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rdr2gifs · 9 months ago

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Each time Arthur has helped someone without expecting payment (that I can remember) because I’ve seen some weird takes circling around about how Arthur only cares about money/doesn’t help people (yet again)

He helped a city photographer take pictures and acted as his protector because he liked him

He helped a doctor retrieve a stolen wagon full of medicine, he wasn’t even asked to do so, he did it out of his own good will

He wanted to make an old cranky man happy and proposed finding his lost trinkets for him

He helped Deborah MacGuiness find dinosaur bones out of curiosity. He didn’t receive any financial reward for it. Just a few trinkets and he was satisfied

He risked his life for Marko Dragic’s experiments (his main motivation in this mission was again, curiosity)

He rescued a boy being held hostage by the gunsmith in Rhodes

He rescued people from being trafficked and gave them a large sum of money (he could’ve kept it for himself) for a better life

He helped Mr. White and Mr. Black gain freedom and even helped them again after they got themselves into trouble

He rescued Charles Chatenay on at least 3 different occasions

He instantly hurried to retrieve Sister Calderon’s cross even though he has never met her before

In his first encounter with Marjorie and Bertram, he helps to calm Bertram down and is understanding even though Bertram gave him trouble. He even puts the bartender in his place after he speaks about Bertram in a degrading manner

He agreed to help a man get rid of nigh folk occupying his property and after he payed him with only a rat pelt, Arthur didn’t get angry and still asked him if he’d be really fine on his own after knowing he wouldn’t be able to pay

He let a homeless man hug him and listened to what he has to say

He helped to save Jamie from becoming a cult member and stopped him from taking his life

He helped a boy look for his lost dog

He saved an injured man’s life after driving him to a doctor

He helped a woman get rid of a body after she claimed she had to kill the man in self-defence

He donated to the poor and even to build a shelter for war-veterans

He taught Charlotte how to survive on her own

He tried to save a crazed village out of his own good will

He helped a war veteran retrieve his prosthetic leg and helped him hunt

He helped a man look for his lost friend in the snowy mountains

He helped Rain’s Fall retrieve sacred items important to his people

He helped to retrieve stolen medical supplies for the Wapiti tripe

He saved Captain Monroe’s life after hearing he was in danger

He helped Beau and Penelope escape from their terrible families

He has saved many hunters from getting mauled, given many ladies a ride home, saved people from dying of poisoning, helped gather herbs, helped a lost New Yorker find his way to the town, helped save many people’s lives (lady being held hostage in her own house in Lemoyne, folk getting tortured by The Murfees or Lemoyne Raiders etc.)

Let’s not forget the fact that Arthur is a provider for over 20 people. He cannot be running around and risking his life for free for everyone he meets. He needs money. Even so, he has helped all the people above for no reward and out of his own free will. When I see someone say that Arthur is only motivated by money and never helps people otherwise, I just instantly assume they stormed through the story and didn’t pay any attention. The encounters listed above make up the majority of chance encounters/side quests and in almost all of them he is helping people. 80% of these are also pre-diagnosis.

He has a hard time accepting any compliments or gratitude for his good deeds and always downplays himself. Even in the main story he is never thinking about himself and he always puts others first.

“You did not ask for anything, you only gave”

The encounters where he does require payment pale in comparison to those in which he doesn’t, and even so they are very justified as they are often dangerous, time consuming or straight up ridiculous. It’s weird to assume Arthur only helps people for money when he doesn’t want to deliver love letters, interview dangerous people and sneak into heavily guarded properties for free.

#writing this so I don’t get brainwashed in the future by people #claiming Arthur’s indifferent to everyone and everything unless they give him money #obviously this is based on high-honor #obviously Arthur has done terrible things in his life but I feel like majority of players just straight up ignore this??#I know I mentioned this many times already but I am forever annoyed by people saying Arthur only started helping people after getting sick #arthur morgan #text post #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 month ago

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Kinktober day 13

Jason Todd + Masks or Helmets

Hi guys, hows everyone doing lately? Im tired, but what else is new. Such is the waters of life, or whatever they say. I have no idea where I was going with this, enjoy. Kind of goes hand in hand with the Jason prompt from last year, which you can read here. This is more focused on their relationship, so it might be a little bland.

2024 kinktober masterlist.

What you and Hood shared didn’t have a name. you weren’t officially dating or anything, but you only messed around with each other, if that made sense. He got you stuff in leather, and let you fondle his body, when and when he wasn’t wearing that latex bodysuit. It got you both going, and helped keep the edge off when things got annoying. Plus, he was hot as hell, even if you had never seen his face.

Him wearing his helmet always seemed to add a bit of an edge to what you two did, especially when your hands followed the shiny surface of the black latex suit he wore, only to see it follow up under the helmet. There was a small seam just below his head, before the helmet started, but that was all. It left you almost dizzy just thinking about it, wondering what was beneath it all.

Of course, you didn’t get to see beneath it for a long time, even when Hood got wacked hard enough in the head that he could barely stand on is own two feet, and you had to drag him to Leslie’s. Leslie was used to seeing you, both of you. You liked to fight, and Hood just always ended up fighting whether he wants too or not. All the leather you wore was pretty damn recognizable too, making you a memorable sight.

At least, it would have made you memorable, if this wasn’t Gotham. Most folk were too busy trying to survive this shithole to worry about what anyone wore, only checking if it was the uniform of some rogue or gang, before going on their way. The red streaks to your outfits were enough to let people know you were one of Hoods, and that’s all they needed to know.

You knew Joker had gotten out some days before, and that he had finally been picked up by the bats again, after causing more death than that clown should be allowed too. You hadn’t even needed to check the news or anything, since Hoods pacing and ranting was enough to tell you that the clown was out again. If it were up to you, then Joke would have been dead a long time ago, would do a lot of good in your opinion.

It got to a point where you felt like Hood was gonna burst a blood vessel, so you had to resort to the good ol, rub his torso and try and calm him down. He was wearing the same latex as always, his angry breathing loud enough for his helmet to pick it up. Hood sounded like some kind of angry dragon about to breath fire all over you, or maybe that was just you making things up.

The helmet was blank, the white eyes doing nothing but staring at you with no feeling or tell of what was going through his head. You had learned some of his tells over all the time, at least what Hood allowed you to see of him. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to know when he was angry, stressed, sad, or whatever else he might feel that could hinder him as a leader.

Him leaning his head back to flash his latex covered throat was a bit new though, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled loudly, clearly debating on something inside his head. Hood had a lot of thoughts, a lot of it that he never shared with any of you and kept to himself. That was just how Hood was, he had at least gotten better at sharing when something could involve you guys, sometimes.

You almost wanted to pull your hands off his torso where they had been rubbing his stomach through the shiny material, when he reached up to grab his helmet. It felt illegal to see what was beneath it, your hands tensing up with the instinctual want to cover your eyes. Seeing Hoods face felt so wrong, like something you should never be allowed to do.

It left you a bit stumped as the helmet came off, only to reveal… another mask. Or rather, another hood. You didn’t know too much about the whole, gimp culture, at least you thought it was one of those masks. Except it had some kind of mesh material covering his eyes and mouth, still leaving his eyes a mystery to you.

You were speechless, and you were rarely speechless. Hood barely looked like himself as he shucked his jacket and shirt off, herding you backwards until you were sitting in his chair, in his office. Having someone as large as Hood kneeling between your knees was still new and uncomfortable in its own way, but also nice, good.

He clearly didn’t want this to go anywhere, as he avoided rubbing against the obvious hardness sticking to your thigh through the tight material of your leather pants. Instead, Hood just pressed his forehead against your knee and sighed loudly, rubbing his head from side to side, like he just needed something.

With slight hesitation, you finally just decided to say fuck it. There was a guy in the sewers who looked like a crocodile, a chick who controlled plants, and you were pretty sure there was a bird cult in the city. So, who where you to judge that your boss, who’d clearly shown you that he was into this whole thing, was into this whole thing.

With a soft exhale you just place one of your leather gloved hands on the back of his sleek head, moving it in slow motions back and forth. Rubbing from the back of his head, down between his shoulders, and back up again. It felt almost like scrubbing the hood of a car, not that you legally owned one. But you’d painted and waxed enough cars for the motions to be familiar.

You felt kinda bad comparing your Boss to a car getting waxed, but what he wore left him shiny like one, so you couldn’t really help it. Hood clearly wasn’t gonna get all soft and pliable like you’d seen in videos online, not in some place as dangerous as his office. The only place that was good enough for that was his safehouses, you hoped. The guy needed some time to just turn off his brain and do what he liked, but realistically no place was ever safe enough for that in Gotham.

Sitting here rubbing your crime bosses hooded head wasn’t ever on your plans for the future. But it was nice in a way, if you didn’t think too much about it. There was a familiar throb between your thighs that told you that your body definitely liked it, you just had to turn the thought in your head for a bit, maybe even do some research on whatever it was Hood was into.

Latex, full head covering, and masks wasn’t really your thing, but if Hood was into it enough, then yeah, you’d learn about it. He had always been a nice guy, in the way crime bosses could be nice, and you had this whole, strange relationship going on, which made it worth learning about.

Maybe next time, when he wasn’t this worked up, Hood could actually tell you about it. For now, though, you just sat there and comforted him, in that strange way he seemed to need. But everything in Gotham was weird, so maybe this wasn’t as strange as it felt. Not weird, maybe you should just call it new instead. It was new, and you were happy to explore it with Hood, if he allowed it.

#male reader #jason todd #red hood #dc #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood x male reader #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood headcanon #dc x male reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc headcanon

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neshatriumphs · 1 year ago

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Hi.

My rent is late this month. I will barely make it, but I also got the cat’s blood pressure medicine, gas for the car, and food to get. I can’t pay anything back this go ‘round, so only give if you got it like that. I do have two jobs, but the way the economy set up... 😬 Thanks so much.

https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/NeshaTriumphs

https://account.venmo.com/u/Neshatriumphs

https://cash.app/$NeshaTriumphs

#help black folks survive #help me survive #please and thanks <3 #personal #about nesha

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ellewritesalright · 5 months ago

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The Lost Princess - Part 2

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1

Synopsis: The old Queen Mother of Kerch's former royal family is offering a hefty reward to whoever returns her rumored-to-be-alive granddaughter to her. Kaz being Kaz hears about the reward and hatches an elaborate plot involving a fake princess. Reader is a lowly amnesiac orphan and escaped indenture who flees to Ketterdam where she gets tangled in Kaz Brekker's plot.

A/N: Hi folks!! I hope you've all been good--it's been a busy time for me but I'm so excited to be posting part 2! Just a reminder to everyone that the story is inspired by the movie and musical Anastasia. Once again, I hope it makes sense lmao

Warnings: mentions of sickness, death, drowning, violence, the Kerch indenture system. Me rambling. pls let me know if I've missed anything

Word count: 2901

.........

The dreams were worse tonight.

The once gentle, whispering voices turned to screams. Someone was calling for you, crying into the pitch black night with a painful tremor in their voice. You wanted to call back but couldn't find the strength. Honestly, when have you ever had that kind of strength? You're not brave, not like you should be. There were times at the big house where you would get so angry with the other servants, angry enough that you felt ready enough to cuss them out, yet you never did. You were too afraid of the consequences that stepping out of line would yield.

Your nightly visions only further prove your cowardice. In the dark of your nightmare, there was no hope, and you woke up shaking and nauseated.

The streets below the window of your room were still populated despite the late hours. It was the end of the week, though, and you figured people were using the night to let loose. The lantern beside your bed had long burned out, and you rummaged in your trunk for the pair of shiny candlesticks and matches you had stolen from Devisser's home--the wax had almost all burned out but there were still the holders. The brass would fetch enough money for you to survive maybe two weeks. It was not enough, though. Nothing was ever enough. You could have stolen his wife's entire collection of jewelry and you still wouldn't be able to get a ticket out of Kerch. No amount of money could strike your name from the lost indentures list.

There was always that Brekker that the shopkeeper had steered you towards. If he could do what she said and help you get to Ravka then you should find him as soon as possible. You had nearly gone to see him several times in the last few days, but you always chickened out. You would head over to the Crow Club with every intention of meeting Brekker, and yet, you could never bring yourself to go inside.

You were about to light one of the candles but instead you packed them away and pulled your day clothes from your trunk. You probably looked disheveled as you hit the streets, but not less composed than most of the people around you. A man stumbled past you, drunk, before he leaned into a post and emptied his guts into the street. The barrel really was a lovely place. You should have come sooner.

You pulled up the collar of your jacket to protect yourself from the wind that seemed to pick up the closer you got to the Crow Club. People were milling about the streets, their chatter and whispers carrying through the crisp air. What kind of secrets did they share? And how long would it take before their secrets infected the entirety of the barrel? In the short time you had been here it seemed you had heard the phrases "I heard it from" and "I assure you it is true" a thousand times. Everyone was a gossip, which made everyone dangerous. All it would take for you to be found by Devisser or the stadwatch was a rumour about your origins. Speculation about you might lead to the uncovering of your deserted indenture or people might think you were a runaway Grisha. The last thing you needed was for people to think you were valuable or worth notice. You were just another face in the crowd; your only goal was to go to Os Kervo.

The club was bustling with people as you arrived. You stood back a bit, biting at the inside of your cheek. For a moment you debated whether you should just go home, but you couldn't seem to make up your mind. You could only wait. As for what you were waiting for, you had no idea. A sign from the saints, maybe? Anything at all that would tell you to trust the club and the Brekker inside of it.

A young man stood against the building, staring directly at you as you eyed the crow sign above the door; it swung in the breeze, as though it was about to take flight. The man had been outside before when you passed by, watching you closely then as he was now. He called out to you.

"Have you finally plucked up the courage to come inside this evening?"

Your stare snapped down to him. He palmed a pair of pistols at his waist, but there was no threat in the action. It looked like more of a comfort or a habit that he had. He had never interacted with you before, just stood watch.

"I don't know," you answered, truth in your words. You stepped closer to the building, closer to the man. "I was thinking about it."

"Well, you look cold, perhaps you should think about it inside," he smiled.

A short scoff escaped you and you moved to stand before him. "If I entered the club I wouldn't need to think about entering the club."

"Sounds logical to me." He tilted his head at you. "What are you afraid of?"

You paused. There was nothing innately scary about the club. You weren't a gambler nor were you a drinker, so you wouldn't be trapped in a cycle of either if you decided to go inside. What you were doubting was the person you were supposed to see. If you were to believe the shopkeeper, this Brekker could be the key to your future. He could help you attain your lifelong dream of finding your family in Os Kervo. It was the idea that you might finally be getting what you wanted that made your stomach turn to lead.

"I just… I have to ask a big favour of someone I've never even met and I don't know how they'll react," you decided to tell him. It was close enough to the truth, and he considered what you said.

"There's no use in worrying over it, then," he said. "It sounds like something you just have to do."

His words were encouraging, and you smiled at him.

"If I may, who are you asking a favour of?"

"Someone called Brekker."

His mouth desperately wanted to curve into a smirk and you could tell that he was doing all he could to stifle a laugh. This reaction made your fear return, and you frowned up at him. He noticed your pointed look and managed to clear his throat.

"What's wrong with Brekker?" You questioned.

"Nothing at all. It's just funny to me that you're so afraid of seeing Kaz."

"You know him?"

"Know him? We're great friends. You're gonna love the man." He leaned towards you, raising a brow. "In fact, why don't you and I go inside and meet him right now."

His tone was playful with a hint of deceit, but you could tell he was not entirely dishonest. If you had to go out on a limb you would say that he was not trying to lead you astray.

You nodded, and he grinned, leading you inside.

……….

The breeze caught the curtains in Kaz's office. He had been doing the books when Inej came in, giving him a report of the whispers on the street. She was still there, explaining to him about an actor that Pekka Rollins was training to be the missing princess. Apparently the actor was very convincing, and--to add insult to injury--she had been one of the ones Kaz auditioned and ultimately turned away. But if he rejected her it must have been for a good reason. Still, the thought of Pekka fooling the old lady and getting the reward put a sour taste in Kaz's mouth. That reward was his. She was his pigeon.

Inej was interrupted by the door squeaking open, making a wedge of space just big enough that Jesper poked his head in.

Kaz spat his name, glaring daggers into his friend's face. "What could possibly be important enough for you to be here? I told you to watch the door."

"I was watching the door," Jesper replied, "when I came across someone who wanted to meet with you."

"Tell them I'm not seeing anyone right now," he dismissed, turning back to Inej. He knew he was being harsh, but the information he had just been given put him in a foul mood. He would likely seethe for the rest of the night, snapping at anyone who bothered him.

"Oh, you'll want to see them, I can promise you that." Jesper opened the door, gesturing for someone to come in with a "here we are, my dear."

You stepped past the threshold and immediately Kaz felt his anger diminish. After waiting for nearly a week since that day in the shop, you had made your way to him. There was apprehension in the muscles of your shoulders as you took in the room. Your eyes fell on him and he stared back, studying your features properly for the first time. There was something uncanny about your face, and you certainly looked more like the missing princess than everyone else he had seen for the job. You murmured a quick introduction, eyes darting to Inej but quickly falling back to him as you told them your name and began to explain why you were here.

"I have an issue I was told could be solved by a man named Brekker. I assume that's you." You tilted your chin at him, uneasiness in your stance. It didn’t take a genius to tell that you were nervous.

"You assume correctly, Miss Vos." He motioned for you to sit in the armchair before his desk, and he stepped behind the surface. Jesper and Inej stood by the wall, and you glanced over your shoulder at them before meeting Kaz's waiting stare. "Your issue?"

"I need to go to Ravka, but I don't have the money for travel papers. Also… it's not exactly legal for me to leave the country."

He half expected you to lie, to say something other than what he had overheard in Eugenia's shop, but you didn't. You either trusted him enough to be honest--which didn't seem likely judging from the way you sat with your spine as rigid as a marble post--or you had no other choice but to be frank with him. It was probably the latter.

He looked down at you, responding smoothly, "Normally I wouldn't be able to help you with something like that, but as luck would have it, I can obtain the proper documentation."

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, your face softening. But you had barely any time for ease as he spoke again.

"However, my offer is conditional," he said, leaning into the desk. You swallowed, brows pulling together as you looked up at him. "Have you heard the rumours of a missing princess?"

You gave a quick nod.

"And have you heard of the Grand Duchess Marien?"

"I know the name."

"Good. Then perhaps you'll know that the Duchess is the mother of the late king," he explained. "She's been searching for any leads on the missing princess."

"I don't see the relevance of this."

"I can help you get to Ravka, but only if you help me by posing as the princess."

You scoffed. "That would never work."

"Why not?"

"I-I was brought up in servants’ quarters, not a palace--I wouldn't even know where to start if I were to pretend to be a princess."

"That's where we come in," he said, nodding to Jesper and Inej. You looked at them, and he kept on, saying, "We can teach you everything you'll need to know."

"This is ridiculous. I'll find my own way," you huffed, moving to stand. Kaz was quick to react, his cane blocking your path to the door.

"Sit down," he ordered. Your glare, piercing as it was, could not rival his. The sight of yours did nothing to intimidate him, whereas--after a long, unblinking moment--his had the required effect. You took a seat.

Kaz pulled a book out of his desk drawer, flipping to a dog-eared page. He turned it around, motioning for you to look. A portrait of the royal family peered up at you, and you stared at it with pursed lips.

"The princess was six years old here, and though the resemblance is not exact, it is there," he explained, pointing at the youngest girl in the image. She stood beside a little boy, hands folded atop his shoulder. You stared between them for a moment. When you looked up at Kaz he swore he saw a glint of sorrow in your eyes. You recovered in a split second, shaking your head.

"No way." You crossed your arms, casting an irate stare at Kaz. "I'm an orphan. I don't have a family. I know for certain that I don't because if I did I would remember them--especially if they were a royal family."

There was a bite to your voice, a bitter sting of something which seemed to pain you. It was hopelessness that marred your words, and yet a lack of hope should have led to despair or exhaustion, not bitterness. Perhaps you hadn't lost hope. Perhaps it was the slim possibility of hope he presented that made you recoil. He could work with that.

Kaz sat down in his chair, levelling with you in the aim of coaxing information out of you. He wasn't trustworthy enough when he stood over his desk. If he wanted you to be vulnerable, he had to show vulnerability, and sitting would do that. He even briefly considered sending Jesper and Inej away but figured you seemed comfortable enough already with them in the room. They weren't as imposing as him, he supposed.

"What do you remember?" He asked, trying to be gentle with his words. You stared at the wall over Kaz's shoulder at a painting of the harbour. He saw Jesper start to fidget where he stood and even Inej looked slightly disinterested, but once you started to speak they listened carefully.

"I was ten or so when I was pulled from the True Sea. A group of fishermen found me floating on a barrel, said I probably jumped from a slaver ship. I was barely breathing, at least that's what they told me. They wrapped me in blankets, gave me food and a name; I still can't remember what my old one was."

You picked a bit of fluff on your pant leg, averting your stare even further. Your words were ghostly, devoid of all feeling like you had rehearsed them your entire life, and yet there was a faint tremor to your voice. How curious.

"When we got to shore they handed me over to their boss, a mercher named Devisser. I worked in his second home on the southern shore until a few weeks ago. Almost all of my memories were made in the kitchens of that place; I don't remember anything before the fishing boat." You met his eyes again, folding your hands in your lap, a neat little pile of rough knuckles and calluses, nothing fit for a princess. "Look, all I want is passage to Os Kervo. I don't even need to be taken all the way there, just as long as you get me to Ravka."

"And we can help you," Kaz insisted. "If you pretend to be the princess, learn the etiquette, the history, you can get to Ravka in mere months."

"I don't want to lie to make my way in the world."

"But if you think about it, It's not really lying," Jesper jumped in then, and Kaz held his breath. If he ruined this for them… "For all any of us know, you could really be the princess. I mean, you look like her, right? Plus, you've got family in Os Kervo, she's got family in Os Kervo."

If it weren't for the softening in your brow–your thoughts rolling through your mind with Jesper's words–Kaz would have put a stop to his friend. But, as it was, you seemed to be coming around to the idea. Jesper was playing on your lack of childhood memory in order to alleviate your guilt about tricking an old woman, and Kaz might have commended him for it if he really wanted to.

"We can show you to the old bat; if she says you aren't her granddaughter then there's no harm, no foul." Jesper smirked at you, "Plus, you'll have made it to Os Kervo where you can look for your real family."

You stared between the three of them, perhaps measuring the degree of sincerity in each of their eyes. In a rare attempt to be like Jesper, Kaz let his expression fall, making his face friendlier–or, at the very least, neutral. When you looked at him he looked back with eager eyes. They ought to do the trick.

"Are you in?" He asked.

"Why not?" You sighed, folding your arms. "If it gets me to Os Kervo…"

Jesper was grinning behind you, Inej had a small smile, and Kaz felt his mouth nearly imitate them. All the anger he had ten minutes ago had melted away. Pekka Rollins was far from his mind. The only thing that mattered now was making this amnesiac orphan into a princess.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the upcoming parts of this series please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @clockworkballerina @happyhauntt @mysticalfuncollectorus @aislinrayne @littleshadow17 @tooru-bread @katrina0-0

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #the lost princess

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ohsalome · 1 year ago

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What Ukrainians ate to survive Holodomor

(translated excerpts from an Історична Правда article): + images source

The villagers would dig up the holes of the polecats to find at least a handful of grain hidden by these animals. They pounded it in a mortar, added a handful of oilcake (from hemp seed), beetroot, potato peelings, and baked something from this mixture.

Those who managed to hide at least a little grain would grind it in iron mills made from wheel axles and cook "zatyrukha" (a concoction made from a small amount of flour ground from ears of grain).

Acacia flowers were boiled and eaten raw, and green quinoa was mixed with crushed corn cobs. Those who could - and this was considered lucky - added a handful of bran. This food made their feet swell and their skin crack.

The peasants dried the husked ears of corn and millet husks, pounded them, ground them with weeds, and cooked soups and baked pancakes. Such dishes were impossible to chew, the body could not digest them, so people had stomach aches. Pancakes, the so-called "matorzhenyky", were made from oilcake and nettle or plantain.

It went so far that peasants would crumble straw into small chips and pound it in a mortar together with millet and buckwheat chaff, and tree bark. All this was mixed with potato peelings, which were very poisonous, and this mixture was used to bake "bread", the consumption of which caused severe stomach diseases.

There were cases when village activists took away and broke millstones, mortars, poured water on the heat in their ovens. After all, anything found or saved from the food had to be cooked on fire, and matches could only be purchased by bartering for their own belongings or by buying them in the city, which was impossible from villagers that were on "black lists".

Chestnuts, aspen and birch bark, buds, reed roots, hawthorn and rose hips, which were the most delicious, were used as food substitutes; various berries, even poisonous ones, were picked; grass seeds were ground into flour; "honey" from sugar beets was cooked, and water brewed with cherry branches was drunk. They also ate the kernels of sunflower seeds.

Newborns had the worst of it, because their mothers had no breast milk. According to testimonies, a mother would let her child suck the drink from the top of the poppy head, and the child would fall asleep for three days.

In early spring, the villagers began to dig up old potato fields. They would bake dumplings from frozen potatoes, grind rotten potatoes in a mash and make pancakes, greasing the frying pan with wheel grease. They also baked "blyuvaly" (transl. "vomities") from such potatoes and oatmeal mixed with water, which was so called because they were very smelly.

They ate mice, rats, frogs, hedgehogs, snakes, beetles, ants, worms, i.e. things that weren't a part of food bans and had never been eaten by people before. The horror of the famine is also evidenced by the consumption of spiders, which are forbidden to kill in Ukrainian society for ritual reasons.

In some areas, slugs were boiled into a soup, and the cartilaginous meat was chopped and mixed with leaves. This prevented swelling of the body and contributed to survival. People caught tadpoles, frogs, lizards, turtles, and mollusks. They boiled them, adding a little salt if there was salt. The starving people caught cranes, storks, and herons, which have been protected in Ukraine for centuries, and their nests were never destroyed. According to folk beliefs, eating stork meat was equated with cannibalism.

The consumption of horse meat began in 1931, before the mass famine. People used to take dead horsemeat from the cemeteries at night, make jelly out of it and salt it for future use.

Dead horses were poured with carbolic acid to prevent people from taking their meat, but it hardly stopped anybody. Dead collective farm pigs were also doused with kerosene to prevent people from dismantling them for food, but this did not help either.

After long periods of starvatiom, the process of digestion is very costing for the human body, and many people who would eat anything would drop dead immediately out of exhaustion.

If a family had a cow hidden somewhere in the forest, they had a chance to survive. People living near forests could hunt/seek out berries and mushrooms, but during winter this wouldn't save them. People living near rivers could fish in secret, but it was banned and punishable by imprisonment/death.

#holodomor #ukraine #history #ukrainian history #genocide #ussr #communism

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ozarkthedog · 1 year ago

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𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

summary: hitchhiking is especially dangerous during the outbreak.

chapter warnings: 18+ only. mdni. dark!joel miller x rescued fem!reader x dark!tommy miller. dubcon → noncon. set a few years after the outbreak and before they meet tess. mention of dead bodies and guns. no beta.

word count: 1414

author’s note: I just want to be their plaything ☺️ this part is pretty tame fyi but the following chapters will be intense.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

No one dies from love Guess I'll be the first Will you remember us? Or are the memories too stained with blood now?

You curse your car as it breaks down halfway to your destination. A town on the outskirts of the state that supposedly was a safe haven. As smoke billows from the hood, you sling on your backpack and head out on foot.

The scenery was the same mile after mile. Carnage mixed with bountiful greenery. Burnt, dismantled bodies no longer empty vessels as flowers and weeds filled the cavities.

A vulture circles the darkening sky above you as the low rumbling of a truck catches your attention. You turn on your heel towards the sound as it echoes up the road, growing closer.

It was rare to run across friendly folk. Everyone was trying to survive. Doing things they never thought they’d do and that included yourself.

You knew you were unlikely to survive another few days out in the wilderness with no food or water. Taking a chance on whoever was driving was your only hope. Your hand drops to the gun strapped to your hip. It holds only 3 bullets but no one has to know that.

The truck slows to a stop and idles. The dim headlights cut through the evening haze and make it hard to see the driver but you hold your ground. There could be a little old lady behind the wheel (unlikely) or a massive motherfucker has his rifle trained on your forehead.

You raise your hands hoping the little sign of submission will help your cause. You need to find shelter soon if this is going to go south.

The driver’s window rolls down. It’s dark inside the cabin but you can make out the driver’s face as he lights a cigarette. A flicker of orange gives you just enough time to see brown eyes and a head full of dark, loose curls.

Smoke billows from the window as a man leans an elbow on the frame. The silver moonlight paints an eerie haze over the scene, highlighting just enough to know he didn’t have a gun on you.

“What’s this now? You tryin’ to get killed or somethin’?” He asks, a sly smirk tugging on his lips.

His pointed eyes rake up and down your body and spies your side piece as he takes a heavy drag on his cigarette before flicking the hot embers away.

“I- My car-” You start but trip on your tongue from the nerves building in your belly.

He looks up and down the road then back at you. “You alone?”

You nod. “I’m not looking for anything but a ride to the next town.”

The man tongues his cheek in thought before looking to the right. “Whaddya’ think?”

Shit. There was someone else in the truck.

“She looks nice enough.” The driver mutters ominously. His eyes never leave yours as he takes another drag on his cigarette.

You shift on your feet and swallow down the notch in your throat.

“Sure.” A deep voice rumbles from the pitch-black passenger seat. “Why not.”

The driver grins and lets out a little holler. “You heard him, girl,” he hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Hop in.”

Relief washes over you like a hot bath. “Thank you. I’ll give you anything you want from my pack as payment.” You offer as you open the back door behind the driver.

“Now hold on a minute, Sugar.” The driver raises a hand. “Give me your gun.”

Fuck. You knew it was too good to be true.

“How about I give you the bullets?” You counter with a half smile, not wanting to part with your gun even if it was unloaded.

The driver shakes his head. “No can do. The gun or no ride.”

You grit your teeth and weigh your options which are bare minimum at best just as the raspy screech of a clicker sounds in the distance.

“I’m taking off in 5 seconds whether you’re with us or not.” He informs and settles a hand on the shift.

Another screech echoes into the night forcing you to unholster your gun and shove it at the man before jumping in the backseat of the pick up truck.

“Good choice.” He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and puts the truck in gear.

The dimly lit cabin reeks of grime and gunpowder. There’s a sack filled to the brim on the seat next to you. You assume it’s weapons or food as your eyes flick to the front seat and meet the grim stare of the passenger.

He’s large; the flannel shirt he’s wearing tugs on his bouldering shoulders as he shifts in his seat to keep an eye on you. His salt and peppered jaw sets in a hard line. “You gotta name?”

He’s unnerving as he stares you down. You squirm but do your best to put on a brave face as you tell him your name. The passenger's jaw twitches but he remains stoic as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

You couldn’t stand the unnerving silence despite the man’s intimidating presence. “How far are we from the next town?” You ask, timidly.

“‘Bout a day's drive.” The driver says, flicking his eyes to look at you in the rearview mirror.

Your heart plummets. “Shit.”

“Not to worry. You can stay the night with us.” The driver suggests, sending his partner a smirk.

“That wasn’t the deal.” You argue, instinctively reaching for your gun only to have your hand brush your empty hip.

“You’re not really the one to be calling the shots, now.” The passenger hums before patting the empty seat between the two men. “Join us up front.”

“I’d rather stay back here.” You quip while scanning the back seat for any kind of makeshift weapon.

“I wasn’t asking.” The older man warns as he cocks your gun, pointing it at you.

Tears fill your eyes but you don’t let them spill as you shakily raise your hands. The man keeps the gun trained on you as he shifts closer to his door to make room. “Climb over.” He commands. “Slowly.”

You quickly nod and do as he says. It was awkward climbing over the bench seat. You try not to bump the two burly men as you settle in between them but with the lack of space your limbs brush their arms and jean clad legs.

Even with the open view of the road through the windshield, you’ve never felt more confined. The passenger slides an arm around the back of the seat and turns his body towards you. “Ain’t this nice, Sweetheart?”

“The name’s not, Sweetheart.” You seethe through gritted teeth.

The two men chuckle at your feeble attempt at coming off stronger than you really are. “We’ll see about that.” The older man muses.

You spy your gun as he casually rests it on his knee. You wonder how long you’d have to wait before making a move to grab it.

A harsh hand suddenly grips the back of your neck making you cry out. “Don’t even think about it.” He growls and lifts the gun, pointing it towards your body.

“Alright. Alright.” You gasp, your throat constricts until nothing but a whimper slips through.

“God damn. You make some pretty noises.” The driver says while pinning your stare and rubbing a callous hand over his crotch.

You want to vomit. This can’t be happening. You needed to find a way out fast.

“Can see your mind working, Sweetheart.” The passenger claims your attention when he tips your chin towards him with the barrel of your gun. “Don’t think too hard or this won’t end well for you.”

Ice gathers in your veins. You can barely hold the man’s stare as tears fill your eyes.

“It’d be a hell of a waste to dump this sweet body.” Lust filled eyes trail down your quivering frame as he lets the threat linger. “But it ain’t no skin off our backs.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as your heart beats against your chest. “Don’t be scared, Sweetheart.” The passenger thumbs at the wetness with a soft coo. “You’re in safe hands.”

He tucks you into the crook of his body despite your weak protest. He smells of cedar and gun power as he cages you into his side.

The truck veers off the road suddenly. It follows a long winding dirt path that eventually leads to a small cabin surrounded by trees.

The driver lays a hand on your knee making you twitch. “Welcome home.”

💌 send me mail - feel free to scream at me :)

#dark!joel miller #dark!tommy miller #joel miller #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller x you

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bengiyo · 9 months ago

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Hi, i'm a newish bl drama watcher from thailand that just started watching thai bls. i'm a bit ashamed to say that for a long time as a gay man living here i've been avoiding bl shows like the plague cuz of both the fandom reputation and of misconception from my yaoi era which i leave far behind. i'm just want to ask how did you got into watching thai bls and what were you preconception before you got into it.

Welcome to the Tumblr side of BL fandom. I'd actually like to also hear more of your experience with yaoi and BL as a gay person growing up in Thailand if you're willing to share.

For me, I'm a Black American from the Gulf Coast (the South). I grew up in a Catholic city and spent my entire adolescence in the closet. Despite having a sense of who I was as early as 8 years old, I kept most of that to myself. Because I didn't talk about it much with people, I found out most information about queer media and queerness from the internet.

I entered BL via queer cinema. I think the first explicitly gay character that I remember from TV was Marco from Degrassi: The Next Generation. There were probably others, and definitely more subtle expressions, but when I think about the oldest gay character I remember and connect to, it's Marco. I don't like counting things like shipping Shawn and Corey on Boy Meets World or Tai and Matt on Digimon for oldest gay characters. Sailor Moon can't even count because we got a censored version of it in America.

I got access to satellite television away from observing eyes around age 16 and started watching content on Logo back when they aired gay content regularly. I watched basically whatever I could late at night. It's how I saw movies like Get Real (1998), Beautiful Thing (1996), and Bent (1997). It's also how I saw Queer as Folk (2000-2005) Noah's Arc (2005-06).

After hitting adulthood I mostly got lost in video games and standard American TV for a while, but I did basically show up to any Gay Event in TV. I appreciate that Stef and Lena from The Fosters (2013-2018) were some of the only TV lesbians to survive the horror of 2016.

I watched a bunch of movies in this time, many of which appear on the Queer Cinema Syllabus I made for a hypothetical Westerner new to BL and queer cinema, which @wen-kexing-apologist has decided to try to complete.

I got into Thai BL in 2018 accidentally. I started seeing gifsets of Kongpob telling Arthit he'll make him his wife passing around Tumblr and was basically like, "Right, what's all this then?"

I had watched a few Thai gay films, mostly notably Love of Siam (2007), Bangkok Love Story (2007), How to Win at Checkers Every Time (2015), and The Blue Hour (2015), but this was the first time I was seeing a long series made available so easily from any Asian country.

From there I got into Make It Right (2016-17) and Love Sick the series (2014). Once I realized that yaoi had moved beyond manga and a few anime adaptations, I went looking for a lot more. I basically haven't left since I started in about 2016 with SOTUS.

There's my basic entry into the genre. I don't think I was as worried about fandom and worries at the time because so much of being a fan of queer cinema was a mostly-private experience for me for so long. I didn't realize that BL fans active in the space would predominantly be women or queers figuring themselves out. It took a while to adjust to that, and also to adjust my expectations of the kinds of queer stories BL distributors were willing to fund.

That being said, I tend to agree with @absolutebl that BL has a useful role in normalization for non-queer audiences who encounter it. I like cheering BL when it does things I think work really well, and also deriding it when I think it does things that are offensive to help nudge the genre and offer my perspective as a gay man.

I like the place we're at right now where there's way too much to watch for any person with other hobbies and responsibilities because it means that people can pick and choose what's to their tastes.

More often than not, I'm probably most-invested in something airing from Japan because of my melancholy nature, but there's so much variety these days that it's okay if you don't like everything. I certainly don't!

I'm glad you joined us on Tumblr and look forward to your thoughts!

#answered #thai bl #fandom life #about me

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megsironthrone · 2 years ago

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The Wildling and the Lady

Based on this request: Hey! Hope i’m not too late. How about one where the reader is a Tully and she escapes the Red Wedding. She ends up travelling for a bit, she ends up at the Wall looking for Jon as they were friendly and she meets Tormund who is taken by her (maybe he likes her Tully red hair or her survival or something) and he’s surprised she’s a Lady

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*

Warnings: Fluff, brief mentions of the Red Wedding (no details)

Pairings/Characters: Tormund Giantsbane x fem!Tully reader, Jon Snow, Samwell Tarly

A sigh escaped your lips as the cold began seeping into your bones once more. You'd lost track of how long you'd been traveling and you were certain you looked a fright. When you'd first fled from The Twins after what had happened with your aunt and cousin, you had no idea where to go. You'd simply wanted to get away. You'd used the only bit of gold you'd had to buy a bow. After that, you kept moving. As you traveled further and further North, the air grew colder and game grew sparser. You were near freezing and starving, but you weren't going to stop.

Even through it all though, you couldn't fight the relief that coursed through you when you saw the Wall. Yes, you were a woman, but you had family there and maybe he could help you. You didn't despise Jon the way your aunt had. In fact, you were on pretty friendly terms with him. You only hoped he could help you now. If only for a little while.

The gated opened and Jon ran to you with a soft smile. As soon as you slid off your horse, you wrapped your arms around him. "I thought you'd died with Robb." You shook your head. "No. I was able to escape. No one paid much attention to me. I tried to convince Robb to leave, but you knew your brother." Jon nodded sadly.

"I know I shouldn't be here, but I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe anyway." Jon gave you a soft smile before gesturing to someone behind him. Two men approached you and Jon. The first was dark-haired and was a bit bigger round the middle than his companions. He looked like he would give the best hugs, honestly. But it was the second that really caught your eye. Tall, red of hair, with blue eyes that told you he was capable of mischief you never dreamed of. He looked positively wild and it intrigued you.

You greeted them both with a smile. Then you turned back to Jon. "Where is your companion?" he asked you. You felt the tall one's eyes on you as you replied, "Since when have I ever needed a companion? Besides I have no one left. I made my way here by myself." Jon rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. "Of course you did. You can stay in my chambers with Ghost until we can find somewhere suitable. I know you can take care of yourself, but I'd rather know you are safe." You nodded. You knew it was pointless to argue.

"Jon?" the dark-haired man asked. "Oh, right. Sam, Tormund, this is Lady Y/N of House Tully. Lady Catelyn's niece." You scoffed a little. "Y/N is fine. I don't care much for my title." You let your gaze fall on the red-haired man once more only to find him staring at you so intensely, it made you shiver.

You could feel his eyes on you as Jon led you inside. "Is that man a Wildling?" you asked Jon once you were inside. Jon smirked a bit and nodded. "Yes. Tormund Giantsbane. As fierce and loyal as they come, and also as wild. He's one of the Free Folk and proud of it. Looks frightening but means well." You didn't bother telling him that "frightened" was not what you felt when Tormund looked at you. Not in the slightest.

Tormund's POV

The next morning, Tormund rose early and made his way out into the cold courtyard of Castle Black. The first thing he noticed was the sound of someone training. Confused as he was usually the only one awake this time of morning, the Wildling made his way over. The next thing he noticed was Ghost sitting just outside the sparring ring. He thought it must be Jon up then.

To his surprise, when Tormund's gaze finally landed on the other person up so early, it wasn't Jon. It was you. You were moving with such speed and grace, Tormund couldn't help but be impressed. You certainly didn't act like any lady he'd ever met before.

"Are you going to stand there staring? Or are you going to join me?" your voice asked, pulling Tormund from his thoughts. You had stopped moving and were watching him with a raised brow. "These practice dummies offer no challenge, but surely you could," you challenged as a smirk spread across your lips. Tormund chuckled. "Ya sure ya want to be doing that?" You shrugged a bit which only caused Tormund's own smile to grow. "Alright then. Have yer way." Without giving you a chance to retort, Tormund lunged.

The two of you became intertwined in a dance of clashing steel. Back and forth you went, moving so quickly you were almost a blur. Tormund had to admit he'd met his match in you and he was loving every moment of it. Still, you weren't nearly as experienced as Tormund was so you found yourself on your backside. You beamed up at him as you struggled to catch your breath.

"Thank you," you said simply once you could breathe again. Tormund offered a hand to help you up. You took it, but didn't expect him to use quite as much strength to pull up which was obvious at your gasp as your chest met his. To Tormund's delight, you didn't look uneasy or embarrassed. Instead you let out a little chuckle before saying, "I wouldn't mind if you joined me again tomorrow."

"As the lady wishes." His tone was teasing and you seemed to know it. You rolled your eyes before backing away. "I look forward to it." You walked away while Tormund's eyes followed your form. "I like," he muttered to himself. If anyone looked at him in that moment, they would have seen the Wildling practically staring at you with hearts in his eyes.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @line-viper @etherealpotter @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @smalltownbigheart @gruffle1 @supernatural4life2022

#george r.r. martin #game of thrones #tormund giantsbane #tormund giantsbane x reader #tormund x reader

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diiwata · 5 months ago

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my district 4 masterpost!

to me, district 4 is a mix of se/east asian, lat-am, and even a bit of black influence. had a bit of help from @blackoutdays13, creds to her too <3

let's dive in (joke intended). more below the cut!

CULTURAL TIDBITS

i like to think dance is an important part of the d4 culture. many artists that contribute to hip-hop culture originate from california, especially dances :) not to mention cultural latam dances, the dragon dance from china, and maybe even tinikling (projecting so hard rn)! movement is how they get through the day.

their diet may consist of mostly seafood, but grains are also a staple. rice, bread, noodles, and tortillas are often paired with meats and vegetables to make meals more fulfilling. of course, they aren't the same to the grains we produce now, but it's close enough to what they are able to get their hands on.

as stereotypical it is to asian culture, i like to think education holds some importance there, too. it doesn't just involve hitting the books, but also street smarts and survival skills. even if you're working, there's some downtime saved for learning/passing on knowledge from the older to younger generation.

there is a large sense of community in the districts. it's a staple in asian culture to identify with your community. your achievements and your failures are not just yours, but is a reflection of the people you identify with. this is touched more on my asian d4/d7 analysis.

since california legalized this, they definitely had... recreational uses for certain substances. you know. mary jane, the 🍃. it's a whole thing in the district and a "hidden gem". it's more popular with the lower class, but the capitol thinks it's used by the best of the best. they don't have to know, though ;)

LOCATIONS

their marketplace is concentrated in the docks! similar to the piers of santa monica and san francisco, there's a lot of street vendors, kiosks, and street performers.

the further away you are from the shore, the more impoverished you are. the people of the "inner lands" probably process the food for safer consumption, or travel to the shore to find work (hence the kiosks and such). grains could also be grown in the inner lands, which is how they're able to supply the district with rice and such w/o having to rely on d9 imports too much.

a train or trolley system helps large capacities of people travel to and fro their work. the trolley might be a bit more for tourists, though.

lots of cliffs. lots of mountains. houses on cliffs and mountains are seen as a privilege. I imagine the victor's village is somewhere here!

the houses in the victor's village look like italianate homes in san francisco (1). houses by richer folks look like malibu/southern californian beach houses (2). inner lands houses are either the older, fenced homes or apartment units (3)!

RELIGION

(i read these in some fics!!) considering that latinos are also big in california, and that a lot of asians share a catholic faith in the state, i could see them using rosaries or crosses. not because of a belief in it, but as an equivalent of a good luck charm.

to add onto this ^ they celebrate ash wednesday, but with their own twist. the ash on their foreheads is instead a reminder of who they lost.

speaking of holidays, the festival that they celebrate during the victory tour months probably closely mimics lunar new year! of course, they don't follow the lunar calendar, but their traditions and rituals to celebrate that day look awfully similar. red envelopes could be passed around, but I highly doubt that there's much in there if you're from the inner lands.

dia de los muertos is celebrated too! possibly during the victory tour months, too. imagine a festival that's just spilling with the golds and reds of lunar new year and the vibrant colors associated with dia de los muertos!

NATURAL DISASTERS

earthquakes. wildfires. droughts. those are the holy trinity of natural disasters in d4. protocols for all three are drilled into the minds of d4 citizens since youth.

thanks to the indigenous practice of controlled fires that persisted during the building of panem, they are often able maintain these wildfires. but sometimes, the wildfires do get out of control and turn the sky orange.

their structures are relatively stable to help accommodate for the earthquakes, but of course, damage will be done especially during a huge one that occurs in california every few centuries.

in my finnick/oc fic, "the big one" occurs before the 65th games. after finnick's victory, they paid more attention to d4.

droughts are not to be taken lightly in d4, especially in the inner lands. don't shower for more than five minutes. turn off the faucet while brushing your teeth. never keep the sink running. fix leaking faucets whenever you can b/c every drop counts.

a water limit is imposed on them. most of the water goes directly to the upper class and the capitol resorts by the coast.

CLASS DIVISIONS

the inner lands' lower class, the coast's merchants, the officials, and the victors are all classes in district four. the lower class harbors some resentment towards the upper class, and it's the other way around, too.

since most of the water travels to the upper class, that's where the main resentment lies. everything is for tourism and to maintain appearances.

because of this maintenance and carefully curated appearance, I can see the capitol citizens romanticizing d4 to an extreme degree. with finnick as the "face" of the district, it only worsens. they think of d4 as beaches, tropical fruits, and a sunny paradise. but once they take the train that passes through the rural lands and the poorer urban areas with the fog limiting their view, they realize that district 4 isn't all what they shaped it up to be.

I also imagine the upper class trying to dismiss the lower class because they don't look appealing enough to the capitol. they ARE a career district, after all. this could tie into the model minority myth, which I discuss in this post using hannah's ask, as well as the d4/d7 hc I linked previously. to summarize, reputation is ingrained in asian cultures. this need for a good rep could bring d4 to try their hardest to appeal to the model minority myth and keep up with the other career districts.

all in all, d4 is my little try-hard district rich with culture, mary jane, and the impending doom of "the big one". I love it with all my heart. if you have anything to add, or things you want me to touch up on, feel free to drop an ask or say something in your rb!

stream "california love" by 2pac 🙏🏽

#district 4 #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #finnick odair #mags flanagan #annie cresta #coral tbosas #mizzen tbosas #whoa I'm tagging b/c I wanna reach a wider audience w/o fear of judgment? that's new!#the asian d4/d7 analysis tm #eddie toying w/ canon!

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