#a generation that was brutally taken from us

[sayruq]

Yemeni, Iranian, and Palestinian authorities have spoken out in support of US university students and faculty members who have been targeted by brutal police repression for the past two weeks during mobilizations calling for an end to the genocide in Gaza. The leader of Yemen's ruling Ansarallah movement, Abdul Malik al-Houthi, said during a speech on 25 April that the US government “does not respect their laws, their constitution, or any headlines they raise and brag about,” stressing that there is a “concerted effort” from Washington to silence a movement that “has begun to wake up to the horror of what is happening in occupied Palestine.” “With the demonstrations and sit-ins at prominent US universities, the US support for the Israeli enemy became clear, as authorities dealt with the demonstrations and protests … in a bad manner that goes beyond all considerations,” the Yemeni resistance leader added.

Iranian Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian also condemned the crackdown witnessed across several universities. “The suppression and violent treatment of the American police and security forces against professors and students protesting the genocide and war crimes of the Israeli regime in various universities of the United States is deeply worrying,” Iran's top diplomat said via social media, adding that this repression is an extension of “Washington's full-fledged support for the Israeli regime and clearly shows the double standard policy and contradictory attitude of the American government towards freedom of expression.”

In Palestine, officials from Hamas and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), as well as student organizations in the Gaza Strip, issued statements supporting the grassroots movement that has taken over about two dozen university campuses in the US. “We, the students of Gaza, salute the students of Columbia University, Yale University, New York University, Rutgers University, the University of Michigan, and dozens of universities across the United States who are rising in solidarity with Gaza and to put an end to the Zionist–US genocide against our people in Gaza,” a statement from students organizations in Gaza reads. “From here in Gaza, we see you and salute you. Your actions and activism matter, especially in the heart of the empire, in the United States … It is clear that a new generation is rising that will no longer accept Zionism, racism, and genocide and that stands with Palestine and our liberation from the river to the sea,” the statement adds. For their part, the PFLP called on Palestinian and Arab students to “rise for Gaza following the example of American universities.” “Palestinian and Arab universities must take the initiative and break the barrier of silence, following the example of American universities which have ignited an intifada within the campus for the victory of the blood of our Palestinian people, and in rejection of the continuing American support for the zionist entity,” the PFLP statement reads. In a similar vein, Hamas politburo member Izzat al-Rishq said that the government of US President Joe Biden “violates individual rights and the right to expression, and arrests university students and faculty members because they reject the genocide that our Palestinian people are subjected to in the Gaza Strip at the hands of the neo-Nazi Zionists, without the slightest feeling of shame about the legal value represented by the students and university professors.” “The Biden administration, which is a partner in the brutal war on our Palestinian people, does not want to acknowledge that [the US public has] discovered the truth about the Nazi entity and is siding with human values and standing on the right side of history. Today’s students are the leaders of the future, and their suppression today means an expensive electoral bill that the Biden administration will pay sooner or later.”

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #students for justice in palestine #gaza solidarity encampment #columbia university #iran #pflp #palestinian resistance

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Okay, I know people as a general rule tend to not care about invertebrates as much as cute, fuzzy mammals, but this is a must-read if you care about animal welfare. The short version is that horseshoe crab blood has been used for decades in medicine as a way to test whether something is truly sterile; the blood clots in the presence of bacteria. Since then millions of horseshoe crabs have been captured and drained of blood, even though a synthetic alternative was developed a few years ago.

They go through a pretty brutal experience in the process. They're caught by fishermen who often throw them by their tails into a pile in the open air, and they're then trucked to a bleeding facility where they're strapped down and their blood is removed with needles jabbed directly into their hearts. Over half their blood may be taken, after which they're supposed to be returned to the ocean. However, it's likely many of them never make it back, instead turned into fish bait and sold by the same fishermen who caught them in the first place.

Apart from the fact that this is a horrific thing to put any animal through, the attrition due to fatalities has put a serious dent in horseshoe crab numbers. This is compounded by massive habitat loss, pollution, and the capture of horseshoe crabs as food, particularly as the females of one species are considered a delicacy. And other animals that rely on horseshoe crabs are suffering, too. The American rufa subspecies of the red knot, a medium-sized shorebird, is critically endangered as the horseshoe crab eggs it must have in order to successfully complete migration have become increasingly scarce, and it is likely the bird will become extinct if trends continue.

While there are guidelines for medical horseshoe crab harvest, they're considered optional. The few laws that exist are poorly enforced. Short of a complete ban on horseshoe crab blood in favor of the synthetic alternative, these animals are in very real danger of going extinct after a history spanning over 400 million years on this planet.

Thankfully, this article is not the first to bring forth the issues surrounding horseshoe crab harvest. Here are a few resources for further information and action (US based, though horseshoe crabs are threatened throughout their entire range):

Horseshoe Crab Conservation Network - https://horseshoecrab.org/conservation/

Wetlands Institute - https://wetlandsinstitute.org/conservation/horseshoe-crab-conservation/

Horseshoe Crab Recovery Coalition - https://hscrabrecovery.org/

#animal welfare #animal cruelty #cw animal cruelty #animal suffering #horseshoe crabs #invertebrates #wildlife #animals #environment #conservation #endangered species #extinction #nature #medicine #science #scicomm #science communication

[tikkunolamresistance]

27th January marks Holocaust Remembrance Day. When we think of the millions of lives taken by the Nazi regime. A regime that spurred a systemic white supremacist, ethnonationalist manifesto. A sepratist ideology of a supreme ethnicity, a supreme race, that had been festering across Europe for centuries. Millions of sacred lives, Jewish lives, taken in the name of supremacy. Of hatred and violence.

Millions of Jewish people, Soviet and Polish Citizens, communists, Rromani people, disabled people, Soviet prisoners of War and Queer people were murdered during the Nazi regime. Millions of lives were brutally taken whilst the Nazi regime convinced Germany, through a copious force of propaganda, that those lives were the real threat. That it were those lives who were inhumanely violent, were not just, they were deemed a threat to Nazi society.

Hitler and the Nazis promoted the idea of a master race— an Aryan, German race that needed to be protected as they thought that was the product of “racial purity”. And to Nazism, the Jewish people were the biggest threat to their sepratist, extremist ideology of racial purity. Initially, the Nazi leadership tried to force Jews out of Germany completely, with propaganda encouraging the dehumanisation of Jews to facilitate exile and the subsequent Holocaust of Jewish people in Europe.

“Rats, lice, cockroaches, foxes, vultures – these are just some of the animals the Nazis used to deride and dehumanize Jews. They used words too. In a new linguistic analysis of dozens of Nazi speeches, articles, pamphlets and posters, researchers show how this process of anti-Semetic dehumanization, which began before the Nazis took power and helped fuel the party’s popularity, was modulated to justify atrocity: in the years before the Holocaust.”

These lives, for purely existing, posed as a threat to the Nazis violently sepratist ideology. Propaganda subjugated German citizens with the power of deception; indoctrinating a people with the belief of superiority, purity and organic virtue. Simplifying the regimes ideological complexities to be palatable, unquestionable and targeting individualism. The ideological sepratism had indoctrinated millions into following the belief that Jewish people were sub-human— an undoubted threat to German people, values and society— and this was only achievable through the already pre-established rampant antisemitism that festered through out Medieval Europe, from Christian accusations of “killing Jesus”, to blood libel, the accusation of poisoned wells, and forcing Jews to chose either baptism or death.

“The mood changed markedly in around the year 1100, at the time of the First Crusade. Hordes of religious fanatics from all social classes, driven by a longing for redemption, set forth to kill infidels in the Middle East and to liberate holy Jerusalem. It stood to reason that they should also combat perceived enemies of Christ at home. Jews were hounded and forced to choose between baptism or death.”

The Holocaust happened because for generations, Europe failed to crack down on antisemitism. Christianisation spread through colonialism and with it, they carried antisemitism to new lands. The Holocaust happened because the Nazi party could convince millions of people of racial supremacy and purity. Far-Right ideology holds onto sepratist endorsement when they enforce anti-immigration laws, Islamophobic policies in France and the desperation of English nationalism. The Holocaust happened because Western superpowers only saw the Nazi imperial expansion as a threat to the Western hegemony.

The Holocaust of millions of Jewish people happened, and the effects of which are felt to this day. Every single day. The pain is carried through generations, for now there is a hole in every Jewish soul. We still feel the anguish, the pain. The frustration that this feels so never-ending.

And it is that pain, that fear, that drives us to say that with every last fighting breath, like the Maccabees who faught for our liberation, like King David who defeated a giant with a slingshot and stone and unbridled courage — Never again, for anybody. We will fight with all that we have. For such a magnitude of slaughter and pain should never touch this Earth for as long as we stand. We cannot carry forth our pain like a baton, we must hold it, a sword, to the enemy and ensure liberation of all feet that touch this Earth. They will not make our people, the Jewish people, into a proxy for their imperial expansion and sepratist Western values.

Never again, for anybody, for all life is sacred.

Never again, for anybody, and certainly not in our name.

Never again, for anybody, and that means Palestine.

#holocaust #history #statement #free palestine #palestine #anti capitalism #anti imperialism #jumblr #judaism #jewish thought #jewish #jewish socialism #jewish communists #anti zionist jews for palestine #anti zionism

[amandacanwrite]

Halsin Headcanons For When He's In Love With You/Tav (Ungendered)

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED TOO SOON

Generously Requested by @cryingoverpixelsetc I can't tell you how much it means to me when people actually WANT to hear about my bg3 brainrot because this game has been my escape lately and also, just a nice little break from the freelance work I have to cram to get done.

(PS if you like these, I am also a writer of my own original stories and I have some WIP's you may like.)

Quick CW|| Some graphic depictions of violence, particularly puncture wounds and viscera, intentions of heavy violence also referenced. In Battle

He trusts you, perhaps more than anyone else, to handle yourself. He doesn't hover, but he always has an eye on you as you tear into the fray.

He always seems so gentle to you that you sometimes worry about your own brutality in a fight. Especially when it leaves you covered in blood.

Because of this, you tend to keep your distance after a fight, too frightened to look into his pretty hazel eyes and see any measure of hesitance or disgust with you. Not that you've gotten used to it, you cant bear the thought of him not calling you 'my heart.'

This is only a fear for you until you got pinned down with a particularly nasty bhaalan cultist. Astarion had already been taken down in the surprise attack, then you were toppled by one of the many in the ambush.

The scream you let out as they sadistically drove their daggers through the palms of your hands was shocking even to you. You felt like a moth pinned to a board--it was too painful to try to break yourself free, even as the assailant wielded his next blade like he was about to field dress an elk.

You'd never felt fear like that.

But it didn't last long. A great cave bear launched through the air and into your attacker, wasting no time before ripping into the soft flesh of his throat and tore it out.

The smell of fear on you was strong, he knew you couldn't fight like that, so he simply stood guard over you, tearing to shreds anyone who got close from what small parts of it you can remember through the utter fear.

It was the after math of that fight when you knew you could never let him go.

He cups your face in his large, warm hands.

"Look at me, dear heart. Look upon me and remember that you're alive. There is no more threat. There is no one to hurt you. I would never let someone take you away from me before nature deigns it so."

The blades, you wept, the blades would hurt to remove.

"They will, but only for a moment, my love. Just a moment of pain before I heal you myself and carry you back to camp."

It's Astarion who removes the blades from your palms and frees you; he has the steadiest hands. But Halsin wastes no time in cradling you close to him, holding both of your hands in his own as he quietly whispers the healing word. You watch as your flesh and tendons weave themselves together. Then he envelops you and comforts you as you cry. Just cry.

How lucky it is that he is so at peace with every expression of you. He takes you as you are at all moments; whether you're bloodthirsty, joyful, or terrified. He basks in it all.

At Camp

Always touching you. Always. To him this isn't a public display of affection. It's not awkward. He loves you, why should he not touch you at every moment he can?

Sometimes it's a small thing, a broad hand on the small of your back as you discuss travel plans with Wyll. A little touch to remind you that he is there, like a tether to safety.

Other times your bodies are a tangle of comfort. Like he's looked for every way he can weave his body with yours. His fingers in your hair, your arm over his shoulder, your leg betwixt his, his wide chest lifting and falling with his sleepy breaths. This is often how you wake in the mornings with him.

Perhaps your favorite, though, is the nights by the fire. He doesn't even ask most days, just places himself behind you and offers himself as your seating arrangements for the night. His arms up behind him as he reclines against a rock or a felled tree, you sitting on his lap or between his lazily bent legs. His husky laughter tickles against your ear, the little hairs on the back of your neck. His rough voice rumbled against you as he regales the camp with yet another story of his youth.

He's a bit of a night owl. You fall asleep long before him most days.

He's also a bit disheartened by how difficult it is to find clothes that fit him in your travels together. Karlach as generously offered to share her clothes with him of course, but...something about her taste doesn't really seem to quite suit him.

(A disappointment to you, considering how nice those legs looked in infernal leather.)

He's the one who does much of the hunting for the party, along with Astarion. Halsin's a shockingly gifted fisher, though most of the fish he brings back to camp have bites in the flesh.

It was unnerving to gale at first, but he learned to live with it when he once brought back a salmon the size of a deep gnome.

When You're Alone

Rarely fully clothed. Not shocking, of course and certainly not something you would ever complain about. He usually just takes his tunic off, he says it feels restrained by it. He feels like he can breathe a bit better when his chest is bare.

No pun intended, of course.

Funny thing though, you always feel its much harder to breathe when he's shirtless.

There are no chaste kisses with this large elf. He seems to not have the restraint.

"I love the taste of you, my heart. It's the finest ambrosia. How blessed I am to have free reign to sate my appetites with you."

He likes to braid your hair and you're not sure why you're surprised at how good he is at it. Braids are a common hairstyle for elves, after all, and the man is a few centuries old. It soon becomes your favorite part of any day.

"I love how long your hair is getting, love. These times with you, my focus lost in your tresses...they have become some of my most treasured memories."

He compliments you often and freely.

One day you tell him about how you worry that you're too brutal to be with him, that you're concerned you'll scare him off one day for good.

"My heart, I spend more than half of my life in the form of a cavebear. I know I have told you how I received this scar. I may treasure the thriving, living of nature but that is only one side of the coin. Nature can be as brutal as it can be miraculous. In you, I see the beauty of brutality. I do not fear it, I admire it."

In Intimate Moments

Potential NSFW below, proceed with caution.

TW|| Mentions of consensual rough housing before...well, you know.

He is...proportionately sized...if you like.

(You do. You like very much.)

You sometimes have to remind him to get his pleasure with you. He is so pleased to be with you in this way that he forgets to indulge himself, even when it would be a moment of shared pleasure.

He loves every iteration of making love with you. He loves to take you fresh after a battle, covered in blood, to remember what it is to live and be alive.

He loves to take advantage of the vulnerability of a bath in the rivers and lakes of Faerun. Seems to particularly enjoy the sounds that come out of you as he thrusts up and into you, the sounds of your bodies muted by the water so he can hear every whimper and hitch of your breath.

He loves to hunt you. More than once you've stolen away into the forests and he gives you a head start. It's some of the most thrilling experiences you've had being intimate with someone.

This is no simple game of hide and seek, it is a true pursuit.

He always finds you quickly and he is fast, but you are faster. It's always a struggle for him to catch you. When he finally does succeed in his quest, you are so lost in the thrill and challenge of the pursuit that it becomes a struggle.

This part he always wins though. Sometimes because your desire for his body takes over your desire for besting him.

Sometimes you are still fighting when he gathers both of your wrists in a single one of his hands and carefully locks your legs beneath his.

He is careful though. He would never do anything without your express consent, without your enjoyment. He may be lost in the moment but he is old enough and wise enough to keep his head.

"Do you still want this, my love? Does your body still burn with need? Or has the pursuit run away with you?"

When you tell him you want this; you want him. That brief tarry into gentleness vanishes. He smiles sharply and turns you over, taking you as an animal in the wild might. Rough and unrelenting.

His hands dig into your thighs, your hips. His fingers tangle and pull your hair.

But when all is said and done, the kisses are soft and sweet. Peppered over your shoulders, down the path of your spine.

He collects you in his arms and soothes you.

"Have you pain anywhere? Is there anything I can get for you my love? You have been so generous with your body this night, it is only right that I take care of you for the remainder of it."

He likes to discuss your intimacy at length. He wants to know what you liked, what you didn't like, what he should change. At first you didn't like to critique, but he pressed you about it once he started to notice changes in your demeanor or reactions in the act. It's gotten much easier for you to discuss these things with him over time.

He simply loves discussing the potential of a family with you. Sometimes enough to be ready for a second round. But that second round is much gentler and more loving than the first. Like he's dreaming of a future with you.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #bg3 headcanons #halsin headcanons #halsin x tav headcanons #Halsin x reader #my writing #romantasy #writeblr #authors #historical fantasy #halsin x tav #halsin smut #baldurs gate halsin #bg3 x tav #bg3 halsin

[fuck-hamas-go-israel]

Hamas is a heinous, murderous, vile terrorist group that’s intent on killing Jews.

But you can’t say they haven’t been honest about their intentions. Their manifesto, the interviews they’ve given, and the way they try to brainwash children through schools and media content have all been quite blatant in showing their modus operandi.

However, despite their very brutal honesty, why do Hamas-sympathisers try so hard to make Hamas look like good guys by defending literal crimes in the most insane ways?

It’s worrying and also shocking as these hypocrisies are such common sentiments coming from college campuses, which were once institutions that honed critical thinking.

Do they think that “kill all Jews” is a code phrase for “we want our territory back”? How do you possibly interpret open calls for the annihilation of Jews in any other way than what it is?

Do they not think that kidnapping women, raping and torturing them, and parading their naked, mutilated bodies around town to sexually humiliate them while men cheer is sexual violence against women? Isn’t this a feminist issue, part of the MeToo movement?

“Think about the children!” Yes, but when babies are beheaded and burned, when 4 year olds are kidnapped and orphaned, is claiming that these are AI-generated images and ripping down the posters of the hostages thinking of the children?

They cry out about war crimes but ignore that raping women and taking hostages are literally war crimes.

They scream to boycott companies for their ties to Israel using devices with technology designed in Israel. Will they give up their life’s pleasures because of their ties to Israel? My money is on no, because it’ll affect them personally and heaven forbid they take up activism that actually would inconvenience them in the slightest.

They claim to be experts in geopolitics after watching one TikTok video and claim that this is about territory and not antisemitism while also saying that Israelis can just “go back to whichever other country they also have citizenship in”. While turning a blind eye to the multiple antisemitic attacks around the world, and calling Israelis “white colonisers”.

They also claim to be champions of mental health awareness, experts in the psychological mechanisms of mental illnesses and take cautions to avoid triggers and micro-aggressions so as to not offend those who have psychological conditions. “We should let those who actually have these conditions speak up about their experiences!!”

But then when it comes to actual psychologically stressing situations like being kidnapped and taken hostage, they suddenly can speak for the hostages and know exactly what went on based on the most vacuous, flimsy evidence? “Oh she’s in love with her captor, she’s smiling at him! They’re smiling and waving, they must have been treated nicely by Hamas!”

How do they sleep at night with these competing ideologies in their heads? What do they achieve by making all these seem like the actions of good people?

They’re like Hamas’ PR team and defence attorneys rolled into one.

No matter what crime Hamas commits, they’ll come up with justifications and make it look like some kind of beneficent act of humanitarianism.

It’s so exhausting trying to reason with people who don’t see reason.

#i stand with israel #israel #palestine #gaza #am yisrael chai #pro israel #stop hamas #hamas #stop antisemitism #jewish #judaism #i’m so tired #how can people still deny that hamas is a terrorist organisation #free palestine from hamas

[grapementos]

walk away as the door slams

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: heavily! toxic relationships, emotionally abusive (gaslighting, etc.), angst.

pt 2 here.

bakugo isn't the same person he was in high school. he grew into a top five hero and opened his own agency, only to be brutally torn apart by the tabloids.

scandal after scandal, you watched him crack. like glass, he grew more and more fragile each time he was made out to be a monster, an asshole, a douchebag--whatever other name was thrown out there.

each time, you were there to comfort him and stand by his side against every rumor and generalization. still, it scared you as you watched his resolve weaken. it was as if he didn't see the point in being a hero anymore.

then came the headline, the article that had him hanging up his gauntlets in exchange for civilian life. the article had an incriminating photo of him holding up his hand to a child. of course, it was taken out of context; bakugo had merely been guiding the child away from the rubble of the building near them.

however, the media ate it up, and bakugo decided that being a hero wasn't worth the false allegations. he announced his resignation the same day and rid the entire house of hero news.

it broke your heart to see him give up his dream, so you'd tried and failed time and time again to talk him out of it. you even invited midoriya and kirishima to persuade him to become a hero again, but his mind was made.

he'd since picked up a new, low-brow job that kept him out of the public eye. with that, unfortunately, came stress regarding bills, grocery shopping, and necessary budget cuts. it was a huge adjustment, one that led to frequent arguments.

you worked from home, so you were able to keep it clean and cook meals for the most part. you tried so hard to keep your home a place where the two of you could coexist happily, but he always came home with an unfulfilled look in his eyes.

truth be told, you were exhausted, but bringing it up just made bakugo frustrated, so you avoided the subject. instead, you'd ask him about work, only to be brushed off.

it hurt.

"katsuki," you called from your spot at the table, finishing up some work, "what do you want to eat tonight?"

"dunno." he grunted, walking out of your shared bedroom.

"right. so helpful." you sighed, looking at your laptop once more, "do you have a general idea? or do you want to cook?"

"i just got home from an 8-hour shift." he looked at you like you were dumb, eyes narrowed, "can you lay off with the million questions?"

"it's a simple question. i need to know if i have to defrost anything." you shut your laptop a little harder than necessary, "i work too, you know."

he laughed bitterly but didn't say anything.

"what?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"oh, nothing. just thought it was funny, is all."

"what's so damn funny?"

"you, sitting on a laptop all day. 'working'," he used air-quotes, opening the cupboards.

"really? you wanna go there?" you closed the cupboard he was looking in, cheeks flushed with frustration.

he stared at you, jaw clenched, "can you move?"

"can you stop being so damn mean?"

"god, i'm not being mean." he shook his head and opted for digging through the fridge instead, "y'just being too damn sensitive."

you took in a deep breath, red hot anger beginning to boil up in your gut and through your hands all the way down to your fingers.

"stop digging through the fridge when i'm trying to talk to you, please."

he didn't even spare you a glance, pulling out the last cold water bottle.

"katuski." you demanded, louder.

"my god, what?" he slammed the fridge closed, leaning back on the counter, "as if i don't get nagged enough by my boss."

"i'm not nagging you. i'm," you stammered, trying not to escalate the situation into an argument, "i'm trying to see what you want for dinner. that's all."

"just make whatever. i'm not hungry anyways." he tossed the plastic bottle into the trash, plopping down at the table.

you rubbed your temples, trying so hard to maintain your calm, "okay."

-

the two of you were sat across each other at the kitchen table. you ate something quick you'd whipped up, finally breaking the silence, "they're considering me for a promotion. it's a pretty significant payraise, and i think i--"

"god, are you fuckin' kidding me?" he interrupted, eyes suddenly aflame.

"what?" you cocked your head, confused at his sudden irritation.

"you just love rubbing that shit in my face, huh? you're always talking about how you get paid more than i do, how work is so great, and now this? great job, breadwinner."

"katsuki, we're partners, we both contribute to this household no matter what. i'm not the... breadwinner." you insisted, pain blooming in your chest, "i thought you'd be happy for me."

"like you were so happy for me to quit that hero gig? so you can get all the glory of supporting us?"

"is that really what you think?" you stood, not able to control the flames of anger licking at your chest, "katsuki, you know damn well i gave my all trying to talk you into staying a hero."

"bullshit. you just wanted it to look that way." he stood too, hands planted firmly on the table, "because that's what you do. you pretend you care, and then just soak up all the glory for it."

you clenched your jaw, "not everyone cares for glory as much as you do. i don't know why you think that, but i know you loved being a hero, and i supported that because i love you."

"do you? or did you only get with me to be the partner of a hero?" he spat, eyes narrow and downright venomous, "poor partner of dynamight, they must go through so much to endure his anger issues. poor fuckin' you, right? poor y/n."

your lower lip quivered, the back of your eyes burning, and he laughed. he laughed.

"what? you're gonna cry, really?" he scoffed, shaking his head, "fine, fuckin' cry. that's all you seem to know how to do."

you inhaled sharply through your nose, eyes trained steadily on him, "fuck you." you whispered, hands balled into fists by your side.

"say it louder." he challenged, "maybe it'll actually do something."

"fuck you, bakugo katsuki." tears fell freely down your cheeks, but you weren't sad. you were pissed.

you walked around the table and jabbed your finger in his chest, "i have done so much for you. so goddamn much. i have stood by you, i have disproved every bad thing the media had to say, i've supported you, and-" your voice wobbled, "it's never fucking enough. nothing is ever enough for you. someone is always after you, someone is always praying on your downfall, because everything's about katsuki, right?"

he was stunned silent, leaning back away from you. his face was conflicted, eyes wide with surprise.

"well news-fucking-flash, the world doesn't revolve around you. and neither do i," you dropped your hand, wiping at your cheeks, "so i'm done. i'm done fighting for us, because you have never once tried for me."

"y/n--"

"y'know, katsuki." you paused on your way to the bedroom, "i think they were right about you. you are a douchebag. an asshole. a monster."

#bnha #anime #haikyuu #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #angst #gender neutral reader #drabble #my.archive.¥ #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #bakugo angst #toxic relationship #mha angst #bnha angst #gender neutral y/n #y/n #reader #bakugo x you #grapeflop$

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

Written before the English release!

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Jp-version spoiler(!!!), death, description of war, unhealthy mindset, religion, obsessive themes, unhealthy family dynamics

General! Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Maleanor Draconia/(Platonic) Knight of Dawn-Yandere headcanons

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce? Lilia Vanrouge 1.0. The more cold, hard and ready to behead the next human version of the usual Lilia (also known as the Lilia Vanrouge 2.0 model)

Lilia back then was “rough” and I am being nice calling him that

Back then, Lilia was surrounded by loss and a lot of Faes getting everything they ever owned ripped away from them

Of course this impacts him (I mean he is strolling through battlefield after battlefield so of course it does)

Lilia wasn't always such a devoted follower

Yes, he did believe in the Overseer, aka you, but only after witnessing the brutality that came with him being a general did he turn into a follower with such drastic views

After all, if there was no higher meaning to all this violence, to all this loss and despair, what was even the point of it all?

You became his moral, mental and also a bit of a physical crutch for him

Whenever he felt like he was this close to just giving up, he thought about you and that this was part of your greater plan (totally not part of some valley church propaganda)

After witnessing that human hiding behind the Knight of Dawn in all his haughtiness and cruelty, he finally set out on his quest not only to make the humans leave his beloved home but also to make them into loyal believers of the Overseer

But sadly, everything was for nought and Lilia had to go into hiding

The only thing keeping him going was his believe in you having a greater plan

A few hundred years later and Lilia finally found out what that supposed plan of yours was

Laying in that cold, lonely crib was the child of his old, now deceased enemy

Taking the child, now called Silver, in he learned the joy of a family, the boy giving him more joy than anything ever before in his life

Finally, he had found peace. Of course he did. This was your plan all along, right? You must have ordered those three fairies to make his beloved son survive until now, right?

You were, after all, a kind deity. There was no way this was all just a war happening because of greed. Because if this truly was just events happening after events then...

Lilia never finished that thought

The great ruler of the night fae, mighty and powerful sorceress who could fell an entire nation in one swoop if she wanted to was despite her cruel and aloof outside appearance a pretty devoted follower since the beginning

Despite being a Fae, she was feared just like her unborn son due to her powers (and being more or less being on the same level as a nuclear bomb but hey, I doubt that anyone of us would stand next to one of those, right?)

So it is no surprise that she turned to something, someone, to feel less alone

Especially after her husband disappeared did she wish for some sort of sign that she was not alone

And oh boy, did religious propaganda from the high church take that loneliness away

When her beloved son, although in an egg, was born, she visited your altar daily, thanking you for her child being healthy

(This could also be the reason why Malleus is the way he is but I am just a writer and not some all-knowing God so idk, just a theory)

She definitely has "taken care" *cough*totallynotproblematicforarulertobeinfluencedbyreligion*cough* of Fae that were non-believers

How dare their sinful ways dirty your holy image?

See? Totally not problematic

At first she only tried to protect her subjects after the humans attacked and took over parts of her kingdom

But after a while she started to have another goal

What if she shared your splendor with those little useless invaders?

Humans were most definitely vile but you were able to unite so many different kinds of Fae in your name under the Draconia name

So why not also unite those humans in your name in a peace treaty?

Such a kind God you were! Allowing for peace in your name!

And, well, if violence and destruction was needed to make those beings understand and surrender, then that shall be what they get

Besides, she was only honoring her husbands wish to get closer to the humans so who was she to selfishly aim for another goal?

The Knight of Dawn (long name, I know) did not always believe in you

Heck, the poor guy probably never heard of you until he fought the Fae

But if the humans from back then didn't really know about you, then how did he find out about and why did he start to see you as his God?

On this part, I would say, he and Lilia were eerily similair

Both were pushed into a war neither liked, so of course he was also in a very unstable situation which made him, like Lilia, search for something to hold on to

The three Fairies had mentioned before when he was still training to become as strong as he was now, mentioning a kind deity who accepted all, who loved unconditionally

Back then he only thought of you as one of the many deities that were prayed to back then

But once the war started and he saw your churches and cathedrals for the first time, his opinion slowly started to shift until he saw you as the highest being possible

I mean, all of us would if we lost all stability over night, having only destroyed buildings and a half-standing church in front of us

He hated the plundering of your sacred placed even before he became a believer, having the opinion that it was just a cultural difference between the two kinds

This led to him kneeling at the cracked altars of many of your churches, asking for forgiveness, hoping that you would understand that he didn't have another choice

What he would do to witness one of your sermons…

And when he was lonely enough, he imagined you watching down on him from up above

Just like a... a parent

You see where I am going with this?

So when he was facing the Queen he only hoped for your forgiveness, hoping that his loving family member would forgive his gravest sin, him killing a mother

And he found salvation, in letting that child and the retainer escape

Perhaps you could forgive him now

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #maleanor draconia #platonic maleanor #twst lilia x reader #yandere lilia x reader #yandere lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #yandere lilia #twst lilia #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge #general lilia #knight of dawn #platonic Knight of dawn #tw: yandere #tw: murder #two: war #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: unhealthy mindset #tw: death #tw: religion #tw: family problems

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: HERO

“𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃.”

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere/tsundere! modern hero x villain! reader

✧ status: unedited

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, violence, morally dubious reader, horny hero, tsundere hero.

✧ a/n: both character’s genders are up to your imagination. also i’m making this my permanent theme now for general yans fics (consistency/recognizabilty’s sake)

[series masterlist]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“You’re getting a bit sloppy aren’t you, lil hero?”

“Shut up, wretched being! C-Come back here!”

You and Yandere! Hero have been nemeses for what felt like lifetimes. Ever since you became a sidekick as a kid, up until the present time as adults.

You saw them as a sibling. You’d fight once in a while but neither truly hurt each other. In fact, you never once attempted to kill them, and they in turn never attempted to put you behind bars. The cycle always repeated.

You were relatively close in terms of power. More times than not, things would end up being a tie where the two of you would be too tired to continue. But recently your cutie patootie hero has been getting sluggish. Their attacks lacked any sort of vigour, and their reflexes dulled.

You would offer to talk and assist them, but another one of your hidden rules in this relationship of sorts was that you two would never interfere with life outside of crime and fighting thereof.

Unbeknownst to you, Yandere! Hero fought another villain (cheater!) whose powers were related to nightmares and fears.

Their greatest nightmare . . . was losing their status as a hero — losing you.

You have been such a huge part of their formative years and beyond that the thought of even retiring and losing contact scared the hell out of them. The idea of never being able to banter as you sparred, the concept of losing sight of that smug grin of yours on the times you won, and the very notion of you being dealt with by someone else — their chest would tighten to the point of being unable to breathe.

But they always shook their head, drowned themself in tasks as to avoid the anxiety that threatened their focus. After all, you were a villain. A monstrous creature that have hurt and killed people. The only reason they haven’t taken you down yet was because they were instructed by their predecessor not to.

Yeah, the fear of losing you? Probably just an extension of their desperate and zealous view on their position as a hero

They prayed it was.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“I told you that they were mine to take care of! You gave me this duty!”

“You and I both know you’ve been losing your fights more often than not. Look at how many people they’ve started to hurt again! I can’t leave you with a responsibility you, can’t, handle.”

Yandere! Hero couldn’t believe their ears. Everything they feared was starting to come true and it was only getting worse.

They started disobeying their mentor/predecessor’s commands. Commands that they used to referees — worship even. They knew they were making things go from trash to absolute shit, but they couldn’t care less anymore.

So what if you hurt those people? From what they understood, those people were a bunch of assholes at best; Crime-lords, all types of traffickers, and violent thugs. In fact, the very reason you aren’t in cuffs was because you often took justice into your own hands. You were just quite cruel and brutal when it came down to it.

One of their more unforgettable moments of you together was the time you saved them from another villain. You in your blood-soaked glory as you grinned, an attempt to comfort them while they neck-deep in voices that screamed failure. They were barely hurt while you could barely stand, yet you were the one hushing them as you rubbed circles on the small of their back. Shared whispers they’ll die before they talk of it to anyone else.

Yandere! Hero keeps meeting you again and again. Doing duties they were already forbidden from completing and abusing the favor of being a sidekick for so long.

Things get from worse to oblivion when they get news of being replaced.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“At least let me accompany them on patrols! What if they get hurt?”

“You worked alone just fine.”

“That is an entirely different story!”

This newbie didn’t know you for several years. This newbie never experienced fighting you much less alongside you. You would eat them alive.

Granted, it would be the newbie’s fault for being so incompetent but they digress.

While on patrol with the newbie, they do their best to sabotage them in every way they can. Giving them the wrong intel, alerting the enemy of their arrival if they do figure out the proper location, and above all making sure you two never cross paths at all. A peer of theirs hurting you would kill them.

Of course, with their frantic and frankly stressed out mind, it wasn’t long before you and the newbie encounter one another.

And, the two of you got along quite well. Your moves like a beautifully choreographed routine in the battlefield. More importantly, it looked as if you were having so much fun.

They really couldn’t help themself

When they stepped in and interrupted the two of you

A glaze in their eyes as they walked ever so slowly to the newbie and strangled them.

That horrified look on your face. They didn’t know if they liked it or hated it.

But what they did know is that from that moment forward, they can never call themself a proper hero again. Their mentor’s words echoed in their head.

“You are staying at the base and that is final. If I see you again out on the field, I’ll be the one to put you behind bars.”

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“Breaking News: A new vigilante has been spotted! Has our favorite hero been replaced? Well our sources say yes!”

“And would you look at that, they’re even worse at hiding their interest in their nemesis! Is this the love story we’ve all been waiting for?”

Yandere! Hero doesn’t remember when they last saw the sun anymore.

Their days were spent deep within the basement of the hero HQ, scrolling through any information they could find of you.

Their head constantly replaying the memories you shared, written in a systematic obsessed manner on a journal. From the very second you two first met, to the time you looked at them with eyes full of horror.

Your image had been scribbled, drawn, painted, carved, broken down, and built back up again hundreds of times.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Yandere! Hero used to wish that there would be a day you two would stop fighting. Whether it’d be them finally ending your streak of misdeeds, or you quitting. Anything would have satisfied them.

But now, now they just couldn’t see the appeal of it all.

All they could see was eternity with you.

And they’ll have that one way or another.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“I never could have imagine this to happen.”

“Really? You must have thought that I’d put you behind bars one day.”

“My fantasies were always, well — the other way around.”

You wore a calm expression.

Yandere! Hero, ever the fragile ego they had, would have seen this as an insult. A slight to their prowess.

But right now they couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Of course you wouldn’t be mad if they did this. You were you after all. You’ve been through much worse than being tied up and forced into a small cage more fit for an animal than a human.

And you being you, knew the many other ways to unnerve your poor rival.

“Wouldn’t it be ironic? If your replacement were to save me that is.”

You fought the anticipation from appearing on your face as you continued.

“Then they would truly become my hero.”

But your hopes were dashed, your giddiness dimmed as they simply replied.

“Then I’ll just kill them, and the next replacement after that. Until I go through every single capable human this planet has to offer and then more.”

Perhaps there was a reason why Heroes wore a mask aside from hiding their identities. That would certainly explain the chill you felt crawl up your limbs and spine as they lovingly stared at you.

“Because now I know that I love you. I’ll save you from everyone else but myself.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#this is both Damian and Amir coded and I’m not afraid to say that it made this so much more easier and fun to write #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #Yandere headcannons #yanderecore #Yandere tsundere #tsundere Yandere #yandere scenario #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere original character #Yandere rival #Yandere writing #Yandere story

[moethewriter]

Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too. 

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.  

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

-

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta. 

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair. 

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

-

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.” 

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.  

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him. 

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

-

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.” 

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.” 

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

-

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned. 

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts. 

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started. 

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation. 

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you. 

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail. 

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing. 

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay. 

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

-

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged. 

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

“That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

#moeswriting #writing #hunger games #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #angst #fluff #katniss everdeen #johanna mason

[dailyadventureprompts]

Campaign Starter: Tales from the Bonecart

Whether it's due to superstition or a distaste for a toilsome and muddy trade, folk tend to pay little attention to gravediggers. This makes for an awfully convenient cover for your travelling troupe of tombrobbers as they tour around the realm's backroads filling their pockets with mementos purloined from the dead.

Planning adventures for "evil" campaigns can be tough, but sometimes you and your players just want an excuse to get your hands dirty. What better opportunity to get DEEP down in the dirt than to hand out shovels and have them start out as a group of travelling undertakers/thieves?

Setup: A handful of crews have run the bonecart scam over the past several generations, tempering their skullduggerous actions with a bit of honest gravemaking. This dichotomy is no better represented in the current heads of the operation: Dour and hardworking Heliana, who minds the cart's reigns and keeps the crew on track, and the knavish academic Benjamin Eelpot who loves delving into things that should best stay buried. These two have taken the party on for a series of jobs that will likely require a cold heart and a strong stomach, stealing from both the living and the dead and hoping not to get caught in the meantime.

Adventure Hooks:

The party's first outing on the bonecart should be a meat-and-potatoes sort of job, used to set the tone of the campaign, which happens to sound like "Someone old and rich and lonely has died, leaving their house haunted and their valuables unguarded".

While being stewards of the dead is a great cover, it sometimes attracts the wrong sort of attention, such as when a nobleman offers the party a great reward to investigate an abandoned necropolis and the source of the terrifying dreams that haunt him. Gold is gold though, and surely this couldn't have too many long reaching complications for them.

Irony of ironies, Shortly after one of their scores the party is setupon by a group of bandits disguised as dead men, who manage to make off with a good portion of their illgotten gain. There's no way to recover their goods through official channels, so they'll have to do it themselves.

Throughout their early adventures the party will need to avoid the attention of the heavy handed sheriff hired by the local nobility to quietly and brutally dispose of criminals like themselves.

You get a lot of weird jobs being a gravedigger, but "limo service" is not usually one of them. Still, money is money, and when a bloodsoaked countess offers to pay the bonecart well to defend and transport her coffin across the lands so she can attend a gathering of the great and the ghoulish who are they to say no?

Heliana will eventually approach the party once they've gotten enough shared time , experience, and nightmarish close calls under their belts. She's got some personal matters to attend to, which involve a list of names belonging to an old secret society and a series of graves across the countryside that may contain clues to the locations of some great treasure. Its a bolder job then the crew usually pulls, and will draw unwanted attention, but they can rely on eachother to pull through, right?

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

#press start #evil party #necromancer #undead #thief #faction #ally necromancer #ally #ally rogue #rogue #dnd #d&d #adventure compendium

[probablyasocialecologist]

Israel has thus fully embraced the “war on terror” and richly profited from it. One of the most successful though bloody counterinsurgency battles of the early twenty-first century was the Sri Lankan government’s destruction of the Tamil Tigers militant group. Israel played a key, though largely unpublicized, part in Colombo’s successful campaign in a civil war that killed and disappeared more than 200,000 people, mostly Tamils, over a quarter-century that ended in 2009. Israel sold Kfir fighter jets and trained the Special Task Force, a brutal unit of the Sri Lankan police. Sri Lanka borrowed the Israeli playbook during the last stages of the civil war and ignored calls by NGOs, human rights organizations, and foreign governments to cease violence. The military stopped when the Tamil Tigers were completely decimated and Velupillai Prabhakaran, its leader, killed. Israel also helped generations of Sinhalese politicians build and maintain Sinhalese enclaves in the north and east of Sri Lanka, areas where most Tamils live. The aim was to create buffer zones around Tamil-majority areas and establish an unofficial occupation of Tamil territory. These plans continued after 2009 and Sinhala colonization has never stopped. These ideas were directly taken from Israel’s presence in the West Bank, where Palestinian sovereignty is denied with numerous fortified Jewish colonies. Israel signed a US$50 million deal with Sri Lanka in 2021 to upgrade the country’s Kfir jets.

Antony Loewenstein, The Palestine Laboratory: How Israel Exports the Technology of Occupation Around the World

#sri lanka #tamil tigers #israel #war on terror #The Palestine Laboratory

[libraryraccoon]

So I got this idea of an Idia Reader who is an overlord (making some high tech prosthetic or another things that Vox himself can’t make easily) and forced to go attend an overlord meeting and imagine the panic attack he would have if Alastor or worse Valentino interacted with them.

Probably locks themselves in a their room for three months after the meeting.

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Message of Raccoon : I can just imagine Vox and Idia!Reader being two bestfriends that have rivalry for fun.

Info : Idia!Reader being an overlord in the Vees.

General Headcanon

You were one of the Overlords of the Vees.

But compared to the others, you didn't like the attention.

The recluse of the Vees, that's who you were.

You hated leaving your room, preferring to use your tablet to see/talk with others.

But one day, you were forced to show up at one of the Overlords meetings. Irl.

When you entered the room, all the overlords asked you who you were.

"Who are you ?" -Carmilla.

"The one who almost doxxed all of you. Idia!Reader." -you, already wanting to go back to your room.

It was the first time they saw you, like really saw you. Not through a tablet, but irl.

You sat between Rosie and Alastor, a mistake.

The two kept talking and adding you into the conversation. You wanted to die again.

They were nice and polite, yes, but you didn't like socializing. You preferred solitude and calm to having to socialize.

You regretted having taken this place instead of putting yourself next to Zestial, who is calm and silent.

"Oh ! Did you hear about what Jack did ?" -Rosie.

“No, what did he do ?”-Alastor.

"He fucked his wife's sister, then ate the said sister. His wife found him and then ate Jack." -Idia!Reader.

If there was tea, it would have been perfect.

Carmilla give you a look that can be translated as "Good luck, we're not together."

You will doxx her later as punishment for not helping you.

The meeting was pretty good, except for the moment you had to talk and socialize.

Your social anxiety suffered greatly during this meeting.

When you entered the Vees tower, you wanted to go to your room but the others Vees stopped you.

Valentino and Velvette congratulated you for coming out of your shithole room.

But you know what was the worst ? When Vox saw you, he asked why you had placed yourself next to his enemy, Alastor.

Vox gave you an hour-long lecture on why what you did was wrong.

You just wanted to stay cooped up in your room for the rest of the eternity.

But you couldn't.

Why ? Because Rosie and Alastor have come for you.

Apparently you have become their friends, without your consent.

Once a week you had to go out and spend time with Alastor and/or Rosie.

And you couldn't even run away because the two always know where to find you.

You are gossip friends. I will not accept otherwise.

You have the pass to touch Alastor. You use it to touch his ears because DEER EAR !!

You do the same with his tail, because DEER TAIL !!! (He tries to hide his tail from you)

I headcanon that you have a picture with you, Rosie and Alastor on it.

Let's pretend you were there during the meeting about the angel.

…

Carmilla paid you $3000 (or whatever the money is in hell) for not talking about her killing an angel.

You took the money before telling to Rosie and Alastor everything.

If she ever finds out, you're dead, but don't worry, it was worth it.

I headcanon that your hair (or at least a part of your hair) is made of fire, and that the Vees, Alastor and Rosie want to touch it.

Alastor and Rosie love seeing your hair changing its colors depending on your emotions, it always betrays you and they find it amusing.

Alastor using the Aromantic charm on you to see you get frustrated and see your hair changing its color is canon.

Alastor has already brought you to the Hazbin Hotel..

When I say that you said what you thought out loud and you were brutal with your words, I don't think you realize how much that was-

You were banned from the hotel by Vaggie while Alastor was just watching and laughing.

You felt hurt, betrayed by your friend.

“Oh yeah, that’s how it is now, every man for himself.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the vees #vox hazbin hotel #vox #velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #valentino #carmilla #hazbin hotel carmilla #zestial #zestial hazbin hotel #vaggie #hazbin hotel rosie #rosie #Idia!Reader #Raccoon is writing

[cvrnelians]

smile like you mean it - chapters 1-3 (reupload)

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapter four // chapter five

music

You’re broken up.

Separated, split up, estranged, whatever. You’re living apart, en route to what you can only foresee as painstakingly drawn out divorce proceedings. Brutal divorce proceedings, because you’re not just dealing with a “normal” human being. Unfortunately for you, the demise of your relationship has taken on a life of its own. Things always did when there was money involved.

You’re broken up.

Evidently, Roman doesn’t care.

But there’s a catch, as there usually is with your husband, and with the Roy family in general. You had hoped he would be largely unfazed by your decision to leave him, as he was with most things. You had hoped that he would sign the papers without even giving them a second look, send you a belittling text message or two, and move right along. You tried to make things as clean as possible. You hadn’t asked for a single thing—not his money, not his various properties, not his ridiculously expensive cars (yes, cars as in multiple), no valuables. Nothing.

Nothing.

Part of you knew better, though. He certainly would care that you were filing for divorce. He loved you. He loved you enough to marry you. He loved you enough to marry you without a prenup for fuck’s sake, going against any shred of common sense he had left. You had married into one of the wealthiest, most powerful families in New York. Did you really have the audacity, the gall to file for divorce from Roman Roy—theRoman Roy? You? You?

Roman loved you as much as he was capable of loving anyone. That wasn’t much by other people’s standards, but for him, that meant something. You loved him more than you had ever loved anyone, which by any sane person’s standards (and your own) seemed like a lot. And it was. But he had finally pushed you to your limit, and you were fed up.

And now you were suffering for it.

It was funny. In trying to make things as convenient and non-combative as possible, you had only made things harder on yourself. It wasn’t the divorce that Roman didn’t care about. It wasn’t you he didn’t care about. Of course not.

It was your boundaries. Roman didn’t pay any mind to those. He never could.

…which was why he had taken it upon himself to barge into your new apartment uninvited, at two o’ clock in the morning on a Tuesday. He arrived seconds after you returned home from a miserable night out, forcing open the door before you had even gotten the chance to take off your coat, turn around, and lock it. He had shoved the door open with such force that it hit you square in the back, making you stumble over your own two feet.

“Jesus, Roman!” You were breathing heavily, shaking from the adrenaline that accompanied someone sneaking up behind you and ramming into you full force.

“Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

🌃 Several years ago 🌃

Your boss is really kind of embarrassing.

There is an awkward, anxious energy to Kendall Roy that you cannot help but identify with. To those that didn’t know him, the “confidence” he tried so hard to embody probably came across as arrogant and idiotic—as if an incredibly affluent nepotism baby wasn’t unlikable enough.

But you did know him, at least to some extent. You had been his personal assistant for a little over a year. To you, Kendall seemed like the type of person that lied awake at night overthinking. He seemed like the type of person that practiced positive affirmations in the mirror every morning, and listened to podcasts hosted by hack motivational speakers in order to pump himself up. He seemed like the type of person to go all out on some fad juice cleanse with the intention of “reaching peak wellness,” only to smoke half a pack of cigarettes that same day in order to calm his nerves. His chief concern, apart from earning his father’s approval, was with making everyone think he was cool. Hip, if you will. But no matter how many designer suits or expensive sneakers he bought, to you, Kendall was a dad. A white collar dad, no less.

In other words, your boss was a dork.

He ruminated a lot, he talked a lot, he felt a lot. And why wouldn’t he? He was carrying the burden of a major media conglomerate like Waystar Royco on his back with very little support or guidance from anyone else. And in spite of his age, Kendall Roy seemed like he would do well with a bit of guidance.

“Hey, can I talk to you real quick?” he asked, peeking out from the doorway of his office. You turned to look at him as you hovered over the Keurig, which seemed to be malfunctioning. You had to hold back a sigh. To Kendall, “real quick” usually meant up to half an hour or longer. Typically, you didn’t mind talking to your boss, but you were feeling desperate for some prolonged silence and a heavy dose of caffeine. You had slept in later than intended, and in your discombobulated scramble to arrive to work on time, you had neglected to have the two cups you usually drank when you woke up. Yes, two.

Because working for a Roy was fucking exhausting. 

As fair as he could be and as well as he paid you, your dynamic with your employer was this: when he said “jump,” you said “how high?” twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. You picked up takeout for him at all hours of the day and night, scheduled meetings—sat in on, took notes, and got yelled at in said meetings—fielded calls from people he did and didn’t want to deal with, ran whatever errand he could think of, and—although he didn’t want anyone else to know this—made sure he went to his AA meetings. He even asked you to pick his kids up from school a few times. You were starting to think that Kendall would pay you to breathe for him if he could.

“Yeah sure,” you said, trying your best not to sound exasperated.

Kendall was pretty perceptive when it came to your mood, however, and he barely stifled a laugh. “Don’t worry, I have one for you already. I bought it on my way here.”

“You got me coffee?”

“You mentioned that you like a good cappuccino, so.”

“Oh! Thanks, Ken. I really appreciate that,” you said, beaming.

He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Your sense of gratitude quickly died down when you realized that this probably wasn’t good. It was generally never a good sign when Kendall gave you little peace offerings like this. The last time he bought you coffee, he was preemptively apologizing for piling a bunch of new job tasks on you; a direct result of firing most of your colleagues, including some of your favorite ones.

“Have a seat,” he said, sitting down at his desk, pushing the massive cup towards you. You cleared your throat and stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. “Sorry to call you in here right as you’re walking in. I just have a few things I want to go over with you.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

You didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Like he was nervous, like he knew something you didn’t, like what he was about to say would feel like pulling teeth—not only for him, but for you, too.

“Alright, um. So I wasn’t going to mention this to you because honestly, I think it might be…well, you might not…I’m not sure how it’s going to be received. And in my view, I mean. It’s not like that. I mean, I’m not like that. I’m not that guy. I promise, I’m really not! It’s just—”

“Ken?” you asked. His anxiety was rubbing off on you, giving you the urge to bite your nails.

He sighed. “I would never, ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking a big gulp of your cappuccino, made just the way you liked it. You had a feeling you were going to need it. He placed his head in his hand, his thumb and middle finger splaying across his forehead to touch his temples. “Ah god, I really shouldn’t do this,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears. Was this really it? Was he firing you? Were you getting let go? Your mind was racing, trying to recall if you had done anything that warranted being kicked to the curb. Did you do anything even slightly detrimental to the company, anything at all? Did you even need to? Waystar Royco wasn’t exactly fair, or employee-friendly for that matter.

“Is everything okay?”

Your voice sounded just as pathetic as you felt.

“Yes. Well, sort of. No. Maybe.”

You were about to say something when Kendall’s eyes suddenly shifted towards something above you, and he covered his face with his palm dejectedly. And then you heard a loud banging noise, making you jump. You turned to see who was easily one of your least favorite people in the world: the obnoxious, antagonistic, arrogant, irritatingly well-dressed imbecile that was Roman Roy.

He slammed on the glass windows of Kendall’s office with both hands, making everyone nearby turn and stare. They all should have been relatively unfazed by this nonsense by now. On the days that he was actually at work, if Roman wasn’t being disruptive, there was something very wrong.

“Did he tell you?” he asked, his gaze honing in on you. His voice was somewhat muffled through the glass, but the volume at which he was speaking more than made up for it. His tone was half maniacally happy, half mocking. There was no other way to describe it. “Is he telling you? Is he telling you right now?”

“Jesus Christ, not this,” Kendall muttered.

“So, did you give her the good news?” Roman asked, shoving the door open so hard that it hit the wall, making the desk shake.

“Seriously, man?” Kendall groaned.

You suddenly felt hands clutching onto your shoulders from behind, making you seize up. You were hit with a wave of what had to be a laughably expensive cologne, but not a nice one. It was more sleazy than anything. ‘Drug dealer cologne’ were the words that popped into your head, if that was even a thing. ‘Creepy guy cologne.’ ‘Guy who thinks that just because he has money means that he can do anything he wants and get away with it cologne.’ To make matters worse, his hands were ice cold.

Like his soul.

He leaned down to face you, and you reflexively jerked away. “So beautiful, did he give you the good news?”

“No!” Kendall snapped, attempting to reach over the desk and swat at him with a piece of paper. “Absolutely not. You cannot touch the employees. You know that I could fire you for sexual harrassment right now if I wanted to?”

Roman scoffed and rolled his eyes. He took his hands off of you, holding them out in front of him defensively. “So I’m guessing you didn’t tell her, then. Terrifying Ken, really. I’m quaking. How would I ever recover?”

“I already told you that wasn’t going to happen. Get out. You can hire your own assistant.”

What?

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, trying to avoid looking at Roman. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

Kendall looked at you and sighed. He was quiet for a few moments, like he was contemplating something. You surmised that he was probably just overwhelmed by his brother loudly barging into his office so early in the morning. “Overwhelming” was the perfect word to describe Roman’s presence, among other things. “Um, yeah. Yeah, of course. This. But it’s not happening, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Au contraire mon frère,” Roman said. “I’m COO now, remember? I need somebody to bring me coffee and pick up my drycleaning just the same as you.”

“So hire an assistant.”

“I am hiring an assistant.”

“Hire your own!”

“Oh, great idea, Ken! But oh, oh, you know what? You know what? It’s actually a really stupid fucking idea because I clearly said that I wanted your assistant. You might’ve understood that if you had been listening.”

In the midst of their little back and forth, you felt frozen. Even from only having just a handful of interactions with him, you hated Roman. You hated him when you knew of him, and you hated him when you met him. You already kind of hated working in the corporate world, but being able to afford to live in the city and having Kendall as a boss made it all at least somewhat bearable. If you had to be Roman’s assistant, it was over for you. There was no other option. You would have to quit your job. If you didn’t, you were in for the most demoralizing experience of your life. 

Why was this even happening? You figured this situation had absolutely nothing to do with you, that there was some kind of underlying argument going on between Roman and Kendall and that you were just being used as a pawn in the game. You were a fairly decent assistant, but nothing remarkable. There was no reason why anyone would or should adamantly argue to hire you. It was crazy how people with money and power could change your entire livelihood on a whim.

“Besides, Kendall, you already have Jess. You don’t need two assistants, that’s diva behavior. And Dad already said I could. You won’t even notice that she’s gone.”

“Yeah?” Kendall mocked. “Really? You’re dicking my employee around just because Daddy said you could?”

“Ew,” Roman laughed. “Did you seriously just call our dad Daddy?”

“It was in a mocking tone!”

“Yeah, okay, Daddy.”

“Roman,” you interrupted. You knew you probably weren’t going to be able to level with him, but you had to try. If there was even a slight chance that you could remain in your current position and maintain your sanity, you were going to reach for it. “Kendall has me doing some seriously low-level tasks. That’s why he still has Jess. I’m basically an intern, I’m just here to learn. You’re probably going to want someone more experienced.”

Roman shook his head and tutted at you. “Aw, Ken. You’ve really got to keep your diminished sense of self-worth in check, it’s starting to rub off on your employees.”

“I’m going to talk to Dad, you are going to leave my staff alone, and we are going to hire you an assistant,” Kendall said slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

“Yeah, because Dad is always so willing to back you up, right? Old reliable. I’m sure that’ll work out great for you.”

The room was dead silent for the next few moments. They were doing that weird sibling thing where they were having a conversation just by looking at each other, a conversation you weren’t part of. Roman had struck a nerve, just as he knew he would.

“Did you wanna say something else, or?” Roman asked.

Kendall wouldn’t look at you, instead losing his staring contest with Roman to aimlessly move some things around on his desk.

And just like that, it was over. You were fucked.

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸

Hell was not some fiery, underground inner sanctum. It was sitting next to Roman Roy on a private jet (the Roys’ second private jet, which Roman affectionately deemed “Family Torture Chamber the Second”) en route to Herefordshire, England for Siobhan’s wedding.

“You don’t have to pretend to be asleep, you know.”

Oh yes, I do.

You were only three months into being Roman’s personal assistant, and you already felt like he was taking years off of your life.

Today had been a rough day, to say the least. You were under the initial impression that you were going to board “Family Torture Chamber the First” (also known as, “If You’re Not First, You’re Last”) along with the rest of his miserable excuse for a family earlier that morning. But then Roman took it upon himself to inform you just as you were walking out onto the tarmac that they had all departed for England several days prior. He said some routine maintenance was being done on the jet, and a few seats were removed so that they could be repaired. As a result, there wasn’t enough room for two additional passengers. So here you sat, stranded alone with your boss in an unusually cushy torture chamber.

It was almost sad, the way you were actually kind of looking forward to the original travel plan. If you managed to shove your way into a seat next to Willa or Greg (who reminded you that normal people did, in fact, exist) it would’ve been a welcome reprieve from the world in which you lived, otherwise known as Roman’s world. It was kind of like Elmo’s World, except actually not at all.

Elmo’s World never made you contemplate throwing yourself off a bridge.

Roman’s world: a cruel reality in which everything was all about Roman, all the time. During your time served thus far, things had been—for lack of a better word—weird. It was bad, sure, but not quite in the way you had expected. You anticipated that you would be yelled at, talked down to, and forced to overhear things you would never be able to scrub from your memory. And there certainly was a bit of all of that. 

But mostly, you felt…smothered.

At any given hour, it was rare that Roman didn’t have you practically glued to his side. If you weren’t readily available or even simply within eyeshot, he would make up some dramatic excuse to reel you back in. Everything that involved you doing something independently became a major issue. There was a never ending list of monotonous tasks he would create for you to complete.

“You’re gonna have to stay late again tonight. You might have to stay over, actually. I need you to fill out this paperwork I don’t feel like pretending to read.”

“I don’t care if it makes you uncomfortable, just forge my fucking signature. I’m telling you you can. Oh wait, look, look! How about this? I’ll make it all better. I’m openly threatening to fire you if you don’t, so now you’re under duress. Not liable if shit hits the fan, unless you fuck me over and make me change my mind. Who’s even gonna know, a handwriting expert? What kind of maniac under sixty sits down and writes anymore, anyway?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s 2am, you’re tired. So is everyone. I need you to pick up some groceries for me. Yeah. Right now. I don’t trust someone from one of those delivery apps knowing where I live. Inevitably someone’s gonna tweet about how hot I am in person when I’m just trying to have a quiet night in, and you know how much I hate drawing attention to myself. Also, I’m kind of drunk right now, so…”

“I don’t pay you for nothing, beautiful. If I have to go for a run at disrespectful o’clock in the morning, so do you. Don’t be mad. We can get donuts after.”

Somehow, you had allowed things to cross the line from weird to downright ridiculous. The only time you spent away from him was to go home and sleep, and that didn’t always happen, either. He liked “working from home,” aka, leaving the office early and making you come to his house so you could work from his home. During that time, he would just sit and relax, or talk at you for hours until you became visibly agitated. Those seemed to be his two favorite hobbies as of late.

You would be answering emails and creating spreadsheets and doing god knows whatever else he asked you to do so late into the night that he just started letting you sleep there. Or rather, insisting that you sleep there, in one of several guest rooms of your choosing.

The first time you passed out on his couch—long after he had gone to bed himself—you were horrified. You had never once done that at Kendall’s house. But he always made sure to let you leave at a reasonable hour, and on the rare chance that you had to stay late, he would send for a company car to take you home.

Roman was totally unfazed when he found you that morning. You could vividly recall him waking you up by hitting you repeatedly with a $300 throw pillow.

You did all of this and more, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. You were starting to feel like you sold your soul, and for what? A check? To live in an insanely expensive city without any friends, without any family, completely alone? Was sacrificing your dignity and virtually all of your free time really worth the money he paid you?

You preferred not to answer that question.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to come home to, not even a cat or something. Your family lived out-of-state. What else were you going to do with your free time? Why not work 24/7, if anything, to distract yourself from how empty your life truly was?

You had been poor once, not long before you started working for Kendall. You could just barely afford basic necessities, sometimes having to live off of granola bars for weeks at a time. But you were determined to remain afloat. Leaving, going back home to a family that wasn’t much better than the Roys, would feel like giving up. It would feel like you had failed. Getting your degree, working multiple jobs, going through roommate after roommate, struggling for all those years just to return to the place you were so desperate to escape…it seemed like such a waste. It would’ve been all for nothing. You had become so rundown that you were prepared to lay down and die like that, prepared to surrender.

And then you got a job at Waystar Royco.

You weren’t afraid to quit under Kendall. You knew he would provide you with a glowing reference, as long as you left on good terms. Roman, though…

You would probably have to fabricate one. That is, if he hadn’t totally blacklisted you from being hired by everyone else in the industry if you even so much as hinted at quitting. And he certainly had the means to do that.

Given the amount of time he forced you to spend with him, if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought Roman actually liked you or something. But you weren’t an idiot. Roman didn’t like anyone. He was just, well…

He was a brat. Roman was a brat. There was no better word to describe him. It was that simple. As much as you tried to hide it, he knew you totally despised him. How could he not? You couldn’t tell if he kept you on such a short leash just because he enjoyed torturing you, or if he was genuinely that needy. 

Kendall was sort of like that, too, in his own way. You figured it must’ve been a Roy thing.

Being trapped on a twelve hour flight together probably wasn’t helping to lessen your disdain for him. He sighed dramatically, slamming himself back against his seat. All was quiet for a few seconds until you felt him flick your ear.

“Ow! Roman, why?” you groaned, shoving his hand away. You leaned your head against the window, squinting your eyes shut. “Can you please let me get some rest? I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, figures. You’re probably not used to flying anything but coach. And believe me, I get it. For a wee commoner, I’m sure the plane that Dad only uses when he has no other option is just beyond. Dare I say comparable to, I don’t know, what’s something broke people think is opulent? The water mattress that your dad who only saw you once a year got you for your birthday when you were ten, or something. It’s like that to you. Am I right or am I right?”

If there was ever a time where you really wanted to punch him in the face—and there were many times in which you really wanted to punch him in the face—it was now.

“It’s comfortable, sure, but not comfortable enough to sleep on. Let’s be honest with each other. Who the fuck can fall asleep on a plane?”

“People fall asleep on planes all the time, Roman,” you sighed.

“Some people. Not you, though.”

“Apparently not.”

It was hopeless. There was no point in arguing. If there was one thing you had learned these last few months, it was that in order to get what you wanted from powerful people—powerful people that also just so happened to be awful people—you had to learn to pick your battles.

You were right on the verge of laying down and dying once again the morning after Roman hired you. That is, until he offered to drastically increase your salary. You were certain he did this to ensure you would stick around, not because he valued you as an employee, but because he wanted his brother to know that he won whatever weird little dick measuring competition they were having.

You opened your eyes and rolled your shoulders back.

Just a few more hours. You can do this. You can do this.

When you turned your head to look at him, Roman was leaning back in his seat, already looking at you.

“Oh my god! Have you been staring at me this whole time?”

“Besides,” he said, ignoring your question. “It’s not like I would even try and bother you if you were awake. Which you have been, like, this entire time.”

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t try to bother me?”

“I wouldn’t,” he said earnestly. The look on his face was a drastic shift from the expression he usually wore. Like with most unlikeable people, there were moments where the cracks would begin to show, where you would see an inkling of vulnerability beneath the surface. It was the strangest thing, how he could vacillate from sly fox to kicked puppy.

You wanted to cry. Did he really have the audacity to sound so sincere when he had been bothering you around the clock for three months straight? He had to have known how annoying he was. It was deliberate, wasn’t it? It was always deliberate with him.

You couldn’t even control sniping back.

“You literally just bothered me so that I would wake up and talk to you.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Once again, you were already awake, you little liar. And I don’t want you to talk to me. I want you to look at me and laugh at everything I say and hang onto my every word. See? That’s not talking. That’s listening. There’s a difference.”

“You know there are several other seats available for you to enjoy?” you asked, gesturing to the empty cabin. You wished that even just one of the other Roys had opted to fly with you. You silently prayed that one of them would somehow materialize, becoming an unwitting buffer between the two you. “You don’t have to sit directly next to me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. See angel, I’m incredibly delicate in body and soul, meaning that I have the circulatory system of roughly an eighty year old man. Therefore I am fucking freezing in here. I basically have to exchange body heat with you or I’m going to die. And if I die, you don’t get paid, so you’ve kinda gotta weigh your options real carefully.”

Suddenly, the somewhat polite, professional resolve you had been trying your best to uphold had collapsed. It was too much. You couldn’t take it anymore. He was impossible. You groaned and knocked your forehead against the seat in front of you, resting it there.

Roman let out a laugh. “Aw hey, come on. Cheer up. We only have…” he checked his watch. “Seven more hours to go! Wanna play truth or dare?”

“Your circulation is probably bad because you’re cold-blooded,” you said, your voice muffled against the leather seat.

“What, like a snake?”

You thought for a second, straightening back up. “No, you’re not that threatening. More of a lizard. Maybe a gecko.”

“Did you just…what the fuck?” He looked at you incredulously, but he seemed more amused than annoyed. “Did you just say that I look like a fucking gecko?”

“No, I said that you’re cold-blooded like a gecko.”

“Are…wait, are geckos cold-blooded?”

“I mean, they’re reptiles. I don’t know, Roman. I’m not a gecko expert.”

“Damn shame. And here I thought your knowledge and expertise knew no bounds, Bachelor’s degree,” he mocked.

“Didn’t you barely graduate high school?” 

“Didn’t you barely graduate high school?” he mimicked you, raising his voice an octave. “You don’t really have to when you’re fucking loaded. Hey, do you want some wine?”

He got up and grabbed a few bottles from the small wine rack in the corner—yes, a wine rack—and held them out in front of you. If he wasn’t the bane of your existence, you would think that he looked nice. He usually did, with his button up shirts and his blazers and his many, many coats. He had sharp features, always with dark circles under his eyes. You sometimes wondered if he was just as tired as you were. Even though he could be kind of lazy, it wasn’t hard to imagine that being part of the Roy family was no easy feat. Every once in a while, you wished he wasn’t the way that he was. If he wasn’t your employer and he wasn’t such a horrible human being, you could concede that Roman was really kind of handsome.

In his own weird, rude, cold, apparently gecko-like way.

“Bitter, disgusting liquid or bitter, disgusting liquid? Take your pick. You’re usually pretty predictable, but I cannot for the life of me decipher whether you’re a red wine person or a white wine person.”

You cringed at the thought of having a glass of wine with him. Although you could really stand to unwind, you had a brutal headache that didn’t seem like it was going away any time soon. You knew from experience that wine would only make it worse.

“Neither right now. Thanks, though.”

He scoffed. “Oh, come on. It’s not like I’m offering you ketamine or something. I’m being nice, I’m actually asking which kind you like before I give it to you. So what’s it gonna be, red or white?”

Being nice. Roman used that phrase a lot. “I’m being nice.” As if kindness was a rare, transactional behavior to be immediately acknowledged and rewarded. If he was “being nice,” then you had to be nice. Otherwise, he would make you pay for it.

And he could be pretty sadistic when he wanted to be. 

You wondered who he got that from, Caroline or Logan. Maybe both.

“Neither. I have a headache.”

“I will literally spit in your drink if you don’t tell me which one you like.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you even—then I just won’t drink it.”

“Whatever,” he sighed, uncorking the red. He didn’t bother to grab a glass, instead taking a swig directly from the bottle as he sat down next to you. “More for me then.”

For a short while, things were eerily quiet. Roman was eerily quiet. Then again, he was steadily chugging wine, becoming more and more inebriated as the minutes ticked by. It was about an hour and a half until he finished it off. You were resting your head against the window again, willing yourself to sleep when you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“So. You and my brother,” he said. “You guys…hang out ever?”

“Hang out?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

He nodded, all tired and glassy-eyed. “Yeah. You ever…” He looked like he was seriously thinking about what he was about to say next, but that might’ve just been the alcohol. “You ever hang out outside of the happiest place on earth?”

“You’re asking if I’ve ever met up with him outside of work?”

“Look at you, putting two and two together,” he exclaimed. His tone changed to one of a pet owner excitedly greeting their dog as they walked through the door. He moved his face closer to yours. “Who’s a smart girl? Who’s a smart girl?”

You placed your entire palm against his face and slowly pushed it away.

He laughed. “Ooooo. Y’know, I actually kind of like it when you do that.”

But you weren’t laughing. Not even a little.

“Are you insinuating that I’m hanging out—” you gestured with air quotes. “—with Kendall?”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just asking a question so I can stop other people from insinuating. It’s all anybody ever talks about when you leave the room.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. People were talking about you? All this time you had been working your ass off, going the extra mile just so you could keep this stupid job and afford to live, and this was what you had to show for it? Your coworkers speculating that you were sleeping with your boss?

Well, former boss.

Why? Just because he was nice to you? And not just Roman nice. Actually nice.

You had to stop yourself from yelling.

“The way he looks at you sometimes, I mean. Yeah, I get it. The dude has eyes, but come on. How fucking obvious can you be?”

“You think I’m sleeping with Kendall.”

“I mean. Are you?” 

He had that look on his face again, the weird one. The nervous one. Kicked puppy. The “I’m trying to get my point across but but I’m afraid of your reaction” face. It was always so jarring when he got like that. You almost preferred the snark. What did he have to be nervous about? Nothing was going on, and even if it was, how would that even slightly affect his life? Why did it matter?

“I think it goes without saying that I’m not.”

“Well that was convincing,” he said flatly.

“Think about it, Roman. When would I even have time to sleep with anyone? I work constantly. I’m literally always with you!”

“Before, though?” he asked. His voice was borderline whiny, like he was pleading. You had a gut feeling that you should get up and move further away from him, but you stayed put.

“Before?”

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m asking. Before you worked for me, were you fucking him?”

“No!” you snapped. “Roman, ew. Why do you even care? It’s none of your business what I do outside of work.”

He uncorked the other bottle of wine and took a drink. “Wanna hear another fun fact?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“I have a feeling I’m gonna hear it either way.”

“I’m warning you, though. You tell anyone, you die.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll make a blood oath.”

He smirked at you and shook his head, taking another drink. “Oh, you know I love me a blood oath. So glad you’re my assistant, by the way.”

“I really wish I could say the same.”

He placed his hand against his chest. “Ouch. You won’t even give me an inch, will you?”

“Just tell me the fact.”

“So demanding. Fine, since the anticipation is killing you. Fun fact, I’m a nervous flier. More than nervous, actually. Like, I’m more of a terrorized, traumatized, scared out of my mind flier.”

Okay. You were not expecting that admission.

“Really?” you asked. “You’re afraid to fly?”

“Yep. Like a little bitch boy.”

You snorted. “Being afraid of flying doesn’t make you a little bitch boy. Lots of people are afraid to fly.”

“Talking, though. Talking to someone during the flight?” he slurred, as if he was asking a question. “Talking helps me relax.”

Oh. So that was why he wasn’t letting you sleep.

“I’m honestly a little shocked that you’re a nervous flier. You fly places all the time.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Sucks to suck, I guess,” he said, taking another swig.

You grabbed the bottle’s neck, trying to pry it from his fingers, but he wouldn’t budge. “I think you might want to slow down.”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe you would’ve known that sooner if you took, oh, I don’t know, two seconds out of your day to ask me a single question about myself. And clearly you don’t wanna talk to me right now, so getting drunk is really my only other option for getting through this flight. But I’m cold-blooded, right?”

This whole interaction had taken a bizarre turn, and you had no clue how to react. You almost felt guilty, but you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to feel guilty for. Maybe you had been a bit cold when it came to Roman, but how else did he expect you to act? He was awful. Everyone knew that. And he was your employer, not your friend. You weren’t required to ask him about himself unless it pertained to what he wanted you to do. How were you even supposed to ask about something like that? How would it even come up in conversation? 

There was a long, awkward silence after that. He kept drinking and you kept staring out the window, thinking of what to say next. Should you apologize? Should you move seats? Was there a way to create distance from him that wasn’t blatantly obvious?

“I–”

He waved his hand at you dismissively. “You’re sorry, you feel bad, blah blah blah. Whatever. I don’t need you talking to me because you feel bad for me. Unlike my brother, I don’t want anyone’s pity. Just go to sleep.”

“Roman, I’m sorry. But don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?”

“You wanted to go to sleep, so go to sleep. Keep acting like I’m not even here. Keep ignoring me, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not ignoring y—”

“Alright. You want to keep this pity party going? Fine by me. But while we’re at it, we’re just gonna nip this in the bud now, okay?” he said, exuding a false sense of cheerfulness. He stood up and stumbled a little ways down the aisle, raising his hand to lean against the overhead compartment as he turned towards you. “I’m sure you’re already well aware, but need I remind you that you’re a fucking coffee gopher? Because you are. You’re a run of the mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian. And you know what else? This is the best you’re ever gonna do. You need this job, and in order to keep it, you need me to like you. And in spite of what you’ve heard, in spite of what you’ve chosen to believe about me, I’m really not that bad.

“In fact, you should be thanking me up and down right now. Because right now, I’m essentially paying you to drink wine, and take a nap, and complain about how much you hate me, and talk about how much you miss working for my cokehead brother on my fucking dime. So if I were you, I would wipe that miserable look off your face and attempt to maintain some semblance of professionalism. Unless, of course, you want to buy your own plane ticket home, which I’m telling you right now, is not gonna be cheap for someone like you.”

You felt like you had just been slapped. You might as well have been. Your chest was heavy, your breathing sporadic as your eyes welled up with angry tears. Your mind was racing as he stared at you, waiting for a response. He could be fairly ruthless, but you hadn’t experienced anything like this.

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying?” he taunted. “Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.” 

You were wondering when Roman’s “niceness” was going to reach its threshold. 

There it was.

-

this is a reupload of a story i posted a little over a year ago. i'm really glad to be working on it again 😊 hope you enjoy

#roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession

[deandoesthingstome]

Exactly What His Heart Meant

Pairing: Pornstar!August Walker x Pornstar!Reader

Summary: August Walker has wanted you forever. You want him, too. It's perfect.

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: This is Pornstar!AU, okay? 18+ ONLY Drug and alcohol use, mentions of a three-way, generic anal, bad business practices, oral sex (F & M receiving), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, P in V missionary and doggy style, sex toys, pegging (gasp - yes I'm going there), aftercare. Love.

A/N: I am nervous, okay? This is not your average everyday August Walker, but I love him and I hope you do too. I have been wanting to do this since forever. I've posted a few blurbs in WIP tag games here and here. I gushed about the song that kicked the whole thing into high gear and the fic title is taken from "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" - Rod Stewart. Both songs can be found on the playlist.

Bonus points if you can find the nods to other HC characters. There is definitely one, maybe two or three if you squint hard. (These points don't get you anything, sorry.)

Playlist: Listen to the music of the night on Spotify here.

Header and dividers by me.

August owned his entrance like no other. The studio made sure to send a PA ahead to prep the DJ and once he heard the first strains of “Night Fever” spill out of the club, he stepped out of the shadows and headed to the entrance, ready to start his decent down into the lights and glitter and debauchery as soon as Here I am sounded through the speakers and a spotlight made its way to him.

The already celebratory crowd went wild as he struck the iconic pose and thrust his hips in time to the rhythm. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried, no matter how he had protested his employer’s choice for him. He would have sworn on any stack of bibles he didn’t like disco and abhorred polyester, yet here he was gyrating away. First time for everything. Starting with enjoying this awards night and after-party.

Each one prior had a story already attached to it from the beginning of the night, starting with his inaugural ceremony and guaranteed newcomer award, and trailing through the end of every relationship he thought would be the one. He finally stopped assuming because they said yes to the event after a few months or more of dating, that meant they were saying yes to him forever. The next few years were brutal and lonely, not that he couldn’t find some starfucker to take home at the end of the night, but that wasn’t what he craved.

Tonight was Club Retro themed. Award ceremony glamor as usual, but a costume change was required somewhere on the way from the venue to the after-party if you wanted to really up your game. Arrive in club gear of whichever era you wanted, but arrive dressed to impress nonetheless. He wasn’t the only actor a studio had convinced to go for the Travolta look, but he was probably the most surprised to find himself exhilarated by it and the attention it received. He kept all three pieces of the white suit, but he ditched the dark blue shirt altogether. Maybe he didn’t have a full head of hair, but the ‘stache and chest hair on display held 70’s swagger and he was running with it. 

He grabbed a glass of champagne from one tray and a pill from another and set off into the crowd in search of the rest of his crew. He caught glimpses of the fresh-faced sweetheart who’d just inked a new deal grinding on the studio’s number two out on the dance floor and knew his plan to link them up had worked. The fans would eat them up, he knew it. 

Knew it better than the owner, who wanted August to break her in. Ethan had begun making some really bad casting and scripting decisions and August was glad his contract was coming to an end. He was starting to feel like he wanted to just blow the whole studio up, let loose with all the bullshit he knew about his boss and how he ran his business. The industry could be awful, plenty of horror stories, but August had initially thought he’d found a place to call home. 

What he’d begun to uncover about Ethan Hunt could fill a manifesto that would take the place down. And as crazy as it sounded, though he was tired of breaking in new talent, he wasn’t ready to be the reason all his friends lost their jobs. Not everyone was in a position to land on their feet. Regardless, at least now, with the sweetheart and the roughneck on a solid trajectory he wouldn’t be in the middle of something if tonight panned out the way he hoped.

Though, to be honest, it wasn’t looking good. He’d found his crew and then scanned the room for her with no luck. 

“She hasn’t shown up yet,” his agent purred in his ear. Kelis was always down to party whenever he had an itch no one else would scratch, and he appreciated how decidedly non-attached she always was. No clingy phone calls or pouting over non-existing anniversaries. It aggravated him, though, that she was looking to seduce him here, tonight of all nights. Especially because she knew where his mind would likely be, but it didn’t stop her from begging for his cock every now and then. He could tell she’d gotten the hint his look gave by the way she toned it way down to answer his next question.

“A few from her studio have shown up but she wasn’t with them and they wouldn’t tell me where she was. It was all very secretive. So at least let me have my way with you on the dance floor if you won’t take me home tonight. Please?”

He relented and found himself having the time of his life. Song after song flew by as he grabbed water then whisky, a line, then water, another line, then whisky, water, whiskey, whisky, water. Dancing with Kelis gave him a chance to forget about his frustration with his studio and everyone, here or not, for the moment. He let himself be free and felt a weightlessness he hadn’t in a long time. No call sheets waiting at home. No scenes to prep. No “scripts” to read. Tonight and the next two weeks were his and his alone. Time for some decisions.

He noticed the crowd had begun to thin, and realized he wanted some fresh air, so he peeled himself away from Kelis with a promise-to-return kiss and tap on the ass. He took the elevator to the rooftop bar and found himself a little amazed at the streaks of light just beginning to emerge in the distance. Time had really flown while he was having fun.

He was about to head towards the drinks when he spotted her leaning against the railing in the opposite direction. The white-golden hair flowing behind her was an obvious wig. He’d seen her step to the stage to accept multiple awards tonight (or is it last night now?) and she had looked just as gorgeous with her natural color as she did all done up in her Farrah waves now. An unexpected jolt of excitement coursed through his veins as he realized she’d also opted for a 70’s look, complete with a scandalously (though by whose standards?) short metallic silver skirt with slits on either side and what he assumed was a matching top, though with her back to him as she peered out over the awakening city, all he really saw where the two thin silver chains that criss-crossed across her back. They looked like they would hold nothing up.

But she was alone and he knew it was now or never, so he strolled around the roof-top pool to step up beside her.

"I’m glad I finally found you. I wanted to congratulate you. It's not often a producer gets awards for both behind and front of camera work," he opened.

She turned her head and beamed a dazzling smile in return before thanking him and offering her own congratulations along with her hand and then a surprisingly friendly hello hug.

“I saw you nailed Best Male Performer and Best Anal again. Your Missionary: Impossible series was a true stroke of genius. I wish I had thought of it first.”

“So she’s not immune,” August thought as he peeled himself away from her warm body. “She remembers my name.” At least she recognized his star status. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten him. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and trained his eyes on her through his lashes.

“You know I’d love to have you join the cast,” he spoke as he finished the hello hand kiss and lifted his head to gaze directly at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that scream ‘spy’ quite as much as yours do.”

“And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a producer acting for another studio. You’ve got balls to ask, that’s for sure,” she laughed, tossing back the rest of her whisky before grabbing another off the tray passing by.

“Where’ve you been all night? I tried to find you right after the ceremony, but you disappeared and I had to run for a wardrobe change.” August tossed a casual grin and motioned at the cheesiness of his costume, though inside he was kicking himself. 

The point of engaging wasn’t to offer her a part. How ridiculous! He’d been doing that for months now and she wasn’t biting. No. Tonight he was going to get answers. Why had she consistently denied him another shot with her? It had to be more than just the technicalities of trying to untangle ownership and percentages filming another studio’s producer would bring. She broke into his train of thought with an explanation of her quick and sudden departure from the award banquet and why she hadn’t arrived at the after party locale for what had to be at least a few hours.

“Already prepping material for next year. We had a newcomer attend with the studio tonight. He’s an absolute stud. Looking to get his name out there so we filmed his first scene backstage.”

August’s hopeful heart sank a little. He couldn’t expect her not to keep putting out material just because his advances might finally be successful, but it would take all his cool charm and guile to woo her if she was already cock-drunk tonight. He put out another feeler.

“You look well put back together already,” he commented, eyes tracing her figure with obvious intent.

“Oh not me. No, I was directing. Looking to nab that ‘behind the scene newcomer’ award next year,” she beamed, her smile still welcoming. “No, Mikey did a little gonzo three-way for his first official movie with Darkk Angel. We’re releasing it next week after a quick trip to post and then have him lined up for three more scenes next month. I’m wondering if we can talk AVN into a “most prolific” award.” Her laughter was infectious and he found himself with a wide grin, verging on goofy in spite of his aim.

“You’ve never directed? How have I missed that?” August sought to focus attention away from whoever this Mikey kid was and back on her completely, then mentally kicked himself again for admitting something that could only make him look desperate and maybe a little creepy. From his statement, and along with all the official asks from his agent, she had to think he was a stalker, completely obsessed with her. 

Not that he wasn’t. Not since that very first time. Her “first’ anal scene. He understood she had to be a little overwhelmed at that shoot with so many people on set. She had clearly already fucked the director (for a scene) and was now just taking on a few actors who were already on a rise. It was his last commitment to the old studio and then he was off to a new contract with Hunt. God, he wished he could have taken her with him. As it was, the only thing he kept was her scent that lingered not long enough.

"You know, I've asked my agent about another scene with you more times than any other actor. He never has a good enough reason to tell me no. What gives?" August inquired.

She debated telling him the truth. That she was completely enamored of him despite, only having met once, and afraid to ruin her own fantasy. Yes, she thought about him often. She’d be lying if she said otherwise.

But what if he refused her counter-offers? What if he didn't play the way she had come to discover she wanted sometimes, needed even?

She could accept if his big dick in her pussy or ass was all he'd agree to again for one scene. But she wanted more. More than a scene. More than a spectacle.

"Industry's hottest stars finally fucking again!" she imagined the trade headlines would scream, not bothering to temper her own ego about her status.

And which studio got the rights? His or hers? Of course she would never give up the rights to those shots, those stills, that video. It had been years since any studio other than the one she owned had any rights to any images of her. Why August Walker didn't make the same professional move she had was beyond her, but at least she could play the upper hand if it came down to it. It was power to own the rights to your own material and that power trumped his studio contracts. Or at least she'd make that case. Plus Ethan Hunt was a little bitch and she’d be damned if she contributed to his profits in any way.

Still, she couldn’t get past the concern that having his big dick in her ass again would ruin her for anyone else ever again. It wasn't the size. Hell, she'd had two almost equal to him in there just the other day.

No. It was the fantasy. Not only what she already knew of his prowess, though if she’d improved over time, and she knew she had, he had to have gotten better too. But also what she imagined she knew based on the stories she'd heard. Stories about his true personality as well as the image she made up in her head based on tidbits of their past and innuendos of his present.

On set, she'd heard he’d become a bit of a prick. Even worse when the storyline called for Daddy. Not that it didn't make her wet to watch. And daydream about. Calling him Daddy, mmmm.

Except that wasn't her. Not her kink. Not her need. Not really.

And off set? Well, lips are usually loose in the industry, but somehow very few factual stories about dating August Walker were out there. Most of what she'd heard was easily dispelled rumor.

No, he wasn't into animal play. Either kind. Good.

No, he didn't force his partners to sleep in separate rooms after finishing. Why would someone even start that rumor? To what end? 

Her private private detective had tracked down the source and verified quickly. It was a little bit of column a, a little bit of column b. The studio was looking to cash in on the mystery and intrigue of their dashing playboy, and a jilted date wanted more. Who wouldn't want more of him? But that choice was self-sabotaging to say the least.

She was well aware that some women, and men for that matter, liked to imagine their favorite actor to be the world's largest asshole. No, not that way. 

That was the way she liked to imagine him. And the basis for her declination. He'd never say yes. She was sure of it.

And yet here he was. Blushing at the mere mention. Maybe she should have countered with that when he first started seeking her out. But she hadn't been ready to give up the rush she felt every time a message from Hunt Club studios appeared in her inbox.

August felt the heat rise in his cheeks and knew someone out there would say he was blushing, but August Walker does not blush.

As she leaned in, he swiped another surreptitious peek at her gorgeous and barely covered tits, though he was so smooth no one could have seen this time. Not that it mattered. He was right about the thin silver chains holding onto barely anything up front. Where she found tissue paper thin metallic material, he had no idea but her nipples showed through what little fabric there was making up the plunging neckline of the deep-vee tank, as if they weren’t also practically peeking out of the top as it was. She had them on display for a reason. But he was trying to make a move here. Trying to differentiate himself from the rest of the industry players and hangers-on hoping for a hook-up after the awards.

Champagne and liquor had flowed all night, powder cut, pills popped. He was tipsy but it was really the sunrise inching its way into the sky behind her, here on this rooftop bar next to the pool full of drunken, naked bodies, and the angelic halo circling the crown of her head that had him staring back into her eyes in no time, enraptured. Well, that and her reply.

“I have certain … desires that I’m not convinced you’d be amenable to and I didn’t want to alienate you.”

He went on to ask, no - insist, she explained her terms, right here right now. And she obliged, clarifying that she didn’t intend to be filmed at all. That her interest in climbing into bed with him was related only to the burning desire she’d felt to track him down, beg him for more, practically every day since that shoot. And the thing that convinced her not to bother was the never ending stream of talent she’d seen draped around him months, years later. 

But she wouldn’t, couldn’t deny that she wanted him. Wanted to relive that moment and then build on it. Take the scene farther than was written. Fuck him right off the page and into her life forever. It was indescribable the way he felt listening to her narrate her desire to own him. She was only mentioning the bedroom, but he got the feeling she meant the heart as well.

Still, she was being mysterious with the details, so August began to mention specifics. What he wouldn’t do.

"I won't lick your boots," he'd said with a grin after a shorter than expected list, still wavering on if he actually meant to convey the opposite.

"Maybe not," she replied before leaning in and whispering in his ear as he tilted down to meet her. It was clear from her next sentence that she’d finally figured out he’d say yes. He was practically begging for it right here in front of these few end-of-the evening stragglers. "But you will take every inch of me."

Negotiations had already begun and this was just ink on the dotted line. Along with a string of consent questions with compatible answers and now she knew his safeword and he knew hers. It wasn’t what it used to be. Because things can change. But not his desire for her.

He brushed past her non-binding handshake and drew her in for a confirmation kiss, hands gently pulling her waist towards him. “You still smell the same. It drives me crazy,” he admitted before pressing his lips to hers with a smile. Then he broke the kiss, which had begun to turn lascivious even for the nature of the event, afraid they’d never make it off the roof-top if he didn’t.

He gave a deceptively shy smile and knowing nod to Kelis as he passed her on his way out with the true object of his desire draped along his arm.

She sent her limo off with whatever crew was left at the party before climbing into the back of his. They had no sooner pulled away from the curb and begun to make their way to his hi-rise apartment building than the driver’s shield went up and she went down, unzipping his trousers and slipping her hand in to coax him out. 

She had gotten incredibly better at sucking dick in these interim years. But it was like she was finally home. Like her mouth opened magically around him to hold him close and taste his skin. It took everything in his power not to blow his load down her throat in the car. He wanted to be in her pussy when he came and there wasn’t much he wanted more at this moment.

He managed to pull her off and get her back on the seat, legs spread and ready to take his shoulders as he slipped his tongue deep inside her core. Moving the floss she’d bothered to pull on out of his way wasn’t hard in the least. He had her screaming by the time the limo pulled up outside his building.

August draped his suit jacket over her shoulders before he helped her out of the car and into the lobby. When the elevator doors closed around them, she turned and pressed him back into the wall, staring up at him with hunger and power equally.

“That’s the last time you call the shots tonight. I’m taking my shoes off as soon as we walk in your door, so you can’t accuse me of asking you to lick my boots. But you will be on your knees and you will put your mouth back on my pussy and do that one more time before anything else happens tonight. Understood?”

He stared down at her with amusement that morphed into understanding that ended in solemnity before the ding at his floor broke the silence.

“Yes ma’am,” he finally replied, resigned to her whim. He opened the lock with practiced ease, nothing shaking out of fear but only vibrating with anticipation. How had he missed her meaning all those years ago? 

“I wish I could show you how this feels,” she’d whispered in his ear as he held her chest tight against his. “But it’s nothing compared to how it feels from behind.”

At the time he thought she had meant for him to turn her around, still on top of him but back to chest. So he did. And she liked it. She came like a banshee and that squeeze is something they can’t fake. That’s what wins the awards anyway. The audience knows it’s acting, but when they can tell it’s something the actor actually wants, when the chemistry is kinetic, the high is so much higher. 

Clearly she’d had so much more in mind. When she came back down, he made sure to check the front door lock before he turned back to scoop her quivering body into his arms and carry her down the hall to his bedroom.

“Don’t think I’m anywhere near done with you just because I’m a wreck right now,” she called to him as he set her onto his bed. “Where are you going?”

“I would never think you’d consider that enough for an evening. I want to freshen up, if you don’t mind. May I?” August quirked an eyebrow awaiting her response and it was clear he’d come right back to the bed if she forbade it. No questions asked. But she allowed it and that only made him ache for her more. He’d be quick.

“Damn right you will!” she called out after him before ridding herself of her own garments. 

Her hand must have found its way to the soaking mess between her legs and this is how August found her when he stepped out of the bathroom a very short while later, rubbing a towel over his head after peeling it off his body. He watched her luxuriate in the slippery slide feel of her fingers dipping in and out, rubbing, pinching, pumping, pumping, pumping.

He dipped carefully onto the bed. He had no desire to startle her out of her joy, he only wanted to witness it up close. He crawled alongside her and watched as her chest heaves softened and listened as her sighs became longer. When she finally opened her eyes on a deep inhale, he smiled at her.

“May I join you?” So respectful.

“Kiss me,” she commanded, and while he heeded she lifted his arm and guided his hand between her legs. “And touch me,” she whispered into his mouth. 

He obeyed. His fingers drifted through her folds and made use of the slick that remained to press up into her. One, two, one, two. And now three. And now she’s grinding up against his hand and breaking the kiss to demand more and he’s giving it to her but it’s not enough, is it?

“More,” she cried out. “Fuck me, August.”

He was grateful at that moment for two revelations from the rooftop. He already knew his own status, testing often despite Hunt’s lackadaisical studio regulations. But she had shared that her studio adopted the standard of routine and regular testing early on and therefore she knew exactly what her status was, too. And, coupled with the fact that she had the implant, she had no qualms going bare. All these things led to the next thing he was grateful for and that was the feel of her pussy wrapped all the way around him as he slipped his prodigious cock deep inside her. 

He mused he could do this all night. Or rather all day and into the night, when the moon began to rise again. Because it wasn’t night at all. It was broad daylight now and it was streaming in through the mirrored windows. Nobody could see it, even if they did find themselves on level with the height of his apartment. But no curtains meant he could see the way the sunlight brightened her face and it made him want to see all of her.

“Will you take it off, too?” he asked, staring down at her while he pistoned his hips into hers and felt her open and warm around him. “Please?”

He wasn’t used to begging. As much as he wasn’t a blusher, he definitely wasn’t a beggar but he found himself wanting to do anything for her and she wanted him to beg. Or at least ask nicely. And he wanted to obey. For the first time, maybe ever, August Walker wasn’t in charge.

She obliged and pulled the wig off easily. It wasn’t even pinned on, there was so much bang to cover the cap. All that meant was she was able to free her natural hair with ease and he was thankful. Now she lay bare before him and he got to take a good long, up close and personal look before she took it all away.

Faster than he would have preferred she slipped back and eased him out, but turned just as quickly to take him in her mouth. August let his eyes fall closed while he relished the feeling of her mouth around his cock again, but just when it started feeling really good, it also started feeling too good. If she continued he was going to come and he really meant it when he decided he wanted to be inside her for that. And not her mouth.

“Please,” it was practically a whisper. She almost hadn’t heard. But she let go with a pop and asked.

“What was that?”

“Please,” he begged again, raspy but with sound this time, voice hitching as she took him back in her mouth for just the briefest of sucks.

“What are you asking for?”

When he pleaded again with a cracked voice, she smiled as she let go.

“What is it, August? Huh? What do you want? Or not want?”

“Please…please don’t.” he stuttered as she continued to toy with him. Dick in and then out of his mouth with no concern for his predicament.

“Say it, August. Ask nicely.”

“Don’t make me come,” he begged, even as she sank to wrap her lips around him once more. “Please.”

“If that’s what you want. You only have to ask. Nicely.” She was so proud of him and he could feel that. Could tell she’d do anything for him. And let him do anything for her.

“Let me fuck you,” he asked. “Please. Just ….”

“Don’t bother saying it, you and I both know 5 minutes turns into 20 in no time,’ she laughed with him as she lay back with her legs spread wide for him. He stayed kneeling between her legs and watched her face explode with pleasure as he rocked deep and strong inside of her. He wasn’t trying to overcome her, wasn’t looking to establish any kind of dominance. Not on purpose at least. Because the fact of the matter was, that no matter how much he wanted to let her be in charge, it just came so naturally to him. It was hard to drop that mantle. Especially while fucking into her and watching her fall apart around him.

Then she shook her head and through sheer will, dragged herself back from the precipice to snake an arm up his chest, fingers drifting to his neck and drawing him down against her. 

“Kiss me again, August,” she commanded and he obliged with no hesitation. It wasn’t that he couldn’t resist and instead put her right back in the trance his cock had caused, but he didn’t want to. They’d agreed on this night. Agreed what it would mean. He was finally getting what he’d craved all these years. And so was she.

Their tongues tangled while his fingertips traveled over velvety skin, her legs wrapped around hips, his thick member pistoned in and out of her wet and slippery cunt that she controlled so well. She hadn’t been wrong. August imagined he could stay like this forever if she’d let him, drowning in her glory, ego stroked with every gasp and whimper and cry of hers. It was music to his ears. He’d heard enough fake moans and pants over the years to know what the real thing sounded like and he never wanted to give it up.

When he felt her squeeze tight around him for the second time, he began to slow, sure that more than twenty minutes had passed but completely uninterested in confirming his suspicion. No, he wanted her on her knees again.

“Can I have you from behind?” he murmured in her ear after kissing his way along her cheek and neck. “Just for 5 minutes.”

She could feel his grin, but before she could compose an appropriate response, he’d shifted, changed tempo and hit a different spot that had her howling and fighting the urge to beg him for more. Even then brief respite she’d have while they switched positions should allow her to gather her wits and tamp down her desire to just let him rail her into the next day. Because tonight was for something more. So she pushed him back away from her, flipped and pulled herself to all fours while crawling towards the center of the bed.

With a seductive glance over her shoulder, she called to him, “Come and get it, stud.”

Five minutes in heaven. That’s all she was going to allow him. She pressed her chest down into the bed and let him drag her hips into the air, flesh captured under his strong fingers. She screamed into the sheets as August directed her pleasure with practiced skill and just when she felt she couldn’t hold on any longer, he slipped a saliva-coated thumb into her ass and sent her reeling. He’d timed it perfectly. 

“You’re done,” she fought through her haze to flip to her back and clarify. “We still have a deal, right?”

She watched him stroking himself lazy and slow to stay hard while his eyes blinked shut with relief almost involuntarily. 

“Yes,” he replied, his exhale full of yearning. “Will you show me?”

“Show you what, August? Hmm?” she asked with a tilt of her head, pleased he was finally ready to give in to what he’d already agreed to back on that rooftop.

“Show me how it feels.” It wasn’t a question, yet still not a command. He’d never dare to command her. Not until she was ready for him to. And that wasn’t tonight.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since we met.”

All those years. All that time. August closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told himself it’s fine. It’ll be fine. He pulled back a bit from the ledge that he wanted to step over for missing her meaning all along. As if she could read his mind, she spoke from somewhere that felt like a dream.

“I’m glad you waited though. I wasn’t ready either. I was trying to get over my nerves and thought a little brazen tease directed at the top talent on set would help. But I’ve discovered I really do like sharing that experience, knowing I can make a man feel the way he makes me feel. Make him understand how much better it is when it's from someone who cares."

When he opened his eyes, she was pulling herself up to her knees to meet him. He felt her hands trace along his chest as she pressed her lips to his. It was almost sweet, but definitely a relief. She really did want this as much as he did.

For a mini-eternity, they let their tongues tangle and hands roam. August shivered as her nails traced down his back with the perfect dig and smiled into her lips as he thought about the red lines he’d be left with the next day. He cradled the nape of her neck as even on knees he towered over her and let a hand drift down the soft skin of her side and around her waist to cup her ass.

When her hands finally landed in the same spot on him, he felt another layer of tension release as she caressed and squeezed each cheek with passion. She broke the kiss and nuzzled down his chest, landing on her elbows before him. With eagerness, she took hold of his still invigorated member, gave a few soft strokes, and then put him back in her warm, wet, inviting mouth. 

But this blowjob had an ulterior motive that August felt as soon as it turned sloppy and her saliva began to drip and pool around him. With a now slick hand, she slipped her fingers off the base of his cock and in between his legs, tracing past the waxed-bare skin off his balls and teasing his entrance.

She circled and smoothed and kneaded until he finally felt a finger ease past the first ring of muscle and he had to put a hand on her head to slow the bob that was already threatening to pull his orgasm too soon. Surely she didn’t want that, did she?

August dropped his head back with a groan of pleasure as she let her spit drop onto her fingers again before pressing a second digit inside, just beginning to open him up to all her possibilities. It already felt so, so good. If this was all she did for him, it was worth it, but not really what he wanted. He’d had a few other lovers tease him like this, but he always stopped them short, still too nervous to let them go all the way to where he needed.

He’d kept this part of himself secret, shared it with no one, tested it only when alone. He knew it was stupid to hide this craving, especially given how exposed he allowed himself to be on film. But this was something different. Something personal. Private. That’s what he told himself. And he let his stature in the industry dictate the type of man he was in a bedroom, with a woman but without the cameras, for far too long.

His head was spinning as her tongue licked his length and her fingers teased and touched. She was pressing and pushing deeper and when she finally found his spot it took every ounce of willpower to maintain composure. He still wanted more of her, still didn’t want to come yet.

It dawned on him then that she hadn’t brought an overnight bag with change of clothes for the morning or toys for the evening. Just her ridiculously sexy wisp of an outfit and a tiny clutch that couldn’t have hidden even a bottle of lube, let alone the tool she needed to fulfill their bargain. She’d promised him he’d take every inch of her. Could she really have meant only this? Was she expecting him to come as she beckoned inside him?

“I can hear your thoughts, August” she purred up at him with a smile, mouth off his dick, but fingers still toying with him. “I don’t want to stop here either. I’m sure you can help me out, can’t you?”

She felt him tense and knew he was weighing the pros and cons of admitting what she had guessed when he agreed to take her home immediately without offering to make a stop along the way. August had his own equipment. No doubt about it.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, removing her fingers completely and returning to her knees to kiss him hard and deep before speaking to him on his level. “You don’t have to hide anymore. Show me what you need.” 

She watched the seas of his eyes storm with fear before settling into calm as she held his gaze with no judgment, no mockery. She kissed him again, licked into the space between his lips and felt the passion as he held her tight, almost holding on for his life while he kissed her back.

When he finally broke free, he stepped back off the bed and opened the nightstand to remove a bottle of lube before he moved across the room to a mirrored armoire. He opened the doors and removed a sleek, black box which he brought back to place slowly on the nightstand, clearly deep in thought. And then he hesitated, hands resting on the lid of the box, head down.

“I don’t…” he started, and she felt a small ache in her heart. She had never seen him so vulnerable. Not that she spent much time alone with him at all, but this was truly a side she hadn’t quite expected after everything she knew about him.

“We can take our time, August,” she spoke with a careful tone and no desire to spook him. He remained still and she felt reassured he wasn’t running, not in his mind or his body. When he spoke, she had to stifle a small laugh for fear she would send him running from misplaced shame.

“I only mean, I don’t have a harness for you.” He turned, fingertips of only one hand still on the closed box, eyes scanning hers for understanding. And she understood completely.

She moved closer to the edge of the bed and grinned at him. “Oh, August. Oh baby, this is what has you worried? You think I can’t make it good for you if I’m not wearing it?” She watched this new layer of tension begin to melt away as he registered her words. “August Walker, I meant what I said and I can’t wait to fuck you however I can. And believe me, I know how to make it good.”

She waited for him to relax, to speak, to return to his usual manner and let her back in. Then she took a calculated breath, dropped the timbre of her voice, and called to him.

“And you’re going to let me, aren’t you August?”

Her eyes dropped just in time to see the twitch in his still hard-cock and she knew he was back and ready to let her have him. He flipped the lid to the lacquer box with one finger and revealed a small treasure trove of devices, any of which she’d be thrilled to treat him with. With no idea how prepared he really was, she let him choose. 

“Will you start with this?” August handed her not the smallest, but not the largest either and she accepted willingly. “It’s been a minute.”

With complete understanding she led him back into bed on his knees before grabbing the lube from the nightstand and setting about her business. Kisses first. Deep and hungry. She wanted his tongue down her throat and he obliged while she held the dildo and lube in one hand and stroked his rock hard cock with the other. 

Before too long, she’d dropped the toy to the bed and flipped the lid to the tube, using proprioception to drop several dollops onto her open hand before reaching between his spread legs while still commanding his kiss. Her fingers smoothed the viscous fluid over his entrance and dipped a little in with a finger before she reached for the prosthetic and smeared the rest around the tip and down the base.

Her lips left his reluctantly as she ordered him to hands and knees while she maneuvered behind him. With practiced skill, she massaged and manipulated her fingers inside him once more, listening for the moans and groans that told her he was ready for her to place the tip alongside a finger and ease the toy inside. She watched him carefully, moving slowly and waiting for him to relax fully before she slipped the whole thing in and he took it with the sweetest grunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, August. Just like I knew you would. Does it feel good?” she questioned, while gently pulling and pushing, twisting and pressing, smiling when he answered in the affirmative. With each motion she listened for the sounds that would tell her where and how it felt best and she was quick to learn his needs.

“Fuck…just like that,” he begged and hitched back into her, already wanting more.

“Impatient,” she teased lightly as she shifted to the side so she could both lean over to capture his lips again and still work the toy in and out of his slowly writhing body. She kept him wanting, shifting the speed and direction, for as long as he could last before he finally begged for the real thing.

She left him face down and ass up while she switched gear, careful to add more lube to both him and the larger phallus. But when she was ready to finally give him what he wanted, she paused for just a moment to consider orientation. She was certain positioning him to face the mirror would be too much for this first time together, but there would be others, she was sure now.

Other times to see the exquisite pain she knew would soon drip down his face as she wielded the apparatus and gave him every inch he asked for. She ran a hand up his back and grabbed onto his shoulder for more leverage as she worked him into a frenzy. He was bucking back into her and the moans that drifted from his lips were music to her ears. All the practice and care she’d taken, learning how to please a lover this way were paying off.

She knew how it felt, knew how he was riding each high and low. Watched him relax into his pleasure, at times letting her control him completely before he shifted his hips and dug into the bed with hands and knees to find purchase that would allow him to grind hard onto the sizable dildo she brandished with expertise. She’d go all night like this if he wanted.

As his circuits finally broke, she could see the waves of pleasure begin to ripple along his spine. He was coming furiously hard, perhaps harder than he had in a long time, no matter how many uses this toy of his had gotten on his own. She was that good at sensing and feeling and pushing and pulling exactly how and when and where he needed.

And August definitely needed. That much was abundantly clear as he collapsed fully to the bed, panting and gasping for air as he rode the waves of his lingering orgasm. She could see him twitching and knew the feeling because it was exactly how she felt after everyone of the orgasms he’d given her tonight. Like an explosion of sensation she never wanted to come down from and she’d given that to him finally.

She left him to catch his breath and stepped to the bathroom to run warm water over a soft washcloth and grab a fresh towel on the way back. When he was cleaned and dry, she tucked into the covers with him and pulled him to her, guiding his head to her chest.

“You feel okay? Need anything else right now?” she asked him quietly as her hand drifted up and down his back.

“I wanted to come inside you,” August admitted with an exhausted sigh.

“We’re gonna have a lifetime of that.”

Everything HC Taglist: If this isn't your thing, no hard feelings? (as always, let me know if you want on or off; if you've asked and your aren't here, try me again but know that Tumblr sometimes doesn't let me tag everyone.)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble @brattymum96 @ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoxo @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 @agniavateira @sammat97 @meb79 @kittenofdoomage (as always Rhi. Smooches!)

#august walker fanfiction #august walker #august walker x reader #pornstar!august walker #pornstar!AU #august walker fanfic #august walker!AU #exactly what his heart meant #deandoesthingstome #mine

[orcinus-veterinarius]

Are dolphins still being captured for aquariums/parks and is it ethical (or complicated?)

Thanks for the ask! Yes, captures unfortunately do still occur in unregulated countries, though far less frequently than in the past. One of the most infamous examples is the annual dolphin drive in Taiji, Japan. While the main purpose of this hunt is to kill animals for meat, a small number of young, attractive dolphins are kept alive each year for sale. Nowadays, only unaccredited institutions purchase these dolphins, and even the Japanese Association of Zoos and Aquariums now prohibits its members from acquiring captured dolphins. Although Taiji is the most well-known, the majority of cetaceans captured from the wild in the 2000s/2010s came from Russia, which recently prohibited the practice.

Western parks and aquariums have not purchased wild-captured cetaceans in decades. The last captures in US waters occurred in 1989, and the last foreign imports were in the early 1990s (long before widespread public sentiment turned against dolphinariums). I do not believe the practice was ethical, and almost all my colleagues would agree with me. Some of them were indeed brutal affairs, such as the infamous Penn Cove captures, in which several young Southern Resident killer whales (including the famous Tokitae) were taken. Multiple animals were inadvertently killed, and the hunters clumsily attempted to hide the deaths by stuffing the whales’ corpses with rocks. The bodies resurfaced, and following public backlash orca captures were no longer performed in the US.

As awareness of animal welfare grew amongst scientists and the general public in the 70s and 80s, collections of smaller cetacean species became considerably less vicious. They were typically supervised by a veterinarian, and care was taken to ensure animals were not physically harmed. However, these were still undeniably stressful to the animals.

I’m glad the practice stopped. Dolphins are not endangered, and I don’t think we can justify the trauma of removing healthy young animals from their pods. Of course, I make exceptions for individuals that are ill, injured, or a danger to themselves or humans (like Clearwater Marine Aquarium’s Izzy)—and these situations are never taken lightly. And if a species ever became endangered (highly unlikely for bottlenose, but a possibility for belugas), that would also be cause for reevaluation.

Dolphins do quite well in modern accredited aquariums. In the United States, all managed dolphins were either born in human care or have been out of the wild for over 30 years (excluding non-releasable rescues). While there are valid concerns about cetacean captivity, ongoing wild capture is not one of them.

#honestly I find the claim that accredited aquariums fuel taiji #to hold the same merit as claiming accredited zoos fuels the illegal pet trade #anyway thanks for reading! #this was longer than I intended #orcas #killer whales #belugas #dolphins #cetaceans #marine mammals #animal welfare #answered asks #anonymous

[matan4il]

Today is international Women's Day, but Israeli women are still in captivity, for 5 months now.

Kidnapped, torn from their families, their kids, their parents, their partners, their friends, not getting enough food, most likely held underground where they're not getting enough air, none of their basic hygiene or female hygiene needs are being met, that's if they're even getting enough food to get their periods, some have been repeatedly raped and sexually assaulted, they're being denied proper medical care in general, and in particular that and the right to choose are denied to them in case their rapists have impregnated them, some have been murdered (their pics are in grey in the above image) and Hamas won't even grant them the basic decency of their bodies returned to their families and to the ground from which we all came, as Jewish traditional burial dictates.

And please don't forget all of the women who were brutally murdered on Oct 7, all the seemingly free women, who will never be the same again because of Hamas, the ones who were raped, and the ones who had to fight for their survival, the ones who lost their loved ones, the ones who have lost their mothers, and the ones who weren't supposed to be single parents raising orphans, the ones who continue to die because of anti-Israeli terrorist activity that has been a continuous part of this war, all of us Israeli and Jewish women, who have learned the ease with which our lives and our dignity, as women and human beings, can be taken away, and how the world would doubt our word if we'd testify about it, the women who survived the Holocaust and vowed to "Never again" let it happen, only to see a smaller scale version of it play out, with some of them who survived the Nazis, not surviving the terrorists, all of us who have discovered that there is a pain and a psychological scar we now carry, which will never fully heal.

Never again IS now.

Don't be silent about these women's fate, torment and denial of basic rights on this International Women's Day.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #feminism #international women's day