#because none of us are free until all of us are free

[dragonnarrative-writes]

just to add more fuel to the fire.. I want to let you know how happy I am that you are working on giving us more of the masterpiece autumn embers is.

i jumped, screamed, hollered, rolled in my bed, jumped up and down in excitement when I saw the slightest mention of autumn embers, MY BODY HAD AN AUTOMATIC REACTION IM SORRY😭 your writing is just so beautiful and it never fails to make me feel giddy.

you’re free to ignore this of course and I apologize in advance for ranting but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you babes. please stay safe and healthy!! <3

Kinkvember 13 - Biting/Marking

Autumn Embers - Alpha Price x Alpha Gaz featuring Ghost and Soap

Autumn Embers Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Biting, implied permanent marking, blood and bodily fluids, frottage, omegaverse dynamics, dominance and submission

Notes: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING MORE FUEL ON THIS FIRE. I've missed Autumn Embers so much. Have another pre-Wildfire piece.

Rut with a pack is always a workout. And Kyle? Has more than a little bite to him. John doesn’t bother to stifle a laugh as he shoves his bracered arm between the other man’s teeth and feels an almost concerning amount of pressure.

“There y’ go,” John snarls into the side of his neck as Kyle drools around soft leather. “That’s what you needed, eh? Set your teeth into your alpha? D’you think because Simon goes all sweet for a knot that I’d roll for you?”

The younger alpha bucks beneath him. He smells like sex, like rut, musky and spicy and potent. If he wasn’t under John, if he hadn’t already had a go on top of Simon, where would he be now? Probably mounting some sweet smelling little O, pumping them full of pups. Certainly, the week leading up to his rut had seen him picking too many fights for him to roll with other alphas.

Except, of course, for his pack.

Off to the side, Johnny is panting and whining for his own turn to slam around with Kyle on the living room floor. John swipes half-heartedly at him so he’ll go back to cuddling Simon, a distraction that Kyle twists to take advantage of. He’s clever in ways John keeps failing to remember, so instead of slipping away, he sets his teeth higher on the bracer and heaves John up over his shoulder.

Even with the padded mat set up, the breath whooshes from John’s lungs as he lands on his back. He has no time to recover before Kyle is on him, pupils blown. He slams his arms down on one of John’s biceps and ducks down with a snarl.

“Ow, fuck!”

Kyle growls around his mouthful of thick pectoral muscle and doesn’t let go when John grabs at the back of his neck and yanks. Sharp teeth break skin. The taste must be something nice, because Kyle moans and starts grinding his hips into John’s thigh through his joggers like he’s locked.

John barks a laugh at the feel of a solid knot against the inside of his thigh. He digs his nails into the glands on the side of Kyle’s neck with intent and bucks his own hips as he bends his restrained arm to grab at the man’s hair.

One thrust, two, and Kyle keens as his whole body shudders. His muscles stay engaged for a few seconds, and then he collapses. Even his jaw goes slack, which is Johns cue to roll him, none to gently, onto his back.

He goes, docile, before his rutting brain remembers that there’s another alpha on top of him, but his body is too slow to react in time. He can only keen and wriggle as John crushes him with his own body weight and sets his teeth into curve of Kyle’s shoulder. The first burst of blood on his tongue has him blowing his knot. Luckily, he has the wherewithal to reach between them and free himself from his pants.

He doesn’t let go until Kyle submits, body going pliant as he whimpers, “Alpha, alpha, alpha.”

John has to work his jaw for a moment before he can speak. “I’ve got ya, good boy, Kyle.” He swipes a wide palm over Kyle’s face, smearing blood and spit up into his hairline.

Johnny makes a more than interested sound and belly crawls toward them, chin tucked down to his shoulder. Price hums and pushes red finger tips between his other sergeant’s lips as Kyle purrs and chews idly at the stretched collar of his shirt.

Later, bandaged and bundled up in Simon’s arms, Kyle rasps. “There’s an omega on base. Smells like woodsmoke ‘n oranges.”

“Was wonderin’ why ye went off like a rocket,” Johnny laughs from Simon’s other side. “Bonnie thing in Intelligence? Smells like an alpha might be courting her, but if they’ve left nae marks by noo, we should snatch her up.”

John lets himself make an interested noise as he runs his fingers through Simon’s hair from Johnny’s other side. Kyle’s not really shown much interest in anyone outside of the 141, crush on Farah notwithstanding. Over the past year, they’ve all settled into their dynamics, a volatile but beloved push-pull that marks an all alpha pack. An omega’s softness, though? Especially under any one of them in rut…

“No poaching,” John grumbles. He presses his lips against the bristly side of Johnny’s head at his disappointed grumble. He chuckles and concedes. “We can introduce ourselves. See if she might be able to handle us.”

[zaldritzosrose]

Insatiable (Armand x Fem Vamp!Reader)

Summary: Escape. That's what he craved. Somewhere away from everything. Instinct had brought him to the club, not his usual scene. But it was you that kept him there. You were the escape he needed. Feeding desires he didn't know he had. And satisfying cravings he didn't know needed satiating.

This was originally meant to come under @lady-phasma's Fangtober Celebration but I got a little sidetracked (using the prompts exhibitionism, overstimulation (sort of) and blood).

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of vampiric feeding, mentions of blood, mutual feeding, mentions of clubbing, (slight) mentions of sex work, exhibitionism, little bit of overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), dry humping, blood play, p in v sex, (slight) rough sex, public sex.

Words: 4260

Please enjoy my dive into a new fandom!

The music thudded low through the club as Armand entered. It wasn’t his usual choice of evening activity, but something drew him in. His feet took him out of the apartment and into the city. 

He’d wandered aimlessly to begin with. Simply wanting to be away. But before he knew it, he was at the doorway, illuminated by the sign above.

And then he was walking in. Armand barely noticed the stamp to his hand, marking his patronage. He barely noticed the bodies he had to wade through to make it anywhere close to the main floor.

He was almost working automatically. Mind completely detached from his body.

If he’d been paying more attention, he’d have noticed the decided lack of mortal pulses.

But you saw him. 

You were on stage, black lace forming perfectly to the swells and dips of your body. The music almost ran through your veins, your body moving of its own accord. 

Your mind was entirely focused on him.

Ink black curls, blending into the all-black outfit he wore. There was just something about him that you couldn’t take your eyes away from.

And then he looked at you. He was at the bar now, drink in hand. 

Even in the low light, the amber shade of his eyes was clear. As you imagined the preternatural shade of your own eyes was clear too. The customers in front of you faded to nothing. 

All you saw was him.

And all he did was stare.

Armand could feel the other vampires, though their existence wasn’t his main priority. Nor was the coppery scent of blood coming from behind the bar. He wasn’t surprised such a place existed, some of his kin were far more frivolous with hiding what they were than he was.

Including you, it seemed. 

The men in front of you were without a doubt human. He could hear the blood rushing through their veins, all with the same destination at the mere sight of you. Armand wasn’t faring much better, though he hid it well.

Watching your body sway to the music, he allowed his gaze to wander shamelessly over you. 

And then he noticed, your eyes never left him. No matter what you did, you looked right back at him. 

The song ended and he followed your retreating form. Disappearing seamlessly into the crowd before he knew it.

But Armand could feel you, the siren call of your mind.

“Come find me…”

He knew it wasn’t necessarily the right choice. He was only out tonight because he was upset, angry…any and all words that could describe his state of mind. None of them good. 

But you were somehow cutting through it all. Taking the threads of his thoughts and tugging at them until he could only focus on you. And just like his walk here, his feet worked on their own accord, following the call of your mind.

You had disappeared into another room, similar to the last but with fewer seats around the podium. There were a few patrons within, and Armand didn’t hesitate in taking the free seat in a secluded corner of the room. 

He could hear you, the faint thrum of your thoughts becoming more familiar by the second.

And then he saw you again. The black lace switched out for a deep red dress, far too similar to blood to be accidental. The silk skimming your thighs, barely covering the shape of your body.

There was something different about this room. The sound of the main club could be heard just through the arched door, muffled by the heavy red drapes. But the energy was different. It was clear the other patrons were not human now, no rapid pulses to be heard anymore.

Was this a room purely for his kind? Or was it nothing more than coincidence?

The darkened glass that had appeared before him answered his question. There was no doubt that it was not wine inside. Armand swilled the liquid in the glass, head tilted like a sommelier inspecting a vintage. 

The music spilled through the speakers slowly, and again you moved fluidly to the sound as though you were one with the music.

“Is it to your liking?”

Armand’s lips twitched at the corners at the sound of your voice, slipping into his mind so easily. Part of him wondered if it sounded just as sultry when you spoke aloud.

“I think you know the answer to that. Do you choose all your patrons’ beverages?”

He sipped the blood with a satisfied sigh. He wasn’t in dire need of feeding, per se, but he’d never pass on it when offered.

The song changed to a faster beat, and you danced seamlessly. 

“Only for those I find interesting.”

Interesting? You found him interesting. It wasn’t a word many threw in his direction. But it brought a surprising warmth to his chest.

His eyes finally turned back to you, following the undulations of your body to the music.

“Interesting? What about me is interesting?”

Armand could see you smile, eyes meeting his for just a moment.

“Now that would be telling.”

His glass soon emptied, and the waiter quickly refilled it. 

What kind of club was this? And how had he never known of its existence before now?

“I can tell you’re curious. About me. About the club. About where the blood in that glass comes from.”

Your voice was both a mixture of seduction and boredom. Drawing him in whilst showing your disinterest in such boring questions.

Armand raised a brow.

“I am curious about many things, but those are certainly at the forefront.”

He could hear your soft giggle as the music changed, volume dipping for just a moment. Two more dancers joined the stage, allowing you to move closer to where Armand sat. For the first time, you were quite thankful for the circular shape of the stage.

There was still a little distance between you, but you hadn’t expected what a marvel it would be to see him up close. The light hitting his eyes and making them almost glow. The permanent smirk that only widened as you crouched down before him.

“Are you curious still?” 

Armand had been right. Your voice was just as tantalizing aloud, cutting through the music just for him. Your finger circled the rim of his glass, picking up the small drops of blood that had been left behind and bringing them to your lips.

It was like everything you did was designed to entice and torture in equal measure. Armand could hardly imagine how humans fared against you.

“Hmm, there is that saying. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

You smiled, dropping to your knees now as the music changed. The song had switched back to a slower tempo and Armand couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from how your body moved. Almost like water, a snake even. 

It was almost hypnotising.

His head moved every time you turned. Your sole focus was now on him. This wasn’t a strip club, you danced only because you enjoyed it. But something about Armand had you wanting to pay special attention to him.

“And how can I…satisfy you?”

The waiter continued to fill his glass. Between you and the deep red liquid, Armand had no intention of moving from his seat any time soon.

You rolled to your back, arching with your head draped back over the edge of the stage. Looking directly at Armand, body continuing to move to the music.

Armand smiled, bringing the glass to his lips and watching your eyes follow it. With little thought, he brought the glass to hover over your face. Instinctively, you opened your mouth, tongue rolling out.

With precise movements, Armand let the glass tilt. Droplets of blood hitting your tongue before he tilted the glass back.

“Your company is satisfying enough,” he purred, draining the glass of the remaining blood.

Your smile was genuine, making the corners of your eyes crinkle just a little. You took a quick glance around the room, the other patrons were occupied, and you had quite a lot of freedom as a dancer to start and end your performances as you pleased.

The song ended and you saw the flash of surprise in Armand’s eyes when you hopped off the stage.

“Then let me continue to satisfy you…” you ended the sentence as though it were a question and Armand realised what you wanted.

His name.

“Armand. You may call me Armand.”

You answered with your own name and Armand half expected you to join him at his table. But you smiled, disappearing quickly behind another curtain and returning only moments later. He could see the red lace of your dress still, peeking out from the burgundy leather skirt you had slipped over the top.

He chuckled to himself. Your outfit was no less revealing now than it was before, but it was almost like you were leaving the dancer behind and simply being you. As though the performer on stage was no more than a character.

Armand could feel you behind him, the scent of your perfume almost sickeningly sweet in his nostrils. Your nose brushing barely against the shell of his ear.

“I am all yours now, Armand.”

His name had never sounded sweeter, your words dripping into his ear like honey. The implication of what you said had his mind whirring. His foot pushed the seat out beside him, silently offering it to you.

As you sat, the same waiter as before set another sanguine glass in front of you. But your focus remained on Armand.

Your hand moved almost inches from where his rested on the table, watching him the entire time to gauge his reaction. And when he didn’t move, you continued. Perfectly manicured nails ghosting over the skin of the back of his hand.

“Now you can sate your curiosity, uninterrupted.”

Armand watched your finger trace his hand, mapping out every dip and ridge under his skin. If you had taken a peek, you would have seen the questions racing through his mind, unsure which to ask first. But when his gaze met yours, you knew he’d chosen.

“I want to know you. You offer me your company, but you don’t know me.”

You clicked your tongue a little at his answer but smiled anyway.

“Do we need to know each other?”

Everything about you was a mystery, every answer you gave only offered Armand more questions. You truly were fascinating. A puzzle he was determined to solve.

But you could see it was a genuine concern. Well, maybe concern was not the right word, but it clearly put him on edge. 

You were taking away his control, something you had noticed he held tight to from the moment he’d entered the club. He was calculated in everything he did, and you were an obstacle he simply couldn’t manoeuvre.

Your finger trailed down to his wrist, gently flipping it over and circling his vein.

“But if you truly wish to know me, ask me something.”

The tension between you was palpable, almost buzzing in the air. Both of you torn between delving into the other’s psyche and tearing each other’s clothes off.

Armand thought for only a moment. You had a point, he didn’t need to know you. He didn’t need to know the inner workings of who you were, he didn’t need to know your past. His true curiosity lay with your interest in him.

“Do you offer all your patrons company?”

The question could be answered in so many ways, but there was an insecurity in how he spoke. Like he needed to know.

“I don’t. I pay attention to them when I dance, but nothing like I have for you.”

You could almost see him relax. It was like there were two masks he wore, the calm, calculated man and the fragile, desperate boy.

What you saw now, was somewhere between. The real Armand, you guessed.

“Then why me?”

His own hand now wrapped around your wrist, pulling you and the chair closer. Not an inch between the two seats anymore. Your hand was brought to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss before trailing down to your wrist.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you heard him inhale.

“Like I said, you’re interesting. And nothing like my usual admirers.”

Armand wasn’t the first customer to stare so intently, but he was the first to have caught your attention back. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it. But there was a pull, deep down, a primal urge to get closer.

You could barely hold back your sigh when his teeth nipped at the skin of your arm, not sinking in but the feeling sent a surge of heat down your spine.

“Interesting. Shall I show you how interesting I can be?”

Flashes of his thoughts entered your mind, teases of all the things he wanted to do to you.

Your teeth nibbled at your lip at the promise.

You stood fluidly, lacing your fingers together and tugging him away.

“How can I say no to that?”

Armand followed without question. You were intriguing, a welcome distraction from the maelstrom of emotion that was his life. Back through the crowd and into some more secluded corners, shielded from prying eyes with more heavy drapes.

The sofas inside were of the same deep red fabric as everything else in the club. And Armand didn’t resist when you urged him towards one of those couches, leaning himself back with his arms spread against the backrest.

You turned to close the drapes entirely, when Armand stopped you.

“Leave them, if you want,” he said softly, gesturing towards the drapes.

Your back remained turned as your teeth tugged at your lip, a smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

“An exhibitionist then?”

You glanced around before leaving a gap in the velvet, just enough that if anyone paid attention, they’d be able to see right in.

You heard Armand chuckle, giving you all the answer you needed. 

Your walk was slow, purposeful, as you returned to him. Standing between his spread legs with your head tilted. You watched as his eyes trailed from your feet all the way up, though he stopped at your throat. Lingering perfectly over where your pulse would be.

With a smirk, you knelt down in front of him, watching as his breath just a little as your hand rested on his thigh, squeezing just a little.

“Want a taste?”

Your free hand raised in front of his hand, holding out the same wrist he had held at the table. Armand huffed out, reaching out and bringing your wrist back to his lips.

This time, though, he sunk his teeth right in. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t mind. And the rush through your veins had you clenching your thighs together. A soft moan slipping from your lips as he only pulled you closer.

You barely noticed that Armand was offering you his own arm, until his fingers tapped at your chin. 

“Share and share alike…”

Armand’s voice slithered into your mind, making you sigh even deeper in pleasure.

There was no hesitation, leaning down and sinking your own fangs into his honeyed skin. Your moan of satisfaction vibrating through his body and you were sure you felt Armand growl against your own wrist.

Armand was the first to let go, the remains of your blood on his chin but he made no move to clean himself. His tongue laved over your wrist as he finished, drinking down anything that continued to spill.

You were so focused on the sweet taste of him on your tongue, that you barely noticed Armand lifting you into his lap. So smooth, his wrist remained latched between your teeth.

The new position gave him freedom to grind against you. One arm around your waist as he slowly rolled his hips. The tension, the teasing, the feeling of your teeth in his wrist all combined to make him almost dizzy with pleasure.

You were just as messy when you pulled away. His blood dripping down your chin and onto your chest. There was no hesitation as your lips crashed together.

Sense had been overtaken by lust.

Your own hips began to roll down against his. Skirt pushed higher over your thighs with every movement you made. Armand’s free hand moved up the expanse of one and round to the flesh of your backside, urging you to move faster and faster.

Neither of you held back the sounds that slipped past your lips. Most sounds swallowed as your lips came together in a clash of tongues and teeth. The mixed flavours of your combined blood only adding more to the haze of desire.

You could hear people passing the room, but neither of you cared. It certainly wasn’t the most depraved thing to have ever happened within these walls.

Armand’s lips moved down your jaw and to your neck, leaving bloodied kisses in his wake before sinking into the juncture with a groan.

Your hand tangled into his hair, holding him tight to your body as you felt your release crash over you, chanting his name as you continued to roll less rhythmically against him. You could feel his length twitching beneath you, the hand on your rear squeezing and pulling you down harder against him.

You had barely come down from your high when you were on your back. Skirt tugged down your body,  legs spreading instinctively as Armand pressed kisses to your thighs.

“I wonder if you taste as good down here…”

The shredding of lace was a welcome sound, you could easily replace it. Armand’s hands gripped your thighs tight, teeth nipping your skin only to soothe every bite with a kiss.

Your hand tangled into his hair, urging him to where you wanted him the most, despite the way your core still pulsed from your last release.

Not trusting your voice, your words slipped into his mind.

“How will you know how I taste…if you don’t hurry up?”

His tongue was slow, teasing, at first. Swiping up and down until you pulled harder on his curls. You could feel his smirk against your skin, but he didn’t take the warning. Slender fingers parted your folds, tongue now circling your bud purposefully slow.

Armand’s nails dug into your skin, partly teasing and partly a warning. But it only spurred you on. Your own nails digging deeper into his curls, scraping against his scalp.

Two could play at that game.

With a swift movement, Armand had your legs slung over his shoulders. Nails gripping the flesh to hold you tight against his face. The curve of his nose rubbing perfectly against your pearl, but you bit down hard on your lip to hold back a moan. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction that quickly.

His tongue delved back in quickly, switching completely and devouring everything you had to offer. Eyes locked on yours, waiting for you to break.

But you were a stubborn creature, it seemed.

Armand was relentless. A mix of tongue, teeth and lips, and before long two fingers joined them.

“Come on…I can feel you quivering already…” he murmured, swirling his tongue over your bud as his fingers began to piston in and out of you.

One orgasm quickly became two. And you were bordering on the third almost immediately. Vampire or no, pleasure was pleasure. And it seemed Armand was intent on tearing you apart, delicious piece by delicious piece.

But you still weren’t going to let him break you that easily.

A firmer hand pushed him back, the same hand now holding him down on his back. You could see just a little flicker behind his eyes, a glimmer of submission. 

You crawled up his body, letting Armand feel every little movement. Pressing kisses over each bit of skin you began to reveal as he helped you remove his shirt.

Your cunt pulsed at you settled over his stomach, thankful the velvet couches were just a little bit wider than average. Purposeful, of course.

Armand was quick to bring your lips to his, sitting up to throw his shirt out of the way. The torn lace bodysuit was the next to follow, joining the haphazard pile of clothes on the floor. Bare chests now pressed together as a battle for dominance was fought in the kisses.

You could feel Armand shifting to remove his trousers. Your hips lifting as he shimmied them down his legs. Not a single article of clothing lay between you now.

Armand groaned at the feel your bare core against his length, hips rutting instinctively. But you had a little plan for revenge…

You pushed him back down, turning in his lap until your back faced him. And you could barely stifle your shiver as his nails trailed a line down your spine. Head falling back as he continued to trace patterns on your skin. For just a moment, you could pretend you hadn’t been strangers up until only a couple of hours ago.

But desire still coursed through both of your veins.

Your body tilted forward, hands running down the length of his thighs as you felt the muscles of his stomach tighten in anticipation.

And the gasp as your mouth wrapped around his cock was all the satisfaction you needed.

You got your revenge with your own slow pace. Swallowing him down and retreating. Again, and again until his nails began to dig into your back. Moving down to the flesh your backside and squeezing. The groan that left your lips vibrating through his length.

“Payback, hmm?” Armand chuckled, words falling to his own moan as his tip hit the back of your throat.

His hands gripped your hips, tugging you up to hover over his face as he began to lap at your cunt.

It was like a competition, racing to bring the other to completion first. Moans, grunts and growls reverberating throughout the room combined with the wet sounds of lips and tongues.

Your two orgasms became three, nails scratching at his thighs as you spilled over his tongue. But Armand didn’t stop and neither did you. There was much to be said for the use of vampiric stamina, and this was certainly an exciting use for it. 

It wasn’t long before Armand pulsed on your tongue, salty precum a welcome appetiser for what soon followed. Spurt after spurt filling your mouth as you swallowed everything you could with moans of satisfaction. He slipped from your lips, your forehead resting against his thigh.

But when he dared to try and pull a fourth orgasm from you, your teeth sunk into the meat of his leg, not to feed. Simply as a warning.

You could see the passing shapes of other patrons beyond the curtains, some even peeking in. And you knew Armand could see it too. The prospect of an audience giving you both a bite of confidence.

Your tongue lapped at the blood that trickled from his thigh before Armand’s hand found your back, making patterns again as your hand palmed over his already semi-hardened cock. You sat back up, hand continuing to move.

“Do you need more, hmm? Or have I satisfied your curiosity?” you teased, Armand’s hand reaching up to toy with your hair.

Your head dropped back, letting him tangle hard into your locks.

“I fear I may never be satisfied, but we can continue to try?”

You had awoken something in Armand, his free hand urging you to turn and settle over his cock.

“Then we will try, and try…” 

The hand wrapped in your hair kept you still as he sunk you down onto his cock. A hand on your thigh as you began to slide your soaked walls over his length.

The pace was slower now. Savouring the feel of him sunk deep inside you. Armand’s hand moving from your hair to your breast. Kneading the soft flesh in his hand in time with your hips.

“For someone so sinful, you feel heavenly.” Armand groaned, hips rising to meet yours.

The combined sounds of pleasure echoed in the room, no one outside could doubt what was happening. Armand’s eyes flitted over to the drapes, telekinetically moving the curtain just a little wider.

You were a show worthy of an audience. And he was more than prepared to make it a show worth watching.

Your hips moved faster as pleasure began to overtake you, hands planted on his chest as he took control of the pace. Slamming his hips up into yours until you were chanting his name.

“So beautiful…” 

Armand’s words fell to growls as he thrust up a few more times until he painted your walls with his spend. Hands holding your hips tight and holding you down on his cock until he was fully spent.

The exertion overtook you both, Armand more than happy to let you plant your body weight atop him as you relaxed.

His hands ran up and down your back, your lips pressing lazy kisses to his throat and jaw.

No words needed to be exchanged anymore. Not aloud anyway.

“Still curious?” you asked, even your mind’s voice sounded tired.

“I will always be curious about you.” He replied, holding you tighter to his chest. 

You really had woken something in him. An escape. A sense of both control and submission. 

Freedom.

Armand Taglist:

@lady-phasma @sylasthegrim @anjelicawrites

(If anyone wishes to be added, please let me know!)

[kkayyerr]

haiii!!! I had an idea for male!little!reader? (Or fem, I don't mind honestly I just kinda wanted to share this idea 😅)

but what about Rafe getting a giant stuffie for his little one basically saying it's so his little one can hug it whilst he's at work or overall just taking care of business (with Barry maybe?) but him getting jealous when you start getting super clingy to the stuffie-

feel free to completely ignore this!!!

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა ♡

Jealousy

Summary: Rafe getting jealous because his little boy spending too much time with his giant stuffie.

Warnings: Age regression; none.

At first, getting you a big stuffie that would help you regress when Rafe’s not around seemed like a good idea to him. Seeing your happy face and a bright smile when he had presented it to you had only proved his point; you needed something that would remind you of him when he’s not around. He even had sprayed his perfume all over that giant teddy bear, so it would help you fall asleep, cuddling with it as if it were him laying close to you.

Of course he wanted to always be there for you, especially when you would go into the little space, but sadly, his business deals with Barry had taken over his life completely for the past few weeks, leaving very little free time. Mostly he would come home late, when it’s past your bedtime, finding you asleep hugging stuffie that he had bought you, and at first he was happy that you were so calm and understanding about his business.

But then it would get too much. Whenever he saw you around the house, you were always wondering around with that toy, mostly ignoring Rafe’s presence. Of course you didn’t mean to neglect him; you just really liked that stuffie and got used to your Daddy always being busy, so you wouldn’t even bother trying to talk to him or ask him to play with you. Rafe always had been a jealous person, but never in his whole life he wanted to fight a fucking teddy bear. The one that he had bought himself, actually. Every time that he would see you with that toy, he would just clench his jaws, trying not to say anything; he didn’t want you to think that your Daddy was tweaking. 

And he tried to remain calm. 

Until the day that he had completely lost his grip. 

It was another day of your life; you were casually regressing, laying in your bed sucking on pacifier and hugging your favorite stuffie, sniffing on Rafe’s perfumes. You were almost asleep as you saw Rafe coming into the room. He had yet another conversation on the phone, so you choose to ignore that, completely losing interest.

 

„Yeah, man. I’m sorry, but tonight you’ll have to deal with that stuff yourself; I have plans."

 

Your eyes widened at his words. You didn’t hear him reject Barry before, not even once. But it seemed like tonight something had happened. Or it was about to happen. 

You were too confused with that conversation to see that Rafe was staring at you for at least a minute now, with a sly smirk on his lips. You took the pacifier out of your mouth. 

 

„Daddy, what happen’?”

 

He completely ignored your question and your confused face expression, approaching you silently as you were still hugging that goddamn toy. Rafe got on the bed beside you, quickly grabbing you tightly with both of his arms and pulling you into his embrace that in fact felt more like a death grip. 

Rafe then quickly pushed your stuffie out of the bed, kicking it with his leg with a little too much force. 

You didn’t even have a chance to protest because Rafe quickly shoved a pacifier in your mouth, making you melt in his arms almost immediately.

 

„I won’t let that naughty bear steal my little boy from me.” 

 

Rafe said, surprisingly, his tone didn’t sound like he was joking. He was actually so fed up with you cuddling up to that thing instead of him, even though he knew that there was a part of his fault also.

 

„I told Barry to keep an eye on our business while I’m away, so now I have a whole week to spend with you, baby.”

 

Your eyes widened at his words, and you clapped your hands, imagining the whole week that you would spend with your Daddy without him having to answer to those business calls every five minutes. Rafe smiled softly at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, before his gaze turned cold once more as he turned his head to the stuffie that was laying on the floor.

 

„And that bitch is staying home, he’s grounded.“

Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[beardedmrbean]

Lessons in Manliness from Bass Reeves _________________

It’s Never Too Late for a Man to Have a Second Act

Bass Reeves was born a slave in Arkansas in 1838. When the Civil War broke out, his white master joined the Confederate Army and took Reeves along to serve as his body servant. Reeves bided his time, until one night he saw an opening, laid out his master with his mighty fists, and took off for the hills a free man. He was taken in by the Keetoowah, an abolitionist sect of the Cherokee Nation.

When the war was over, he struck out on his own and settled with his family in Van Buren, Arkansas, making a good living as a farmer and horse breeder. He was the first black man to settle in Van Buren, and he built his family an eight room house with his own hands.

He started making some extra money by helping the U.S. Marshals with scouting and tracking and soon earned a reputation for himself as a man who knew what he was doing and could be relied upon.

He was commissioned as a Deputy U.S. Marshal in his own right in 1875, when he was 38 years old. During this time marshals were paid for the number of criminals brought in and the distance traveled in capturing them and bringing them back to court. With so many miles to cover in Indian Territory, and with his legendary effectiveness for tracking down wrong-doers, Reeves made a great living at his job. And so it was only as he was nearing 40 that he found his true calling.

Compensate for Weaknesses by Cultivating Signature Strengths

“My mom always said she heard that Bass was so tough he could spit on a brick and bust it in two!” -Willabelle Shultz, granddaughter of fellow marshal

Because he grew up a slave, Bass Reeves did not know how to read or write. Being an illiterate U.S. Marshal was highly unusual—the men needed to fill out forms and reports–but Bass got and kept his job by compensating for this weakness with other valuable strengths.

First, he could speak the Muskogee language of the Creeks and Seminoles, and he could also converse pretty well in the languages of the other Five Civilized Tribes. He took the time to get to know the tribes and their customs, and they respected him for it. His friendly and sterling reputation among Indians, blacks, and whites alike led folks to trust him and give him assistance and tips they didn’t feel comfortable sharing with other marshals.

Reeves knew Indian Territory like the back of his hand, and his scouting and tracking skills were second to none.

But his most notable strength was his prowess with firearms. He carried two big .45 caliber six-shooters and wore them with their handles facing forward. He employed the cross-handed draw, as he believed it was the fastest way for a man to grab his guns. And indeed, he was known as a man who could draw with lightning fast speed; numerous men tried to beat him, and 14 of them died in the attempt.

But unlike what you see in movies, cowboys in the West did not rely on their pistols; those were their back-up firearms. A cowboy’s weapon of choice was his trusty Winchester rifle, and that was the gun Reeves used most. But he was a proficient marksman with both weapons. Ambidextrous and always cool under pressure, Reeves could fire an accurate shot with pistol or rifle, with his left hand or his right. It was said he could draw “a bead as fine as a spider’s web on a frosty morning” and “shoot the left hind leg off of a contended fly sitting on a mule’s ear at a hundred yards and never ruffle a hair.”

Turkey shoot competitions were popular at territorial fairs and picnics, but Reeves was banned from entering them because he was too darn good. Once, when he saw 6 wolves tearing at a steer, he took them all out with just 8 shots from the back of a galloping horse.

The Mind Is Just as Powerful a Weapon as the Gun

“If Reeves were fictional, he would be a combination of Sherlock Holmes, Superman, and the Lone Ranger.” -Historian Art Burton

Despite Bass’ legendary strength and prowess with firearms, he didn’t simply go after criminals with guns and fists blazing. Rather, he took a far slower, methodical, and ultimately more effective approach. He was an intuitive and quick-thinking detective who often got his man from being smart and crafty.

Reeves was a master of disguise, a tactic he used to sneak up on unsuspecting outlaws. They would undoubtedly see a giant black man on a giant horse coming for them, so when Bass was closing in on a man, he would switch to a smaller ride, and he learned tricks from the Indians on how to look smaller in the saddle.

And often he would ditch the horse all together. For example, one time he dressed like a farmer and lumbered along in a ramshackle wagon pulled by old oxen. He drove the wagon close to a cabin where six outlaws where holed up, and as he passed their hide out, he pretended to get the wagon snagged on a large tree stump. When the outlaws came out to help this humble farmer, he coolly reached into his overalls, drew out his six-shooters, and placed the men under arrest.

On another occasion, Reeves was after two outlaws who were hiding out at their mother’s house. Reeves camped 28 miles away to be sure they didn’t see him coming or hear he was in the area. Then he ditched his marshal duds and stashed his handcuffs and six-shooters under a set of dirty, baggy clothes, flat shoes, and a large floppy hat into which he shot three bullet holes. Dressed like a typical tramp, Reeves sauntered up to the felons’ hideout and asked for something to eat, showing them his bullet-ridden hat and explaining how he had been shot at by marshals and was famished from having walked for miles to flee the law. Having ingratiated himself as a fellow outlaw, the men ate together and decided to join forces on a future heist. After everyone had fallen asleep for the night, Reeves crept up to the two outlaws and handcuffed them in their sleep, careful not to wake them. In the morning, Reeves bounded into the room and woke them up with his booming voice, “Come on, boys, let’s get going from here!” As the men tried to get out bed, they quickly realized they’d been had by crafty old Bass Reeves.

Be Reliable–The Details Matter

Even though he was a tough-as-nails badass, locals also remembered Reeves as a man known for his “politeness and courteous manner” and as someone who was “kind,” “sympathetic,”  and “always neatly dressed.” He was also a man who took pride in getting the details right.

Reeves was unable to read or write and yet part of his job was to write up reports on his arrests and serve subpoenas to witnesses. So when he had to write a report, he would dictate to someone else and sign with an “X.” When he would get a stack of subpoenas to serve to different people, he would memorize the names like symbols and have people read the subpoenas out loud to him until he memorized what symbol went with what subpoena.

He took great pride in the fact that he never once served the wrong subpoena to the wrong person. In fact, many of the courts specially requested that their subpoenas be served by Reeves because he was so reliable.

Keep Cool. Always.

“Reeves was never known to show the slightest excitement under any circumstance. He does not know what fear is. Place a warrant for arrest in his hands and no circumstance can cause him to deviate. ” –Oklahoma City Weekly Times-Journal, 1907

Bass Reeves had an uncanny ability to stay calm and cool, even when he was in a really tight spot.

He found himself in that kind of tight spot while looking to arrest a murderer, Jim Webb, who was hanging out with posseman Floyd Smith at a ranch house. Reeves and his partner moseyed up, tried to pull the old, “we’re just regular cowboys passing through” trick, and sat down to get some breakfast. But the two men weren’t buying it and sat glaring at the marshals, pistols at the ready in their hands. An hour went by and Reeves and his partner still didn’t have an opening to make a move on the outlaws. But when Webb was momentarily distracted by a noise outside, Reeves jumped up, wrapped his large hand around Webb’s throat, and shoved his Colt .45 in the surprised man’s face. Webb meekly surrendered. Reeves’ partner was supposed to jump in and grab Smith, but he froze. Smith fired two shots at Reeves; he dodged them both, and with his hand still around Webb’s neck, he turned and took Smith out with one shot. Then he ordered his partner to handcuff Webb and called it a day.

Reeves was the target of numerous assassination attempts but he often saved his own neck by staying completely calm and in control. One time, he met two men out riding who knew who he was and wanted him dead. They drew their guns and forced him off his horse. One of the men asked if Reeves had any last words, and Bass answered that he would really appreciate it if one of them could read him a letter from his wife before finishing him off. He reached into his saddlebag for the letter and handed it over. As soon as the would-be-assassin reached for the letter, Bass put one of his hands around the man’s throat, used his other hand to draw his gun, and said, “Son of a bitch, now you’re under arrest!” The outlaw’s partner was so surprised he dropped his gun, and Reeves put both men in chains.

Another time, Reeves faced a similar situation; this time three wanted outlaws forced him from his horse and were about to do him in. He showed them the warrants he had for their arrest and asked them for the date, so he could jot it down for his records when he turned the men into jail. The leader of the group laughed and said,“You are ready to turn in now.” But having dropped his guard for just a second, Reeves drew his six-shooter as fast as lightning and grabbed the barrel of the man’s gun. The outlaw fired three times, but Reeves again dodged the bullets. At the same time, and with his hand still around the barrel of the first man’s gun, he shot the second man, and then hit the third man over the head with his six-shooter, killing him. All in a day’s work for Deputy U.S. Marshal Bass Reeves.

Build a Bridge

When Reeves was appointed a marshal by Judge Parker, the judge reminded him that “he would be in a position to serve as a deputy to show the lawful as well as the lawless that a black man was the equal of any other law enforcement officer on the frontier.”

Bass took this responsibility seriously.

Black law enforcement officers were a rarity in other parts of the country, but more common in Indian Territory and surrounding states like Texas. In fact, despite Hollywood’s depiction of the Old West as lily white, 25% of cowboys in Texas were African-American.

Because of the reputation Bass earned as a marshal who was honest, effective, and doggedly persistent–the Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal of the Western District, Bud Ledbetter, called Bass, “one of the bravest men this country has ever known”–more black marshals were hired in Indian Territory; a couple dozen were part of the service during Bass’ tenure. Nowhere else in the country could a black man arrest a white man. Bass had paved the way, and done one of the manliest things a man can do—build a bridge and a legacy for others to follow.

Sadly, when Oklahoma became a state in 1907, it instituted Jim Crow laws that forced black marshals out of the service. Despite his legendary record as a deputy marshal, Reeves had to take a job as a municipal policeman in the town of Muskogee the year before he died. But his shining example of manhood cannot so easily be passed over and still speaks to us today.

[refigiowen]

The Garden Of Romanticism / Of Romance (for Process Of Ruin)

In a time which none may remember, there once lived two birds in a garden full of flowers. The one bird was not like the other, and the other way around. One was dark, one was light. They contemplated, day and night, what they should do with the garden around them, for it held great potential within it's flowery - soon to blossom - hands.

And so the dark bird began to chirp cheerfully:

"My, my! The flowers are soon to bloom! And once more we do nothing with them but let them wither away, yes!" To this the light bird replied with: "Yes, yes! We shall! For that is their will, their fate, their life!"

The dark bird tilted it's head. "But why must they wither away every time? We can help them bloom longer, we can! Our garden would become the most beautiful place in the world would the flowers bloom until the end of time." It chirped. The light bird looked at the flowers and then at the other bird once more.

"It would not be true beauty, no! Their beauty lies within the core of their being: Their temporarity. It is theit free will to decide how long they will bloom, they decide over their own fate, they do!"

"Then their free will is a mere flaw!"

"Why do you think that?"

"They are at their best when they bloom, so if they decide against their best self that is a simple flaw. Would they not have this ability of free will, we could make them bloom all year round! And if they do as such, this garden would be a true wonderland!"

"You cannot decide for them. If they wish to bloom, they bloom, if they do not, they shall not bloom. You cannot force them to be 'at their best' simply because you see it the way you do. Your perception of them is as flawed as your perception of free will."

"You do not understand it, no. I wish for them to be the best they can be, i wish the best for them and us. If all were to be connected, in a net, there would be nay conflict between them. They would exchange knowledge, they would grow to bloom as brightly as the lotus! And they would not have to think, for we would do so for them!"

"You would strip them of their soul, their individuality if you were to do that. A garden with no soul is no garden at all, merely a place of flowers."

"If that means that our garden and our flowers shall became the most beautiful, the most perfect things in the world. So be it. There will be no conflict anymore, no envy and eigengrau, and any and all choice that would break their fragile stems would be given into our wings so that we may decide for them! In a great net all shall be connected and be ridden of their greatest flaw: their soul, their mind, their emotion, all that which causes utter chaos - hatred in the hearts of these precious flowery friends!"

"You would get rid of love as well."

"Love is as much of a factor of chaos as chaos itself. Love breeds jealousy, despair, i shall lament for those who weep in the depths of love. Yes, i would get rid of such, indeed. But the net would not get rid of love. The garden, after all have been connected, would do that by itself. That, which comes after, will rid them of such."

"A garden in which not the flowers reign but we do? A garden where the flowers bloom all year round? That is no garden... Such thing carries no soul. You strip them of who they are, take their fates into your own hands so that you can fill your own empty heart with stories of how you granted them wings. This net of yours.. i will not help you create it. I will not."

"But the time will come when i shall grant them wings, and i will do so myself if i must. I have no need to fill this empty heart of mine, for when i see my flowers bloom my heart too blooms like the lotus. I will not allow them to wither away, no, i shall be their savior indeed.

Free will is a flaw, and they will understand once i have spun my net across each flower, and when all traces of emotion and will have ceased to exist. When that has been done, this garden will bloom anew. With my word as law."

[queen-mabs-revenge]

[rainbowsky]

These kinds of things involve clownery of the highest order, but they aren't without precedent. The whole SDOC3 thing is practically unwashable in my eyes, for example, and it's one of those stories that if you tell it without any of the accompanying evidence people will think you've lost all contact with reality.

The first thing I thought when I saw that hug in the video, was, "Surely that's Yibo!" Knowing GG and DD, I think there's no world in which either of them would want to pass up a chance like that to clown the entire world while giving DD a cameo in GG's video. I will be shocked if we find out An Huibo is a real person, and this gets washed. It's just so 'something they'd do'.

I don't buy the superstition thing. It's true GG is superstitious, but not to the degree where I could see him missing this opportunity. And besides, surely any 'betrayal' superstition is outweighed by the fact that GG gets to hug his husband right in front of everyone's salad!

There are also so many possible interpretations for that story, and GG and DD are both actors. I just don't buy this explanation at all.

Not saying that it's definitely Yibo, but I'm eating this candy. I've seen a lot of CPN about the songs and other materials for this album and none of it has grabbed me, but when I watched the video for "Wild" I definitely thought it might be Yibo in that shot.

The Golden Rooster Awards mystery man is a different story. It's so hard to make out his features. In the first photo I definitely had a "Wow, maybe it could be GG..." moment - it really does look like him - but when I saw the second photo I immediately had doubts. The eyes in that photo seem large and droopy (although that could be distortion because it's a screenshot caught while the camera is moving), where GG's are more sleek and upturned. I'd really have to see the actual footage to make any kind of informed guess.

I think it's interesting that someone is sitting in the audience wearing casual clothes and a mask. That's a bit 👀 to me, given that no one else is. One of the reasons someone might wear a mask is to conceal their identity. However there are also other people besides GG who might have reasons to hide their identity.

Anyone who's sufficiently curious and feels capable of such a task can feel free to comb through the footage from that night. It's 9 hours long, but I don't imagine if GG made an appearance that he'd be in the seat for most of the night. He'd have popped in for the major awards that "One and Only" had been nominated for. I'm thinking 7:45 onward until the end of the ceremony.

I skimmed through a bit (you can use the arrow keys to move forward and backward), but I didn't see any camera angles that would match the photo.

It really could be anyone - even DD's makeup artist (I don't see why someone who'd been with him for as long as he has wouldn't want to see DD win such a prestigious award). We will probably never know for sure, but we could definitely get a better idea based on the footage and what point of the night it occurred.

If those screencaps were taken at any point prior to 7:45 in the footage, and that person didn't appear anytime after, I'd be ready to totally wash it. I don't see GG sticking around the main area for the entire tedious ceremony.

If GG has downtime I could see him showing up for the awards to be with DD and support him, and also to be there when (because it's only a matter of time before he does) he wins the big award. I could see him hanging out backstage and creeping in just before DD's award. I don't think that's completely outside the realm of possibility, but based on these photos alone I don't think it's him. I'd need to see more than this to convince me.

Anyway, clowning can be fun. 😅

BURN AFTER READING. 🍭🍬

i have never made a post with this title before, but i have shared some cpn/speculation that deserve to be burned after reading. lol. this term is often used by cpfs for a candy or info related to the boys that may be “dangerous” — so you have to get rid of it after reading. but for my version of it, let’s describe it as something that is a level up from galaxy brain cpn. it’s the kind of cpn you will think twice or thrice before making up your mind about. 💫

we have (2) topics here and just a disclaimer that i am not confirming anything here. this content is for cpf only. don’t take it seriously!

(1) Who is An Huibo 安慧博?

fans noticed that there was a “stand in” credited for the we and life of us music videos and that is this person. think of it as a body double. it makes sense cause aside from that scene in WE, there are times that xz’s figure is against a backdrop so maybe they needed someone to do that. the clowning began when people were thinking about, what if the other xz in WE mv is actually WYB ⬇️⬇️⬇️

i can think of a couple of different reasons why this could be false but the strongest explanation for me is that xz will not allow wyb to so something like this. he is very superstitious. even if this is just acting, he will not allow them to act out a scene of betrayal. that for me is enough to shut this all down. but on the flipside, maybe wyb wanted him (xz) to play his first villain role opposite him in this music video.

now we have the reasons why fans think this is something worth looking at:

1. XZ and this An Huibo are the only 2 credited actors for both MVs. so it seems kinda special.

2. The director of this is LIN, the same one who directed WYB’s redmi advertisement. There are some CPNs both were made at the same studio. Which makes sense cause LIN has his own shooting studio. There is another separate CPN about this but the gist is we think this director is familiar with both of them. So XZ may be comfortable enough to bring WYB along and even include him in the video.

3. It may not be WYB himself, but he used that name to troll us. It’s so close, Huibo. Yibo.

4. I saw this explanation as well:

If "Anhuibo" is read according to the French transliteration as An Huibo, it would approximately read:

[ã чi bɔ]

·ã: similar to "ang";

·qi: similar to "wei" in Chinese, but lighter and soft;

·bo: similar to "wave", slightly shorter.

5. As a CPF, it’s so easy for our alarm bells to ring if you read that name. An alias of sorts for Bobo. some are saying he used this kind of jumbled name to combat the bad aura of their scene together. Since he is superstitious, this removes yibo’s name and identity as the stand in who stabbed XZ’s character. if that makes sense.

maybe we will know more when they release the behind the scenes video. that is if they show who this stand in is. let’s add this to the bjyx clowning vault in the meantime.

(2) XZ look-alike in the recent GRA

i was talking to @rainbowsky about this and my initial reaction was, cpn aside, i’m surprised at how people notice these things! which i actually should be used to considering turtle’s attention to detail, but still!

so here is the “evidence”

👀👀👀👀

like all other turtles, i’m someone who has stared at tons of photos of XZ. so i can totally understand why people would look twice at this person. i get i. i was staring at this photo for so long as well. however most of the cpfs comment on this is against this candy and they have valid reasons:

1. Why would he attend and be in the audience? XZ is someone lowkey so if he was there to accompany WYB, he will be backstage. Yes he is brave, but not like this — which seems almost careless.

2. There are names on the chair, so it’s not like anyone can just sit there casually.

3. Even if you believe in the probability, CPFs don’t wanna talk much about it cause it can be anti material. Saying XZ has to hide and can’t show his face in GRA. or why is he even there incognito when he doesn’t even have a project nominated. You all know how it goes, antis can twist the narrative. Plus we don’t want to accidentally expose them if this was true. We should not observe too much and post about it cause it will make it harder for them to do something similar in the future.

4. How did this person go unnoticed? Everyone had to get inside the security and there are cameras everywhere. He should have removed his cap and mask which — it’s impossible for someone to not notice XZ ( or is it? ). another thing is maybe he went to a diff entrance??

5. Some are washing it and saying it’s Yibo’s MUA.

Please take that last point i mentioned and carry it over to the reason why this look alike is sus. People are able to confirm that this is not WYB’s MUA because he was wearing a different cap. Even the hair and daresay the ears are not the same. and why would a MUA even be there? If WYB needs touch ups then they should do it backstage. If for some reason it has to be while the broadcast and recording was not on or was on a break, he should not sit there and act like a guest.

Yibo’s MUA, Wang Yiduo has been with him for years. He has years of experience being around celebrities and attending these events before WYB. So he knows the decorum. He will not sit there and act like a guest just because he feels like it.

I’m curious too, who is this person who can walk in— in an event filled with people that are dressed up and then come in with a mask and casual clothes. To be allowed to sit there. Who is special enough? Probably a celebrity? and that’s why some think it could be XZ. Even the staff and assistants during the event are dressed up which made this person stand out. As for the CPN explanation, it’s nice to think that XZ is so proud of Yibo’s nomination that he has to be there. He will find a way to be in the audience and witness this special moment. 💕

I think this can easily be analyzed more if we have the video but i don’t have time to rewatch the whole GRA and wait for this cut. Cause i wanna know if it’s even there, that’s how much we question things here! 🤣 It’s so sus to me that we only have the screenshots and no video when CPFs are notorious for having concrete evidence. personally, it reminds me of the SDC3 incident but this one is still pretty outrageous considering it is a public event.

take what you want with this information. and as always, when it comes to BJYX: ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

sources: one/ two

[claudiadpdl]

personally i feel like it's not hard at all to denounce a genocidal regime even if you are living within said genocidal regime. in fact id even argue sometimes, when able, it's your responsibility to do so and have a voice for those that are being oppressed by (both within and outside of) the genocidal regime and therefore unable to safely speak up themselves. im native to the country i live in but i would denounce and have denounced them in a heartbeat for the horrific crimes they've committed and assisted in. because i am not my country's government/military/political force. i might not have a voice with massive sway, but i still have a voice.

[sforzesco]

hey! hi! the cartoonist cooperative has an e-sim drive for gaza, offering art for e-sim donations (instructions etc in the link)

[sissa-arrows]

Translation of the screenshot:

“What western countries do not understand with Palestine is everything that they did not / still do not understand with the countries they colonized, namely: your rights are not worth more than ours, your lives are not worth more than ours, your destiny is not worth more than ours. The colonial arrogance that serves as your moral compass, the supposed superiority of your “civilized” values, the contempt that you have for the justice that you claim while massively bombing the oppressed, enough of it!”

Rima Hassan, the person who wrote this tweet, is a Palestinian refugee born in a refugee camp in Syria but her mother eventually decided to bring her children in France. Rima is an international law jurist.

Her account

[myriad--starlings]

There is no sense that there is a difference of kind between a harsh word and a saw to the limbs; in the sermon, these are only differences of degree. The response to all insult, to all violence, is sympathy for the devil that does it to you. Whether you are struck with hand or stone or club or knife, or carved up with a saw, you must not hate.

But what about the hand that strikes? What about the hands that hold the stone or the club or the knife? What of the hands upon hands needed for the saw? What of the state and the death politics? What of the hierarchies of power that organize and direct this violence? What about the givers of orders, the payers of bills? Is this not an engine of hate, deriving from hate, designed with hate, operating on ancient principles of hate?

The simile is told with a purpose. It teaches the hated to hold still. To not buck under the saw’s teeth.

— Rakesfall, Vajra Chandrasekera

[theriverdalereviewer]

everyone jumping to team kamala we will never experience true freedom in this country

[refabled]

it's officially christmas time here, so merry christmas, sweet yule, and happy holidays to everyone <3 I'm very grateful to have such awesome friends and such talented writing partners on here. it's been a joy to write fable with all of you and get to bring her to life after a failed campaign where I never really got to play her as I wanted to.

that being said, not to be a bummer on this day, but it's hard to feel happy or content when there's so much injustice and violence and cruelty happening all over the world right now. so I hope everyone continues to keep palestine and sudan and congo all in their prayers and thoughts, and continues to be active in their boycotting and protesting (or donating), just whatever you can do. <3

[asilidae]

If anyone following me is still on the 'vote blue no matter who' bandwagon I'm not going to try to convince you of anything I just want you to read Settlers.

Here is a link to the book. It's free. It's available as html plaintext or as a pdf, so there's really no excuse. I even put the pdf onto an old secondhand kindle paperwhite I have so I don't strain my eyes reading it. Do yourself, and everyone else, a favor and read some actual books instead of regurgitating selfish shit you read on twitter or whatever.

[coyoxxtl]

also i must add, if you’re still voting biden to keep human rights for american citizens “safe” but don’t think that him ripping rights away from people across the world isn’t worth withholding your vote then you’re selfish and also a big fucking idiot

[dandelionjack]

i don’t want to kill myself but looking at the future sometimes i feel like i have no other option. i fucked it up too far without anticipating consequences and it’s too late to make a change or strive towards any kind of hopeful meaningful existence. there is no way out for someone like me who has nothing going for them, squandered any opportunity, any talent, everything that was handed to them on a silver platter. no interesting personality traits, no aptitudes, nothing to make up for the gaping void where motivation and will to live and thrive and put in effort towards a goal should be. even the most basic steps are a pipe dream. i don’t want to die because i fear the possibility of hell but i no longer see any tolerable way of living.