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accio-victuuri · 6 months

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Wang Yibo Bazaar January Issue feature article

What do you hope to see from him when you pay attention to him?

Faced with a public figure does not speak, should we choose to remain silent and just observe and speculate, or should we continue to build a bridge of dialogue at eye level and continue to ask questions?

This is a question Wang Yibo asked us.

We are happy to receive and answer - to come calmly without presuppositions, to follow only the intuitive guidance of the moment, to eliminate biased thoughts, and to see him as a "person" first.

This is not an article written just to fill the page. Perhaps what I can tell you truthfully is that every word in it was written at the filming site of this work, and was typed word by word at a distance of less than 20 meters away from the person I was working on - Wang Yibo. It seems that this is necessary to ensure the immediacy and time-limited nature of this creation.

It is full of questions that may not be asked even if they sit down and face to face. Perhaps it is precisely because there is no need for conclusive or chaotic answers that these questions become more reckless, direct and useless.

In the end, not only did the answer no longer matter, but it became increasingly unclear who the question was addressed to.

Wang Yibo: What you see is what you get

Written by: Lu Yanni

In a huge room surrounded by cement, there are two small temporary spaces surrounded by black cloth: the larger one is a shooting room, and the other smaller one is a space where people can watch movies and rest at any time. There were some white folding chairs inside, which were only occasionally empty throughout the cover shoot.

For more than four hours, the only thing that never stopped here was the music - some of which were from the editor's private playlist, and some of which were specially requested by Wang Yibo. They may be psychedelic, light, noisy, or strange, difficult to classify and describe, but no matter what the style and rhythm of the music are, they are all consistent and uninterrupted.

Wang Yibo just kept his head down and said nothing, even sternly smiling, and immersed himself in doing what everyone who came to him wanted him to do. Are all similar jobs the same? Does every day of his life look exactly like the same day?

The music was so loud that people could jump inside. He remained silent, without saying a word. There was nothing but silence.

He squatted down, covering his face with his hands, and then his head. His hands messed up his hair.

He half-knelt until he gradually fell to the ground. He curled up into a ball. He looked up. He bent over and simply lay flat on the ground, one leg bent, the other leg also bent, and his hands spread out and stretched forward. He fell directly to the ground. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands on the white floor paper.

He said nothing, nothing but silence. Where is he lying?

I suddenly thought of his name being screamed out by the crowd in that small southern town more than a thousand miles away half a month ago, and the moment of silence when the lights went out in theaters one after another in contrast to the noise. , he sat down in the seat that belonged to him for a short period of time, and could occasionally get a moment of calm and peaceful listening time in the dark.

What shape and color is the peace he needs? Does he need peace?

The stylist used a tool to curl the bangs on the wig to make them fly a little more, then sprayed them with moisture, pulled them up, and sprayed them with hairspray to make them look messy and branched. He closed his eyes and let it all happen. That's not his hair. What does that lock of hair have to do with him?

A group of people squatted there, surrounding him in the center. The umbrella-shaped light illuminated him, and all he could hear was the snapping of the shutter and the blinking of the flash at the same frequency. It was as if a group of people had discovered some rare plants in the mountains and were sampling them very quietly and carefully. He sat there, occupying only the size of a corner.

Is this a rare moment of relaxation for him? "Relaxation" - it's just our guess. How can one person experience what he is feeling moment by moment for another person? Whether it is one-way or two-way, how easy is it to "understand" between people?

He stood up again, covering his head with his hands, as if he had just hit something, or as if the fight had just ended.

He tilted his head back slightly and took a deep breath. Was it exhaustion? Or some other feeling?

The staff passed by and sighed softly: "The shooting was too intense!"

Looking back, Wang Yibo was curled up in a ball and lying on the ground again. The photographer asked his assistant for a tissue, and he caught himself sweating profusely.

Wang Yibo was still lying on the ground, his body stretched further.

Reputation, what is it?

Is there anything else that can rival the vanity that comes with being in the spotlight?

If he were willing to give one thing in exchange for everything he has now, what would his answer be? What would your answer be?

Will prosperity last forever?

"I know why you wanna hate me! (I know why you wanna hate me!)" "

I know why you wanna hate me!"

The music has changed. Clothes changed. His body also seemed to be suddenly injected with a strength that would not be easily suppressed. Wearing a white vest, jeans, and chewing gum, Wang Yibo smiled, danced involuntarily to the music, and sang along, his voice getting louder and louder. The chorus was repeated once, twice, three times, four times...

"I know why you wanna hate me!"

He jumped up. His long arms and legs were swinging in the air.

What kind of opportunities and luck are needed to eliminate other people’s prejudices against you or your own prejudices against others? Is this something that can be controlled by just relying on the rise and fall of one's own ideas?

The next picture is the cover picture. Everyone is working hard to get as high a score as possible. His silence then became deeper.

Someone was saying, "Let's not act like a cover photo shoot... just be normal." So everyone laughed together, trying to relieve some of the pressure and tension, but he remained silent.

What are we creating?

He was leaning on the sofa, looking lazily at the camera, suddenly closing his eyes and leaning on the back of the sofa. How can we know what he is thinking at this time? Does he really enjoy this? A question that doesn't expect an answer at all. Who am I talking to? Who am I asking? A tree, a piece of cream cake, a chair, a bolt of lightning?

On this blank screen, a new face and a new piece of clothing appear every month. What does he, who occupies the center of the screen, think about such rapid changes? Is there any panic? If not, then where is his panic? Does he think his panic has merit? Why do so many things have to be assigned so-called "value"? Who stipulates that people must prepare for a rainy day? Can't we make a decision after it rains? So what if it rains and it’s too late to make a decision? It's nothing more than getting soaked all over. It will be fine if the sun comes out the next day to dry it off.

Things seem to be getting a little more difficult.

"We have to get this cover picture out..."

"How about everyone disperse and stop crowding around him."

It's so hot in the room.

What else could he do? He couldn't go anywhere but stay where he was. Doesn't he want so many people surrounding him? Is he afraid of crowds? Didn't he live for the crowds and the attention of everyone? What does he want to live for? What do you hope to see from him when you pay attention to him?

If a little bit of the world is enough for him, how big is that "little bit"? What are the essentials?

There was a burst of cheers and applause, and everyone was very excited. He suddenly raised his arms in the slightly depressed atmosphere, and wow, the photo was finally "available".

“Well done!”

#wang yibo #this article made me feel some kind of way and it’s so beautiful cause the writer is just observing yibo #it must be so intimidating to work with him 😅😅😅

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quickiesgirl · 7 months

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Distraction - Joel Miller

Paring: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, Car sex(ish?), Vaginal Fingering, Hand Kink, Dirty Talk, Older Man/Younger Women, Established Relationship, My Shitty Writing.

A/N: I've had this idea in mind for a few months and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out so I hope all the slutty Joel lovers enjoy.

Kinktober 27 - Car Sex

Romantic oldies played on the radio as you sat in the passenger seat, chin weighing in the palm of your hand while your teeth sunk tightly into your lip, acting as if you were gazing out the window at the radiant stars filling the sky.

Though the night was beautiful, you had something else on your mind for the past hour, Joel Miller.

His arm was across the truck's center console with his large, appealing hand reached across, comfortably cupping your inner thigh, fingers molding into your plushness, while the other remained on the steering wheel.

This simple, loving action reminded you of the lustful effect he had on your body.

You looked to the side and gave yourself a moment to admire your partner. His coffee-brown gaze concentrated on the dimly lit road ahead with small wrinkles creasing near his eyes, graying scuffle along his jaw, leading up to his teased hair. Your legs pushed together, seeking relief from the ache between your legs.

“See somethin’ you like, sugar?” Joel interrupted your train of thought with that husky, southern accent.

“Maybe,” You shoot a flirtatious smile his way, feeling his thumb graze back and forth across your smooth, supple skin, making a shiver roll down your spine.

It was instinctive nature to be close to you, always touching you in some way, just like he was now. Occasionally, he would remove himself to take sips of his coffee but always returned to give a light squeeze. Not only was praise his love language but so was physical touch. It was such a comfortable position, he could drive like this for hours, you by his side, his hand settled in your lap, warming from the skin-to-skin contact.

It was a very loving action, but at times, it was torturous teasing. You hoped he’d just pull over for a spontaneous fuck, moving to the back and watching cars drive past while the truck rocked back and forth, and the windows steam from your hot, heavy breaths.

“You know, sweetheart, we still gotta few hours to go and I can handle the rest of the way, you should try to get some sleep,” Joel suggested in that thoughtful, caring manner of his, unable to feel the heat between your legs, the reason you’d been so restless, but you weren't about to mention that.

“I know, but I'm wide awake, I doubt I‘ll be able to fall asleep right now.” You responded with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

He nodded and looked forward, back towards the road. He slowly dragged his fingertips up, moving closer and closer to your desperate cunt. Your hips hoist themselves up slightly, needing him in these moments.

Joel chuckled before applying another light squeeze to your luscious thigh, listening to you sigh softly, legs clasping together before he finally spoke up, “You’re so tense, sweetheart... Are you sure you don't need some- relief?”

“W-well, what do you mean?” You stammered, trying to make it seem as if you weren't currently sitting in a pool of arousal, but that longing gaze told it all. Your body burns in a feverish warmth, embarrassed to admit that simple action was the cause of this puddle beneath you.

You’d been with Joel long enough for him to know all of your fixations. One he took to his advantage was his hands. He’d seen you looking into your lap, silently inspecting every detail, the lengthy fingers of his hand which were a warm skin tone, a callous look to them after years of hard work, picturing the numerous times they’ve been inside you, so deep that you can feel them grazing along your cervix. You shifted continuously in a desperate manner that caught his attention, and it was relatively easy to recognize what was happening.

“Don't think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been starin’ or the way them thighs been clenchin’ like there's no tomorrow.” Joel said, making your pussy flutter against the soft material of your panties, “I can pull over and help you unless you want me to keep on driving?”

“I-I don’t think I can wait any longer… Please, just touch me.” You whimpered in a pathetic plea that made him take action and order.

“need’ya to spread those beautiful legs for me, darlin’.”

You did exactly as told, like the good girl you were, and allowed him as much access as possible while he drew your silky pajama bottoms to the side along with those cute, lacy panties of yours to unveil your aching cunt.

“There she is...” Joel purred, resting his wrist upon your pubic bone while he took a moment to trail the tips of his fingers across your slit before parting his pointer and ring finger in a v shape, opening those puffy, wrinkled lips wide open to fully expose your arousal-soaked self before running his middle digit up and down. He proceeds to trace a few light circles on your clitoris before extending to your entrance which had been drooling.

You inhaled sharply, ogling the sight of his hand traveling between your thighs, veins protruding in his hand, up to his forearm, just below the rolled-up sleeve of his button-up shirt.

“Poor girl been achin’ for my touch, hasn’t she?” Joel said, pressing himself to your hole, watching you nod with those yearnful eyes and a needy, little pout, “Don't worry, darlin’, I’ll take good care of this pussy. All you gotta do is lay back and relax that pretty self for me...”

He pushed his index and middle halfway inside, your inner walls swallowing him into complete warmth that made his cock strain in his jeans, imagining what your pussy would feel like, wrapped around him.

Joel keeps his eyes on the road ahead, keeping steady control of the vehicle as his digits start moving in and out at a slow yet rhythmic pace, stroking your walls and massaging into the spongy tissue of your G-spot.

“Jesus, this perfect fucking pussy, so wet and tight, it’s made to be fucked by an older man like me. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes- oh god, it feels so fucking good.” You gasped softly, melting into the passenger's seat, head tossing back and thighs spreading further apart.

“I know, sugar,” He purred in his sweet southern draw, burying himself till he was knuckles deep inside your sweet pussy with a thick layer of arousal coating his fingers. He gradually increases his pressure and speed, causing the tension of lust to knot in your stomach.

A pornographic sound leaves your pretty little lips, making him smirk proudly and curl his fingers faster from your reaction.

You stretched the seat belt from your torso, raising your shirt past your breasts to openly fondle yourself. It was such a scandalous image for Joel to witness, and luckily for you, at this hour of the night, no other vehicles were in sight. But with all this pleasure consuming your mind, getting noticed was the least of your concerns.

He let out a low grunt, grip tightening around the steering wheel when he catches a glimpse of the bud of your erect nipple poking between your digits while you continue massaging at the soft flesh. You moan softly, thrusting forward only pushing him deeper inside your cunt.

“That's it, darlin’, keep rollin’ those hips. ”

The muscles in his forearm contract, forcing a third digit inside your pussy, pressing against your g-spot at a rapid pace with the palm of his hand pressed into your neglected clit, throbbing against the pressure.

You moaned softly, mind concentrating on the euphoric state that was pulling you even closer to the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you make a mess all over my fingers.” Joel increased his speed, feeling how close you were while he watched you fall apart right then and there.

Orgasmic shockwaves grip your entire body, making your inner walls contract and squeeze around him as you release all the built-up tension. Moaning out of complete pleasure with the older man’s name written across your lips, drowning out the sound of music playing on the radio with your filthy, disgraceful noises.

A glazed-over look filled your eyes after you came, along with a sleepy-filled high, feeling the way he carefully dragged his fingers out and raised them to his mouth, casually wiping away your wetness with his wide tongue.

“Jesus…” You mutter at the lascivious sight as he smirks mischievously.

Proceeding to lower your shirt, you feel his hand return to your thigh, which makes a warmness flutter through you as you scooch closer and happily lace your hands around his arm.

“Feelin’ better, honey?” Joel asked, stroking his thumb back and forth against your supple skin.

“Mhm, just the remedy I needed.” A smile spreads across your face as your eyes stay in his direction.

The pleasant sound of music and the soft scent of cum filled the truck. Something about this intimacy, sitting in silence with the radio on low and basking in the moment with your lover, was so incredibly soothing.

Sometimes, you wonder how you ended up with such a loving partner to call yours. It's a special feeling to have him in your life. But for now, you’ll have to wait to show your appreciation through a nice fuck, and his favorite home-cooked meal once you’re back home.

His dark brown eyes glance over, watching yours become increasingly heavy till they’re finally fluttered shut, and after a few seconds of silence, you hear his voice say ever so softly, “Get some rest, hun, I’ll wake you when we’re close to home.”

“Mmm, thank you.” You mumbled sleepily, loosening your grip above his wrist to eventually slide down to lay your hand on his, falling asleep soon after with his soothing touch still in yours.

It was barely light outside when he pulled up to the house, shutting off the truck and looking at his sweet angel, who’d been sound asleep for the last few hours.

Instead of waking you, which he had no intention of doing, he quietly carried you inside, up the stairs to the bedroom, where he laid you on the mattress, feeling you stir slightly in your sleep before pulling up the covers and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, leaving you to get the rest you need.

Joel Miller Smut Taglist: @cutesyscreenname @milly-louise

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

#joel miller #joel miller smut #older joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #quickiesgirl writing

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prince-liest · 25 days

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Thoughts on the headcanon that Alastor is afraid of dogs?

As far as the info I've gathered goes, a popular hd is that Alastor died in the woods after either being shot by a hunter with dogs that though he was a deer, or, the most violent version, that the hunter had his dogs go after the "deer" and they chased after him and murder him, eating the meat of his bones even, on some occasions (although I don't see the practicality of that. Why train your hunting dogs to eat all the pray you're supposed to be hunting for yourself?)

In any case, bc he died due to a hunter thinking he was a deer, Alastor became a deer demon in hell, and because were present/a big factor/the cause of his death has developed a deep rooted phobia of dogs

Oh, I fucking love that headcanon! I just wrote it in as part of how Alastor died in my most recent chapter of Once Bitten, Back For More, and it's actually also going to come up in the last installment of 666 as well, haha. I just think that Alastor deserves some dog-related PTSD, as a treat. (For me.)

Most hunting dogs really aren't used for "chase down and maul" type purposes (my maternal grandfather's hunting dog was a cocker spaniel named Astra and she just retrieved the birds he shot, for example) but I get the impression that someone who shot a man dead-center in the forehead in the middle of the woods under the guise of "hunting" probably maybe had some non-standard reasons for shooting at someone in the woods. I don't think he encountered another serial killer or anything, but for canon purposes, I imagine that it's not out of the realm of imagination that a white Southern hunting man from the 1920s that happens to have some dogs with him might get some (fucking horrible) ideas if he found Alastor alone in the woods, with a low bar for justifying suspicion. Especially if he initially mistook Alastor for a deer and already shot at him, and now needs a reason to validate himself.

It's a horrible and hateful way to die for sure. I really don't think that Alastor went peacefully, all-considered.

#ask #personal #Anonymous #cw violence #how do I tag for “discussion of person being mauled and eaten by dogs”???#hazbin hotel #alastor #my writing

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arlemangel7 · 20 days

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Gambit x blackfem!Mutantreader x rogue

First meet: Love in the club

When he met you he had three thought southern loud and sexy. You were a bartender that knew her way around the bar and how to entertain large crowds from the door all he could hear was loud woos and "come down on the left", "what can I getcha boys?", "alright alright two bears and six shots haha, guess we have a big night tonight huh 😁". He was alittle star struck almost to the point of drooling and had it not been for rogue nudging him out of his trants he'd still be standing at door mouth agap watching you twirl and dazzle the room as you shake cocktails all from behind the bar.

Rogue thought you were a raging fire but knew what she wanted soon as she seen you. She sauntered up to the bar through the sea of men sat right now in the center and said "hey sugar how's about me and you take a shot of your choice when you get a minute,hm?". You standing in her perfect line of sight say "well I hope you can shoot something sweeter than you accent darlin?" Without missing a beat she replies with "tell ya what, I'll take as many shots as it takes to get you to come home with me?" You, muddling limes into the bottom of the tin say "well, lucky for you I don't have any plans tonight and I get off in an hour. Soooooo if you can down ten shots of my choosing without throwing up or keeling over I'll take you...and your friend there up on your offer. And?" You place the muddler down grab a bottle and turns around to face her with the bottle still out of view "I'll tell you the name of your poison just cause im so nice." She place the bottle on the counter between yall "100 proof jack, so, do ya really wanna take me home?"

Five minutes later

Yall are down to the last shots of whiskey. Rogue takes her ninth shot and then you follow both your tummies are churning proof that both of you have CLEARLY over estimated the integrity of your stomachs, gambit is in the middle of yall already guessing the outcome if this battle is finished as intended "Listen ladies, I'd suggest we fold this round." both you and rogue say in unison "hush it Cajun!" Realizing yall both made a jinx burst into laughter before you say "you sure you wanna finish this?" She doesn't say anything accept "to our night together." She raises her shot glass up awaiting for you to do the same you chuckle raising your shot glass and doing your best to maintain eye contact through fuzzy vision "night ha *hiccup* try life" *clink* yall slam the glasses on counter and down them hearing the crowd roar in drunken cheers was the last thing you heard before blacking out.

The next morning.

You wake up to bright Sunrays shining through the window next to your bed..... only you don't have a window next your bed. It takes a few seconds to feel an arm squeeze around your tummy and a "mmm" in a slightly familiar voice. You softly and slowly turn to get a glimpse of your bed mates face when you realize you are naked, this makes you spring to a Sitting position trying desperately to remember what happened. "Well good morning cher, helluva night you had huh?" Surprised by the southern male voice coming from the fuzzy figure coming from the doorway. Squinting to get a better view of this person he says "your specks are on the night stand on ya right" you smile silently in thanks and retrieve your second eyes. After a few seconds your pink irises start to focus and you see the man from the bar "names remi but you may know me as 'cajun' I believed you called me last night" you nod "y/n". "Awh, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Your bedmate is.." "rogue?" You cut him off, you remember her saying that was her name on the way out of the bar.

"The very same, may I?" He gesters to the spot on the end of the bed trying to be careful with his movement not to frighten you you nod and he sits down before you ask "we didn't do..???" "No cher nothing like that, you two kissed alittle on the couch got naked because it was two hot in here wondered through the house to this very bedroom and watched TV until you both passed out on top of the covers. From there all I did was place a blanket atop both of you, remove your glasses shut the door and went to go sleep on the couch." Seeing the slight skepticism written on your face he says " listen i understand how it sounds but scouts honor im not made that way and There are security cameras in the living room and the hall if you wanna check for ya self."

For your own sanity you decide to take him up on his offer and Lou and behold he is telling the truth you both stumbled in the house threw your keys on the table near the door splayed on the couch where rogue atop of you where a make out session followed as yall are preoccupied with each other remi is seen in the back chuckles shaking his head taking his coat off, locking the door and going down the hall to the room where we ended up. Going back to the living room camera yall break from. The kiss turn on the TV say something in audible to each other and proceed to ditch clothes left right and center until nothing but skin remains yall cuddle on the couch for a sec before saying another sentence to rogue and her reply makes you rise from your position of your head on her belly to walk/stumble through the hall opening doors left and right until you found the bathroom following your departure rogue meets you in the hallway and guides you to the bed room as you both enter remi leaves shutting the door behind him and going to lay down on the couch.

"See a perfect gentlemen." He says in a matter of fact tone "alright I, ahhhh" you say feeling a sharp pang ring through your head "so you want Tylenol, ibuprofen or advil?, and what would you like for breakfast I got waffles eggs and sausage." (Insert medicine and breakfast of choice here) "That'd be great, thank you" he gives you one of his shirts to put on before breakfast is ready and points you to the hall closet with all the spare rag,towels, toothbrushes and etc are he tells you food will be ready in a second and to take all the time you need. Between that time rogue wakes up and is in the dining room where the food and remi are.

After this your relationship would start off and the rest would be history.

As always stories mine characters belong to who they belong to

Let me know your thoughts and ideas

Signing off for now sleep well yall💋💋

#character x fem! reader #black coded reader #female reader #gambit x reader #poly couple #rogue x gambit #rogue x reader #xmen #x men 97 #black!fem!reader

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workersolidarity · 2 months

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[ 📹 Footage from the Zionist bombing of a residential neighborhood in central Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip on Tuesday, opening Ramadan with the mass slaughter of civilians.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

DEATH AND DESTRUCTION EVERYWHERE ON THE 157TH DAY OF ISRAEL'S ONGOING GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP

Opening the first day of Ramadan, on the 157th day of Israel's ongoing war of genocide against the Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 7 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of 67 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, and wounding another 106 others over the previous 24-hours.

In what has become a daily atrocity, Israeli occupation soldiers opened fire on hungry civilians waiting for food aid at the Al-Kuwaiti roundabout in Gaza City, shooting starving people in the street and resulting in the deaths of no less than 9 civilians, while wounding another 20 others.

In the north of Gaza, Zionist atrocities continued when occupation warplanes bombed a civilian home belonging to the Al-Saqqa family in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood of Gaza City, killing at least seven civilians, including five children, and wounding another six others.

Similarly, Zionist fighter jets bombarded the Abu Shamala family home, also in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, slaughtering 16 civilians, including the wife of journalist Mufid Abu Shamala, along with all his children.

Occupation artillery fire also concentrated on several areas across the northern Gaza Strip, including the Al-Sabra, Tal al-Hawa, and Sheikh Ajlin neighborhoods of Gaza City, murdering three Palestinians who were transported to Al-Shifa Medical Complex.

Meanwhile, in central Gaza, intense bombardment and artillery shelling targeted several areas, including various refugee camps while targeting civilian residences and town squares.

Zionist forces also detonated another residential town square in the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp after forcefully evacuating local residents, while Israeli artillery forces shelled several other targets across central Gaza, including the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, Al-Bureij, Deir al-Balah and Al-Maghazi.

At the same time, IOF warplanes bombed the Abu Sinjar family home in Deir al-Balah, resulting in the martyrdom of eight civilians, while several others remain missing under the rubble, according to local medical sources.

In another atrocity, Israeli occupation aircraft bombed a civilian home in the village of Bani Suhaila, east of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, with a simultaneous bombing in the city center, killing and wounding a number of Palestinians.

In a similar crime, north of Khan Yunis, in south-central Gaza, occupation warplanes flattened an entire residential square in the center of the town of Al-Qarara with an intense bombardment, resulting in the martyrdom of no less than 11 civilians.

In two separate Zionist airstrikes, occupation warplanes targeted local residents in the town of Al-Qarara, killing at least five civilians, some of whom were taken to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah, while others were taken to the European Gaza Hospital.

IOF artillery shelling also targeted the Abasan Al-Kabira neighborhood of Khan Yunis, as well as the Khuza'a neighborhood, east of Khan Yunis.

The slaughter continued with the Zionist bombing of a civilian residence in the El Geneina neighborhood in the city of Rafah, in addition to bombings targeting the vicinity of local shelters and civilian tents belonging to displaced families.

Occupation aircraft also bombed a civilian residence belonging to the Saleh family in the Al-Saudi neighborhood of Rafah city, wounding three Palestinians, while a second bombing targeting the Abu Taha family home luckily resulted in no reported injuries.

As a result of Israel's ongoing war of genocide in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 31'112 Palestinian civilians killed, more than 25'000 of which, or over 70%, were among women and children according the United States Pentagon, while another 72'760 others have been wounded in Zionist strikes since Israel's aggression in Gaza began on October 7th, 2023.

#source1

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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gaybananabread · 5 months

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Squealing Santa 2023 - Gift for @randommusicalfluff

Happy Holidays @randommusicalfluff! I’m happy I got paired with you, love your art! I’ve never written for Welcome Home before, but I finally got a good reason! Full disclosure, I tried my best to go all out; sorry if it’s a bit crazy. Again, happy holidays if you celebrate, and I hope you Enjoy!

(Big thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting @squealing-santa again; I love this event and the fact that you made it possible! Amazing job as always!)

Lee: Eddie, Frank

Ler: Frank, Eddie

Fandom: Welcome Home

Summary: Frank is freezing in the chilly weather of winter. Lucky for him, he has a living teddy-bear for a partner. When said partner is sleepy, though, some fluffy tickles ensue. Eddie decides to return the favor, albeit gently.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Frank shivered in the coolness of the post office, his thicker sweater vest doing little to keep him warm. Snow fell in delicate flakes outside, leaving little water dots against the window on contact. The insect lover would much rather be snuggled up in blankets in front of a warm fire, but he promised Eddie that he’d be patient. He was regretting that promise.

“Alright, darlin’! All done with sortin’ tomorrow’s letters. Ready to head in?” A warm fuzz entered Frank’s chest when he heard that southern drawl. Not enough to distract him from the crisp air, of course, but it helped. “Absolutely; it’s much too cold in this office. You really must get a nicer heater for this room.”

The gray-skinned puppet moved to his partner’s side, a small smile gracing his lips when Eddie raised his arm and pulled him in close. He was so warm; Frank could’ve stayed there for the rest of the season.

Eddie just chuckled, unlocking the thick door that separated his living quarters from the post office. He couldn’t understand why Frank was so cold; the southern man just had a thin flannel over his usual postal attire. He led Frank over to an armchair, handing him a blanket and turning to the fireplace. “C’mon, freezer-bug. I’ll get the heat goin’.”

That got an eye-roll and a few mumbles from the logical puppet. Freezer-bug? It was snowing outside! Eddie was just too cozy, with his soft belly, warm eyes, tender embrace, rich voice…oh dear. Frank felt his cheeks heat up, adding to the fuzzy feeling. Heat sounded nice, though he’d prefer cuddles.

Soon, the heater whirred, struggling to warm both the post office and his home. Frank wrapped the blanket snugly around his shoulders, trying to warm up. He could’ve used a squishy teddy-bear right about then. “You coming, dear?”

Eddie shook his head, lifting the lankier puppet up and placing him in his lap. He laid the blanket across both of them, rubbing Frank’s back to try and warm him. The long day of sorting mail and delivering packages that morning had him all tuckered out; soon, his eyes were drifting closed, his arms going slack on his partner’s back.

Normally, Frank would’ve just let him sleep and enjoyed the closeness. He had been waiting for cuddles all day, however, and had been teased for shivering. It was obviously lighthearted, but Frank was nothing if not a creature of spite. Some payback was in order.

Frank’s nimble fingers kneaded into his partner’s plush belly, squeezing and poking at the center. Eddie giggled sleepily, moving one hand to swat at the ticklish feeling. His partner had to stifle a chuckle as he dodged the hand, squeezing and poking at the squishy area above his waist.

A groggy yelp burst from the red-haired man, his hands shooting to grab Frank’s wrists. The gray puppet wasn’t about to let that slide; he shoved at Eddie’s tangerine hands, continuing to tickle the wonderful pudge. “D-DAHAharlihin’?! Whahahat’re yaha dohohoin’?!”

“Well, you’ve made me wait for affection all day, and you *were* being rather mean about my shivering. I need to get some kind of revenge, dear. You understand, yes?” Frank moved his wiggly fingers to Eddie’s ribs, sending the man into a fit of laughter.

“I-IHIHIHI’M SAHAHARRY! IHI’LL GIHIVE YA AHAHALL THE CUHUHUDDLES YOUHU WAHAHANT!” Frank just chuckled, holding on tight and teasing his partner’s ribs. He loved the sound of Eddie’s laughter best. It was so bright, rich and full; such an easy thing to melt at. For the moment, though, he was strong.

Frank’s fingers moved to tug at the fabric of his partner’s tucked-in shirt. The soft fabric gave easily, exposing the soft felt of his tangerine belly. “Ah, what a sight. This tum of yours looks awfully cozy, Mr. Dear. I hope you don’t mind~” Before Eddie could protest any further, eight cold fingers were scribbling on his poor belly.

“F-FRAHAHAHANK! NAHAHAT THAHAT!” Of course he minded! Eddie normally refrained from using Frank’s first name, per their little habit; pet names or Mr. Frankly was what he stuck with. He couldn't help it, it tickled! The cool temperature somehow made everything twice as sensitive.

Frank gasped, letting his dramatic side take over. “*Frank*? When did we get so unprofessional?! You’ve *insulted* me, Mr. Dear. This cannot go unpunished.” *Oh, what a drama king*…

He paused for a second, hovering his hands above Eddie for a moment. Eddie was about to whine, his protests dying in his throat when he saw where those wiggling fingers were heading. His hips were horrible, and everyone in the neighborhood knew it. *Especially* Frank. Oh boy…

“D-Daharlin’ no! Wahahait, lehet’s talk ‘bout thihis! Ya don’t gotta- GYEEAAAH!” Frank let his hands touch down on Eddie’s hips, giving the love handles a firm squeeze. The postman squealed, jolting so hard he almost sent Frank flying. It didn’t deter the entomophile; he only dug in further.

The poor postman was an incoherent mess, sputtering through his loud, boisterous laughter. “F-FRAHAHAHA! IHI CAHAHA- IHI’M SAHAHARRY! YEHER KIHIHIHILLIN’ MEHEHE!” He bucked and thrashed, his slick red hair quickly becoming a mussed-up mess. So much for staying sharp…

“Oh, come now. Your hips can’t possibly be *that* ticklish. It’s illogical.” Frank smirked, kneading his partner’s hips and drilling his thumbs into the plush skin. Eddie flailed as he cackled, trying and failing to do anything but sit there and toss his head back with laughter. “Then again, you have always been a bit of an anomaly. I guess southern gentlemen are exempt from that rule.”

The tickle-drunk postman giggled and panted, his belly quivering as he tried to regain his composure. A beautiful red hue decorated his face, pairing wonderfully with his sunset-colored felt. “Ohoho gohosh… Geheez, Mr. Frankly. Thahat was mihighty mean…”

Eddie drummed his legs against the chair, losing his marbles over the tickling. It was so bad! Frank didn’t normally go that far with his tickles, but he definitely was that time.

Eddie’s hand tapped at Frank’s arm, signaling that he really couldn’t handle any more. The lanky puppet immediately stopped, moving to rub his partner’s belly soothingly. He didn’t really need to, but it felt right; plus, his hands were still cold.

Frank huffed, rolling his eyes and snuggling up to Eddie. “Oh, hush. You know you enjoyed it, *dearest*~” He felt his cheeks heat further, the butterflies in his stomach going wild. The man blamed Frank’s insect obsession.

Even though he was tired, he wrapped his arms around Frank and held him close. Any thoughts of moving to the bedroom were gone, the armchair and Frank seeming as comfortable as ever. Eddie sighed, relaxing into the plush fabric and playing with the other puppet’s hair. “Whooo…got me plum tuckered, darlin’. Was there s’posed to be a point to all’a that?”

Frank just shrugged, getting comfortable on his warm “bed” for the night; time had really flown. “It seemed enjoyable, and it absolutely was. Besides, all that laughing warmed you up. Now I’ve got a nice warm bed…” The puppet had no shame, smiling softly and curling up even further.

Eddie huffed at his reasoning; only Frank… He was about to do the same until a fun idea popped into his head. A little retribution would be nice, and his partner *was* still complaining about being cold. Even if he was tired, the red-haired man was ready to give Frank a taste of his own medicine.

Pretending to doze off again, Eddie wrapped his arms around Frank and laid his hands on the bug lover’s sides. Frank thought nothing of it, assuming his dear would be too tired for revenge; oh, how wrong he was. Right as Frank’s eyes closed, Eddie struck. He wiggled his fingers into the gray puppet’s soft sides, using his arms to hold him tight.

Frank squeaked, a pink glow showing on his gray cheeks. “D-dehehearest! Ihi thohohought youhu wehehere tihihired!” The postman just smiled fondly, a gleam of mischief in his warm eyes. “Oh, I am. I reckon some payback’s in order before my nap, don’tcha think?” His tangerine-colored fingers gently scribbled and squeezed along Frank’s sides, pulling giggle after giggle from him.

The butterfly enthusiast flapped his hands, Eddie’s strong arms restricting any other movement. His partner cooed at the stims, granting himself one small kiss to the top of Frank’s head. “Yer adorable, darlin’. Flappin’ your hands like a lil’ butterfly~”

Frank had to resist the urge to melt at the kiss, opting for more fruitless squirming. He tried to keep the gag going, but the puppet *could not* take what he dished out. “M-mihister- daharn it, Eddiehehehe!”

The southern man gasped, a wide smile taking over his features; he’d never had the best poker face. “And you yelled at me and everythin’! Look’it you, callin’ me by my first name. Yer lucky I’m such a nice fella.” Eddie teased each of Frank’s ribs, making the intellectual fellow squeak and squeal. It was so unfairly gentle…

“Dehehearest! Plehehease!” The radiant blush against Frank’s gray felt was honestly adorable to Eddie. He could look at it all day, the lovely sound of his giggles pairing perfectly. However, he knew that the other puppet was tired, and that they could both seriously use a nap. Reluctantly, Eddie slowed to gentle traces, drawing small shapes across Frank’s sides and lower back.

“Ohoho dear…thahank you.” Frank took a few giggly breaths, melting into the gentle touch. “No problem, buggy-boo. Now you get your nap.” The postman kissed his head, adjusting the blanket and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

Frank was out in seconds, the warmth of his partner’s embrace and the slight exhaustion from giggling sending him straight to dreamland. Eddie chuckled fondly as he watched him doze off; it was too cute.

Shifting in the armchair, he closed his eyes, arms still around Frank as he joined the other puppet in a nap. Snow continued to fall outside, the temperature steadily dropping; in the comfort of Eddie’s home, however, the two couldn’t be happier. The perfect end to a cold winter’s day: a tickly cuddle session and nap with a lover.

#ss2k23 #wh tickle #lee!eddie #ler!frank #lee!frank #ler!eddie #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #squealing santa 2k23 #ticklish!frank #ticklish!eddie #frankly dear #welcome home tickle #switch!frank #switch!eddie #wh eddie dear #wh frank frankly

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eretzyisrael · 2 months

Text

How Israel Lost the Information War

Yesterday I was listening to a news program on the radio while preparing dinner. The host asked his subject – I don’t recall who it was, probably an opposition member of the Knesset – this question: how can it be that world opinion has become solidly anti-Israel only a few months after the worst pogrom since the Holocaust, in which more than a thousand Jews were murdered in the most brutal fashion imaginable, in which hundreds of women were raped and children tortured to death? The predictable and stupidly self-serving political answer was that it was the fault of the Netanyahu government, which had “mismanaged” the war. But what is the correct answer?

The real reason is that Israel, while successful in the “kinetic” aspects of the campaign against Hamas, has been overwhelmingly defeated in the less visible theater of information warfare.

The roots of this defeat go back decades. There was as yet no “mismanagement” on the day after the Hamas invasion, when there was an outburst of anti-Israel demonstrations and attacks on Jews around the world while the rampage was still continuing in parts of southern Israel. The ground was prepared as far back as the 1970s, when a wave of Arab petrodollars, guided by the Soviet KGB, flowed into a massive project of psychological and diplomatic warfare against the Jewish state. It wasn’t so difficult for them – the built-in antisemitism of the West, temporarily suppressed after the Holocaust, found a new outlet. It was easy, too, to nurture antisemitic elements in the Muslim world. In the West, the educational systems were infiltrated and subverted, starting with the “best” universities and continuing down to textbooks and curricula for elementary schools. A reality-inverting identification was made between Zionism and Western colonialism and racism, benefiting from both the anger of the formerly colonized and the guilt of the colonizers.

Funds for anti-Israel initiatives also came from the network of charities associated with George Soros, starting around the beginning of the 1990s. This money nourished many of the NGOs and human rights groups that became centers of anti-Israel propaganda, and continues to support them.1

In the diplomatic realm, the invention of the Palestinian Refugee after Israel’s War of Independence (a war of national liberation in which the formerly colonized Jews fought Arab proxies of the British Empire!), provided Hamas with the troops it needed, fed and educated to the point of fanatic hatred with Western money. Hamas combined the multi-faceted indoctrination against Jews and Israel, pioneered by the PLO after Oslo, with religious jihad. Both the West and the Muslim world were primed and ready to blame Israel for the murder, rape, and pillage of her people. And the great-power rivals of the US, Russia and China, were only too happy to join in the take-down of what they see (correctly?) as an American satellite, an outpost of the US in an important zone of contention.

Given the fertile soil, the propaganda offensive of Hamas and its supporters when Israel counterattacked blossomed into a worldwide flourishing of anti-Israel and anti-Jewish expression. The Palestinians, who have developed the technique of exploiting their supposed victimhood, sometimes by exaggeration, sometimes by invention (as in the alleged shooting of the boy Mohammad al Dura in 2000, probably the most blatant yet effective “Pallywood” production ever), and sometimes by deliberately putting their people in harm’s way, pulled out all the stops. Soon the horrors of October 7th were drowned out by the suffering of the Gazans affected by the war that their leaders had started. Western media and humanitarian organizations slavishly repeated Hamas propaganda about civilian casualties with proforma disclosures that their only source was Hamas.

Mismanagement on the part of Israel also goes back decades. It includes overdependence on the US and consequent weakness in the face of pressure from unfriendly administrations, inability to overcome wish-fulfillment illusions about Palestinian motives and plans, weakness in the face of domestic pressure (for example, the release of more than a thousand imprisoned terrorists in return for one kidnapped soldier), and the tendency to prioritize internal political issues over serious external threats. A very serious failure has been our sporadic, inconsistent, and poorly funded actions in the information arena, while our enemies have implemented a long-term, carefully planned and meticulously executed campaign.

Al Jazeera, began broadcasting in Arabic by satellite in 1996, and since then has added multiple languages, including English. Based in Qatar and very influential in the Arab world, it has been in the forefront of anti-Israel propaganda ever since. In wartime, it specializes in inflammatory stories and photos of “atrocities” allegedly committed by the IDF (pictures from Syria and natural disasters are sometimes used). Left-leaning Western media, like the British Guardian newspaper have always followed an anti-Israel line; and the BBC is far from impartial. More recently, mainstream media in the US like the NY Times and Washington Post newspapers, the NPR radio network, CNN, and others – staffed by the products of “good” universities – have become more than merely biased: at their worst (which is often), they are mouthpieces for Hamas. Pro-Israel media in the West are rare and marginal. Some of Israel’s own media – in particular the English edition of Ha’aretz, which is widely read throughout the world – is only slightly less toxic than Al Jazeera. Israel is overwhelmed on social media as well, in part by botnets, but also by individuals and anti-Israel NGOs which dedicate staff to this function.

The combination of governments, international institutions, NGOs, media, academic institutions, and the arts all promulgating the carefully nurtured myths of Palestinian victimization and Israeli malevolence have overpowered Israel’s woefully inadequate attempts at a response.

In short, Israel has been and continues to be outgunned in the realm of information warfare. There have been sporadic attempts to improve the situation, but the funds for such a massive undertaking have never been available, nor would there likely be agreement on precisely what the message should be and how it should be presented. And we don’t have decades to lay the groundwork and gradually uproot the deep-seated antisemitism and hatred of the state of the Jews that has developed over time, even if we knew how to do it.

The best strategy in the face of this defeat therefore will be to depend on the human tendency to cheer for the winner: to be the “strong horse” that everyone bets on. Israel will need to defeat its enemies on the physical plane, to humiliate them and strike fear into the ones that are left. Rather than a picture of “responsible citizenship” that the world has been conditioned to disbelieve, our image should be that of a violent and dangerous player. In an environment where we can’t create warmth, we should at least inspire trepidation.

1 Alexander H. Joffe, “Bad Investment: The Philanthropy of George Soros and the Arab-Israeli Conflict, How Soros-funded Groups Increase Tensions in a Troubled Region: May 2013 https://www.ngo-monitor.org/soros.pdf

#Information war #Israel and Palestinian Arabs #Jew Hatred #Media #War

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rainylana · 2 years

Text

“You’re a good boy.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie wants to help. he’s tried to help. you won’t let him. long story short you fuck on a picnic table.

warnings: okay so writing this just felt dark to me. abuse, physically and verbally, reader is brainwashed and delusional honestly, also described with a southern, squeaky voice, language, smut, sir kink, spanking, reader wants eddie to hurt her but he doesn’t feel good about it, public sex, sex on a picnic table, v quick orgasms (i’ll die on the hill that eddie doesn’t last long) drinking, cheating ( reader’s boyfriend is an asshole so it’s okay), slight manipulation on behalf of the reader, reader doesn’t know the different between love and pain. i feel like eddie has a different vibe to him here, but i wrote him that way purposely as the storyline is dark. let me know what you thought of this! i like the way it turned out.

taglist!

@ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @eddiemania @eddiemunson @kellysimagines @imabadarsebard @supercalifragilisticprincess @antigoneidk @averysblog @catherinnn @ahzysauce @imangy @softyutae @phantomxoxo @fionnthebandersnacc @delilahtaylorsverson @justaproudslytherpuff @cosmic-lavender @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @imdoingbetternow @your-starless-eyes-remain @flowers-and-tsukki @ultimate-sdmn-trash @blowing-mikey @tripthlightfantastic @chaos-incorp @nothisispatric @mic429 @avobabe87 @hearts4laura @aa-li-yah @lillianofliterature @kaqua @underthebatcape @ches-86 @itiscj @noturmom15 @lexthemess21 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @no0neknowsm3 @rovckwells @ohlovelyhollow @tessiemessie @heeyitsg @genuine-possum @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @fvcking-gxddess @edzmunsonswife @basicallybats

Eddie and Wayne sat on the shared picnic table of the trailer park, centered around a fire pit with empty beer cans and cigarette butts decorated around it. They spent a lot of time there, as did the other residents in the late night hours. It was a place where him and his uncle could catch up, shoot the shit and do what uncles and nephews did these days. There really wasn’t much of that going on tonight though. Eddie had a stressed, pensive look on his face, elbows resting on his bouncing knees and rings scraping together from shaking hands. His eyes were narrowed and his brows were creased, lips in a tight line and ears straining to hear.

Wayne was leaning his back against the table top, glancing between his nephew and your trailer that was only fifty some feet away from them. He’d occasionally pat Eddie’s back when he’d tense up from another yell or scream, debating whether or not to try and convince him to just go inside and go to sleep. He knew he wouldn’t listen, anyways. Wayne sighed tiredly at the sound of something being thrown. He hoped tonight wouldn’t be a night were he’d have to call the police again, not that it ever really did much.

You had a reputation, and not a very good one. Your boyfriend, who you lived with, was an absolute shit head who treaded you like dirt underneath his shoes. And the worst part? You let it happen. No matter how many times Wayne called the police or Eddie tried begging you to leave him, you wouldn’t. You never really shared why, but you didn’t think it was anyone’s business, anyways. It was your relationship.

You’d been there for almost five years now, and it was like this almost every other night. Nights when there was no yelling was when everyone got concerned. It wasn’t just Eddie and Wayne. No, everyone was concerned for your safety. There were times where the whole trailer park tried to have an intervention when he’d beaten you up too badly, thrown you outside the door and kicked you against the gravel. Your boyfriend had spent the night in jail that night, the women of the trailer park took care of you, and Eddie visited your window around two am.

But nothing anyone ever said or did was good enough. You made it clear that you weren’t leaving, that he loved you in his own way, and that you loved him. You liked the way he treated you. It was hard for Eddie to understand why you stayed and Wayne knew this, so he tried to help him better understand. They could only do so much to help you, especially when you didn’t want help to begin with. Wayne wasn’t sure why Eddie was so invested with you. Maybe it was just the sole fact that what was happening was wrong and he wanted to help a lady in trouble, sure. He’d given that thought. That’s how mostly everyone saw it. But he knew it was something more for Eddie.

Maybe he saw himself in you. Maybe he had a crush on you. Who knows. But Wayne worried that he was going to invest himself too much in your safety. As much as he knew what was happening was wrong, that it needed to stop and your boyfriend needed to locked away, he didn’t want his nephew to get hurt.

Eddie was biting at his nails hazardously to the point Wayne could see blood crusted around his thumb. It was a nice night out for the most part. The air was crisp and the sky was clear, full of stars and crickets, screams and shouts in the background. They both jumped when your boyfriend stormed. He slammed open the door and tumbled down the steps, barely holding himself up with a beer bottle clutched tightly in his grasp.

“You clean that shit off your face, you hear me!” He slurred, stumbling back and forth with sweat rolling down his face.

“Go fuck your self!” You screamed, bracing yourself against the doorframe and holding it tightly, then stretching out your arm to give him the finger.

Eddie flinched when he threw down the bottle, his whole body on edge incase he needed to step in. Wayne placed a hand on his shoulder blades.

“Bitch.” He sneered, giving the two men a nasty glare before he he stumbled off down the gravel road and off to god knows where. You stumbled down the steps yourself, not having seen the men yet, and glared off in his distance as you crossed your arms. They couldn’t tell if you were drunk or not.

“Y/n?” Wayne took action, clearing his throat.

You spun around and swallowed, cocking your head and letting out a breathy smile. “Hi, boys.” You politely waved at them.

“Everything okay?” He noticed your disheveled state. “Need anything?”

You chuckled quietly and shook your head, wiping a tear track away. “No need to worry bout me, Wayne. Imma’ big girl.”

Eddie looked like a little boy. He sat there silently and stared at you with big eyes. Wayne nodded and looked at his nephew. “You let me know if you need something, k?” He spoke to both you and Eddie, getting a nod from the younger man as he watched his uncle walk back to their trailer.

“Not gonna talk to me, Eddie?” Your voice was small and meek, questioning and bubbly all at once.

Eddie blinked at your outfit, scanning you up and down, then the make up on your face. “What is all that?”

You smiled wildly and held out your arms. “In it’ pretty? I wanna be like all the girls on the tv! I’m gonna be an actress!” You skipped over and settled beside Eddie, bumping shoulders and taking his hand in yours, giving it friendly squeezes.

“Was that what that was all about?” He raised a brow, eyes glued to the glitter you had on your eyes and cheekbones. You were a fascinating person. Despite the situation you lived in, you were oddly….happy? No, happy didn’t seem like the right word. No, you were brainwashed was how Eddie saw it. You wore a red, short dress that had black gems across the bottom. It looked like something from the 20’s, and your hair was let down your back freely with wild and bright makeup on your face, tear tracks and all.

Your face was always shiny. No matter when he saw you, your face always had old tears on your cheeks, etched into your makeup. It was just apart of you. You were always so shiny.

“Just don’t want me to leave him, is all.” You shrugged your shoulder. You wouldn’t leave anyways. “Do you like my dress?”

He swallowed and nodded, giving you another once over, your hand still holding his tightly. You made him extremely confused. You were so optimistic and falsely happy. You flirted with him all the time and even kissed him on multiple occasions. He never stopped you. No, he was practically head over heals for you and he didn’t know why. All he knew was that he wanted to keep you safe and away from him, but Wayne was right, they could only do so much, especially when you didn’t want help.

Wayne told him over and over that the best thing he could do was be there for you, to be a friend and someone to lean on in the midst of everything, so he tried his best to do so.

“You’re quiet tonight.” You placed your arm on his chest and traced the muscles underneath his shirt, batting your lashes at him.

He stared at you then flickered down at your lips. “Jus’ thinkin.”

“Bout?”

“You’ll get mad.” He looked at the ground for a brief minute, knowing you did no like being pestered about your relationship.

You sighed, knowing that was what he was thinking about, and grumbled, leaning over to place your head against his chest. “Stop it, Eds. Worry too much.”

He loved your voice. It was almost squeaky, dripping in a southern accent and he loved how you pronounced his name. It was high pitched and downright adorable.

This was a routine that Eddie knew well too much. He could sit there and berate you for staying, do the same thing everyone else did, but that would do no good. It was an old song that you didn’t sing along to anymore and had no desire to hear. Be a friend.

“So, an actress, huh?”

You looked at him and beamed with a wide smile. “Mhm!” You hummed through your pearly teeth. “Think I can be a star, Eddie?”

“I think you could be anything you want to be, y/n.” He rested his elbow on the picnic table, letting go of your hand to sat behind your back where you leaned.

“I haven’t been to the movies in so long.” You sighed, twirling your fingers and looking up to the starlight sky. “Don’t even member’ last time I went. He won’t take me no more.”

You turned your face to the side and he could see the faded purple of an old black eye. He swallowed hard before he glanced down at your thigh brushing against his rough jeans. “I would take you, but I know you wouldn’t go.”

You smiled sweetly and picked your bare feet off the ground, bringing your knees to your chest. “Maybe we could keep it a secret! We don’t gotta tell know one, Eddie.” You looked at him with big, full eyes that made him nod.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You breathed whimsically and curled into him, causing him to stiffen awkwardly. Wayne warned him about getting too friendly with you, but he didn’t seem to care too much.

“You’re so good to me.” You yawned quietly, turning to lay your head in his lap. He gulped and held his hands awkwardly in the air before you grabbed his ringed palm and brought it down to rest against your belly. “Always wantin’ to take care of me.”

He stared down at you as you got sleepier. Your eyes grew heavy and you closed them with soft fluttered, fingers wrapped around his wrist. He brought up his other hand to brush away some loose hair, lightly tracing the fading bruise around your eye. It wasn’t fair that you stayed with him. You could have anyone you wanted to. You could have him. You were so beautiful and sweet. Why did you stay there with him? It just wasn’t right. Through no fault of your own, you were sick in the head.

He seen your lip twitch as he traced the bruise, ghosting it lightly. He sighed heavily with creased brows. “I wish you wouldn’t let him treat you this way.”

You opened your eyes and cocked your head. “Like how?”

“You know how.” He gestured toward the bruise.

You shrugged your shoulder with a light smile, leaning up on your elbows. “Just how he loves me, Eddie. He’s good to me in his own way.”

“Oh, yeah? Like how?” He couldn’t help the malice that came through. “All he does is beat on you, y/n.”

“He doesn’t!” You snapped, your voice cracking through your thick accent, raising up off his lap. You angrily crossed your arms and huffed, looking away from him. “He loves me, Eddie! You don’t know what being in love is like!”

“I know it’s not that!” He pointed to your bruise.

“Or this.” He picked up your wrist and flipped it, pointing to the finger prints from being gripped too tightly.

“Stop it!” You yanked your arm away from him and let out a cry, scooting away from him.

Emotions had come out too quickly, too suddenly, and now Eddie was left with a hole in his heart that felt guilty for making you upset. But damnit, he was upset. You controlled his every thought. He couldn’t focus in school or work, during his campaigns or band rehearsal. He could only think about you and it was driving him crazy. And frankly, it was pissing him off.

“Sorry.” He swallowed, slouching slightly in his posture. He gave you a sideways look at the sound of your sniffle. You were crying again.

“Why do you care so much?” You allowed yourself to say.

Why did he care so much? He didn’t know.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly, staring down at the exposure of your thighs. “I just know that…that you deserve so much better than him, and I don’t like seeing you hurt. Is that too difficult to understand?”

You turned to look at him, and he swallowed uncomfortably at your tear struck face, eyes sinking a little. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away. “Everyone says that.” You answered thickly, voice small and weak. “But you’re the only one who really means it. I know how much you want me to leave him.”

He only nodded, afraid of what he would say if he chose to spoke. You shocked him when you placed a small kiss on his lips, just a little peck, and cupped his cheek with your palm. He gave you a lovestruck look before you climbed into his lap, reconnecting your lips in a tangle of desperation and passion. You held his face and he folded his long arms around your back. You shamelessly grinded on his lap, making him groan in your mouth before he bucked his hips up between your legs.

“Does it- does it make you- mad that I stay?” You spoke between kisses, tongues lapping and licking teeth.

“Yes.” He groaned, moving down to your neck to suckle the skin. His dick was hard against your thigh. “You piss me off.”

You whimpered and tilted your eyes up to the stars. You reached around to grab his hand, placing it on your mound and rubbing yourself against his palm. “I’m sorry.” You cried, more tears slipping past your lids.

He came back up to your lips, holding your cheek with his free palm as he kept his other cupped on your cunt. You groaned at the feeling of his hand on your face. “Eddie,” You panted. “Want you to hit me.”

His brows furrowed. You kept his hand on your cheek. He pulled away with a look. “What?”

“Please.” You begged in tears, looking at him with such a look that it nearly made him crumble. “Hurt me. I’ve made you mad. I don’t want you to be mad at me, Eddie.”

“I’m not mad.” He denied quickly, pulling his hand from your cunt to rest against your thigh.

“Please,” You whimpered, pressing your nose against his. “I want to feel your hands. I need to feel something, please- please hit me, Eddie. Hurt me.” Your breath came out in pants that caused the blood to rush to his cock, and you placed your hand on the bulge underneath you that caused him to gasp shortly, gripping the picnic table he sat on.

“Fuck.” He groaned, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck, y/n…we…he might,”

“He’s not coming back anytime soon.” You answered softly, fingers trailing the tent in his pants. Your eyes were shining with tears while his looks straight up guilty and in love. You were manipulating him with your power that you held, but he didn’t care. He moaned lightly when you squeezed him.

“You don’t deserve to be hit.” The veins in his arms poked out from the chill in the night, his Megadeth shirt clinging to his muscles.

“Maybe not.” You said hoarsely, the hazy glow of the street light above you making the purple glitter on your cheeks sparkle, the red lipstick you wore smudged from his full lips. “But I want to. Not by him. By you. Please, Eddie. Make me feel something. I can’t feel anymore. Help me feel, Eddie.”

You both were moaning through your words when you started arching your back and pressing your cunt into his jeans, your nails digging into his back. “How?” He said thickly, his lips parting. “How do..here?” He grabbed your hand and placed it on your cheek, his heart racing.

You shook your head. “No.”

He looked down at your breasts, closing his eyes for a brief second before he pulled your hand down to your pussy. “Here?”

You stifled a moan at the contact, but shook your head again. He grew confused and you pressed your chest against him, holding him, and you dragged his hand around your waist to place his hand on the curve of your ass, the angle barely keeping it covered. “Here.” You whispered into his ear.

He raised a brow and squeezed the flesh of your ass, his stomach doing cartwheels when you whined. “Here? Want me to hit you here?”

You nodded this time. “Yes, sir.”

He still didn’t feel good about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. The girl he was hopelessly ogling over was grinding herself on him, leaving sloppy trails down his neck and asking him to spank her. It may have been wrong. No, it was wrong. But if it was really what you wanted, then so be it.

“Bend over.”

You obliged quickly, maneuvering yourself off of him so you could lower yourself down to his lap, your ass resting on his thighs. Eddie gave a scan around him. Nobody was out, but that didn’t mean his uncle wayne wouldn’t be coming back out to smoke or check on him.

He looked back down to you and kept in a filthy moan at the sight, and he crumbled even further when you reached around to pull your dress up, revealing your white cotton underwear. He gulped nervously, resting a hand on your thigh. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes, sir.” You said bashfully, resting your cheek on the moldy wood. “Make me cry, Eddie. Be mean to me.”

Sir was sending him over the edge. “Okay.” He muttered. “Just..just tell me if you want me to stop, alright?” He waited for you to nod.

He rested his hand on the curvature of your panties, painfully hard, and took a breath before he lifted his hand and brought it down on your bottom. You said nothing, and his immediately went to your face to see if you were okay. He slapped it down again, the same cheek and the same speed. You said nothing again, your eyes a hazy glow under the light.

He smacked you a little hard on the third and fourth hit, and he noticed how your lips twitched a bit, making him twitch in his pants. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Your face was growing red. “But I…I want you to hit me harder. You’re not being mean enough.”

His lips parted as a hesitant look crossed his features, and he nervously looked around to see if any spectators were out. He did not want to traumatize his uncle.

He surprised you, and himself, with a sharp, full handed blow that made you squeal that time. His eyes widened in concern, but your moan calmed him. “Yeah. Like that.” You panted, and he swallowed roughly. He was going to give you what you wanted.

He took down your panties until they rested at your ankles, and you kicked them off without care. He scooted out to the edge of the seat so he could lift your backside higher up on his thigh, your feet touching the ground now. Your heart started to race. “Comfortable?” His voice surprising came out dominating, and you nodded meekly.

“Cat got your tongue?” He wanted to hear sir again.

You blushed, licking your lips as you felt your pussy throb for him. “Yes, sir. I’m comfortable.”

This was wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong to hurt you, even if you wanted it. He shouldn’t be treating you like some whore out in the middle of the street for shit sakes.

“How mean?” He said softly, making your eyes flutter shut. You buried your face in the wood beneath you.

“Very mean.” You answered honestly. “Sir.”

He placed his hand on the smooth skin of your bottom, just a hint of pink from his previous slaps. He wanted to see it brighter. Very mean. He lifted his hand and began slapping it down hard, alternating between each cheek in firm, heavy blows that made you gasp out surprisingly at his dedication to your cause to make you cry.

He kept his eyes glued to your face, watching the way your jaw stayed unhinged, eyes filled with tears and the way your hands gripped the wood plank beneath you. You were gasping and moaning and crying all at the same time, a look of euphoric pain and pleasure dancing in the glitter you painted on yourself. His hand was burning to the point it hurt himself, but he didn’t stop, he only switched hands, the one with the three big, chunky rings. He could only imagine how your ass felt.

Slap after slap, it burned so hotly that it scorched your skin and it felt like it was digging through the bone and would come out on the other side. Both you and Eddie were panting, and you shamelessly began rocking yourself back and forth of his thigh to get some friction. He could see your shiny arousal dripping between your thighs, and that was only ambition to spank you harder.

You let out a blubbering sob as he laid red hand prints on your ass, making sure to mark each surface of your skin. It shocked him how you weren’t squirming away. Your arms clawed at the wood and you arched your back, but you weren’t kicking your legs out in pain. You laid right there and took it all. It made his heart ache with guilt.

The pulsing ache between your legs was so strong that you reached your hand under your belly to find your clit, rubbing fast, erratic circles that just wasn’t getting the job done. Eddie groaned above you at the sight. “Can I fuck you?” He said it without care and reason, in a husky and desperate tone.

“Yes!” You sobbed, the pain in his hits starting to become too overwhelming. He stopped as soon as you said it, and you gasped when he gripped your forearms and spun you around to bend you over the picnic table. You groaned out as the wood cut into your skin, but you didn’t care. Eddie hurriedly unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans and boxers just bellow his hips, aligning his hard, thick cock at your entrance and thrusting himself in. You both simultaneously moaned out in relief at the feeling, his chest against your back as his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up off the table by a few inches.

He thrusted hard into you that made you choke on your breath, eyes blurred with tears as the glitter melted down your neck from tear tracks. His cock abused your g spot and you pulsed and swelled around him, his breath hot in your head and dark curls tickling your neck. It was completely disgusting the way he was fucking you, rough and desperate with pornographic and filthy moans both shamefully leaving you. It wouldn’t have been a shocker if everyone heard what was going on.

Eddie groaned when he shot his load into you with one final, sharp and deep thrust of his hips, his stomach clenching and knees buckling against the sides of yours. You sang out in moans and whimpers as you clenched around him, the breath taken from your lungs as you reached out to grip the edge of the table, nails practically chipping. You both rested there for a minute in sweat and tears before he dragged himself out of your sore cunt.

He plopped himself down on the seat, panting heavily as you— decided not to sit, and he tucked himself back into his jeans, leaving his belt unbuckled. You turned your neck and lifted your dress to see the redness of your skin, some parts purple and bruised. Eddie looked over and saw you, going up to your eyes and widening slightly to see your reaction. All you did was smile and pick up your panties, leaning down to pat him on the cheek. “Thanks, Eddie.” You said gratefully.

“You’re a good boy.”

He watched you turn on your heal and walk with shaky legs back to the travel, gravel digging in to your bare feet. You never seemed to have shoes on. Guilt started to eat him alive, and his face etched in confusion and sorrow. Despite the mind blowing orgasm he had, right now, he did not feel good.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson series #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie the banished #eddie the brave #eddie the freak munson

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oceans-goddess · 5 months

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Negan x reader pt. 1

Author's note: Guys, I'm sorry, this is so shit. All I've written lately are papers for class, so I just wrote this to get the creative juices flowing. I know its not much, but PART 2 IS COMING AND IT WILL BE FLUFFIER DON'T WORRY!!! Trust the process🙏🙏🙏🙏. I'm planning on having this be a multi-part story because I've been fucking obsessed w this man lately like fucckkkkkk just LOOK AT HIM ARGH anyways let me know if you wanna be in the taglist😘😘

Summary: Female!reader is on her own until she comes across Negan and his men on a supply run.

Warnings: mentions of death, panic attack

______________________________________________________________

Making it this far was pure luck. When the walkers came, I’d been lucky enough to have a father who’d been in the military and could teach me how to shoot. When we had to leave home and live life out on the road, constantly searching for cans of old food, I’d been lucky enough to always come across something to eat. When it got cold, we got lucky enough to find houses with fireplaces and enough firewood to last us the night.

I guess my luck ran out a month ago when a walker fell out of a closet and latched onto my dad’s throat while we were scoping out another house to stay in.

Since then, I’ve been on my own, running out of bullets, out of gas, out of hope. But I had to keep going. He’d been so sure that we would find others. Survivors. People who could help us. I had to find them– to know that his hope wasn’t for nothing. He’d kept a map with him, and we had been driving in a circular pattern, the center being our house in southern Virginia, looking for evidence of a settlement.

So here I was, staying in the master bedroom of a quaint house with a well-stocked pantry, planning out my next steps– with every closet checked, of course. I was plotting out the highway exit I would take tomorrow when I suddenly heard an engine.

A car engine.

People.

I hurried over to the window and peaked through the blinds. Surprisingly, the people in the trucks and vans stopped just a few houses down from the one I was in. Why didn’t they continue on?

Several men climbed out of a large truck– and all of them were equipped with massive guns. I knew that they were likely for walkers, but the sneers on their faces were unnerving. I watched to see what they would do.

Then, a man with a black leather jacket and a barbed bat hopped out of the cab of another truck and began ordering the men in different directions with a wild smile plastered across his face. Anxiety grew in the pit of my stomach.

After a few minutes, his men came back out of the houses nearest to the trucks with arms full of soup cans and furniture. When they were done, he ordered them to continue on in other houses, pointing directly at the one I was in.

My father might’ve been right– there were other people out there– but I never really considered that they might not want to help me. That they might not want me to join them. Not to mention I hadn’t seen a single woman come out of any car...

I needed to get out before they got here.

I dropped to the floor, grabbed my things as quickly as I could, and shoved them into my pack, but before I could stand, there was a bang from downstairs. I heard men speaking, laughing.

My heart racing, I pulled the closet door open as quietly as I could and slipped inside, listening for a moment before I realized where I stood.

I was standing inside a closet, waiting for someone to finish searching the house.

Images of my father bleeding out on the floor surged into my mind. I gagged as I remembered the foul smell that billowed out of that closet when it opened just moments before I lost him. I remembered his screams, and my hands shaking as I shoved a knife through its skull. And then through his when he died.

Tears streamed down my face, and I covered my mouth, choking back sobs. They couldn’t find me. They couldn’t. I could tell these men wouldn’t allow anything to take them by surprise like my father had. They would shoot first, ask questions later.

I heard footsteps as a few men clomped up the stairs. More tears fell. All I could think of were their guns, and my father’s blood; their knives, and him lying there on the floor.

* * *

“It’s a girl, sir.”

Negan raised a brow.

“A girl? In the house? Alive?”

“Yes, sir. She was hiding in a closet upstairs, crying.” The leader of the Saviors hummed in reply, and stood thinking for a moment.

“Should I… should I bring her out here?” his subordinate asked. He only waved a hand in response and walked toward the house.

Inside, men looked at him with wide eyes and confused expressions. One man-- Nicholas, he believed his name was-- walked up to him and explained that the girl wouldn’t move from the closet floor.

Upon reaching the master bedroom, more of his men bombarded him with dimwitted statements.

“Sir, she won’t move."

“She just keeps crying.”

“Alright, alright, guys. Honestly, it is just a girl. I’m sure you’ve seen one before, so fucking relax,” he said with exasperation in his voice. He stopped when he heard a sniffle from the closet, then walked over and peered inside.

Though Negan wasn’t known for his big heart, he was sure his broke a little when he saw the young woman that sat before him.

* * *

“All of you, out. Now.”

That was all the man in the leather jacket had to say for the room to become empty again, save for the two of us. I was still on the floor, my chest heaving, my hands shaking.

The man squatted in front of me, bat in hand. It was chipped and cracked in several spots, especially at the head. In the blemishes, I swore I saw faint splotches of red. I thought I would vomit.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, in a voice that sounded as if he was speaking to a cornered animal. In a way, I suppose, he was.

“Are you alright? Why are you crying? You hurt?”

I inhaled, meaning to respond, but all I could manage was another weak cry.

The man cocked his head to the side a bit, then looked down at the bat in his hand, realizing what was the matter. He tossed it behind him onto the bed, then turned back to me and raised his hands and continued.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget I’ve even got her in my hands... I’m Negan. What’s your name, doll?”

With the bat out of sight, it was a bit easier to concentrate on his hands, his face. Though he looked quite rugged, with a shaggy beard and thick eyebrows, his brown eyes were soft, inviting.

“Y/n,” I whispered after a moment. My voice was hoarse, and I let out a cough. He sat down fully on the ground and crossed his legs.

“I’m sorry, can you say that one more time? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Sorry… It’s-- it's Y/n,” I repeated, wringing my hands together as I spoke. He smiled.

“Y/n. What a beautiful name. It suits you, it really does. Look, I’m sorry we scared you, sweetheart. Is this your house? We didn’t know anyone was here when we came in.”

I shook my head.

“No, this isn’t my house. I was just passing through.” The man, Negan, nodded.

“Are you by yourself, honey?”

I hesitated. He put his hands up again.

“I promise, we don’t wanna hurt you. We were just lookin’ for supplies to take back with us.” My eyes widened as I recalled what I had been thinking when Negan’s trucks first arrived on the street. This could be my chance to escape the world my father hadn’t been able to. This is what he would have wanted for me, I knew it.

“I… yes, I’m alone. I have been for a while now.” A short whistle sounded from Negan’s lips.

“You’ve been surviving out here all on your own? That’s fucking badass, I hope you know that.”

I smiled shyly, looking down at my lap and sniffling.

“Hey, have you eaten in a while?” he asked. “We’ve got a few sandwiches, apples, some sodas, down in one of the trucks. I’m sure we could spare some for you if you’re hungry.”

“I don't wanna take your lunch–”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, doll. There’s plenty extra. But I appreciate you bein’ so considerate,” he explained, finishing with a smile. He must’ve known he was making progress with me. I wiped my eyes a bit.

“C’mon, let’s go grab you something to eat,” he said, standing up and holding his large hand out to me. Looking up at him from where I sat, I could imagine how meek I must’ve looked– how embarrassingly harmless. But looking up at him stirred something in me. His confident half-smile, his slicked back hair-- his entire persona was so charming, so comforting.

I grabbed his hand, and he pulled me up with ease before grabbing his bat and leading me downstairs.

* * *

“You feel like having another?” Negan asked as I finished my second peanut butter and jelly. We sat in the dusty cab of the truck he’d come in, and he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel while watching me eat. I shook my head.

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” I responded. The bed of the truck shifted up and down as men piled boxes of supplies into it. If they needed this much stuff, I thought, there had to be a ton of people where they came from that were planning to use it. With that in mind, I cleared my throat to ask the question I’d been gathering the guts to ask since I’d sat down.

“Negan,” I began, and he hummed. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything you want, honey,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. I blushed and looked away, then carried on.

“You said you were taking the supplies back with you…”

“Mmhmm,” he grunted, gently urging me to continue.

“Back to where, exactly?” I whispered. He twisted to face me more in his seat.

“We’ve got sort of a compound set up,” he explained. “It’s not too far from here. It’s got fences, walls. Lots of people, and plenty more food to go around.”

All this time, my father had been right, and then some. People weren’t just surviving out here in this world– they were thriving.

“Do you… have any extra space?”

Negan laughed heartily.

“For you, doll? Abso-friggin-lutely.”

I nodded.

“So I can… I can come back with you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d love to have you come back with us, y/n. Can’t leave a pretty thing like you with them ugly sons of bitches, now can I? You’d be much more protected there than you are here, I can tell you that.”

* * *

About an hour later, Negan sent a grumbling Dwight to find a new seat in another truck and was driving back to the compound with y/n in the passenger seat.

She was a cute little thing, he’d decided, and he’d been watching her shamelessly since he’d brought her outside. Her teary, guarded eyes, her cute little pout, everything about her was fucking adorable.

Although, he was also amazed at how long she’d held up out here. People like her, people who hid and cried instead of standing and fighting, those people were pretty much gone by now. How had she made it this far?

He struck up a polite conversation, asking questions here and there. There had to be some explanation for how she’d survived for all this time. After a few minutes, though, it was clear that the questions were making her nervous. His curiosity about her was eating away at him as he drove– he was used to getting answers faster than this. But he supposed he could wait this time.

The sweet girl beside him sat silently for the rest of the drive, and though the questions piled up in his mind, Negan was smiling.

#twd negan #twd negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan #the walking dead #negan fanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x y/n #negan fluff #negan smith fluff #the walking dead negan #the walking dead negan smith #fanfic

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girlactionfigure · 5 months

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*ISRAEL REALTIME* - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

▪️DEFENSE MIN. SAYS.. Israeli forces would be shifting from what he called the “intense maneuvering phase of the war” toward “different types of special operations (in Gaza).” IDF spokesman: We have moved to the next stage of the fighting.

▪️ROCKETS.. large launch from Gaza at Tel Aviv, Holon, Rishon, Ramla, Rehovot, Yavne and more. Rockets from Gaza at Sderot and surrounds.

▪️ROCKETS & DRONES.. 6 barrages today at northern border towns, particularly Kiryat Shmona, Metulla, and Rosh HaNikra.

▪️EMBEDDED MASSACRE REPORTER.. Honest Reporting: A photographer working for Reuters shared on Instagram on October 7 a call to Gazans to invade Israel.

▪️IDF ASSASSINATION IN SYRIA.. the IDF killed by drone strike Hassan Akasha, who was responsible for firing the rockets of the terrorist organization Hamas from Syrian territory towards the rear of the State of Israel in Beit Jen in Syria in recent weeks. This is in addition to the assassination of Hezbollah commander Wissam in Lebanon.

▪️MINISTER OF SOCIAL EQUALITY CLOSES MINISTRY.. Minister Shikli gives up the Ministry of Social Equality and returns to serve as MK in order to save public money.

▪️U.S. BASES ATTACKED.. The US military base Harb al-Jir in the Syrian province of Hasaka, was attacked with rockets and a suicide drone, by the Shiite militias in Iraq. The US bases in Syria Al Amr and Ramilan were attacked by the Islamic resistance. The American base in Eastern Syria, Conico is under missile attack. And the US base in Erbil, northern Iraq under suicide drone attack.

▪️HAMAS MURDERED GAZANS WHO REQUESTED AID.. Conversations between Gaza citizens and Unit 504 officers reveal: Hamas murdered a Gazan citizen who tried to request aid from UNRWA, the organization's terrorists steal food from American associations and take over citizens' homes. (IDF spokesperson, with audio and transcript).

▪️PAY FOR SLAY INCLUDES MASSACRE.. PALESTINIAN AUTHORITY ANNOUNCES OCT. 7 MASSACRING TERRORISTS WILL GET A TERROR STIPEND.. like all other Palestinian prisoners.

▪️REUTERS ON ISRAELI RESPONSE.. A Reuters report from six sources, including a Syrian intelligence officer and sources affiliated with Hezbollah: Israel has changed strategy since the Oct 7 massacre, carrying out an unprecedented scale of deadly strikes in Syria against Iranian arms shipments and air defense systems. "Israel has abandoned the familiar rules of the game and seems no longer afraid of inflicting heavy losses on Hezbollah." In the past the IDF used to fire a warning shot before hitting the target, but now "they shoot everyone directly - shoot to kill”.

⬆️ Northern Front 🗞 IDF moving MLRS (multi-launch rocket systems) north. (Guy Varon) Hezbollah channel: Intensive activity of American Air Force planes off the coast of Lebanon and Syria.

⬇️ Southern Front 🗞 IDF spokesman: We are focusing on the central camps and Khan Yunis. This is an intense activity.

Hamas claims that they thwarted a rescue attempt by the IDF to release a hostage in al-Boreij in the center of the Gaza Strip.

Rumors of several battles with not small losses in Gaza, but unconfirmed (4 sources). May be fake news, or may be under publication hold - IDF spokes contact.

A commander in Hezbollah threatens: The impure Zionist entity will pay a heavy price for its mistakes. Today Tel Aviv will burn. Wait at home and be ready at 18:00. His tweet was deleted after a few minutes.

➡️ Eastern Front (Judea-Samaria) 🗞 Three terrorists were killed in Tulkarm.

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Iron Sword #Realtime Updates

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natlacentral · 2 months

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ONE NAME IS ALL KIAWENTIIO NEEDS

The mononymic Mohawk actress stars in the highly anticipated new adaptation of “Avatar: The Last Airbender,” one of Netflix’s most expensive series ever. It’s a role she’s been preparing for almost her entire life.

At first, it’s a ripple. Hovering drops rising from a puddle soon cluster into a faster-moving, levitating stream that swirls into an orb of water floating over a young woman. The focused motion of her hands control this aquatic flow. In the lore of the beloved animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender, the ability to manipulate the elements is known as “bending” and wielding this power is Katara, a fan-favorite of the franchise’s core characters. In this instance, she’s no longer animated, but rather living and breathing in Netflix’s recent adaptation of the cult show, as played by Kiawentiio, the 17-year-old actress and singer-songwriter from the Mohawk Nation at Akwesasne. For young Indigenous audiences, it’s a powerful moment seeing what was always an Indigenous-coded character, dynamic and independent, brought to life by an Indigenous actor. Her interpretation of the heroine is both true to its source material and grounded in an undeniable sense of Indigeneity, notable in the scenes of Katara’s survival of the violence inflicted upon her tribe and their later resistance to its recurrence. Free from the confines of Western film tropes or the expected relegation to secondary and background roles, Kiawentiio’s Katara is unprecedented. She’s both of this world and beyond. A sign of things to come.

There’s a balletic velocity to Kiawentiio when she arrives at her photo shoot, a certain sense of purpose and the pull of a trajectory toward something just off of the horizon. She’s traveling with her mother Barbara, who works in their community’s cultural restoration efforts, and her father Corey, a volunteer firefighter and building inspector for their tribe. They beam with pride as they watch her and recount the recent stops she’s had on the show’s busy press tour. In the dressing room, she smiles while reviewing pieces she requested from Indigenous designers Josh Tafoya and Karen Francis. It’s like witnessing someone coming into alignment, a new possibility realized. She says, “It feels like it’s not real, to be honest. Sometimes it feels like I’m living this fantasy life or living someone else’s life, especially with where I come from.”

The evening prior, Kiawentiio walked the red carpet for Avatar’s Los Angeles premiere in a stunning ensemble, also fashioned by Indigenous designers: an ice-blue duo chrome taffeta skirt by Evan Ducharme, accented by a hand-beaded corset from Tasha Marie, and jewelry by BYCHARI and Dean Davidson. The look, both in color and from the corset’s beaded wave design, is a subtle nod to Katara’s Southern Water Tribe in the show. Kiawentiio grew up watching the original series, which makes this all the more surreal. “For filming, we were in British Columbia for almost a year and stepping out of that was really kind of like a culture shock,” she explains.

It’s not lost on her that this is her moment, one that she’s balanced with both grace and aplomb, but also a time to reflect on all that’s led her to this point. From her beginnings as a guest star a mere five years ago on the Canadian series Anne With an E, to playing the title character in Tracey Deer’s debut feature Beans in 2020, and more recently appearing in Peacock’s Rutherford Falls and Marvel’s What If…?, Kiawentiio’s career has been nothing short of meteoric. In many ways it mirrors the creative boom of Indigenous-led and centered television in the last half-decade. That a young, Indigenous actor is now one of the leads in a $120 million Netflix production—one of its most expensive to date—that also happens to be an adaptation of what is considered to be one of the best animated series of all time, is as much of a cultural tipping point as it is an expectation rewriting itself. And Kiawentiio is at its precipice.

Over the phone, Kiawentiio discussed this moment and what it means to her.

How did you connect with the Indigenous designers you’ve chosen to work with recently?

One of the looks was Josh Tafoya, a fashion designer out of New Mexico. I actually got to meet him, I think it was two years ago now. He also works closely with 4Kinship, which is also a really cool Indigenous vintage brand. For the red carpet, I got to work with two Indigenous designers to custom-make this very beautiful gown. Tasha Marie Designs was the designer that beaded my corset and Evan Ducharme made my skirt, and they both just came together so beautifully. I love how it turned out, truly.

Does anyone in your family do beadwork? Is it something that you grew up around?

Yeah, my mom beads. She doesn’t sell any of her work, which she should. My sister also beads. I grew up beading here and there, but it was never something that I continued. I think out of all my creative outlets, it got the short end.

My mom does some beadwork too, so I know it’s super meticulous. How do you approach style outside of professional spaces, like the red carpet? What are you drawn to?

I feel like my style has been changing a little recently. I like really baggy pants. I haven’t really worn jeans in a while, but I wanted to up my whole closet recently. I’ve been wanting to get more color because I tend to lean on black a lot and earth tones in general. It also depends on what time of year, ’cause sometimes in the summer I like giving off that skateresque vibe.

I like a lot of men’s fashion too. I’ll have long shorts that are past my knees and huge T-shirts on and be like why do I look like a boy? Oh, I’m dressed like this. Doing a lot of this press and having this part of my life really lets me tap into my feminine side.

You grew up in Akwesasne?

Mm-hmm.

When you’re on set and you’re in front of the camera, how do you become this character that you grew up with?

It was honestly really crazy, like that first time we had that transition. Growing up, seeing this character all of the time and idolizing this character almost, and then to have that transformation and look in the mirror and see yourself as that person. It’s like whoa, whoa, whoa. But honestly, Katara and I have a lot of similarities in our personalities. And I feel like it’s kind of a double-edged sword in that it becomes easy to become them. But because there are some similarities, it’s hard to differentiate yourself from the character and keep those things separate.

Were you able to draw on or tie some of your own Mohawk roots? It was great talking to your parents too and hearing about the impact of their own work, your mom’s work in cultural restoration and your dad’s work with your tribe. I’m curious if any of that went into how you shaped this role, especially because Katara is a very Indigenous-coded character.

I think with my Mohawk roots and what my parents have done my whole life, I feel like it has shaped me as a person. With that, I can’t help but take that to every role that I play in the past and in the future, too. So, I feel like my Kanienʼkehá:ka roots will always be there with me in every character that I have the pleasure to portray. I haven’t said this before, but really, I truly do owe everything that I have to my mom and my dad.

What was some of your preparation for this role?

We binged the original show. I think I watched it twice and then went into specific scenes for Katara’s character and her mindset, and then also her bending. Every time we had a fight or we wanted to re-create something from the animated show, we were watching clips of Katara’s bending and that also was really helpful for me.

What’s it like being a young actor now in the age of TikTok and social media?

I think it’s a delicate balance. I feel like in this age, it’s really easy to get caught up in what people are saying, good or bad. Because it’s just so accessible. It’s really important to be able to protect yourself from that. With the show dropping, I will have to find ways to protect myself from the outside and what they are saying, even though I have this sense of wanting to look, wanting to know what the public thinks. That’s how I’ve been this whole time leading up to the show coming out. I want to be and I try to be an open-minded person. So, with what people are saying, I like to look at it just plainly, not trying to hurt my own feelings or anyone’s feelings. I like to have this information and [take] it as a learning type of thing.

With the show dropping and how massive the scale is, there is going to be so many opinions, so many thoughts. So, I feel like it’ll be OK if I just kind of let this one go for a while and revisit when I’m in a more stable place.

I think that’s healthy. On the flip side, for somebody coming up in your generation, specifically somebody Indigenous working in this industry, what’s it like to watch actors like Lily Gladstone or Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs lead the way?

It’s so beautiful. It’s beautiful to see all these amazing strong Indigenous actors. A lot of our stories have been trying to break through for a long time. To now be able to see it in multiple people that come to mind immediately with Reservation Dogs, Killers of the Flower Moon, and Echo, all of these things are so amazing to be able to see in the industry. It’s come so far even from when I was little.

I think one of the main reasons that I was drawn to Avatar: The Last Airbender growing up was being able to have a strong brown role model in Katara. She was one of not many. I think representation, even in that time, was so scarce and rare. So, to be able to carry the torch that’s been passed down for a long time now and be able to light multiple fires and lead the way for the generations coming is so important. I am truly blessed to be alongside all these incredible Indigenous actors leading the way.

Has there been a particular performance by another actor that’s had an effect on you like that? Somebody that you saw growing up, or are even watching right now that’s a model for your career?

The only person that I could think of is Zendaya. I grew up watching her on K.C. Undercover and Shake It Up, when she was just a kid star on Disney. Another thing that is so inspiring to me is her fashion sense. I love how she doesn’t always step out to all these different events. But when she does, everyone knows it and she’s making a statement. It’s just really inspiring to me, her fashion sense and her choices. Also, to have a single name that’s different from what you always hear is also something that we relate to and is inspiring to me.

What is it like having this be something of a new normal for a Native actor where you’re not necessarily just relegated to these roles in westerns? That’s something that people have been dreaming of. It seems like it’s a totally open future now too. What does that feel like?

It feels so surreal. Honestly, sometimes I get the sense of guilt. There are so many people that fight for the same spot. Sometimes, I have to remind myself how hard I’ve worked for things because it sometimes can feel like maybe someone else deserved this. You know that type of feeling?

But I’m lucky enough to have an amazing support group. To be able to be in this position that I’m in now is so incredible. Something that my dad always told me that we’re always where we’re supposed to be. I think that’s something if I had the chance to tell other Indigenous people, or just people in general, especially with actors and acting—you’re always where you’re supposed to be. If you didn’t get this job, it was for this reason. If you feel like you really wanted this thing but it didn’t end up happening, it was because this thing was waiting for you. And I feel like a lot of times, fate works in really funny ways. Of course, I was auditioning for so many things before Avatarhappened. I just can’t imagine if I had landed a different role and then wasn’t able to go out for this. So, it’s so funny how the universe works in crazy ways to make things align perfectly.

#natla #atla #netflix avatar #avatar the last airbender #netflix atla #avatar netflix #atla netflix #kiawentiio #interview #photoshoot #ssense

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powdermelonkeg · 1 year

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Tears of the Kingdom: Final Trailer Analysis (Part 2)

Part 1 is here!

In our next scene, we have our new horned bokoblins mining, while Lizalfos keep guard.

THIS scene gave me chills. The atmosphere is terrifying.

Blue flames dance along the ground.

Pools of malice are spattered everywhere.

Trees are dead, or dying, as spores rain down.

Curly fern and mushroom trees grow, seemingly with no end.

There's this big glowing root in the center, giving off light, surrounding something—an egg? A crystal?

The grass is purple, and stalks reach toward the sky like hands.

Where is this? Underground? A parallel dimension? A corrupted Hyrule? It has no features I can place.

The monsters here are all coated in malice. They look possessed.

The mining operation looks like standard rare ore chunks from Breath of the Wild, but the stone it's set in has weird, circular shapes cut into it.

There are old ruins in the back that look to be just a set of shelves. What was their purpose?

At a slightly different angle as the camera pans around, we can see stalactites, so this seems to be at least partially underground.

There's also another far-off egg tree, so we can rule out the glowing light being a trapped Zelda, at least.

Fittingly, in this eerie area, Ganondorf starts to speak.

This clip is very important, because of some context we got as Tears of the Kingdom was developing. It took a long, long time for the title to drop, because the Zeldevs claimed it "had major plot spoilers."

We all laughed about that at the time, but this clip puts that into perspective.

"Sweep over Hyrule. Eliminate this kingdom and her allies."

Ganondorf calls Hyrule "her." Hyrule is a she.

If "Tears of the Kingdom" is a plot spoiler, then maybe it's a call to the kingdom being able to cry in the first place.

Next, we see Lake Hylia. The water level is the same as it was in BotW, so that's been untouched.

Oh, hello dragon.

It's unclear yet whether this is a one-off boss, like the kind we'd have in previous generations, or if this is something we'll find around the world like Hinoxes and Lynels. But it's still really cool, and a big threat.

However, by advancing it a few frames...

We can see three distinct heads.

Breath of the Wild brought Lynels in, which were most prevalent in the original Legend of Zelda. I wouldn't be surprised at all if this was BotW's Gleeok.

In the distance, we can see Hyrule Castle, raised off of the ground. The malice here looks much less like smoke and FAR more like writhing tentacles.

The splotch of green, I believe, is the spiral that surrounds the locked down Sheikah shrines.

Next we have Hateno. Fairly standard at first glance, with the exception of the spiral surrounding Myahm Agna Shrine. However, it's worth noting that Purah's blue flames have been put out, and the torches along the path to it are completely missing.

And then you look closer.

Those weren't there before, and there's a splotch of malice nearby them. The start of the egg trees?

There's more malice on the side of the Dueling Peaks.

And then, off in the distance, either a blue Sheikah tower—confirming that they're still around—or a blue version of the new towers, which makes them Sheikah tech unto themselves. It's also in the same position, given the angle we're viewing Hateno, as Faron Tower; if it IS one of the new structures, that means they replace the old towers 1:1.

The Blood Moon rises once again over Link's head-

-with an island visible in the distance.

We can see the ocean line from here, so this is somewhere near the southern coast.

A shot of the Blood Moon over Hyrule Castle. Moon Big.

The castle's cliff is absolutely COVERED in malice.

The Blood Moon shoots out even more of it.

A point of impact that looks vaguely like someone reaching for the sky; there's definitely SOMETHING in there that's being transformed.

Lava-streaked rocks fall to the ground.

Parts of the palace crumble to bits.

And this'll be continued in Part 3. Image limit strikes again.

Edit: Part 3 here!

#loz #zelda #totk #analysis #breakdown #long post

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tiny-maus-boots · 10 months

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Down South pt 3

Stacie:

Stacie peeked around the back corner of their house and took note of where the remaining shooters were located. There weren’t that many but a few had taken cover behind still living tumbleweeds that ringed their courtyard. Without a good line of sight Aubrey would be hard pressed to pick them off. In the end each side would resort to potshots at the other until someone ran out of ammo or they lit the house and barn.

Well that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen on her watch. They had spent good long hours together, sweating and bleeding to build a home from nothing but dirt and clay. It was the proudest work she’d ever done and the most peace she had ever felt and she wasn’t willing to let anyone ruin it for her. For any of them. Stacie gave a soft bird whistle and smiled when a volley of shots rang out from the second floor. Just enough fire to give her cover as she scooted the exposed span from the house to the barn.

She ducked inside and closed the door behind her. Shouts from the bushes let her know they’d seen her and they were planning to flush her out. Stacie chuckled and rolled her eyes at the predictability.

“Men. Always in a rush to get ‘er done.”

The tall brunette ducked down behind a squat platform on wheels and pushed it forward to center it to the door. She stepped up behind it and yanked away the heavy canvas tarp covering her newest baby. Stacie’s fingers traced over the calligraphy lovingly etched on the side of one of the six barrels of her gatling gun.

Southern Hospitality.

Each piece was crafted by her own two hands with the help of the local blacksmith. It had taken her weeks just to figure out how to get the lock cylinder to work and truthfully she’d hadn’t had the chance to try her out. There was a very real possibility that it would blow up in her face from misfires when she turned the crank. And it was still the sexiest damn hardware she’d ever laid eyes on, making her hands itch with anticipation.

“Hello gorgeous.”

Rough voices barked out orders in short staccato bursts. It didn’t worry her none. Stacie whistled a tuneless melody as she lifted the hopper full of rounds and clicked it into place. The activity on the other side of the door became frenzied when the men had finally made their way past the barrage of bullets from the house.

“We know you’re in there, woman. Come without a fight and make this easy. Don’t make us have to hurt you.”

If she had a peso for every time she’d heard that. Stacie snagged a long stalk of hay from the abandoned pile and stuck it between her smiling lips. Well, they’d learn just like the others, she never went down without a fight.

“Well boys, if ya want me you’re gonna hafta just come and get me.”

The doors to the barn rattled ominously, a threat of what would come if they had to come in and get her. They would come in with guns drawn and ready, that was for sure. They might underestimate who exactly they were dealing with but not enough to be that careless and stupid. Stacie didn’t intend to give them a chance to shoot. The moment she saw the doors buckle and start to bow out she started to crank her girl up.

Her lips tugged back wider as her grin turned to a grimace from the loud crack of rapid fire shots blasting through the doors of the barn. Acrid smoke from the gunpowder stung her nostrils, the heat of combustion left her face feeling warm and raw like she’d been too close to a blacksmith’s forge.

Stacie kept cranking until the hopper was empty and the only sounds left were the echoing clacks of spinning barrels rotating through the locking gear. What was left of the lower half of one of the doors creaked in the breeze and promptly fell to the dirt. From where she stood she counted four sets of legs on the ground and none of them were moving.

Careful steps brought her around Southern Hospitality toward the doors. The woman cautiously pushed the door open and peeked out at the damage. They’d need to replace the doors before the cattle arrived, maybe a plank or two out of the front wall but the building stood strong. Stacie gave a testing kick to the foot of one of the men and nodded with satisfaction. Movement by the porch caught her eye and she drew her pistol without thought and fired.

He dropped to the ground with a groan and a curse. Gut shot. No bullet wound was a good one but a gut shot was the worst. The man raises his gun and fired back wildly, making her have to duck back into the barn for cover. Now she was pinned until he either bled out or one of the girls came downstairs to deal with him. She was guessing the latter would be happening very quickly.

It wasn’t long before she heard the soft fluttering chirp of their all clear call. Whatever end that man had met it ended silently and likely by one of Beca’s blades. Stacie pushed the door open wider and scanned the area. Nothing moved save for Beca wiping a knife on the shirt of the man on the porch. They shared a solemn nod as she closed the distance to the house.

“We get all of them?”

“Aubrey says yes.”

“Good enough. Who the hell are they?”

Beca knelt by the man and searched his vest pockets. She sighed and ripped off the badge pinned to his shirt to hold it up. Pinkerton National Detective Agency. Well shit. Stacie holstered her gun and kicked at the man’s leg just out of spite. They looked at each other over the Pinkerton’s body, each refusing to say the smartest course of action.

They could run. They should run.

But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Stacie couldn’t even bring herself to voice the idea that felt like admitting so much defeat. They broke eye contact when the front door swung open and Chloe and Aubrey shuffled out. Beca silently held out the badge to Chloe and stood back. The redhead shuddered and dropped the badge on the ground as if it burned.

Aubrey wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulders and nodded to the men laying scattered around their property with her chin. Her nose wrinkled daintily as she considered all their options. Stacie hoped the blonde wasn’t about to suggest a Christian burial for any of them. She was far past being done with breaking her back for a man. Any man.

“They’ll come looking when this lot doesn’t come back to the pueblo. If they come here they will burn it to the ground if we’re inside or not.”

Chloe shook off the memory that had prompted her statement and hooked her thumbs in her suspenders. If they ran now it wouldn’t matter, everything would still be destroyed. They’d lose everything but their lives and even that wasn’t guaranteed. Stacie tossed her long locks over her shoulder and looked up at the position of the sun. It would be dark soon enough and that would provide them a measure of cover.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’m all out of run. This is our home now, we built this, and I’ll be damned if I like some shiny metal scare me off our land.”

Aubrey gave her a long measuring look before nodding her agreement. Her soft voice carried the weight of all their thoughts.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. A time to be born…”

“And a time to die.”

They finished the verse solemnly. Stacie imagined those Pinkertons would agree. Right up until they realized they would be the ones doing the dying. Aubrey mumbled a soft prayer for them all and placed her hat on her head with firm conviction.

And so their time for peace was at an end, as they were certain to ride into a time of war. Stacie watched the light that had grown in Aubrey’s eyes dim with cold resignation. For now. For now they’d give up their peace. But Stacie would spend every minute until her last bringing that light back if she had to blow up every single Pinkerton that crossed the border.

#pitch perfect #pitch perfect au #stacie conrad #aubrey posen #chloe beale #beca mitchell #wild west series #staubrey #bechloe #bella squared maybe?#maus writes

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