#why women kill headers

[airbendertendou]

you are in love! ♥︎

synopsis : various best friend!characters realizing they like you a lil more when they should  [including bonten!sanzu, draken, senju, izana, aiura, saiki, satan, leon kennedy, and tamaki suoh.]

no pronouns used / gender neutral ; [name] used in place of y/n ; reader makes filipino food in izanas, im not from the philippines so pls don’t expect it to b accurate ; friends w benefits situation in satans ; reader dresses as sophie in tamakis but w pants and a shirt instead of a dress

song inspo ; you are in love by taylor swift 

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 

——♥︎——

SANZU ♥︎

“big, scary bonten man,” you mumble to yourself. sanzu peaks at you over his shoulder as he cleans his gun, eyes narrowing at your tone. “never mean around me though, hm?”

he pauses, head tilting and pink hair following with it. you scoot further up the bed, laying against his pillows as he thinks. “i’m nice to mikey.”

“…that’s your boss.”

sanzu makes a show of rolling his eyes as he clicks his gun back together, satisfied with its new shine. “do you want me to be mean to you or somethin’?”

“why not?” you speak with a grin. the edge of the bed lifts as he stands, putting all his weapons away. sanzu pauses at your words, scrunching his nose in confusion. “definitely don’t look so mean ‘nd scary.”

huffing, he settles back on the bed, still sitting on the edge but a little closer this time. “i kill people, [name]. that’s pretty scary.”

you shrug, sitting up. your feet knock against his knees at the movement. “c’mon, haru,” you tilt your head back so that your neck is fully accessible, “do your worst.”

the room stills and you’re afraid you’ve pushed too far — afraid he might actually take you up on the offer. but something soft is pressed to the left side of your neck within the next second, lifting and latching onto different spots.

you gulp, feeling his responding grin against the middle of your throat.

the right side is given attention now, multiple kisses being scattered randomly. sanzu lifts his lips once more and places them on the base of your neck, his tongue and teeth making an appearance—

“ow, fucker!” you pull away from his touch with a scowl, your hand covering the new bite mark you’ve been gifted with. haru is grinning widely, teeth flashing in the light — you’re surprised you don’t see blood hanging on them. “didn’t have to bite me, haru.”

he shrugs, “wasn’t even my worst.”

you eye him, slowly dropping your hand from your sore and pulsating neck. “i feel sorry for your one night stands, then.”

sanzu hums, his right hand sliding closer to your hip and his body following until you’re face to face. it makes your cheeks heat ; makes you focus on the movement of his lips as he grins. “they won’t matter much anymore, anyways. have someone new i’m seeing.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah,” his lips brush against your neck once more. sanzu tugs at your waist, bringing you closer to him as his voice softens into a whisper and settles against your ear. “if you’ll have me.”

DRAKEN ♥︎

a towel is handed to you, followed by a hoodie you know isn’t yours. draken’s cheeks flush, “in case you get cold.”

with an awkward wave, he leaves you alone. the shower you take is needed, warming you up and calming you down at the same time. no matter how long you’d known him, it was still the first time you’d be with draken all night.

the rainstorm appeared suddenly and disappeared as abruptly. it’d drenched you just as you and draken left the cafe you met at. his place was closer, he’d said, and he asked so quietly for you not to say anything. 

it was weird until you got to his place — a brothel.

“alright in there, cutie?” you’d just stepped out of the shower when the voice followed you through the walls. “ken asked me to check on you.”

they were sweet, the women that surrounded draken. they made sure you weren’t hungry ; didn’t need any refreshments or anything as they led you to draken’s room. “have a nice night!” they leave with a giggle.

draken eyes the smile you’re wearing as you tug his hoodie comfortably around your neck. “somethin’ happen?”

“they’re nice,” is all you say in response. his cheeks heat up once more as he turns away from you, body stiffening. “are you ready for bed?”

“oh—“ he clears his throat and shuffles where he stands. “you can take the bed. i’ll have the floor.”

you shake your head, pulling the blanket back and patting the bed. “i don’t mind sharing. right or left side?”

that’s how you end up face to face with draken, staring absently into the dark as your combined body heat warms the comforter. you can feel and hear him let out a sigh, “you okay? all comfy?”

“yeah,” your voice is embarrassingly breathy. he lets out another huff before an arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “oh— that’’s better, actually.”

draken lets out a laugh, “m’glad. goodnight, [name].” 

SENJU ♥︎

“on the count of three!” senju jumps out of the dressing room adjacent to yours. she pauses, wobbling where she stands before straightening up. her head tilts, “it’s... something, alright!”

you pause, “you hate it.”

“...a little.” senju struts off, grabbing two of everything that catches her eye. she looks over the cloth she’s picked out, nodding in approval. “here,” she stuffs the fabric into your arms, “try this instead.”

you take a bit to figure out what she’d even brought to you — figuring which was the top and which the bottom — struggling to squeeze yourself in. once situated and comfortable, you gaze into the mirror.

it’s cute, watch senju told you to wear. the color is nice and balances your skin out, brightening it and making it glow. the bottoms fit your legs nicely, shaping and enlongating them. you hum in satisfaction, peeking out of the dressing room to see if senju’s done.

“[name]! let me see your outfit!” senju spots you right away. she gestures for you to join her enthusiastically. you open the door fully, scooting out until you’re face to face with her.

you hold out your arms nonchalantly, “ta-da.”

her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly. snapping it closed, she gulps, looking away before her cheeks turned color. you tilt your head, “senju?”

“yeah,” her voice cracks. the outfit she’s wearing is the same as yours — a matching moment, she went with. senju giggles nervously, “yeah. you look... pretty.”

prettier than she’d ever tell you.

IZANA ♥︎

the smell of lumpia and fried chicken coats the room around you. ran had just rinsed the rice, moving to mix together the rice noodles and shrimp for the palabok. kakucho is to his left, slicing boiled eggs so they could go on top.

you let out a sigh, nodding your head at the impressive menu you’d whiped together. filipino food was a little out of your comfort zone, an unkown taste to you. however, today was an important day — a special one. the oven dings, indicating the cake you’d made was finished. 

fresh out of the oven, the simplistic chocolate cake looks and smells delicious. you slap your hands together, “jus’ needs to cool down and we’re ready to go!”

the front door opens suddenly, rindou’s voice calling out a warning as he enters. shion is right behind him, pink-faced and sheepish as izana steps in, hands crossed over his chest. he raises and eyebrow, “what’s this?” 

“uh—“ kakucho adjusts the apron he’s wearing. it matches the one you’re wearing — ran refused one. he looks around, “surprise?”

“rindou! you were supposed to keep him busy!”

the blond shrugs, “he got bored.”

you sigh, closing your eyes as the food you’ve made is thoroughly examined. izana meets your gaze and raises his eyebrow in question once again. “it was supposed to be a birthday surprise.”

“...it’s filipino food.”

“yeah,” you wring your hands nervously. “you haven’t had it in a while, so i thought i’d try making it.”

izana looks over the food again, stealing a bite here and there as he goes. his eyes close ; his chest expanding with the comfort the familiar dishes bring. when his eyes open, they’re brighter ; more tender than what you’re used to seeing. 

your left hand is raised, a kiss being placed on your knuckles as izana pulls you close. “thank you, [name]. this means a lot.”

you grin, “happy birthday, z.”

AIURA ♥︎

in the morning, right after she does her makeup and before her uniform is on, aiura looks to her crystal ball for guidance. just a way to know things will be okay ; the day won’t be weird.

through the crystalline sphere, she sees her hand clasped in someone else’s. giddy, aiura believes this means she’s found her chosen one. the one made for her ; the one who will love her endlessly.

“—has to be the one!” she’s ranting to an unlistening saiki, rambling about her peek into the future. kaidou slips from leaning against her desk at her words. aiura sighs happily, “i can’t wait to meet them.”

a faceless classmate interupts the moment. “some idiots are fighting outside.”

you go to look — aiura can’t even remember when you came into the room. you rub your eyes tiredly before they widen dramatically. “that’s our idiot! aren’s out there!”

people flood outside, pouring out to help their beaten and bruised classmate. aiura is frozen in her seat — how did she not see this? how did a fight just miraculously break out?

a touch breaks her out of her thoughts. you’re holding her hand — frowning and ranting as you lead her outside. aiura’s face heats — you’re her chosen one? her one and only happiness? 

she gulps as she looks up to your face. this changes things. 

SAIKI ♥︎

the day starts normally. kaidou tells saiki he’d spent the night fighting agianst the dark reunion — he was studying all night. kuboyasu fought the urge to threaten an older boy in the school — just barely. nendou had already asked to eat ramen — they’d just gotten to school. 

saiki let out a sigh, eyes staring at the board in front of him. aiura had bought a new perfume that was clouding his nose, his thoughts — everything. she leans her head to the right so that she could meet his gaze. “what do you think, saiki?”

she’s met with silence. the chair behind him creaks as you sit down, a small laugh being let out as you do. aiura pouts your way, “[name], saiki’s ignoring me!”

you tap saiki’s shoulder lightly, just a brush of a touch, before turning to the blond. “don’t take it personal, aiura. you can just ask me what you want.”

“an angel,” she beams at you. aiura turns to face you fully, scrunching her nose at saiki as she goes. “i got some new perfume and nail polish recently,” she flashes her fingers at you. “cute, right?” 

you lean in closer, chin barely brushing against saiki’s shoulder as you go. you let out a small oooh! at the sigh of her glitzed up nails. “super cute, actually!”

she squints, leaning in a little closer as she does. “you’re wearing a new eyeshadow, aren’t you?”

“i am!” you close your eyes completely, relaxing your face so she can see the color. “like it?”

“looks... familiar for some reason.”

saiki peers at you sneakily from over his shoulder, only looking at you from the corner of his eye. he whips his head around before anyone can see. it is familiar — it’s his exact eye color. it takes everything in saiki to not light up in flames at the thought.

SATAN ♥︎

you had been an acquaintance of satan for months now. he’d come to you when he felt upset ; when the only feeling he could name was rage. when the world was burning and erupting inside of him, boiling and spilling out of his seams. he often took his anger out on you — with your consent, of course. he’s bruise you, scratch you and leave his mark lingering in any way he could.

today, though… today was the opposite. there was an emptiness inside of him ; a devoid and barren system that left him feeling nothing.

satan came to you, straggling and stone-faced as he locked his fingers into yours. you’d gotten close during your times together ; he knew every sigh you made and every face you held. you did the same to him ; made him feel comfort and freedom in ways he couldn’t around his brothers. that’s why he usually came to you when any feeling hit — you didn’t feel suffocating the way the house of lamentation always did.

“you okay?” you’re on his lap somehow, thighs sandwiching his own as his fingers dig into your hips. you brush his hair out of his eyes, “satan?”

he lets out a hum. you jostle slightly, hips meeting his torso — satan let’s out a small groan and let’s his forehead fall to your shoulder. “need me to help you relax?”

it starts off slow, your kissing. the usual upkeep is messy ; tangled and rushed as your clothes are ripped away and your bodies pressed tightly. this time, satan is careful to turn your head the way he wants it to, his hands on your cheekbones and guiding your head left and right.

you’ve just unbuttoned his shirt when you feel it. tears, dripping down your own cheeks. you pause, pulling away and letting your hands lift from his shoulders and settle on his cheeks. you tilt your head, “satan?”

his fingertips welted into your back, molding themselves onto either side of your spine like a pair of faded wings. satan breathes in, his chest stuttering with the feeling. he sniffs, nose and eyebrows curving in confusion as he pulls further away from you. “what’s going on?”

“you’re crying.” you wipe underneath his eyes gently, frown on your kissed, puffy lips. “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”

“i… i’m not sure,” his lower lip trembles. satan falls deeper into your hold, his arms looping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “feeling too much.”

his fingers dip underneath your shirt, and pull it up until you’re bare and exposed. satan smiles tenderly and you grin back, your own hands crawling up his exposed chest. “sure you’re okay?”

“good with you,” it’s murmured against your neck. satan sniffs again before nipping at your throat, opened mouth kisses trailing down to your sternum. “always good with you.”

LEON S. KENNEDY ♥︎

the bar you’ve found yourself at is starting to get boring. you leave after waving eagerly to your friends, shuffling on the sidewalk as you awkwardly pull your phone from its safe spot. a text from leon catches your eye — a mere thumbs up to the long paragraphs you’d sent his way. you scowl only to realize you’re closer to his apartment than you thought.

he wasn’t asleep — he never slept well — but he wasn’t fully awake either. hearing a tap on his door was strange, but leon let it be, assuming his neighbors had hit the wall on their way in.

until a long, drawn out whine of his name flew through the room.

swaying in his doorway was you ; eyes half-lided and your shirt falling down your shoulder. you grin his way, “hi, lee!”

“[name]. why’re you here?” he sounds gruff ; annoyed with the way you seem to always show up at his door. you know he isn’t, though, used to the tone his voice holds. leon holds his door open as you stagger inside, “been drinkin’ again?”

“mm,” you flop onto his couch, “birthday party. got bored. remembered you jus’ came home.”

leon quietly places your shoes by the door and grabs a blanket while you yawn. “missed me then?”

you let out another hum, pulling the blanket he’d given you further up your shoulders. slowly, your eyes peel open and you smile at him softly. “always miss you when you’re gone, lee. like when you’re home.”

home wasn’t something leon remembers. he moved around a lot now, going from city to city for his government affiliated job. home meant the presence of care ; of warmth. leon’s bare, empty apartment held nothing like that. crystal eyes fell to you when you let out a small hiccup, sagging to the right until your head fell on his shoulder.

“m’home for now, [name].”

TAMAKI ♥︎

haruhi adjusts the hat you’re wearing, making sure the blue blouse you’re wearing is tucked in properly. you shuffle in your spot nervously, fingers picking at your cuticles as she nods to herself. her eyes meet yours, “you’ll do fine, [name].”

“says you,” you frown. you stretch the neck of your blouse and clear your throat. “you guys are used to this stuff.”

haruhi swats your hands away, grabbing them in her own. “you will do fine. c’mon, it’s time to start.”

“welcome!”

tamaki doesn’t have time to speak to you ; doesn’t have time to admire the outfit you’re wearing before they’re greeting guests. his eyes stray to you again and again, his attention on you and not the guests who surround him. you go to every table, dropping off sweet treats and teacups as you go.

“—lly cute.” a girl is saying to him. tamaki blinks back into reality as his shoulder is touched. “right, tamaki?”

“could you repeat that, princess?”

her cheeks flare a bright pink as she straightens up in her seat. “i said you and [name] match. howl and sophie, right? it’s really cute.”

tamaki’s eyes find you again as you drop slices of cake off at the twins’ table. they giggle with you, tugging on your hat playfully before you leave. “we do match, don’t we?”

orchid eyes stay focused on you for the rest of the day. even after the club’s activities are over, and you’re helping clean up — he still stares. you finally look back, placing your hat on a table as you go. “yes, tamaki? you’ve been staring.”

“we’re sophie and howl,” his voice is light, faraway as he speaks. “did you notice?”

“only after i saw you.” you smile gently, watching kyoya tally up any and every cost. “a nice surprise for us both, i suppose.”

tamaki stares at your reflection in the window in front of him, eyeing the way you portray your chosen characters. his cheeks barely heat, but he still feels like it’s obvious to everyone. haruhi meets his flustered gaze and grins.

——♥︎—— i know nothing abt cooking n even less abt filipino food so i hope izanas was okay </3 hope they were all okay tbh

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[little-diable]

Labour - Tommy Shelby

This came to me as I listened to “Labour” by Paris Paloma, and boy, do I love love love this story. Be aware that this is somewhat loosely set in S2, but it doesn’t really follow the shows plot line. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: While Tommy keeps pulling away from his wife, she gets tangled in a web of lies to protect her husband, making deals behind his back with his enemies.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unrotected piv, troubling relationship but with a happy end, mentions some fighting and misogyny

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Why are you hanging on so tight, to the rope that I'm hanging from?

“Oh (y/n), isn’t it lovely how naive you women all are?” Inspector Campbell’s voice echoed through the small side street, lips pulled into a grin that made bile rise in (y/n)‘s throat. Her eyes didn’t dare back away from the contact he held, not wanting to come off as scared. 

“I have no time for games, inspector. It’s the same deal as always, you’ll pull your men away from our area tomorrow, and you’ll get your money, easy as that.” Her fingers searched for a cigarette in the pocket of her warm coat, sighing in relief as she finally felt the familiar paper against her fingertips. He watched her light the cigarette with his sharp gaze, forcing holes into her skin like bullets made to kill. 

“Do you really think your money still satisfies me?” He took a step closer, but (y/n) didn’t move, she held her ground, blowing the smoke of her cigarette into his direction. With the click of his tongue he came to a halt like Hades himself coming to claim Persephone, forced into a bond that held more power over her than she liked. “We both know how much your husband loves you, but how will he react to your betrayal? How will he react once he hears about the deals you force his enemies into?” 

She wanted to laugh at his words, finding amusement in the way he imagined her marriage, full of love that had once been but no longer was. His cold hand found her chin, gripping it all too tightly. With a growl rumbling through her, (y/n) pulled away, throwing the burned out cigarette to the ground. 

“Your threats may work on others, but not on me, Campbell. We both know you need the money as much as a child needs its food. I have no problem with asking others who like to do business with me to take care of you and the pathetic excuse of a life you live.” He clenched his jaw, hands balled into fists as his tongue kissed his teeth. For a few seconds neither of them spoke up, letting the silence rest heavy on their shoulders. 

“Fine, we’ll keep your streets empty tomorrow, I’ll expect the money by Friday, not one day later.” The inspector turned from the now grinning woman, disappearing in the dark shadows lingering around them. Only as (y/n) knew that he no longer could see her did she wipe away her fake smirk, back clashing against the nearest wall, bracing herself. 

By now (y/n) was all too used to making deals with those that could interfere with her husband’s business, taking over the work he didn’t know about, believing that everything was simply working out in his favour. But fate hadn’t been nice with Tommy Shelby, at least not till (y/n) had stumbled into his life, slowly taking over, working in the shadows Tommy found no interest in. 

It was a dangerous game she was playing, set on giving her life for the man she loved more than any words could describe, walking closer to God than any other woman she has ever crossed paths with. 

All for a man who asked more from her than he’d ever be able to understand, drawing away from his once loving touches, fully focused on his business rather than his failing marriage.

Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring? And walk back down again to feel your words and their sharp sting and I'm getting fucking tired

……

“Where have you been?” Tommy’s voice echoed through their dark bedroom, naked upper body bare to her now wide eyes. She hadn’t expected him to come home tonight, preferring to stay away from their quiet home that had once been filled with love. (Y/n) stood in the middle of their bedroom, shaking off her coat with a sigh rumbling through her.

“I was at Margret’s, you know how much she struggles with her new baby.” The lie rolled off her tongue all too effortlessly, even though his piercing eyes didn’t leave her features once, trying to figure out if she was speaking the truth. Slowly (y/n) laid down next to him, no longer used to feeling Tommy this close. Without anticipating his next movements, (y/n) flinched away as his hand found her chin, grasping her just like Campbell had done, digging into the forming bruises. 

“We need you here, it was your call to take over the household, this home needs its woman, just like I do.” His voice had an almost threatening touch to it, forcing a sharp inhale of cold air into her aching lungs. (Y/n)’s hands tightened their grip on the warm blanket, searching the comfort of the bed she had been sleeping in alone for weeks that have felt like years.

“What is a home with a woman without a husband to share her marriage with? Don’t you lecture me on my whereabouts when you’ve been hiding from me like a scared boy for weeks, Thomas.” (Y/n) turned from Tommy before he could reply, squeezing her eyes shut with her teeth buried in her lower lip. In these moments she desperately wanted to speak up, and wanted to lay all her deals on the oblivious husband that didn’t even notice where his money was going. And yet she kept her mouth shut. 

She felt his eyes on the back of her head for a few more moments before Tommy shuffled around in their bed, wordlessly placing his arm around her waist to draw her into his naked chest. And with a squeeze of her hand, the both of them gave into the call of darkness, searching for some much needed hours of sleep. 

And the silence haunts our bed chamber, you make me do too much labour

……

“Please sit, love. Tea?” Alfie Solomon’s voice echoed through the new apartment, leaving (y/n) smiling. She nodded her head, sinking into the comfortable chair with a sigh. “You look tired, is your husband keeping you on your toes lately?”

“I barely see him around these days, so there’s not much going on to keep me on my toes. How have you been, Alfie?” The man fumbled with his glasses, watching her as if he was expecting (y/n) to strike any moment now. 

“You see, a smart man knows to never cross a woman like you, your wicked mind will one day force us all to our knees, if it weren’t for your eyes.” She pondered over his words for a moment, head slightly tilted to the side, wondering what the man was talking about.

“It’s as if God himself had spoken to me, Alfie, he’d say, she’s dangerous, worse than any enemy you’ve ever killed, but her eyes tell you all about her sadness, about the help she needs but won’t ask for.” A laugh bubbled out of (y/n), eyes fluttering close to let go of a tired sigh. Her hand found her forehead, rubbing her temples to get rid of the headache that kept tourmenting her, robbing much needed hours of sleep from her. 

“You’ve always had a talent with words, Alfie. Can’t believe the young Jewish boy I once shared my bread with is now trying to lecture me on my way of living.” Alfie’s throaty chuckles reverberated through the room, welcoming the warm memories of the moments he and (y/n) have shared all those years ago. Once they’ve been nothing more than oblivious children, searching for the comfort one another could offer. 

“Tell me, what is it this time you need? I’m meeting your husband tonight, so you better tell me now if you want me to kill him, yeah? I always told you, you should have married me, would certainly have saved you from all these struggles.” Her hand found his, squeezing the fingers she had always been reaching for, needing the man she loved like a brother close, though keeping their relationship hidden from the husband that didn’t know anything about the dark past she had been forced to live through. 

“It feels as if something is going to happen, I can’t lose him, Alfie. Who did you do business with lately?” Their eyes didn’t break contact, not as he took a sip of the hot tea, not as he leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering from hers to the big windows. Rain was pouring from the dark sky, pitterpattering against the windows that gave off a view others would pay too much money for, not knowing what else to invest in. The end was near, both could feel it, even though they wouldn’t share the same end, ripped away from one another by wrongdoings that were still buried six feet under like rotten corpses. 

“The business is rough, you’ve got to survive somehow, yeah? Always remember that, love.”

……

The cold lingering in her home had something almost amusing to it, a clear reflection of her relationship with the man who had once lured her into this house, promising her a life that had been nothing more than a game, a dream so fulfilling she couldn’t help but ache for it. (Y/n)‘s feet met the ground, staring at the watch that told her there was still enough time till evening would roll upon her, wondering how the meeting between Alfie and Tommy would play out.

“(Y/n)?” Tommy’s voice left her frozen, head whipping towards her husband. 

“What are you doing at home? Two days in a row, did something happen?” With his hand stretched out for her to take, he slowly pulled her closer, gently cupping her cheek. Tommy studied her for a few moments, the confusion swimming in her gaze, the tension clinging to her body. She quietly thanked herself for covering the bruises on her chin with enough makeup to hide what had happened from the man with eyes so piercing he’d outshine the stars twinkling in the night sky. 

No words left him as he kissed her, making her gasp at the almost unfamiliar touch. Her arms found their way around his neck instantly, not daring to break the contact she had been aching for. Tommy tasted of cigarettes, of expensive alcohol, and of secrets he never intended to share with her, not knowing that she knew more about the business than he ever will. He tasted of everything he once hadn’t tasted of as their paths had crossed years ago, changing into a ruthless man that toyed with those keeping him company.

He pushed her against their dinner table, forcing her to sit on the expensive wood with her legs wrapped around his waist. Moans left the two that tugged on one another’s clothes, needing to scratch the itch that forced them to keep on moving, hands not daring to let go. She was trembling with anticipation thumping through her veins, trying to silence her thoughts, not wanting to pull away from the husband that hadn’t touched her in weeks.

“Don’t, just fuck me, please Tommy.” Her words drew his fingers away from her already soaked folds, undoing his trousers as her lips found his again. The kiss managed to distract her from the feeling of his cock nudging against her entrance, slowly sinking into her tightness. Both moaned in unison, needing to adjust to one another’s body for a moment before they could give in.

“Fuck, I almost forgot how perfect you feel.”

(Y/n) wanted to speak up, wanted to scold him for keeping his distance, but no word managed to leave her, nothing but moans filling the seconds fading by. 

His hips snapped against her middle with every rough thrust, perfectly teasing the swollen spot that made her see stars so bright (y/n) feared she’d end up blinded. The moment wasn’t sweet, wasn’t even loving, but it was everything they needed, distracting them from the racing thoughts that would eventually force their skin from their bones. 

(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into his neck, keeping him close as their moans clashed against one another’s lips, wordlessly communicating their arising high. Soon they’d give in with trembling limbs, racing hearts, and swollen lips, an inferno so strong it’d burn their bodies to the ground.

“You’re mine, don’t you ever forget that.” The possessiveness dripping from his words left her aching her back, head thrown back as she fell over the edge with his name leaving her. Tommy gave it a few more ferocious thrusts before he released himself inside her, painting her walls white. His heat filled her system, clinging to her like a second layer of skin, forever remembering this very moment. 

“I have to leave for some meetings, do me a favour and stay at home tonight, eh?”

I know you're a smart man, and weaponise the false incompetence, it's dominance under a guise

……

“(Y/n)?” Arthur’s voice echoed through the home, luring her from the quiet garden back inside. The older Shelby brother studied her with an unreadable gaze for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “Tommy wants to meet you at the Garrison, I’ll drive you there.”

Wordlessly she followed Arthur outside, fetching her coat before stepping out into the brisk afternoon, wrapping the fabric tightly around her body. She didn’t dare ask any questions, not wanting to distract the man she had shared too many drunk conversations with, turning towards him whenever Tommy left her behind to mingle with those she’d meet in the dark shadows of side streets even the most ruthless gangsters would avoid. 

The houses they passed grew bigger with every street they turned into, housing families that desperately tried to overcome the ruins war had pushed them into, financial struggles that left them drowning in debts. (Y/n)‘s heart ached whenever she walked past those struggling more than her mind could even begin to imagine, living a life filled with sorrows, with fear, with anger. A life she wouldn’t ever want to live.

“Cigarette?” Arthur pushed the cigarette into her hand before he opened the car door for her, allowing her to walk into the all too familiar pub. Only as she set her foot inside did she begin to notice that the pub wasn’t filled with its usual crowd, no, but an unexpected duo was watching her every step. Her insides screamed at her to turn around, breath hitched in her chest.

“Sit.” Her husband pointed towards the chair in front of him, smoking his cigarette with an unemotional expression tugging on his features. Arthur gave her a slight push, forcing (y/n) to walk closer. Her eyes didn’t part from those she had held contact with ever since she had been a child, heart clenching in her chest as she began to realise what was about to happen. 

For a few seconds they were surrounded by nothing but silence, with four pairs of eyes watching the woman, waiting for her to speak up, to ask questions, but (y/n) knew better, keeping her mouth shut. Her eyes fluttered from Tommy to Arthur, to John, and lastly to Alfie. 

“I called Margaret this morning, tell me, (y/n), why did she tell me that she hasn’t seen you in weeks?” Tommy’s sharp voice left her tensing, tongue running along her lower lip to find the right words to speak. But she couldn’t, her throat was too tight, mouth too dry to even articulate a single word threatening to leave her pressed together lips. “You see, at first I didn’t think any of it, it’s true, I pulled away from the marriage I should have paid more attention to, but if I’d known that my own wife would betray me, I would have locked you up in our bedroom. Tell me, how deep does your betrayal run?”

A scoff left (y/n), ignoring her husband’s words as her eyes focused on Alfie. She tilted her head to the side, just like she had done the day prior, thinking through their conversation again before she finally broke the silence, “This is what you call surviving, Alfie? Going against your oldest and most trusted friend? And don’t you dare to tell me God fucking told you to go against me. What are you even getting out of this?” 

She couldn’t help but pick up on the confusion now swimming in Tommy’s pupils, gaze flickering between (y/n) and Alfie.

“It’s like I told you, yeah, surviving is always what you should focus on. Your husband here is a bit slow, but he asked questions you gave me no answer to.” Alfie kept his voice calm, keeping details from her she’d have to beg for. She had always known that he was giving into more deals than any other gangster she knew, eventually betraying those he treated like his own family. But not once had (y/n) even dared to think that he’d betray her. 

“Arthur, John, show Alfie Solomons the way out, I have some things to talk about with my wife.” Tommy’s eves didn’t leave hers, not as Alfie rose to his feet, coming to a halt next to (y/n) to try and squeeze a shoulder, a touch she flinched away from, not as Arthur and John disappeared outside with Alfie slowly following them. And once again (y/n) and Tommy were engulfed by the all too familiar silence they’ve grown to accept, but today it had an uncomfortable touch to it, making her skin crawl. 

“Solomons and who else? Who else did you do business with?” She kept quiet, squeezing her eyes shut as Tommy smashed his palm flat against the table. Anger flushed through his veins, too blind to see through the fog of confusion he was trapped in, not understanding what she had done and why she had done these deals after all. “Fucking speak to me, woman!”

“Fuck you, Thomas. Do you even understand what I did for you? I saved your life too many times to count. I managed to hold Campbell back as much as possible, I stopped Alfie from giving into deals that would have ended your life before you could even begin to understand what he was doing, even the fucking Italians. But you had to fuck this up, you had to boast your fucking ego, while you were too blind to even realise that your own fucking wife, the one you left behind like some used whore you forgot to pay, was the reason your business kept growing.” She rose to her feet, walking past Tommy to pour herself a glass of bourbon, drowning the shot in one go. Her eyes fluttered close as the alcohol burned down her throat, welcoming the distraction from the pain that forced her heart to clench. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked together.” No longer did his voice carry any anger, almost quiet as if he was whispering. Slowly she turned back towards him, keeping her distance with her back pressed against the bar. 

“Work together? You pushed me away whenever I tried to speak to you about the business. You were simply too proud to work with your wife, so I had to take matters into my own hands before your pride would kill you.” He lit a cigarette, pulling it from his lips to reach it out for her to take. It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, walking towards her husband with slow, calculated steps. His hand snapped out to grasp her wrist, pulling her into his lap before she could turn away. 

“What shall I do with you, woman?” She deeply inhaled, letting the smoke flush through her lungs, leaving deathly marks that would eventually be her death call, should the business she was now fully trapped in not catch up with her first. “You won't tell those you do business with that I know about this, perhaps we can use this to our advantage. But I need you to be honest with me from now on, are we clear?”

“Who would have thought we’d ever end up doing business with one another, mister Shelby.“ He took the cigarette from her, placing it between his lips for one last drag, watching her with curiosity filling his pupils. „I have one condition though.”

“Come home to me, Tommy, I won’t endure the silence in our home any longer.” 

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅

this is the more extended version of my unwanted drabble, thank you to @jessybarnes for some of the ideas. I hope you all enjoy.

summary - steve tricked you before kidnapping you, leaving you locked away in the basement as you begin to mess with his mind.

warning - angst, mentions of killing, mentions of sadness, mentions of being trapped.

the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“What? You want me to meow or something?” 

Steve sat there shocked, staring at you with wonder. It’s as if you had no care and weren’t freaking out like others. He stares into your eyes, seeing nothing there, and his head tilts as he looks at you. “No..?” He looks confused, wondering. “How do you feel?” 

“I don’t.” You state, turning your head back to the wall and staring at it. You miss how his eyebrows shoot up. “So… When are you going to kill me?” You pick at your nails, continuing to feel stupid for thinking someone like him would actually want you. You turn your head when you don’t hear a response and tilt your head as he stares at you, confused. “That’s why you tricked me, right? To kill me, you didn’t exactly pretend to like me, drug me, and tie me up in your basement because you’re madly in love with me, and that’s the only way you thought you could get me.” 

“You’re not afraid? Why aren’t you screaming, crying or swearing at me?” He’s so confused, getting closer to you, kneeling before you as he looks into your eyes. “Why is there nothing? You’re so empty.” 

You blink, staring at him blankly. “If you don’t mind, ‘Steve’. I would like not to talk and for you to just get to the point.” You move away from him, crawling up the bed and lying on your back as you stare at the ceiling. “I’ll be here… Waiting patiently for my death. Not like I have anywhere to go.” 

You let out a sigh when he left the room, one side of your mind begging for him to stay and the other staying quiet. You couldn’t let yourself fall for his stupid face again, and you didn’t want to beg someone to love you. You wanted that to come naturally. But you don’t think that will ever happen because… You were you, and people didn’t like what they saw.

Steve was curious, and you were like a puzzle to him. He had never met anyone so void of emotion and missed the woman he met. You seemed so happy and carefree, sure. He did notice that you were more closed off and didn’t seem to let him so close. He wanted to change that. He needed some sort of reaction, some sort of emotion. How can you be so calm during all this? Steve left you alone for a while, barely acknowledging the other women locked up, barely acknowledging his wife and kids, or the women he promised dates to. You were occupying his mind, and it was driving him crazy. He had destroyed most of the upstairs, trying anything to get you out of his head. He couldn’t take it. The look in your eyes, your words, it was all getting to him.

Steve remembered your dates and how you told him about the books you used to write. He recalled that you said it was the only thing that made you genuinely feel something, and an idea sparked. Steve gathered a notebook, some pens, and some food and water before making his way down to the basement. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and smiling at you. “I brought you something that I think you’ll enjoy.” You continue to stare at the wall, your eyes tired. Steve sighs, softly walking over and placing the items before you. “I’m trusting you with these pens, but if you do something—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” You scoff, eyes slowly moving to connect with his. “That was already your plan, and this would make the killing go faster.” You roll your eyes, barely looking at the things he placed before you. “Did you need anything else? Because I’d rather you just hurry this along.” Your head turns again, ignoring him because what was the point of giving him any more attention? 

“Why are you behaving like this? I bought you some of the things I remember you talked about. You should at least feel happy?” Your head falls back as you let out a laugh, startling Steve, who stares at you as if you’ve grown three heads. “What? What’s so funny?!” Why wouldn’t you just submit?! Why were you so different from the others?! It bewildered Steve how you could sit so emotionless and then laugh as if he had said something funny.

“You. Do you think giving me a notebook and pens would suddenly make me happy? Did you not stop to think that you are the problem? I have already come to terms with the fact that no one will ever love me, that you only pretended so you could kidnap me and kill me. So why aren’t you killing me?! Why are you taking your sweet time?!” You snap, struggling against the chains as you stand and move toward Steve, punching his chest. “Kill me! Kill me, goddammit!” You scream, your eyes are still emotionless, yet your words hold so much power.

Steve holds your wrists, stopping you from hitting him. He stares down at you, wondering why his heart clenches like this. “No.” He moves away, needing to get out of this room and get away from you as you make his head fuzzy. He watches as you stare at him in disbelief.

“So, what… I’m not good enough to love and not good enough to kill either?” You sink back onto the bed, your eyes staring at the wall as you realise you will never be good enough for anything or anyone. Steve quickly leaves the room, going through the house, destroying more things on the way. How could you get into his head like this? No one else had done it, so why were you so different?

You sat there, staring at the untouched notebook before slowly reaching for it, and as you grabbed the pen, the words began to flow out of you and onto the page. Everything you felt deep inside was coming out through stories. Not feeling in the mood to eat or drink, you spend most of the day and night writing. As many more days pass, Steve comes in and out with more gifts and food. You continued to ignore him, not knowing how to react, waiting for him to decide when it was your time to die finally. But the day never came. You think a month had passed, but you weren’t so sure. Steve walked into your room, undoing the chains and holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ve prepared us some dinner.” You stare at him warily before slowly standing and following him. He leads you to the kitchen and pulls out the chair for you. 

“Why am I out here?” You sit, tapping the table, watching him place the food onto the plates, not daring to touch it as Steve sits across from you. 

“I’ve come to realise something, and at first, it scared me. You’re different from the rest.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. Do you know how confusing this is for me? You’ve taken over my mind, and I can’t focus on anything else.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’ve stopped you from tricking other women into believing you love them.” Your eyes roll again, leaning back into the chair. “Do you need a tissue?” You pick up the napkin beside your plate, offering it out to him.

Steve stares at you blankly, his eye twitching as he’s stuck between wanting to strangle you and make love to you. “No, I do not need a tissue. I’m trying to tell you that I feel something for you.” He’s startled again as you laugh.

“You feel something for me?” You feel tears prick your eyes as you continue to laugh. “Oh, god. That’s probably the funniest thing I’ve heard. I think you are delusional.” You shake your head, and your laughter slowly dies down. Your eyes connect with him, and you stare. “You’ve already got me here. You don’t need to keep lying to make yourself feel better.” You continue to tap on the table. “So… When am I going to die?” 

“You aren’t. I’m keeping you alive.”

“Oh, great. Fantastic. Sounds so fun to be alive and kept locked away in a basement for the rest of my life. Good plan.” You give a little clap and throw him a fake smile. But deep down, your stomach twisted, and your heart dropped. This was worse than waiting to die. Now you would be locked away, unloved, and eventually wither away. Your expression on the outside stayed void of any emotion. 

“No, you will stay up here. With me.” 

You wished you had never even gone to that stupid market. You wished you had never believed Steve’s stupid words or smile. How could you be so stupid to believe someone would ever choose you?

You were unwanted.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[epickiya722]

Haha right? It's so normalized while it's actually so inappropriate to go to a stranger and talk about their sexual preferences.

I hate how "x fans" is called "x fuckers" now. Yeah I like Sukuna. No I don't want to fuck him. But all there is in his tags.

I'd go as far as to say that people don't care about characters. They just want to put them into tropes box to imagine them as their vampire/alpha male/ceo lover.

And I find it ironic how the same will trash talk about fanboys while they do the exact same thing. '"let women be horny" they will say, because reducing a story to you being horny is ok.

I still want to publish my stories because some fandom gave me hope. But I don't hold my breath anymore.

It is very inappropriate. Like, damn, I can't just like the character? I can't be entertained by their antics?

There are just so many things that shouldn't be normalized across fandoms and going into someone's inbox to be like "*insert character* fucker" is one.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind people having their fantasies about their faves, let alone am I gonna police anybody on or care to. Waste of my time, I got fics to write! Posts to post! 😭

But sometimes I do think "does this person actually care about the character's story"?

Because some of those same people will have so many takes on their faves that don't even be that character. That is a whole OC you created!!

I actually wasn't aware of this until only recently that people accepted for Sukuna to become some absolute horndog when Yorozu was up all over him. Maybe I missed something, but Sukuna only ever expressed being interested in fighting and killing people and personally, he never really came across as some sexual deviant to me.

I feel like sometimes if you have this fanon version of your fave, that is not your favorite. In no way, should you feel the need to like this whole other version of your "fave" in order to like him. Then why have them as your favorite in the first place?

I like Sukuna because he entertains me. He's this evil ass menace who wants all the smoke and the biggest beef he has is with a 15 year old (who is my all time favorite of JJK). Sukuna also this mysterious air about him because we still don't know much about his backstory, let alone everything he can do. (I had this recent thought about a technique that I should probably get to writing.) I have theories about his character, like how he may really be as a person, true. But at the same time, I'm not gonna believe my theories about him are canon because "I know him better than Gege". Anything I say isn't canon unless said so explicitly. I didn't create Sukuna. I am just another fan just vibing along with the story.

And it really is insane to me that people will do that. People were saying "female fans of JJK are ruining the fandom, they're all so horny" as if all us are horny, let alone engage in the anime for said reasons.

The same people *cough cough* misogynists *cough* who say that be the same people who will have a wallpaper of someone like Nami as their header and she'll have boobs bigger than what she has in canon.

Oooh, y'all don't like folks be objectifying the JJK men, huh? Even though for years female characters have gotten the treatment in Shonen. You cannot be dragging Gojo fans when you want to be Makima's dog. Stop that now.

Also, its not just the men! Uh, Yuki Tsukumo exists! She has a lot of fans who find her attractive. There's Shoko, Utahime, Takako, Mei Mei...

I'm waiting for the day 143 gets animated because I just know people are gonna go 👀.

Like, either way, if you're a person who gets constantly horny over your faves, why are you upset with someone doing the same?

I saw this meme post about how people tend to overlook the story and its details and only focus on the attractive cast and fights. And some people were like "but people are only focusing on the fights and attractive cast".

No, they're not. You're missing the point.

For one, you can find the characters attractive and enjoy the fights. That is fine. But at the same time, don't miss the story. Pay attention to it because it's just as important, if not more.

Second, not everyone is focused on just the fights and cast. If that was the cast, why do we have theories and meta posts? Why do we have people writing fics that study the character they're writing about? If no one is focusing on the story and only like the fights and attractiveness of the characters, then those kind of posts from fans wouldn't exist.

[idontexistforcontext]

None of us are free until all of us are free

So I’ve recently remembered that I have a linktree which I haven’t actually used since like 2020/2021, so perfect place to share some of my saved links to support Palestine right? I suppose you can imagine my surprise when I already find a “FREE PALESTINE” header, one I don’t remember adding as a teen in the throes of lockdown and high school, right at the bottom.

I won’t try and pretend like I do remember adding any such thing, or sharing calls for donations for drinking water for Gaza, or for a hospital in East Jerusalem. I won’t act as if I had done the right thing and educated myself, because if I had back then, maybe I might’ve gotten involved in the criticism of Zionism and Israel whole lot sooner into the influx of atrocities and war crimes they’ve committed in “retaliation”. And maybe I would’ve understood just how much control the Israeli have had over the Palestinians sooner, for why would they have needed funds for suitable drinking water in early 2021? And maybe I would’ve known why I was sharing a call for aid for Al Makassed Hospital, which was raided by IOF soldiers dressed as women who sound bombed the area, killing 150 and injuring 600 Palestinians mid-2021. And maybe I would’ve known of Al Quds Open University, of which the hospital was associated with, and was bombed in November last year.

And sure, I could go on, but I won’t. Because the babies burned and decapitated and dismembered in the bombings in UNICEF’s camps in Rafah, the “designated safe zone”, and in their homeland wouldn’t have been alive then, let alone grow to learn from their elders who would have lived through it. Little Hind Rajab, who would’ve been alive then but too young to truly recall, won’t care, because she was murdered alone with her already dead relatives and two brave men who were meant to be allowed to save her. The innocent bodies marred by this so called “war”, the bleak eyes cursed by death, the broken bodies and immovable spirits of displaced persons seeking safety from the greed of the world - they won’t be thinking of matters of the past.

I genuinely don’t know what to think anymore. My heart aches for the Palestinians, as it does for the Congolese and the Sudanese and the Uyghurs and all victims of the manifestations of the greed of humanity. All I can wish for is for humanity to open their eyes, their hearts, to properly watch our world burn and feel the same aches as I do, as so little yet so many do. To take those aches and build the world anew, not from rubble, but from the foundations of our collective morals and drive against injustice and for a sustainable future.

And maybe I’ve written too much and no one will truly read this all, especially since I haven’t entirely censored myself here. But I refuse to put the effort in to make a tldr because I want people to read this all, I want to see just how far my voice can and will go.

The Operation Olive Branch spreadsheet is at the top of my linktree, right under the ‘FREE PALESTINE’ header that started these thoughts. If you’d like to look at the links I mentioned, I’ve kept them as the bottom three, I overall encourage you to research into them if you have the mental capacity to, or to at least keep up to date with the world today. I most likely won’t be updating that linktree again, so please seek other accounts and people who have more resources and material to keep educated.

As always, none of us are free until all of us are free. Choose the right side of history, make a stand against injustice.

[xtaketwox]

Summary: The Archerons are new to London society. The rumors go that Viscount Archeron brought his daughters to London after the death of their mother in the south of France. Lucien is struck by the beauty of Elain Archeron from the first moment he sees her, but little does he know the Archeron family is hiding a secret that may just get him killed.

Fic Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Chapter Word Count: 3639

Master List; Read on AO3

A/N: Many thanks to @itsthedoodle for the header and for beta reading. Let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list for the rest of the fic.

Chapter 1

“Do try not to look as though you are walking to the gallows.”

Lucien sighed as he walked toward his mother waiting at the top of the staircase. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t insinuated I was ready for marriage to every mother in town.”

His mother patted his face when he bent to kiss her cheek. “Not every mother. Only those with unmarried daughters.”

Lucien tried to make his face severe, although as usual, he found it difficult to be severe towards his mother. “I’ll ask that you not interfere in my life like this again. I haven’t been able to go anywhere this week without mothers shoving their daughters in my path.”

His mother sighed. “Seven sons and yet none are married. Can you blame me? I’d like to be a grandmother before I’m dead.”

Lucien scoffed. “You’ve hardly got one foot in the grave, Mother. Besides, I’m only twenty-seven. It’s Eris you should be hounding. He’s nearing forty.”

She sighed again, this time with a tinge of sadness. “Eris is Eris. You know as well as I do, there’s no talking him into something he doesn’t want to do.”

Lucien couldn’t blame Eris for not wanting to get married. None of his half-brothers seemed inclined to continue the Vanserra line. Their father, Beron, the Duke of Ottum, had been a bastard, by all accounts. He had died before Lucien was born, allowing his mother to marry the man she had loved since before she was forced to marry Beron and birth him six children. Lucien was a product of that union, had grown up witnessing how very in love his parents were. He supposed he understood why his mother was eager for him to marry, to perhaps find the same marital bliss she had with Helion, the Duke of Daitonn. What she failed to consider, however, was that marrying for love was nearly unheard of among the members of the British aristocracy. Matches were most often made for money and status.

His mother looped her hand into his arm and pulled him toward the stairs, at the bottom of which they were to greet their guests as they arrived for the ball. His father was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a smile on his face, his eyes soft as he watched his wife and son descend the stairs. 

“You look lovely, my dear,” Helion said, placing a kiss on her cheek. 

Lucien looked away from the open display of affection. It wasn’t indecent, but they were still his parents and he hardly wanted to witness their open affection. The doors to the house opened, the first of their guests arriving, and Lucien just barely stopped himself from sighing, preparing for a long evening in which every mother would be shoving their eligible daughters into his face.

He pasted on a polite smile, greeting each family as they entered, the minutes dragging by at a snail’s pace. At least when the dancing started, he would be doing something more than nodding his head and pretending he wasn’t bored out of his mind. Of course, then he’d be forced to make polite conversation while women batted their eyes at him and tried to inflate his ego. 

Lucien was nearly falling asleep as the last of their guests filtered into the ballroom, when a man and his daughter stepped through the door.  Lucien’s eyes widened and he quickly schooled his face to hide his shock. The daughter was a vision, quite easily the most beautiful woman to walk through their doors tonight. She was dressed in the latest fashion, but there was no hiding the luxury of the fabric, much finer than even his mother’s gown. The dark jade green dress had a bodice of fine velvet, the skirt made of row upon row of gossamer silk flaring out from her waist and falling delicately to the floor. The neckline drew delicately across her collarbones and the same gossamer silk formed the sleeves. Her matching gloves were finely sewn silk lace, and across her neck was hung a string of emeralds with matching dew drop emerald earrings. Her hair was a honey brown that glimmered in the light, the curls piled high on her head accentuating the soft curve of her neck. 

He leaned over to his mother as they approached. “Who is that?”

His mother frowned. “I don’t know.”

Before she could turned to his father to ask, the butler announced them. “Viscount Archeron and his daughter, Lady Elain Archeron.”

“Viscount,” Helion greeted, “I’m so pleased you could make it.” He turned toward Elain. “And how lovely to meet your daughter.” He gestured toward Lucien and his mother. “Allow me to introduce my wife, the Duchess of Daitonn and my son Lucien.”

Lucien nodded toward Elain even as his heart pattered strangely in his chest. “A pleasure.” Without stopping to think too hard about it, he said, “I don’t suppose you would do me the honor of the first dance?”

Elain’s smile was elegant and polite as she curtsied and held out her arm so Lucien could write his name on the card attached to her wrist. “It would be my pleasure.”

Lucien quickly wrote his name on the first line, already planning to request a second dance, and then stepped back with a nod. “Please enjoy the refreshments. The music should begin shortly.”

As the Viscount and his daughter walked away, Lucien’s mother turned to her husband. “How do you know them? I’ve never even heard of the Viscount.”

“I met the Viscount at Whites yesterday evening. He and his three daughters are new in town. They have been living in the south of France for most of his children’s lives. Apparently his wife was French, and after her death, he decided to move his daughters back to England, most likely in an attempt to find them a good match. I invited them this evening and plan to introduce the Viscount to some of the men.”

His mother clicked her tongue. “The poor dears, losing their mother like that and then to be uprooted. It must be awful. I wonder where the other two are this evening.”

“Perhaps they don’t feel up to merriment, given the circumstances of their moving to London,” Lucien offered.

His mother nodded. “Yes, you’re quite right. It must not have been too recent an occurrence, given they’re here and not wearing black, but I can imagine it must be difficult nonetheless.” She turned to Lucien with an eyebrow raised. “You were quick to claim Elain’s first dance.”

Lucien returned his mother’s stare. “Yes, well, I’m simply being a good host. It’s only fitting that as we’re the ones throwing this ball, I do my part to help the Viscount and his daughter fit in with the rest of London society.”

His mother hmm’d as his father chuckled. “Well,” she said, “just be careful you find out more about the lovely woman before you make a spectacle of yourself this time.”

Lucien scoffed. “I would never make a spectacle of myself.”

His mother raised her eyebrows. “Need I remind you of the time you declared yourself for Lady Jesminda, who was already engaged?”

Lucien winced. “That was a long time ago. I was barely twenty and I learned my lesson.”

Helion held out his arm for his wife, who placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Yes, well, remember that as the hosting family, you’ll need to dance with more than one young lady.”

Lucien barely contained his annoyed sigh as he walked beside his parents into the ballroom. His father nodded to the orchestra on the mezzanine and they immediately began a waltz. Lucien couldn’t help his smile as he found Elain and walked over to her.

He bowed and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Elain curtsied and placed her gloved hand in his. He walked them to the center of the ballroom, all eyes on them as Lucien turned, placing one hand on her waist, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder as he clasped her other hand in his. As he started to move, other couples joined them on the floor. Lucien hardly noticed them, the vision that was Elain Archeron capturing his entire attention. It was a wonder he could remember the steps to the waltz.

“You’re a fine dancer, my lord,” Elain said, her voice as elegant as her gown. 

“You’re much more graceful than me, I’m afraid,” was his response.

Elain’s mouth curved as she tilted her eyes down. “My mother made sure that my sisters and I received dance instruction. I’ve been waltzing for many years now.”

“My father told me of the circumstances of your move to England. Please allow me to express my condolences.”

Another couple came careening toward them, and Lucien pulled Elain close to avoid a collision, his stomach flipping as her body came flush against his. He glared at the gentleman before reluctantly placing space between them once more. 

Elain looked up at him, the soft brown of her eyes reminding him of a fawn’s coat or warm honey. Her complexion was pale, but her eyes softened the otherwise cold look of her, and the overall effect was devastating. 

He swallowed hard, not remembering what they were speaking about until Elain said, “Thank you, my lord. It was quite a shock, but I do believe my father made the best decision when deciding to move us to England. It was quite difficult to be reminded of my mother in every stone.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say to that, which was unusual. He prided himself in his ability to talk his way through any situation, but something about Elain was halting his ability to think. “Yes. I can imagine that would be difficult.”

Elain gave him another soft smile. “Let us not speak of such dark topics. It’s not fitting for a ball, after all.”

Lucien smiled back, taking the not so subtle hint that Elain did not wish to speak of her mother’s passing. “You’re quite right.” He gripped her close once more when another pair of dancers brushed too close. Really, people ought to learn how to dance before subjecting their fellow dancers to their shoddy footwork. “Have you been in London long?”

Elain shook her head as she took a step back, once more putting space between them. “We arrived in town not three days ago.”

Lucien raised his eyebrows. “So soon? I’m surprised you’re not at home recovering from your voyage.”

Elain laughed softly, the sound reminding him of the sound of wind chimes, tinkling softly in the breeze. “That is why my sisters did not join us, but I cannot resist a ball.”

The waltz came to a close, so Elain stepped back, curtsying as Lucien bowed. When she made to let go of his hand, Lucien gripped it harder. 

“Forgive me for being so forward, but I was wondering if you still had dances available and if I might ask for another dance later this evening?”

Elain’s answering smile sent relief through his body. She held out her wrist once more and he took it and wrote his name on the last dance of the evening. “I shall see you for the last dance then,” he said as he let go of her wrist. She curtsied once more and walked over to her father. 

Lucien didn’t realize that he was staring until his mother whispered in his ear, “Remember there are other young ladies here that require partners.”

Lucien sighed. It was going to be a long night, but at least he had another dance with Elain Archeron to look forward to. He went to get a beverage before he became surrounded by ladies and their mothers.

The evening wore on not unpleasantly. Lucien enjoyed a ball, even if it was his mother’s attempt at marrying him off, the mothers of London’s society doing their best to help her. Some young ladies were terrible dancers and others were terrible conversationalists, but regardless, he had to admit he enjoyed himself. As well, there was the prospect of another dance with Elain to keep him happy.

Elain had spent the entire evening dancing, her card rapidly filling as the other eligible bachelors of London vyed for her attention. Lucien tried not to stare at them all, to wonder if she enjoyed their company more than his. He reminded himself that he didn’t wish to insult the ladies he himself was dancing with; it was not their fault that Elain Archeron had arrived in London to take away the attention of all the men in society. 

Still it was difficult to keep his eyes off the vision that was Elain as she twirled around the dance floor, so regal that she looked as if she were floating around the room, the silk of her skirt trailing after her. Eventually, the last dance of the evening was announced and Lucien did his best to walk calmly to where she was standing next to her father, a cup of punch in her hand. 

Her lips curved up as he bowed and held out his hand. “I believe this last dance is mine?”

She handed her cup to her father as she curtsied, taking his hand. He couldn’t help but wish that it was ok for ladies to remove their gloves, so that he might feel her skin against his. He walked her back to the center of the room and placed his hand on her waist.

As they started dancing about the room, he asked, “So, how was your first ball in London?”

She smiled, her eyes dancing and her cheeks flushed. “It was quite entertaining and just what I needed after several weeks of traveling.”

He knew he shouldn’t ask, that it wasn’t proper, but, “Have any of the gentlemen caught your eye this evening?”

He knew he should be embarrassed for being so bold, as well as for showing how much he cared about her answer, but couldn’t find it in himself to worry what she thought of him as her smile grew and her alluring eyes shifted down. “There are many fine gentlemen in London. The ladies are quite lucky to have such a pool from which to choose husbands, but you, sir, are the only gentleman with which I’ve shared two dances.”

Lucien didn’t bother to moderate his grin. “Well then, I hope to share many more dances with you in the future.” He tightened his grip on her waist before adding. “Perhaps I will also see you at the opera?”

Elain looked up at him, a coy smile on her face. “Perhaps.”

Lucien’s grin grew and they fell into a companionable silence as they moved about the room, staring into each other’s eyes. The urge to kiss her came over him quite suddenly and he just barely resisted. It would make him a bastard of the highest order if he were to kiss her in full view of London society, especially given she had been in town for a mere three days, but the urge remained nonetheless. 

When the song ended, Elain curtsied and Lucien held out his arm. “Will you allow me to escort you to your carriage?”

Elain placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “You may.” 

Many people glanced their way as they made their way toward the front door, the women doing little to hide their disappointment that they weren’t the one on his arm and then men doing little to hide their envy that he was the one to escort Elain. No doubt Lucien would have to be quick if he decided to propose, as surely Elain would have men lined up around the block. 

When they reached the Viscount at the door, Lucien thanked them both for coming before asking if he could call upon Elain the following day. 

“You’ll have to excuse us,” the Viscount replied. “I indulged my middle daughter this evening, but our home is not yet ready to receive guests, and my other two daughters are not yet recovered from our long journey. Perhaps another time.”

Lucien nodded and smiled despite the disappointment coursing through him. “Of course. Another time then.”

He watched as the Viscount and Elain got into their carriage before turning back into the house, straight into the smirking face of his mother. 

“Well,” she said, “that was quite the success, I do think.”

Lucien looked to the ceiling and sighed in mock irritation. “I hate it when you’re right.”

She patted him on the cheek. “I know, my darling boy, but what else are mothers for if not to annoy their children with wisdom?”

Helion walked up, hand to his mouth as he yawned. It was nearly three in the morning. “Shall we, my dear?”

His mother nodded and looped her hand through his father’s arm. “I might just fall asleep standing up if I don’t find my bed soon.”

Lucien followed his parents up the stairs, turning in the opposite direction for his room. 

Despite not planning to spend the season finding a wife, one might just have dropped into his lap unexpectedly.

~~~~~~

The following evening, Lucien spent his time playing cards at White’s with his good friend Jurian and several other men. He had slept until nearly noon, but with Elain’s father declining his offer to visit, Lucien had seen no reason to get out of bed earlier. 

By the time he left the club it was nearing midnight and he was nearly drunk, having gone a little heavy handed on the wine throughout the night. He stared out the window as the carriage meandered down the road. There weren’t many carriages out at this time of night, so the trip back to his home shouldn’t take long. Still, he willed himself to sober up a bit. His mother hated to see him drunk and he hated to disappoint her. Eris had once alluded to the fact that Beron had been drunk regularly, so Lucien could certainly understand why it bothered her. 

They were just passing by the edge of the slums when a glint of golden hair caught his eye. He sat up, and peered out the window. Surely he was wrong. No lady would be alone this late at night, especially in this area of town. 

He rapped the top of the carriage. “Stop the carriage.”

The driver pulled over as a woman who looked very much like Elain Archeron turned into a dark alley, oblivious of the unsavory gentleman who was following close behind. Lucien’s heart was in his throat as he leapt out of the carriage before it had come to a complete stop. Elain—or whomever the woman was—was in trouble. He wasn’t quite sure how he would help her, having no weapon on him but his own two fists, but he could hardly leave her to be assaulted. He could only hope the man wasn’t carrying a knife or pistol with him. 

Lucien ran toward through the mud, nearly getting trampled by another carriage as he hurried across the street. The streets weren’t as noisy as during the day, but there was still enough sound that he couldn’t be certain of the scream he heard coming from the alley. He quickly pumped his legs, skidding to a halt in the dark alley, as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.

“Hey! What are—” He pulled up short, uncertain what exactly his eyes were seeing. 

The man who had followed the woman who looked like Elain into the alley was backed against the brick wall, his eyes glazed over as the woman pressed her lips to his neck. Lucien blinked for several seconds as the reality of what he was seeing caught up to him, the wine leaving his brain muddled. It appeared he wasn’t saving a woman from assault; rather, he had interrupted what appeared to be a romantic interlude.

“Pardon me,” he said, stepping back, now certain the woman could not be Elain Archeron. No woman in society would be in this part of town, and certainly not with her lips pressed against a man’s neck. 

“Help—me,” the man rasped, his fingers twitching toward Lucien, stopping him in his tracks. 

As if finally alerted to his presence, the woman pulled away, the man she had had her lips against sliding down the wall. Lucien’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the woman before him was indeed Elain Archeron.

Except his mind could not process what he was seeing. What appeared to be blood was dripping down one corner of her mouth. Her teeth also looked quite strange, two of them much longer than the rest, resting against her lips and calling to mind the word fangs. Lucien’s eyes flicked to the man now laying on the ground, at what appeared to be two puncture holes which were slowly leaking blood down his neck. When he looked back to Elain, it was to find her tongue darting out to capture the red liquid on the corner of her mouth.  Before his eyes, the sharp fangs grew shorter, sliding back behind her lips, and Elain grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed the rest of the blood off her chin. 

“I—I don’t understand.” Some subconscious part of him knew that he was in danger, forcing him to back up a step, even as his rational mind tried to explain away what he was seeing. There was no way that Elain Archeron, daughter of a viscount, could have overpowered that man, no way she was drinking his blood. There had to be some other explanation.

Elain sighed as she replaced her handkerchief, sorrow filling her eyes.

“Oh Lucien. I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

[ms-hells-bells]

Dublin Pride got caught editing photos of the first Dublin pride march to change a protest sign to read ‘trans right are human rights’ - the edited image is still in their twitter header as I write this. The original sign read ‘lesbians are on the march.’ This is especially egregious as this pride was a protest at the murder of gay man Declan Flynn and the subsequent suspended sentences his killers got. 5 men were found guilty but walked free for killing a gay man and that’s why we have pride here. It still a crime to be gay at the first Dublin pride, 40 years ago. Now we are free to live our lives and marry and it’s thanks to the people in those photos that Dublin pride whitewashed

Part 2. Following on from an earlier ask. To clarify the lesbian sign was cropped out of the photo. The sign photoshopped was one that criticised police with "They aren't on your side either" This is starting to attract attention from prominent gay rights activists online like Fred Sargeant. It is abhorrent to make a protest at the murder of a gay man into something else entirely

once again, it's how you can tell a group isn't actually oppressed (at least not for the reasons they say they are). no other group, not women, not gay people, get treated with this much care and reverence, full stop.

[kanouseis]

Top 5 Kamen Riders! (adaptations included)

okay so im gonna do this both ways as in favorite riders the shows and favorite riders the characters

for shows:

1. kamen rider w (wbk, my forever beloved, i dont think this will stop being my favorite soon. the fucking detective show. DUB E X crime and the city. fucking found family. hidari shotaro MY GUY. so much insanity just look at my header on here. phillip :')))) i have so many feelings and im forcing myself to stop here. ryu voice Dont Ask Me Questions.)

2. kamen rider ex aid (my first rider and yknow you dont forget your first rider. the gamer doctors are my beloved. the suits are so cool (taddle legacy!!!) kiriya is here AND HANAYA TAIGA. WHY IS HE LIKE THIS. taihii the most insane ship dynamic ever. POPPY MY BELOVED <33333 the character songs are So Good. i like real game and the taddle legacy theme a normal amount. EXCITE EXCITE ALL I GOTTA DO IS LIVE ON)

3. kamen rider ghost (big part of this is takeru which ill get to later. but goood theres so much good in this show. warera omou yue ni warera ari!!!! its literally so fun. and the messages are so good!!! life is beautiful and i never want to die. makoala and takekari marriages happened and nothing else is canon. THE BELT NOISE THE BELT NOISES. mugen ghost is my fav final form ever. that one henshin scene from the summer movie kills me. keep going go go go go go go gotta ghost!!!!!)

4. everything else ive watched so ooo and revice (ooo: i need to rewatch this one actually bc it made me feel so much but then i watched w next so yeah. ANKHEIJI LEGENDARY GAY OF ALL TIME. i love all the characters so so so fucking much but especially eiji this fucking guy. the greeed my beloved... the insert songs!!! so many times you can find me singing SONO SHUNKAN NOMIKOMARERU DAAKU SAIDO NO KIKEN NA YOUKUBO. so yeah you count the medals one two and three anything goes life goes on coming up ooo :')) (revice: free theraphy show fr fr. like just good vibes all around. loved this one so much. there is tragedy but we prevail. the music is fucking amazing i have listened to mirage mirror 73 times within a single month of discovering it. the suits!!! daiji and ikki and sakura the siblings ever. hana makes me emotional and also hanasaku oh my god heated drama between women. deep drop danger kamen rider demons INSANE belt noises in general. THE THEMES IN THIS SHOW YES I WILL LOVE MYSELF.)

and im not ranking gaim & gotchard since i havent finished them

now for rider characters:

1. shotaro/kamen rider w & kamen rider joker (the fucking guy ever. god. i like him so much its a little distressing. hes my best friend. i want to dress like him sort of unironically. i am feverishly waiting for my joker memory to arrive. HIS BACKSTORY MAKES ME SO SAD. LIKE I CAN EMPATHISE. SO MUCH. and his dynamic with phillip akiko ryu i :'))) the found family ever. yeah. i often rewatch w ep49 just for the joker scenes. i have his birthday as per my headcanon in my calendar. i am not normal)

2. taiga/kamen rider snipe (so. hes my type of character so fucking much. broken sad lonely fucker of a guy. i want to kill i also want to hug him and i want to make him kiss hiiro. saving people to save yourself,,,,, yeah. NICO TAIGA THE SIBLINGS EVER. babang bang bang babang bang shooting uh. his fucking emo fringe neon suit. the dog tags he wears for no reason. THE SNIPE PREQUELLLLL im gonna stop here before it derails but oh my fucking lord)

3. takeru/kamen rider ghost (YEAH SO. tied for my fav main rider with eiji. takeru is incredibly important to me if he werent the same age as my brother id call him son but alas. i want a hug from him i think it would fix me. his fucking journey as a character..... he makes me sad but like happy sad. like i appreciate life more when im sad about him. his scenes in the pacman movie literally kill me. you always gotta keep going chasing after life its the only way you can live. go go go ghost [i start crying uncontrollably])

4. daiji/kamen rider live (bonded with this guy 6 episodes into revice its insane. this character is insane. i need to hug him. his fucking character song is therapy for me. KAGERO YOU FUCKING EMO EBOY. daijis vcinema is so good and i felt so much. i love the evililtylive suit despite the stupid name. i just love daiji in general and i dont ever think about how his actor is the same age as me <3)

5. eiji/kamen rider ooo (MY GUY MY GUY MY GUUUUUUY. i need to give him a hug. hes been through so much. but he still. he still is Like this. like what the fuck genuinely. the scene from ep30 is in my head constantly. tied for my fav main rider with takeru bc god does eiji make me feel things. but this is so fucking long already if you need to hear me cry about him send me an ask bc. ohmygod. HINO FUCKING EIJI. i dont Ever think about him in zi-o. and ooo 10th is not real)

[troutfur]

I bring Lynxkit, a mottled black and red molly with striking blue eyes flecked with amber(I think that’s how your supposed to do this)

Lynxkit's chart:

[Image ID: Under the header “What will Lynxkit’s life be like? (02/19/2023)” 16 rows of tally marks crossed out two by two until there is only 1 or 2 left uncrossed. To the left, a shield chart at the top with the following geomantic figures: Albus as the first mother, Coniunctio as the second mother, Cauda Draconis as the third mother, Amissio as the fourth mother, Fortuna Maior as the first daughter, Coniunctio as the second daughter, Via as the third daughter, Populus as the fourth daughter, Rubeus as the first niece, Rubeus as the second niece, Acquisitio as the third niece, Via as the fourth niece, Populus as the right witness, Amissio as the left witness, Amissio as the judge, and Laetitia as the sentence. Below the shield chart, an astrological house chart with the first twelve geomantic figures above mentioned assigned to houses 1 to 12 in the order mentioned above. /end ID]

Interpretation under the cut:

The judge here is Amissio, loss, usually a bad figure but considering the sentence is Laetitia, joy, it seems it will ultimately work out. Whatever it's lost, Lynxkit will be glad to have lost it. The right witness is Populus, passivity and stillness, representing she isn't a particularly active player in this whole thing, and the left witness is Amissio, giving the idea of passivity in the face of this loss.

The first figure of the house chart, Albus, suggests we've got another candidate for elder in our hands and tells us a bit more of about why their reaction to loss was inaction. In addition to being the figure of wisdom and of the old, Albus is the figure of apathy. Let's inquire into the other houses to see why that is, shall we?

In the second house, Coniunctio, communication and connections. The house of wealth and material posessions is a constant struggle for me but I've taken to associating it with food and prey when doing these randomly generated bios, so this suggests to me a pretty particular character quirk for Lynxkit: being a pretty capable negotiator, able to talk other characters into hunting her favorite types of prey in exchange for her doing the same. I don't know what exactly in her desert environment she could be really good at hunting and what food she likes so much she's willing to trade her catches for something else she might not be able to hunt for herself. But there goes an idea.

In the third house, Cauda Draconis, endings and foregone conclusions. WELP! I don't know exactly what happens between her and her littermates/close platonic relationships but this doesn't bode well for her relationships and particularly in relation too...

In the fourth house, Amissio, loss. We see this repeated from the court and while I could make this the loss the court figures refer to, killing off a parent or mentor figure and her reaction being nothing doesn't mesh for me? Like, this should be a more significant side effect. I'll put this down for an initial loss that dulls the pain of a subsequent loss. (Which may be why Cauda Draconis in the last house popped up, could she be perceived as heartless for that reaction leading to close platonic relations forsaking her...?)

In the fifth house, Fortuna Maior, independent success! Good old friend! I always love having this one in either this or the seventh house because this means an excuse to add in singles. In this case a single mother. Good for her, love me some strong independent women.

In the sixth house, Coniunctio yet again. I'm choosing to interpret this in light of the second house and say that she's a very health conscious type of gal. Cats obviously don't know much of anything about nutrition, but I like to imagine in wanting to keep a varied diet with all her food trading, she is cultivating a balanced diet. Good for her. Good for her.

In the seventh house we have Via, motion and change. This probably contributes to her singleness. She moves on fast from a partner, can't settle down, single parenthood was the best move because ultimately she couldn't stay with a single cat. Bodes for a bit of a messy love life but she doesn't strike me as the type to be too torn up about it.

In the eight house, Populus. Precisely as we knew already, the reaction of stillness towards death is related to a death. And since the narrative of SandClan has already involved many a volatile and aggressive deputy, one of which even died by her own hand, I don't see being too torn up about it. Which of couse, may alienate her from her littermates or a close platonic relationship as seen all the way back in the third house. Another factor we established as part of our narrative already is the aggressive faction of SandClan so, members of that?

In the ninth house have Rubeus, anger and uncontrolled aggression. This doesn't seem to refer to herself, really, and it is the house of long journeys. It could be considered an obstacle within a journey, though with how generally chill Lynx is shaping up to be I don't know exactly what. Unless perhaps it is just in general the journey of life in case which, Rubeus was also the significator that gave me the idea of making an aggressive faction a strong presence in SandClan...

In the tenth house, Rubeus again. This reinforces my thoughts about Lynx being in a position where people dislike how callous, even joyful, she seems to be towards a death. If figures of authority are mad at her, that is pretty notable.

In the eleventh house we have Acquisitio, gain. And yet! She is not standing alone! She will gain allies that will back up her inaction. She doesn't seem to be in bad company at all.

And in the twelfth house we have Via, change. If change is an antangonistic force this jives very well with her characterization so far as someoe steadfast, who stands her ground in the face of opposition. This will, of couse, also lead to an entrenched attitude into her old age, pointing us futher to the idea of the elder character.

Putting it all together:

Lynxkit will face loss for the first time early in her life, when a parent or mentor leaves the world for StarClan's hunting grounds. Coming to accept death early, she will take on a largely passive attitude towards life, taking what she can get. Though she is conscious of her health and delights in simple pleasures such as tasting the varieities of prey of the desert, she isn't too torn up about her time coming. Always on the move, she is unable to settle with a partner, but is successful raising kittens on her own. She is very much unfavorable to the growing aggressive faction of SandClan and as a result during one battle she lets the deputy, a figurehead of that group, die by her inaction. Her littermates, themselves sympathizers, feeling extremly betrayed, denounce her and cut her off. She remains steadfast on nothing being her fault though, and though facing anger from many, she also finds support in her stance. Ever steadfast, she carries this attitude into the elders' den, now too fragile too really fight the turn towards aggression in SandClan but still being stubborn in voicing her displeasure.

Warrior name I'm thinking Lynxpelt.

[igottatho]

I received this message (reblog) this morning and I thought I should address all the horrible points this asshole is making. I already blocked them, as I’m not really interested in talking to them; these people are committed to a hateful rhetoric that places them as victims in history that happened thousands of years ago.

My own settler history came to Alaska only ~150 years ago. Prior to that it was a Russian colony (such an inconvenient word for them isn’t it), and to this day, much like the US military, a huge Russian presence continues in Alaska. (Note: I say Alaska in my header because “the Unceded Lands of the Lower Tanana Dene” doesn’t fit. That’s a true land acknowledgement.) The word Alaska itself is derived from the ‘Tlingit Aly-Ax-a, the Great One, or Denali (recent legislation removed the colonial McKinley title) - the tallest mountain in North America. Sort of like how Montauk is an Indigenous word. And Milwaukee. And Minnesota. And on and on and on. Only white people can bend over backwards to say “were not stealing” while using all of the native names. I suppose (huge sarcasm warning here) we should be grateful that at the white supremacy of Zionism renames all of the Arab cities to Judaisms biblical names.

I don’t care what your sources say or the history behind it, let’s not pretend that cherry picking bits of history to justify a nationalist genocidal rampage so Zionists can build a beach resort on the Gaza Strip. Or a Canal (https://www.newarab.com/news/what-israels-ben-gurion-canal-plan-and-why-gaza-matters?amp) Or a new Oil rig.

I wouldn’t say I’m proud OR happy, in fact I’m pretty fucking angry and pissed off with this world right now, because it’s filled with people telling us to our faces that all of this violence in the name of capital is jUsTiFiEd. The violence continues in Alaska and all throughout the United States with unmitigated violence against Native peoples. Particularly Native women, who are killed at alarmingly high rates on their own land. My friends IRL and I refer to this as “slow genocide” because it results in the same loss of culture, identity and life, at a snails pace. Make no mistake, that’s the goal for our white supremacies culture. The acknowledgement that settlers have committed terrible wrongs isn’t something that’s limited to Zionism, but certainly Zionism is (correctly) under the microscope right now. That’s why they (White Western and European powers) are so frightened about the worldwide backlash against the ethnic cleansing of Palestine - if Palestine can be liberated, so can any indigenous people.

ermegahd the IRONY of a ‘smarmy NY Jew’ telling me that the Jews are already home 🙄 rolled my eyes much they fell out my damn head.

Free Palestine, End Settler Colonialism, and remember, it’s all a bullshit smoke screen designed to derail the conversation of progress, hope and decolonization.

[crimechannels]

By • Olalekan Fagbade JUST IN; President Tinubu's Minister pledges to empower Hausa/Fulani Herdsmen The Minister of Women Affairs, Mrs Uju-Kennedy Ohanenye, on Thursday in Abuja pledged to empower Hausa/Fulani herders from Adamawa South Senatorial zone. The Minister said this when some group of people from the zone paid her a courtesy visit. She promised to empower the people with farming tools and introduce them to plantation of hybrid rice with high yields. “I will also try to introduce the plantation of hybrid potatoes, cassava, palm oil, and when all these things are done for the people, I don’t think they will have the need to fight. “Most times, the fight between headers and farmers comes from hunger and suffering and they end up killing themselves. “I will start with hybrid rice because the good thing about hybrid rice is that when planted over the same size of farmland, it will give you 140 bags while normal rice will provide you 100 bags. According to her, “this kind of rice will give them more money and I feel that if doors of business opportunities are opened for our people to make money, there will be peace, people will not fight again. “They will be given rice processing machines that will provide 10 bags per hour, such rice will not have stones, it will not have chaff, it will be clean and it can be parboiled easily. “They will be introduced to packaging systems to enable them properly package their rice for export and local consumption,” she said. Ohanenye said that she has already discussed with the people on how to make some hectares of land available for the business, adding that the people are already her business partners. She said that the profit from the rice production in large quantities will enable the people to do other businesses and this will promote peace, love and decrease the number of out-of-school children among the people. “The people have promised to use part of the proceeds from the rice business to get their children back to school. “My ministry will support their children with scholarship programmes to make sure the children get better education and change their lives’’. Earlier, Mr Abubakar Bello, who spoke on behalf of the group, said that they were at the minister’s office to register their grievances about some other communities in Adamawa. He said that the constant crisis between farmers and herders in Adamawa south Senatorial zone had been a thing of concern for the people. Bello said that the crisis between the warring groups had affected them a lot and brought about loss of lives and many other valuable properties. “This is why we came to the ministry to lodge our complaints and we thank God that the minister has responded positively and has promised to intervene in our matters. “We thank the minister for promising to intervene with some empowerment programmes for our people and we have arable land that will enable our people venture into various businesses that she promised to introduce to us. “We thank President Bola Tinubu for appointing this kind of woman as the Minister of women affairs. She is not only performing the role of a minister but also promoting unity among different groups,’’ he said. (NAN)

[redpillfuturist215]

A post to replace my bio header

A supplement to my Twitter https://twitter.com/RPfuturist215 This post also serves as a Twitter bio character limit workaround Finally, a free thinking black man SOASBM and ex/recovering-SIMON, now IBMOR and SYSBM Living with BMI-T/ST, CCPTSD Anti-communist, not a democrat US army vet, OEF SECON, MAGA, intactivist Futurist. Longing for time travel so I can give some version of me a childhood I deserve, esp. to be free of sexual abuse as well as save as many males as possible from genital mutilation, false accusations and other grave injustices Masculinity isn't toxic. Feminism is. Anti-feminism is not anti-woman Male genital mutilation, euphemistically called circumcision, alone should make every man red pilled/MGTOW Common terms I use and definitions of abbreviations above FKA – formerly known as CRTFP2 – check retweet for part two/2 ATF – all things futurism AO – and/or OAL – or at least SECON – secular eco conservative Shen – gender neutral pronoun for vague animals DMF’s – delusional mother fuckers *In reference to being a black male IBMOR – introspective black men of reform SYSBM – save yourselves black men SIMON – slavery indoctrinated, mentally oppressed nigga BMI-T/ST – black mother induced trauma, sexual trauma CCPTSD – complex childhood post-traumatic stress disorder SOASBM – survivor of a single black mother BWTSLS – black women treat sons like slaves AWL – American (US) white leftist/liberal ALIG – American (US) liberal in general MGTOW - men going their own way Added 4/13/2024 SIMOEB – slavery indoctrinated mentally oppressed emasculated black man or men – a watered down version of SIMON randomly motivated by snowflakes Humans have a huge ego. I reject these words in favor of Anthropomorphic – sentient Hominid – free limbed, dexterous … or FLD for short TNOBRTKE – pronounced Tee-no-brit-key Trust no one and be prepared to kill everyone More descriptive + several other abbreviations I use and some clarifications https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/695996141462077440/several-abbreviations-terms-i-use-and-some

A recent revelation that I’m socially dead https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/716839276972752896/socially-dead My final planned major futurist post in this current timeline https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/716839844517740544/my-final-planned-major-futurist-post A collection of old futurist links with a loose red pill perspective https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/676094553119490048/futurism-esp-human-immortality-and-time-travel My most recent attempt at black male rights and awareness mega post, covering some general red pill and liberty topics as well. Last updated December 2022 Links to parts 2 and 3 are within https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/679869154187182080/african-american-women-are-terrible-mothers-much May 2023 IBMOR SYSBM thoughts, including Why I don’t have to be grateful for my so called mom My thoughts on my 100% VA disability status Why I haven’t moved out or deserted my “family” https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/718570277858131968/may-2023s-ibmor-sysbm-thoughts

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Why women kill headers

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- pack lana parrilla as rita castillo.

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rita castillo (why women kill)