless she was smoking a cigarette.

“Stop smacking me you fucker.” Geto’s naturally low and soft spoken voice chastised him around a chuckle. He fluffed Gojo’s hair, intentionally rough as he tried to fix the naturally messy snow white locks. Gojo whined, smacking his hands away. “Let me fix your hair. Omelia is coming over and you look like a whore.”

“Maybe she likes whores.”

Geto snorted, pulling off Gojo’s sunglasses.

“If she did, you would be with her by now.”

Nanami watched as you and Omelia walked into view. Shoko called for you immediately, pulling your body into the empty seat next to her and asking you a barrage of questions. Shoko was a physician and when she wasn’t at the clinic up the street from the office, she would eat with Geto and Gojo during her lunch breaks. You and her had formed a quick friendship and like everyone else in the office, seemed to be taken with you immediately.

The hum of the izakaya grew louder, salarymen and salarywomen filtering in from their long days at work and ready to start the weekend.

Yuji’s loud and playful voice called out to you as he took the last empty seat next to you, beating Omelia to the punch. Megumi sagged in the seat next to Nanami, offering a soft greeting before turning away to listen to Kugisaki ramble.

The fact that there were no more empty seats next to you was Gojo’s defense that he gave to Omelia which caused her to roll her eyes and sink into the chair next to him.

Yuji, as angelic and optimistic as ever, gazed at you innocently. Even at twenty-two, he held a childlike demeanor that could do no wrong no matter how ill someone treated him.

“You look so pretty, y/n!”

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Your normally curly hair that was pulled into a low bun hung down your back, cascading over your shoulders and shining in the low light of the room. The long sleeve black dress accentuated your curves, a high slit on one side that exposed the creamy expanse of your brown leg. Dark brown eyes were touched with a simple wing of eyeliner, your full lips dressed in clear lip gloss.

The effect of everyone turning their heads to you at the office bled in the public eye as well.

Nanami took a large gulp of his whiskey, draining the contents and using the burn in his throat to look away from you. He flagged down a waiter for another.

This was going to be a long night.

He should have known that you would be trouble when he met you in the conference room that day. Everyone seemed to gravitate towards you in whatever way they could, trying to have you on their team during events at the summit, offering to have lunch with you, and even going out of their way to openly flirt. You didn’t seem to recognize the flirting, as it seemed the only thing you could think about was work.

That’s all you talked about was work. Creating brand messages, communicating about projects with other agencies and branches, wanting to spearhead almost every activity.

Trying so, so hard.

Just like the others who used this asinine week-long event as a means to move up the ranks. It wasn’t like it was bad to network and get one’s foot in the door. But in Nanami’s experience, almost everyone would use whatever they could just for a promotion. Year after year, a junior level associate would walk into his office with the same shy and reserved look on their face, uttering the same request to work alongside him to gain new experience.

He gave each of them a chance. If others could see his work as potential to learn more, he would do what he could to help them out.

But their secrets always unraveled eventually. Nanami may seem aloof to others, but he was far from it. As the only director in Marketing Operations who had a strong personal and professional relationship with the VP of the department, Nanami was the best route to make their way to Yaga.

One on one meetings with Nanami started out innocent, their eyes bright and ready to prove themselves. But within days those eyes gave way to their true nature; greed, deception, and lust.

I really think Masamichi-san would love this proposal I’ve been thinking about, would you be willing to give it to him?

I really think Masamichi-san would work well with our VP in Osaka. I can relay a few ideas to him if you schedule me in a meeting?

I’m free tonight, want to get dinner? I have some ideas that I really think Masamichi-san would like?

You look like no one has…taken care of you in a long time. You get me in a conference room with Masamichi-san and I’ll make it worth your time.

They were all the same and it came to a head last year. An associate from Nagoya who Yaga had insisted work with Nanami throughout the week, took pictures of documents on his desk when he was not looking. Weeks work of project planning. It was the first project that Yuji was allowed to take control of, and he so worked hard, poured himself into overtime almost every day to draft everything from his own hands. All those documents suddenly appeared slightly changed during companywide presentations before Yuji could officially release his work. All of his dedication, wasted. Nanami had no way of proving who it was without launching a full investigation that didn’t have definitive evidence. He wanted to. He was prepared to pick Nagoya apart. But Yuji insisted that it wasn’t worth it, that the fight meant nothing when he wasn’t even a full-time associate anyway. After watching Yuji’s confidence waver, Nanami vowed to never allow it to happen again. Would never let his guard down and give others a chance. He got to his position on his work and his work alone. Entertaining deceit would no longer be tolerated.

You were just like the rest when you walked into Nanami’s office that first day. Manicured hands clutching a manila folder of documents as you uttered the same words as everyone else year after year.

You were hesitant and shy, quiet in your own way as Nanami pulled up his walls to make you uncomfortable.

You didn’t take his words well, your face displaying a varying amount of emotions as you professionally called him out for his rudeness.

But the minute Nanami downgraded your prowess—a small offhanded comment insinuating you knew nothing—you were immediately angry. Those brown eyes were stormy with rage and disrespect as you told him off in what was possibly the most professional way he ever imagined.

Don’t look so put out.

Saying it twice doesn’t make you sound smarter.

You were curt and biting with your words, the sound of the door slamming only making Nanami gape openly at no one. His stomach had simmered with a feeling of regret, small enough to make him feel as if he had overstepped but not insistent enough to apologize.

This was better. To keep you away as much as possible and keep everyone out of Nanami’s hair.

The second glass of whiskey had Nanami’s body warm, the fuzziness of a nice buzz making his skin tingle. You were talking animatedly with Yuji, showing him memes on your phone that had him red in the face, his giggles echoing in the air.

“Nanamin!” Yuji called out to him, his body shaking around giggles. “Look at this meme! I know you don’t laugh much but I think even you would like this. Show him, y/n!”

You faltered, your small hand clutching your phone before you slid it to Nanami’s still form. His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, your eyes catching his before they narrowed and you looked away. Nanami glanced at your phone, offering a small noise before you pulled your hand away.

You avoided talking to him for most of the night, choosing instead to socialize with Yuji and Shoko who were more than enough stimulation for even the shyest person. Despite your extroverted nature in the office, you were great at avoiding Nanami at every chance you could. Group activities had you on opposite teams, and when you did have to work together, you were exceptional at talking to everyone as if he didn’t exist.

Not that he cared. Someone who was only focused on work made no sense to him.

Nanami didn’t particularly like his job, but he was good at it and the pay was exceptional. It was the best chance for him to retire at an early age and enjoy the rest of his life in wealth and peace. But he was steadfast with his boundaries. Clock in at 8am, work hard throughout the day, and clock out no later than 5pm. No more and no less. Working overtime suited no one but the higherups who were relaxing at home while their colleagues slaved away in an office.

It was pointless to give all of one’s energy after the clock into something that no one would appreciate unless it was to make themselves look better.

You with your smiles and your wit, offering suggestions that went against the grain of normal routine drove Nanami insane. He refused to entertain proposals that targeted clients outside of what was discussed, going out of his way to openly oppose during summit events. He hated the thought of analyzing data that focused on something completely out of scope and was sure to vocalize that at every opportunity he could before even reading what you suggested. Your glares only fueled him, made him work harder to shoot your ideas down. Because every other person before you did the same thing and it never worked. It never fucking worked. You were completely turning things around.

But everyone ate it up, even Yaga who did nothing but shower you with praise.

It drove him mad and he couldn’t stand you for it.

It didn’t help that you looked the way you did; chocolate, creamy brown skin and deep brown eyes. Long curly hair and soft curves that filled out every outfit you were. It was maddening that the person who worked so hard for everyone else smelled like Black Opium when you walked through the halls. Your sharp and loud laugh should have made his ears bleed, but he hated how quickly his stomach clenched at the sound, fueling something he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

A frustrating and unnecessarily hardworking woman wrapped in the most alluring body he had seen in a very long time.

God, he couldn’t stand you. And it was your presence that made Nanami drink harder.

After his fourth whiskey, Nanami had reached a point he swore to never be at again since his freshman year of college. Geto was more wild back then and because Gojo never drank, Geto compensated. One party, the only party Nanami decided to entertain and he was so drunk that he woke up naked in his bathtub.

He swore he wouldn’t do it again.

But the warm feeling in his veins was wrapping around him like a blanket, relaxing his normally stoic features and tinting his upper chinks pink. The heat of the room made him shed his jacket hours ago, his long sleeve shirt clung to his skin and showed off muscles he normally kept hidden during work.

You weren’t fairing any better, the heat making you pull your long curls atop of your head into a messy bun. Too many shots of sake had you laughing throughout the night with Yuji and Shoko, your own cheeks a slight color darker from the effects of alcohol.

“You’re so smart, y/n!” Yuji had sputtered the same compliment for the millionth time that night, his hands nursing a water that Megumi had forced him to have. “You re-remind me of Nanamin. He taught me ‘verything I know.” Your features softened as you rubbed Yuji’s back before forcing more water down his throat. “But Nanamin, you need to listen to y/n’s ideas. Sh-she’s damn smart. I wish she was at our br-branch.”

“I’ve heard all of her ideas, Yuji.” Nanami’s voice was loose, his normal title of Itadori-kun gone after his second glass of whiskey.

“And you don’t like them!” Yuji’s blubbered at Nanami; his eyelids heavy as he pointed an empty chicken skewer in his direction.

“You’re right, Yuji. I don’t.” Nanami watched as your drunken expression morphed into anger. “Reworking a system that has been nothing but efficient makes no sense, wastes resources, and does nothing for no one.” He picked up his glass, languidly sipping on his drink as he watched your expression grow darker and darker. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sure you worked very hard trying to assert yourself this week. Yaga definitely noticed.”

“Nanamin!”

You clutched your glass of water, small fingers flexing and contemplating dumping the contents onto Nanami’s face. But instead you stood up abruptly, alarming everyone at the table before collecting your purse and storming from the izakaya.

Nanami sighed deeply, finishing the contents of his glass as Yuji fussed at him.

The cold air from outside brought a small shock to your system as you stumbled into an alley behind the izakaya. You were drunk. Incredibly and uncharacteristically drunk and the brick wall you slumped into seemed to provide stable ground for your vision to stop swimming.

You shouldn’t have drunk that much, especially around so many people you weren’t familiar with and Omelia across the table who was unable to scold you into sobriety.

But being across from Nanami, watching him talk casually with Megumi, Shoko, and Yuji only made you angry. Because while his tongue loosened and his serious expression melted away into relaxation, you only thought about day after day of his snide remarks. Of his offhanded comments that slid off of you around everyone else but hurt to a degree that made your eyes sting. They were simple suggestions, but still suggestions you had spent months analyzing and putting together with Jin. You worked hard and hoped to make an impression during the summit and everyone else loved what you brought. But not him. And it was hard to get anything rolling if one of the most important associates in the room disagreed. 

Fucking Nanami Kento with his perfectly combed hair, odd glasses and sharp features that had your stomach curling in arousal and distaste.

You had never felt more stupid than when he was in the room. And he was a crush?

God you needed therapy.

The anger simmered in your gut as you tried to get your thoughts in order, your mind swimming.

The hotel was only a block away, walking could sober you up a little and spare you the pain of having to see anyone else’s face to ask for a ride. But you needed to text Ome. You opened your purse, reaching inside to fish for your phone before the strap slipped from your fingers and your purse spilled its contents on the cold and wet ground.

“Fuck!”

You wobbled onto your knees, your dress getting wet as you drunkenly fumbled for the contents that were askew on the ground.

You worked so hard. So fucking hard. And the one person you thought would be even minutely impressed had been nothing but cold, heartless, and so very mean. So unnecessarily mean.

Your lip began to wobble, eyes filling with tears and chest clenching tight as you willed the feeling to go away. Just get to the hotel. Lock yourself in your room, stagger into a hot bath, sob into the sheets and worry about the hangover later.

Your favorite tube of lipstick rolled away from you, skittering on the uneven pavement as you pressed further on your knees and fumbled to grab it.

Your blood ran cold as a large pale hand reached down to grab it instead.

“What are you doing?”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the deep timbre in his voice, snatching the lipstick from him.

“Do you care?”

You struggled onto your feet, ignoring the hand outstretched to help you as you sagged against the wall behind you. He didn’t speak, looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. His usual perfectly parted hair was slightly ruffled, a few strands falling in front of his face and adding a roughness you wished didn’t affect you. He had forgone the glasses for tonight, giving you a clear view of brown eyes, which didn’t help because it only made his face more real, more mystifying and more handsome.

Your stomach did another flip, unsettling you to a degree that had your mind scrambling. You made a mental note to call a psychiatrist as soon as you landed in Sendai.

“Like I said, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Pulling in a slow breath, you glared at him harder, hoping to convey that even in your drunken stupor you would smack him in the face if you needed to.

“What do you want, Nanami?”

He didn’t remark on your anger, choosing instead to gesture to the door behind him.

“You should come back inside. It’s cold out here.”

You scoffed, the desire to slap him growing more incessant by the second.

“Why? So you can make it seem like you apologized? Make Yuji feel better so you can go to bed tonight with a guilt free conscience? I don’t want you offering me half-assed help to make yourself feel better.” His eyes narrowed, foggy irises melting slowly. “You don’t know anything about me. You haven’t tried to learn anything about me, and you’ve been nothing but rude and nasty to me at every opportunity.”

He walked closer, tall form encroaching your space that made you press your back against the wall. The rapid beating of your heart was pounding in your ears as you refrained from showing any sign of want.  

“Why do you care so much about my opinion?”

“I—” You opened your mouth to retort, falling short as your foggy mind tried to formulate a sentence to throw him off.

Because he’s the most efficient and hardworking man you have ever met. 

Because you’ve climbed the ranks with no help at all and you would give anything to gain experience from him.

Because he's hot as hell.

He sighed heavily, a large hand pressing against the wall behind you, towering over your form as he looked down at you. You were used to his stiff stature, clipped responses and stoic demeanor. But right now…right now Nanami was radiating something that made your core clench. You pressed your thighs together, doing everything you could to stave off the arousal that was flaring dangerously. The alcohol wasn’t helping, you could have easily shot him another crude remark and walked the other way.

“You’re drunk.” You tried to slow your breathing as you spoke, heart rate soaring as the subtle hint of cologne wafted up your nose from his body. God what scent was that? Not too strong, but potent enough to notice the warmth pulsing between your legs.

“So are you.”

“You’re a piece of shit.” You cursed inwardly as the words slipped from your mouth, drunk and loose and angry at his unwillingness to just…apologize. “This entire week has been hell because you’re fucking stubborn and you would rather do the same thing over and over than give new things a chance.” He lifted an eyebrow in response.

“Is that all?”

“Well—” You swallowed loudly, fingers digging into the brick wall behind you as you felt him lean in closer, his cologne slowly making you delirious with lust and more drunk than you already were. Maybe he had come to his senses and would be ready to apologize and beg for your forgiveness. That would be more than enough, and you could go back to Sendai to lick your wounds in peace.

The press of his lips against yours, however, was so much better. You should have pushed him away, slapped him in the face for using short words to worm his way further into your wet dreams. But it was hard to even think about that when muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest and overwhelming you with his smell. You curled your hands into his chest, the soft fabric bunching between your fingers as you felt the hard planes of his chest and pulled him impossibly closer to you.

Just one kiss. One fucking kiss and you could pull away, slap the shit out of him, and stumble home.

But the feel of Nanami biting your bottom lip, prying your mouth open with his full lips before sliding his tongue into your mouth had you shaking out a whimper you should have been ashamed of.

This was much, much better

[eugenedebs1920]

“No prior President has ever abased himself more abjectly before a tyrant” Were the words spoken by the late Senator from Arizona, John McCain after the July 2018 summit between President Trump and Russian president Vladimir Putin. His fellow Arizonan Senator Jeff Flake would say, “I never thought I would see the day when our American President would stand on the stage with the Russian President and place blame on the United States for Russian aggression. This is shameful.”

McCain would pass away from an aggressive brain cancer on August 25, 2018. His fellow statesmen would not seek reelection, giving a lengthy em passionate speech condemning “new normal” of the Trump era, saying,  “the personal attacks, the threats against principles, freedoms, and institutions; the flagrant disregard for truth or decency, the reckless provocations, most often for the pettiest and most personal reasons, reasons having nothing whatsoever to do with the fortunes of the people that we have all been elected to serve.”

Look at those pictures of Donald Trump! Have you ever seen that lack of overbearing arrogance on his face before!? Putin either makes him soil his diaper with fear, he has dirt on Trump, or our tiny handed tyrant is in love! This has little to do with what we’ll dive into but, just happened to run across Flake’s announcement for not seeking reelection. It was pretty good! Anyway…

With our short attention spans and constant distractions, we may only remember a phrase when we associate the word Russia, and the word Trump. That being the former President’s response to a reporter, saying “Oh! Russia Russia Russia”, that’s my word association image anyway. But yes. Russia Russia Russia.

We’ll go in a reverse chronologicalish order, or most relevant recent order, or whatever order it ends up as. There’s a lot to cover, see how long you make it… 😆

Trump has long had affairs overseas, and no, not the kind he’s known for, but business dealings. After making a series of bad decisions in the later 80’s early 90’s American banks were hesitant to loan to Trump. As it turns out, the Kremlin had their eye on Trump, and had Czech spies working for the Kremlin covertly tail him as early as 1987. Throughout the years Trump Would rely on Russian assistance quite often. From the financial and business side to the political and personal side.

Upon the merger of Trump’s, Truth Social and Digital World Acquisition Corp, Truth Social became, Trump Media and Technology Group. Before the merger Truth Social had been hemorrhaging money, showing significant losses on all quarterly reports.

In late 2021 the social media platform seemed as if it was doomed. In December of 2021, a Christmas miracle occurred in the form of two loans totaling eight million dollars, acting as a lifeline to the failing site.

These loans came as one for $2 million and another $6 million. The $2 million loan was from Paxum Bank, an entity tied with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Paxum Bank is partially owned by a man named Anton Postolnikov, who is related to a man named Aleksandr Smirinov (not the same As Alexander Smirinov that tried to relay Russian misinformation to the FBI, and was subsequently arrested for doing so in the House, Biden impeachment inquiry, political theater headed by James Comer of KY, but a different Smirinov) a former Russian government official, who runs Rosmorport, a Russian shipping company. There was $6 million loan paid by a separate entity by the name of ES Family Trust, who’s director at the time was the very same man who held the title of director at Paxum Bank, the same bank who loaned the smaller $2 million loan. You almost need a poster board with pictures, some tacks and yarn with that one!

In 2023 prosecutors in the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York began an investigation into the Russian based financial backing and Trump Media and Technology Group (TMTG). The case is still ongoing.

We’re going to skip out of order here because this is already lacking brevity, so. Let’s turn to the end of Trump’s presidency, in the waning days, after the insurrection, Jan 16-20th.

After the disgraceful behavior Trump had engaged in upon losing the 2020 election to Joe Biden, Trump and his remaining staff were scrambling to exit the White House. On Jan the 18th, just two days from Biden’s inauguration, Trump requested the delivery of a binder.

This ten inch thick, treasure trove of documents contained some of the United States most closely guarded information and secrets. So much so that even lawmakers and congressional aides with top secret clearance could only view the binder, and information within, at the Central Intelligence Agency’s (CIA) headquarters in Langley Virginia. Inside were the highest levels of confidentiality and secret information from the United States, its allies, and top secret NATO intelligence as well. It was a collection on Russia, assets working for or against the Kremlin, sources, methods in which the U.S. government received its information and even an assessment of the Russian President Vladimir V. Putin.

Trump’s request was carried out under the care of the Presidents Chief of Staff Mark Meadows. Trump’s sociopathic narcissist disorder caused the exiting, disgraced President to feel the need to declassify a host of documents, including the FBI’s investigation into himself and Russia.

White House lawyers and aides hurriedly redacted names, dates, locations as fast as they could knowing the erratic behavior of Trump. His top administration officials would attempt to block the publication of the classified information. The day before leaving office, on Jan 19th, despite pleas from White House officials, aides and staff, as well as out of spite, Trump issued the declassification of nearly all the sensitive material, putting the lives of agents, informants, and sources in jeopardy. Multiple copies of the initial redacted version were printed out and were set to be distributed throughout Washington to Republicans in Congress and to right wing media outlets. The copies that did get sent out were quickly recovered by White House lawyers, demanding that further redactions were necessary.

Minutes before the inauguration of President elect Biden, Meadows rushed to get approval from the Justice Department, hand delivering the redacted copy for final approval.

Suspiciously, in all the chaos of the final 48 hours, and Trump’s temper tantrum, the original, unredacted, ten inch thick binder of the most sensitive material regarding the U.S. and its allies went missing. There’s a redacted copy in the National Archives, but the whereabouts of the original binder remains a mystery.

During the hearings on the criminality that occurred in Trump’s final weeks in office, aide, Cassidy Hutchinson testified that she saw Chief of Staff MarkMeadows leave the White House with the binder, suggesting that her assumption was that he had put the top secret information in a safe, located at his home.

This brings us to our next act… Of sedition.

The declassification and illegal retention of the world’s most secretive binder was not the only act of treason Trump would engage in. After his loss in November and into December Trump had authorized the removal and transport of dozens of boxes of classified information, state secrets, nuclear secrets, U.S. and its allies war plans to various properties he owned.

The FBI was aware of the taking of the documents, after requesting their return several times a warrant was issued to Trump’s Florida “home” Mar-a-lago. It was coordinated out of respect, safety and to not make a spectacle of the raid, that Trump would not be present when the FBI searched his club/home.

What the FBI found was dozens of boxes containing the classified documents as well as other trinkets like magazines and newspaper articles, strewn around, knocked over and spilling in various locations such as a closet, bathroom, his youngest child Barrons’s room and a hidden room containing surveillance equipment for the property.

In thier assessment of the evidence they found 43 empty folders with tabs labeled, Classified, 28 empty folders labeled, Return to Staff Secretary or Military Aide. In the boxes, folders that weren’t empty included, 18 documents marked, Top Secret, 54 marked as, secret, 31 marked as, Confidential, and 11,179 other Government documents, some with photos that weren’t marked.

This case is the most egregious act of sedition of American President in our nations history. A Special Prosecutor, Jack Smith, was tasked by the DOJ of heading the case. In a stunning move of partisanship and a complete disregard of standing Jurisprudence, Federal Judge Aileen Cannon, a Trump appointee, would go against 50 years of precedent and dismiss the case under the grounds the the special counsel was improperly funded. The American people would be denied their right to get the truth about who, what, when and why these documents were retained, missing, and in the condition they were found. The binder talked about earlier was not in the trove of documents found at Mar-a-lago, its location remains unknown.

So yea! Russia Russia Russia… There’s SO much more Russian ties, scandals, shady business dealings to show but. If this is nearly as long to read as it was to write, I’m proud you made it all the way through.

I’ve been saying it for years, Trump is a Russian asset, I even made a bet saying in 20 years if it doesn’t come out that Trump was a Russian asset I owed this person a sloppy, dentureless blowjob (because I’ll be kinda old in 20 years and I assume I’ll have dentures).

Don’t be conned by Americans most notorious conman and give him the chance to steal and share even more of our state secrets. Vote Kamala Harris for President. Blue down ballot for real change in our country.

I may finish this and post the whole thing from 2013 to what we dove in to on my substack, which I’ll try to remember to leave a link in the comments section. Until next time. Let’s hope for the sake of our democracy Trump loses here in 2024 or maybe I’ll see some of you f*cks in Gitmo 😉😅😆☮️🇺🇸

[jenasu]

Clementine (Star Summit)

Pronouns: She/Her, She/They

Age: Mid-Late 40s

Height: 4'5" (135cm)

Characteristics: Boisterous, small, and strong.

Put my depot agent in the blender and repurposed her into a fan oc for the universe of an in-development indie game made by the ever lovely @fronomeeps. Please support them and check out the progress on their game dev blog!

Clementine is a member of the security staff at Emerson's station. She's a social outcast amongst her own species, so the station has become home for her, and her coworkers family. She protects these things with her life, and takes her job and the safety of others very seriously (she is less good about taking care of herself).

Her bigass ears means that she knows Everything™ that happens in the station, for better or for worse. She's great at keeping secrets though, and only discusses the things she overhears with Emerson and Caelum.

A small creature with so many very big emotions she keeps bottled up. I am constantly rotating her in my brain at rapid speeds.

[vote-democrat-president-congress]

Trump tells Christians ‘you won’t have to vote anymore’ if he’s elected.

2024/07/27: Former President Donald J. Trump at the Turning Point USA Believers Summit in West Palm Beach, Fla., in the closing minutes of his speech to a gathering of religious conservatives on Friday night, former President Donald J. Trump told Christians that if they voted him into office in November, they would never need to vote again.

“Christians, get out and vote. Just this time,” he said at The Believers’ Summit, an event hosted by the conservative advocacy group Turning Point Action, in West Palm Beach, Fla. “You won’t have to do it anymore, you know what? Four more years, it’ll be fixed, it’ll be fine, you won’t have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians.”

Mr. Trump, who never made a particular display of religious observance before entering politics, continued: “I love you, Christians. I’m a Christian. I love you, you got to get out and vote. In four years, you don’t have to vote again. We’ll have it fixed so good, you’re not going to have to vote.”

Mr. Trump’s comments came at the end of a nearly hourlong speech in which he appealed to religious conservatives by promising to defend them from perceived threats from the left. Earlier in his remarks, he lamented that conservative Christians do not vote in large numbers, a complaint he had made repeatedly on the trail.

“They don’t vote like they should,” Mr. Trump said of Christians. “They’re not big voters.”

Mr. Trump’s suggestion that Christians would not have to vote again if he is elected quickly spread across social media. Some argued that it was a threat that the 2024 election could be the nation’s last if he were to win and claimed it was further evidence of an authoritarian, anti-democratic bent he has displayed throughout his political candidacy.

The Trump campaign did not immediately respond to a request for comment to clarify Mr. Trump’s intent.

The former president — who continues to falsely insist the 2020 election was rigged, a claim that inspired some of his supporters to storm the Capitol in a bid to keep him in power in 2021 — has raised alarm from Democrats and some Republicans. He has compared his political opponents to “vermin,” said he would have a prosecutor investigate President Biden and his family and framed his campaign as one of retribution.

James Singer, a Harris campaign spokesman, criticized Mr. Trump in a statement for lying about the 2020 election, among other things, during his Friday remarks. Mr. Trump “went on and on and on, and generally sounded like someone you wouldn’t want to sit near at a restaurant — let alone be president of the United States,” Mr. Singer said.

Since his 2020 loss, Mr. Trump, who often praises strongmen leaders on the trail, has further embraced a brand of conservatism that experts on autocracy have said veers toward totalitarian.

Mr. Trump provoked further outcry when, in an interview with Sean Hannity, he said he would not categorically dismiss concerns that he might abuse presidential power but instead said he would not be a dictator “other than Day 1.”

Mr. Trump added: “We’re closing the border. And we’re drilling, drilling, drilling. After that, I’m not a dictator.”

Mr. Trump and his allies have long dismissed the criticism as alarmist political attacks from liberals. They argue that Democrats have been anti-democratic, labeling the criminal cases brought against Mr. Trump as an effort to weaponize the justice system.

The Harris campaign — and the Biden campaign before that — have consistently attacked Mr. Trump as a threat to democracy. More recently, Democrats and their allies have highlighted Project 2025, a set of conservative policy proposals developed by a group that includes former Trump advisers and that would bring about a radical shift to the federal government.

Mr. Trump himself was not behind Project 2025, and he has repeatedly tried to distance himself from it. But The New York Times has reported on his plans for a second term, which would include casting aside the norm that gives the Justice Department independence from the White House, appointing ideologically aligned lawyers who would be less resistant to Mr. Trump’s policies and a vastly expanded crackdown on immigration that would involve scouring the country for undocumented immigrants and deporting millions of people annually.

by Michael Gold, NYTimes. https://www.nytimes.com/live/2024/07/27/us/harris-trump-biden-election

[writingquestionsanswered]

Any advice for when anxiety make you think your writing is bad and not worth it? Or like it's annoying?

Anxiety Due to "Bad Writing" Fears

There are three things you can do:

1 - Read the following posts to transform your mindset by learning that bad writing is a necessary part of the process, we all start out at the bottom and work our way up, and that it's normal to be anxious about that.

Guide: Dealing with Self-Doubt & Impostor Syndrome Building Confidence in Your Writing Concentrate on Quantity at First, Not Quality Comparing Self to Others, Insecure About Writing Overcoming Embarrassment Over Own Writing

2 - Practice good self-care, especially before, during, and after writing to help ease anxiety. Figure out some mantras you can use before, during, and after, like: "I'm doing my best and it's okay if it's not as good as I want it to be. I'm getting better every day." Do things to make the writing process less stressful for yourself... try not to fixate on quality, give yourself encouragement and pep talks, don't compare yourself to others, give yourself grace when you know you're falling short, and try to do things to make your writing time more relaxing (comforting writing spot, soft music, scented room spray, etc.)

3 - Hone your craft by reading writing craft books/articles/blogs, watching writing craft videos, and listening to writing craft podcasts. Follow writers and authors on social media and keep an eye out for free online writing summits and workshops, which offer video talks about a variety of different writing topics. These are usually hosted by a writer who interviews guest writers to talk about an area of expertise, like how to write great characters or how to outline your novel. Sometimes the free videos are only available live or for 24-hours after broadcast, but the cost of admission is merely an e-mail address. Or, if you want to pay, you can get an all-access pass. The more you learn about writing, the better your writing will become, and the more confident you'll become in your writing, and that anxiety will start to ease. :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[ursulanoodles]

Shane Headcanons pt. 1 (spoilers)

He’s a cuddler

Secretly enjoys being the little spoon

Secretly listens to sad country/folk music, but acts like he wouldn’t be caught dead doing so

Maybe the same thing with mainstream pop music, like Taylor Swift. I could definitely see him being a secret T Swift fan

Loves naps

Gives bear hugs

Super affectionate once he’s comfortable in a relationship

Will probably kiss your face off/squish you from cute aggression 

Resisted the idea at first, but unashamedly lets Jas paint his nails on the reg

Jas is the reason he dyes his hair purple because it’s her favorite color

Smokes a lot of weed for his anxiety, but doesn’t make it his personality

definitely buys it from Sam at work or Seb on Friday nights outside of the Stardrop

Is kind of friends with Sam and thinks he’s hilarious. They get up to all sorts of shenanigans at work when Shane isn’t in a bad mood or hungover.

They totally ride pallet jacks around the back room together

Was totally a punk/emo kid (clothing therapy anyone?)

Started drinking too much after Jas’ parents’ deaths, though he was probably a frequent drinker before that but it sent him over the edge

Their deaths hit him hard and he couldn’t take care of himself, let alone a kid– hence the reason he moved in with Marnie

Looks frumpy in his depression clothes, but smells like clean laundry and whatever body wash and deodorant he uses (I like to imagine like fir/pine/citrus scents)

A lot of people like to say he doesn’t shower, but I think it’s the opposite. I think he takes a lot of hot showers and is meticulous about smelling good because he’s socially anxious. Too depressed to buy new clothes, but not depressed enough to smell like shit.

Not a vegetarian, but sometimes avoids meat and tries not to eat chicken, especially if it’s a chicken he’s raised.

Has undiagnosed ADHD and/or autism. Definitely neurodivergent in one way or another. 

Soccer, chickens (birds in general if you’ve seen his summit scene), and Journey of the Prairie King are his special interests/hyperfixations. 

Hums to himself and whistles a lot when he’s working or walking to/from work if he’s not in a bad mood

Definitely talks/mutters to himself, especially if he’s angry or anxious

Loves soccer/played soccer in school (not American football)

His Tunnelers shirt looks more like a soccer jersey and I think there’s a glaringly obvious discrepancy between the gridball/Tunnelers that Alex refers to and the Tunnelers that Shane refers to

He has a soccer ball in his room ffs

Also, in his 10 heart even he yells “Goal!” not “Touchdown!”

[misfitwashere]

Ukraine and Harris

And Ukrainian-Americans and the Ukrainian Future

Timothy Snyder

Jul 27, 2024

Ukrainians have been asking me what it means for their country that President Joe Biden has decided to withdraw his candidacy and that Vice-President Kamala Harris is now the presumptive nominee of the Democratic Party. 

I think that it only means good things. 

The Biden administration now has more time for Ukraine.  Until last Sunday, Joe Biden had two jobs: president and candidate for president.  Now he has only one job: to be president.  This means more time for policy, including foreign policy.  The people on his team who work on Ukraine will find it easier to get his attention.  Aside from that: President Biden will now be thinking about his legacy.  He knows that whatever policies he wants attached to his name must be formulated and implemented in the next six months.

Though it is impossible to be sure, I would guess that Ukraine will likely as central to a Harris presidency than it was to the Biden presidency.  On a number of foreign policy issues, including Ukraine, the Biden administration began from traditional assumptions that were outdated, and then worked quickly to catch up.  I do not think that this will be the case for Harris, in part because the Biden administration has caught up.  The vice-president’s foreign policy team might well be more decisive on Ukraine than the Biden team.  Vice-President Harris made a point of traveling to Geneva for Ukraine’s peace summit when it became clear that President Biden would not attend. In fairness, we should remember that President Biden visited Kyiv itself!

All of that, though, is far less important than the main issue, which is beating Donald Trump.

Harris has a better chance of doing so than did Joe Biden.  If you are on Ukrainian social media, you are dealing with Russian bots and trolls saying that Harris is unpopular in America and can’t win.  In the United States, the Russian bots and trolls are spreading racism and misogyny.  The Russian demobilization serves the same goal: to stifle any hope for something good in both countries. 

Here are the basic facts.  Just a few days into her campaign, Harris polls even with Trump, whereas Biden was behind by several points.  Her campaign has been energetic and effective.  She has mobilized several constituencies who might otherwise have been indifferent.  Trump is obviously afraid of her (as are the Russian propagandists who support Trump).

Now, I understand that there are Republicans who maintain that Trump would have a good Ukraine policy, including people whose views on foreign policy I admire.  Respectfully, I believe this this is wishful thinking.  In some cases, Ukrainians also think wishfully, confusing a thoughtful proposal by a Republican with Trump’s own views or likely future actions.  So let me take a moment to explain why I believe that a second Trump administration would be disastrous for both countries. 

In Ukrainian terms, Trump is a Yanukovych figure, a wannabe oligarch backed by actual oligarchs and the Kremlin.  Unlike Yanukovych, he is personally charismatic and politically talented.  The essence of Trump’s agenda is the transformation of the American political order.  Whether or not this succeeds, the attempt at regime change will remove the United States from the international scene for an indefinite period.  Insofar as we have a foreign policy at all under a Trump administration, it will amount to allowing Russia and China to do what they want.

When thinking of how the United States matters to Ukraine, it is also worthwhile considering how Ukrainians (Ukrainian-Americans) will matter in this election. 

Given the strange American electoral system, certain states matter more than others.  Ukrainian-Americans are 1% of the population of Pennsylvania, and 0.5% of the population of Michigan.  If Trump wins those two states, he will win the general election.  If Harris wins those two states, then she will win the general election. 

In Michigan, the number of Ukrainian-Americans is greater than Trump’s margin of victory in the state in 2016.  In Pennsylvania, the number of Ukrainian-Americans is greater than Trump’s margin of victory in that state in 2016, and also greater than that of Biden’s margin of victory in 2020.   

In other words, the votes of Ukrainian-Americans might decide whether Ukraine continues to exist. 

[ddollipop]

THINK I WANNA FEEL LOVE. . . ! — ( THOMA. )

#. synopsis! — when ayato allows visiting nobles from other nations to stay at the kamisato estate, thoma finds himself very interested in one young woman in particular .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , oral sex , cunnilingus , cum swallowing , multiple positions , vaginal fingering , vaginal sex , thoma's a pervert , panty sniffing , caught masturbating , virginity , explicit first time sex , frequent usage of endearment terms (baby/angel) , vanilla sex , praise , thoma is really sweet .

#. word count! — 4.2k .

#. a/n! — happy kinktober, sluts ! let's see how many times i post this year, trying to break my previous year's record of three lmao (with one being three days late smh) .

If you ask about Thoma throughout Inazuma, you’ll likely get similar replies. They’ll comment on his willingness to help others, to be of service to those in need. Many will commonly note that he’s a hard worker, a diligent young man who loathes leaving any task incomplete. You might even hear that he’s a prime candidate for many young women in terms of romantic interest, —that he’s easy on the eyes and gentlemanly to boot. Such praise from not only the general public, but even the likes of Kamisato Ayato and Ayaka themselves, left you truly believing that you were in good hands with him.

Which. . . Is still accurate, you suppose; just not in the way you expected.

Coming from a sizable line of nobility, you were cordially invited to attend a week-long summit in Inazuma to discuss international relations between all the nations. Though it wasn’t quite your area of expertise, you readily accepted the offer and studied dutifully in order to make a positive impression. The Yashiro Commissioner was also kind enough to allow guests of high importance (of which you were apparently one) to board in the Kamisato estate for the duration of your stay.

Thus, their dearest housekeeper became yours for the week; in more ways than one. Just as the rumors had declared, —Thoma was warm, kind, and none too unattractive. He helped you carry your bags to the room you’d be staying in and made it clear that if you needed anything at all, you could come to him for help. You thanked him, but didn’t really expect to take him up on that. After all, you were quite used to taking care of most things yourself, and that background of independence and task-juggling has all but prepared you for the very worst.

Thoma was an unexpected storm though; —one you hadn’t a clue how to weather.

The meeting for the third day was pushed back a few hours due to a holdup of cargo ships blocking the entrance to Inazuma. Many of the needed officials were busy trying to sort through the mess of it all, and others were aboard the ships stuck in the harbor, unable to leave until the others had cleared off. When word of the delay reached you, you were the first one out the door, well on your way back to the Kamisato estate. The two prior gatherings had taken a lot out of you, and while it was clear that your studying had served you more than well, the social aspect was quite draining. Moreover, a few extra hours of rest before diving into the next one was hardly a sour idea.

It seemed that everyone else was using their time differently. You were met with a sea of empty rooms, not a single soul in sight as you made your way down the long hall. Halfway to your temporary space, however, you caught wind of soft, muffled sounds coming from your room through the ever-so-slightly cracked sliding door. Your footsteps became much lighter as you approached, peeking in through the small gap to see what was going on.

Your jaw dropped and you were hardly able to contain the gasp that nearly erupted from the back of your throat. Thoma was in your room, clothed back pressed against the wall, your worn panties from the day before stuffed against his face. You could hear him taking long, deep breaths, savoring the scent of your day-old musk. His half-hard cock rested in his hand, offering slow strokes to himself as he reveled in the aroma of your used, unwashed underwear.

Reflexively, you felt prickles of disgust stab at your innocent heart. Having been raised a noble, you were well beyond sheltered in many ways, and this was the first time you’d ever seen something so phallic in person. But you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading along your core, nor the way your pussy clenched ever so slightly at the sight of it all. Thoma was fairly long and certainly not lacking in girth. His lithe fingers encircled himself, sliding along his member with exactly the kind of precision you would expect from an experienced housekeeper.

In your haze of confusion, you let instinct take over, allowing your hand to travel between your thighs. Through your layered dress (proper attire for the important meeting you were supposed to be attending) you rubbed little circles against yourself, getting little jolts of friction that managed to hit just right in spite of the material in your way. Thoma kept his eyes closed, likely to focus his senses on the panties just a few strokes away from being stuffed in his jowls.

You watched from the hall as he stroked himself to the thin garment, thumb grazing the ever-reddening tip of his cock.

“Fuck, y/n.”

The sound of your name falling from his lips leaves your hand freezing in place, breath hitching in your throat as if you were the “bad guy” in this situation. You certainly weren’t the one doing the most wrong here, but the thought of Thoma (or anyone else, for that matter) catching you in such a shameful position. . . It was utterly humiliating.

With his eyes still closed, hand still pumping along his shaft in slow, deliberate flicks, you came to the conclusion that he hadn’t seen you and was simply. . . Fantasizing?

Still feeling largely conflicted, your hand returned to your side and you were set on just walking away and pretending that this had never happened. You figured it was the best course of action to avoid any confrontation, leave things as they had been, and return home soon enough. That is, until one wrong move left a creaky board just outside the sliding door ringing out, to which Thoma’s eyes abruptly shot open in panic. He could see your wide eyes and the soft lavender color of the dress you’d been donning as he saw you out not even two hours prior through the slim crack in the door. 

“My Lady, I—” he cut himself off, your panties falling ungracefully from his hand to the floor at his feet.

Thoma stuffed his hardened cock into his pants, a harsh blush present on his cheeks as he sought to straighten his back and apologize for defiling your space.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said reflexively, backing away from the door, “I didn’t mean to watch, I just—”

The words die in your throat. You don’t know how to finish that sentence, and you fear anything you could have uttered would have just made the situation that much more contentious. 

He pauses, his chest still heaving a bit. Shame crackles in his gut, but he couldn’t help but to take particular interest in the latter half of your apology. The same hand he’d been jacking himself off with reaches out, pulling the door further off to the side. 

“You. . . Were watching?” Thoma asks, a small glint of hope flashing through his shamrock eyes. 

Your heart hammers now, pounding against your chest like a drum. Though there’s distance between yourself and him, you wonder if he can hear it from where he stands.

“Not long,” you attempt to assure him, not quite catching the subtle implications he was throwing your way. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You understand, then,” his tone lowers as he reaches out to take your wrist into his grip, —the same grip that held your panties to his face mere moments prior. “You understand that. . . That sometimes it’s just too easy to come undone.”

“I. . .” you hesitate, but finish anyway: “I suppose I do.”

“Come a little closer,” he beckons, giving your arm a soft pull toward him.

You’ve no reason to really be distrustful of him, so you take a few tentative steps forward, all but melting into his embrace. Now standing in the guest room, Thoma slides the door shut (fully, this time) before putting all of his attention on you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, cupping your heated cheek in his warm hand. “Since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”

Thoma pushes your hair back and away from your neck, baring it for his access, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear.

“Can I kiss you?”

Soft tufts of heated air ghost against your skin. A shaky breath passes your lips. You’re nervous, but Thoma. . . He’s been nothing but kind to you, and after what you just saw of him, it’s hard to deny that you’re attracted. All at once, he feels like some semblance of your home whilst you’re so far away, yet he reminds you just as equally of unexplored lands that you’ve never set foot on. He’s tantalizing. 

You nod.

His kiss is enough to steal the air from your lungs, starting off slow and deliberate. The little noises you make stir the lustful beast that creeps just beneath his charming exterior. His lips are soft and maybe even delicate as they gradually become hungrier, finally drawing down your chin and sliding along your open jaw. The gentle hand on your cheek takes its place on your hip now as his mouth explores your neck. Quickly enough, you melt into him, —muscles loosening as you allow him to have his way. 

"Here," he whispers, quickly leading you over to the futon mattress that sits on the floor.

Thoma's nimble fingers travel around your back, pulling at certain ribbons here and there to loosen the waist of your dress. As it comes undone, the sleeves begin to slump off your shoulders, and he cranes his neck down to pepper some more kisses along the newly bared skin.

"If it's too much, just say so," he notes, all the while helping you slip out of your formal attire.

As expected of someone in his line of work, he's meticulous about not damaging the garment. No tearing, no pulling, no unnecessary theatrics, —just undressing you like a gentleman before setting your clothes aside. He even helped to maintain your balance as you stepped out of it.

"Lay back," he prompts, quickly adding, "—make yourself comfortable."

You do, resting your head atop one of the newly fluffed pillows while Thoma strips himself down to his tight-fitting boxers. It's hard not to stare at the prominent outline of his bulge, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as if to sober yourself up, forcing your gaze back up to meet his eyes sheepishly. If he noticed the hunger, he didn’t mention it, but you’re sure he can feel the static in the air between him and yourself as it snaps and crackles like a roaring fire. 

He kneels at your feet, each of you clad only in undergarments. His hands rest against your knees, then slide down the tops of your thighs in tandem. When he extends forward, you spread them, allowing him to slit himself in the open space.

"You're stunning," he compliments, "I haven't been able to stop staring at you since I first saw you. Everything about you is so gorgeous, —it makes it so hard to control myself around you."

Thoma lays it on thick enough to drown in. Though your breathing hitches a bit in your throat, his words fill you with enough confidence to raise yourself off the futon and slink your arms around his neck. The kiss that follows is deep, accompanied by his hands fondling your chest through the fabric of your bra. Each of you is quick to decide the material is an annoyance for the moment, and it's gone not long after. He loves the way your sensitive nipples perk up at the first touch of open air, —then further relishes in the little gasp you let out as he takes one into his mouth, tongue flicking it over. He laps at it until he tires, leaving a sheen of his spit in his wake, before moving over to the other and repeating the process once more. It's the first time any man has ever touched you like this, and you think to yourself that you're glad it's someone so considerate and thorough such as Thoma.

He continues to mumble little words of praise as he kisses down your sternum, —gorgeous, once, beautiful, twice, stunning, thrice. His tongue lolls out around your naval, leaving a thin trail of saliva behind until his mouth rests at the top of your panties. Though he hooks two fingers, one on either side, just below the lacy fabric, he doesn't pull just yet. Instead, he rests the flat of his tongue against your panties, letting his spit seep into the material. You can feel the warmth of his mouth through the fabric, and it's driving you wild. He pulls ever so slightly at the garment, but stops just short of pulling it off, instead lapping at your lips through the material in long, deliberate strokes.

"Ah, Thoma," you vocalize, left hand coming up to softly rest over your mouth.

He pauses for a moment to let you know how much he likes it when you say his name like that. You don’t catch the full sentence through the newfound adrenaline rush, but it’s something about how pretty his name sounds when it comes from you.

Thoma takes a hand from your thigh and presses the tip of his middle finger against the wet stripe along your panties, a mixture of his spit and your arousal, rubbing at the slickness. Your mind is swimming. This is all so new, and it feels distinctly different to the times you’ve sat in your bedroom swirling your fingers around on your clit, leaking onto pristine sheets in the late hours of the night.

Another pause, but this time he decides to tug at your underwear, encouraging you to lift your hips so he can do away with them for the time being. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you react, but it’s hard to be ashamed of anything when Thoma seems so delighted to just be there between your legs. He tosses the last of your clothing to the side, kissing the top of your foot, then up your calf, along your inner thighs, and finally he lets his tongue fall past his lips to split yours apart.

It’s good enough to make your toes curl on instinct, the way he laps like a thirsty animal quenching himself with the folds of your pussy. You gasp at the feeling, swallowing a full moan. He drinks you in like nectar and it’s enough to make you dizzy. 

You feel one of his fingers prod inside you, just barely, pausing to give you time to tell him to stop if that’s what you really want. —It’s not, so after a few moments, he lays his tongue flat against your clit and lets one of his long, slim fingers sink inside you until the base of his hand presses against you as well.

“Feel good, baby?” He inquires, glancing up at you from between your thighs.

“Yeah,” you answer breathily, moving the hand over your mouth down to your breast, clutching at the flesh and feeling his leftover saliva squelch against your skin. “Feels good.”

He hums in acknowledgement, and you feel the vibration in your core. A whine escapes you when he pushes another finger inside just as tenderly as before, letting you adjust before sinking all the way to the palm. He holds your hip a little roughly when he begins pumping his digits in and out, starting off slower to avoid any discomfort on your part.

“You’re so pretty,” he compliments. “It’s all I’ve thought about since you arrived. . . How stunning you are, how good you must taste. . .”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have been burning up from the sheer weight of his praise alone, but as things stand, you fear it’s nigh impossible to be any hotter than you already are in this moment. Your brain isn’t working fast enough to muster up a reply, so you resign yourself to whining at his touch, hoping that will speak for you.

And does it ever. Thoma can practically feel himself throbbing at the noises you’re making. He loves every little sound, relishes in the bliss of having you clench around his fingers, buried so deep in your snatch that his fingers are drowning in your heat.

He watches carefully as your hands clutch at the fabric of the futon in the guest room, feeling your thighs quivery around his body.

“Close?” He inquires.

He doesn’t really get a response, per say, but your back arches a little, pressing yourself harder into his fingers, and that says just about all he needs to know. His tongue returns to your clit, lapping at it again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you’re left cumming on his fingers and against his mouth. He slows down as you sink your teeth into your own wrist, huffing through the orgasm.

There’s an empty sort of feeling by the time he pulls his digits out, sitting more upright to wipe the mixture of his spit and your arousal from his lips with his forearm. His mind is screaming by now, all things he wants to say, but isn’t sure how to put into words. You’re so stunning like this, that sheen of pure bliss emanating from every pour, —that starry-eyed look in your stare. He loves the way you’ve retained a little sense of humility from it all, but not enough to cover yourself up. He loves the way your wrist keeps the bitemarks of your teeth like a trophy when you let it fall away from your mouth.

The thought of asking you to suck him off crosses his mind, but the moment he looks between your thighs and sees the pretty wetness there, he decides against it.

“C’mere, angel,” he mumbles, encouraging you to sit up and gain your bearings in his arms.

You do, and he’s so gentle in the way he holds you, like he thinks you’re made of something fragile enough to break apart at a moment’s notice. He presses a few off-handed kisses to your temple, then grabs your bitten wrist and kisses there too, as if trying to soothe the dull ache you’d inflicted upon yourself.

You’re not sure what to say, so you say nothing, but Thoma doesn’t seem to mind the silence. He fills it with little gestures of affection, —brushing hair from your eyes, presses soft kisses to your forehead and your lips.

“First time?” He inquires, just guessing from your initial shock and the way it all seemed so novel to you. (Plus your noble status, as those from high-class bloodlines were known for their tendency to keep their children quite sheltered.)

You nod in reply, seeming sheepish about it, but he gives you a reassuring smile.

“I’m honored,” he says, and you get the sense that he really means it. 

“We don’t have to do anything else,” he adds. “Please don’t feel pressured.”

It’s then that you give the possibilities some real, clear, rational thought. When you return home in just a few day’s time, it’s unlikely you’ll have an opportunity like this again for quite some time. Moreover, there’s something so endearing about Thoma, especially like this, that has you itching for more. So you swallow, gathering the courage to crane your neck up and kiss him. He seems a little startled by the sudden boldness, but kisses back just as readily, placing a hand on the back of your head.

“I want to,” you tell him, whispering the words against his lips.

And who is he to deny you what you want?

He tugs his boxers off then moves to lie back, thinking it best to let you start the pace. He helps you straddle him, a knee on either side, your cunt hovering just above his length. There’s a jolt of something close to electricity through your veins as the head of his cock brushes against your clit, and you take a sharp breath in. It feels really vulnerable, this position, Thoma’s hands on your hips, holding you steady as his eyes roam over every inch of you that’s on display for him. You know he’s not judging, but it’s new, and you avoid his gaze on purpose as you do your best to line him up efficiently between your thighs.

He bites his lip to stop himself from smiling, not wanting to be mistaken for laughing at you in such an unguarded position. Thoma just thinks you’re cute, the way your hands tremble a little as you work to get him inside. Just the tip, and you gasp a little, so he releases the lip between his teeth and tightens the grasp on your body.

“Easy,” he murmurs, “take your time, baby.”

“Sorry,” you utter like a reflex, though you’re not even sure what you’re even apologizing for in the first place.

You sink down a little further, feeling more of him enter, and it makes you gasp. With your hands on his chest, he can feel the way your arms are starting to shake, so he coaxes you forward and wraps his arms around your back.

“Don’t say sorry,” he mumbles, holding you securly. “Take it slow, there’s no rush.”

It’s several moments before you move again, taking him in until he bottoms out, and you gasp again, this time against the skin of his neck. It doesn’t hurt so much as it’s just new and slightly uncomfortable at first go, a little too full in comparison to everything else you’ve ever had. He lets you adjust, drawing shapes along your bare shoulders, whispering compliments and encouragement. 

“That’s it, baby,” he says softly, “just like that.”

There’s a little seed of pride that sprouts the moment you hear his breathing hitch in his throat. It tells you that you’re doing something right here at the very least, and you let his hands guide your movements, starting off slower before speeding up slightly and feeling his fingers dig into the plush skin of your ass. You swallow down a few moans, letting one of your hands travel to his head, tugging at his hair.

“That’s it,” he drawls, “that’s my girl, just like that, —fuck.”

It’s almost startling to hear that word fall from Thoma’s lips again, but you’re a little too blissed out to be surprised. Instead, you give up on the idea of choking back your moans and let them spill past your lips, —breath ghosting against his neck where you’ve buried your face in the crook. He tests the waters, jolting up to meet your riding, making your grip on his strawberry blond strands tighten in the process.

“Thoma,” you choke out desperately, causing a grin to etch its way onto his pretty face, “—please.”

He’s not sure how he knew what that please really meant, but he just did. Thus he switches the position at your discretion and takes his place between his legs again, lining the tip of his cock up just right, then letting it dip inside. Somehow, it feels better in this position than it did in the previous one, and he watches with ample interest as you take your bottom lip between your teeth nearly roughly enough to draw blood as your eyes roll back a ways.

There’s something alluring about the way he moans above you, like he’s getting drunk on this feeling, on this time he’s spending buried deeply enough inside you to feel your walls pulling him in as if every part of you is as desperate for him as he is for you. It feels good to be wanted, he realizes, and even better to be wanted by you.

He slides in and out, eventually establishing a pace that feels good for the both of you, —nothing rough, but not quite soft, either. It’s somewhere in the middle, with just enough enticement to push your novice body to new heights without overwhelming your sensibilities. Through it all, he’s as gentlemanly as everyone told you he was, watching your movements like a hawk, attentive of your every whimper.

When he goes deeper and gets a little sloppy, you’re far enough along for it to not make much of a difference. He’s nearing the edge of a precipice when the knot in your gut comes undone, and you cum on his cock, clenching down on him. He spares a few more thrusts in before slipping himself out and leaning back to jack himself off to a finish.

Before he can do so by himself, you’ve moved through the haze of your orgasm to wrap your lips around him. You’re not quite sure what came over you, but in the moment, it felt so right that you couldn’t back down by the time he was stuffed down your throat. He really didn’t mean to be so rough with you, but he was so close to the high he’d been desperately searching for in your cunt that your mouth served as a pristine replacement.

“P-Pull off a bit, baby,” he says quickly, —having enough restraint to avoid pumping a load directly down your gullet.

You pull away, but keep the tip in your mouth, feeling him twitch against your tongue. The taste of his cum is a little bitter, but it’s warm, and you stay attached to him while he catches his breath. The hand on your head falls away, and he reaches for the hankerchief he always carries in his pocket to give you something to spit into.

His face falls a little when he goes to hand it to you and watches you swallow instead.

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

If you compare the speeches of Meghan and Harry before and after Megxit there is a distinct difference. Yes it’s all rambling word salad, but at least they made more of an effort to connect their ramblings to the charity or cause they were speaking at. Meghan’s speech at the SmartWorks capsule event was long but at least it was mostly on point. This mental health summit, Harry rambled about farmers not knowing tech and Meghan extolling the virtues of being a mother and a wife to “this one”. That’s the power of not being Royal adjacent 2018/19 vs early 2020 and beyond.

And their royal staff made sure the charity and event were a good fit. This summit was ridiculous bc their kids are too young for social media. Meghan was also a bad fit for Invictus. She’s not a veteran and has little connection to the military, so her appearances felt weird and (most importantly) had little traction.