#and don't stop protesting and watching and reading and educating yourself

[strawberrykole]

what kills me is the fact that these aid workers COORDINATED WITH THE IOF TO MAKE SURE THEY WOULD BE ENTERING A SAFE ZONE.

and then they were shot at in, according to several reports, 3 DIFFERENT VEHICLES. they were in one, were fired at and escaped to another, which was fired at, and then got to a third, where they were finally killed.

the colonizer state of israel cannot be in charge of investigating why its own occupational forces fired upon aid workers, much like how you cannot trust cops to investigate their own crimes with no bias.

I actually can’t with mainstream media clamoring to suck Biden’s dick off with “he just gave a SHARPLY WORDED statement about the attack on the World Central Kitchen convoy” because not only do you immediately find genocide apologist language strewn all over it, but it’s also incredibly telling that he only ever addresses Israel’s continuous attacks when the majority of the aid workers were white. This is not to say that their deaths should not be making waves—they were brave aid workers who were tragically killed, as many have been, at the hand of Israel. But this has been Palestinians’ reality for months

[ursa-the-stranger]

Op had to restrict replies but I wanted to reblog so heres a copy paste of it sans op's name. I will take this down if they ask however.

I have been noodling over posting this for several days but I think it's important for some people to hear.

At a March on Saturday, at a pro Palestine march, my group and I were targeted by by nazis. Not targeted for violence, but targeted for recruitment. They weren't wearing swastikas, they weren't spewing blatant antisemitic hate speech. They seemed like two normal dudes. They marched with us, talked about how awful everything in Palestine was, how we wished world leaders would grow a pair and hold Israel responsible for fucking war crimes, how existing in the world right now was hard. They were empathetic, they were kind, they seemed like genuine good dudes.

Until we passed a synagogue where people were handing our water to marchers. They had signs defending Palestine on their table. But the tone of the conversation changed. These two seemingly normal dudes started talking about how "performative" the gesture felt, that Jewish people should be doing more. That they needed to PROVE it. They started talking about "Zionist" propaganda in the US, about how it was deeply entrenched in capitalism. Things that, on the surface, seemed reasonable but it set off alarm bells in my head.

When I was a kid, I remember getting the speech of "don't repeat anything your uncle or cousin so and so says and don't argue with them. Try to avoid them but if you can't be polite." Because those uncles and cousins said a lot of hateful things about anyone who wasn't like them, but their favorite targets were black people and Jewish people. I would find out as an adult it was because many of those uncles and cousins were in the Klan. When I studied hate symbols for a class in college, I found my self looking at images I'd seen on arms and necks and hands my whole life, because I live in an area of the US where the KKK is still around. And standing in that crowd, listening to these guys talk, i had the most horrible realization I've had in a long time.

We were being fished by Nazis. We were a group of able body, white American leftists. At a march in support of stopping the murder and genocide of Palestinians, these motherfuckers were out here, trying to find people they could get to hate Jewish folks. I wasn't the only one in my group who clocked it, and when we called them on it, the masks came off. They called us a bunch of "Jew loving bitches" before they moved on.

But we're marched with these guys for a couple hours, talked with them, laughed with them, brought them into our circle. For a moment we forgot we also weren't immune to propaganda, we weren't immune to people who make hate sound reasonable and that people like that never start out saying the quiet part out loud, they lean on your anger and your sense of helplessness to move you where they want you. If the last eight years has taught us anything, it's that fascists know how to adjust to the times, to work with what they got, to recruit. They know how to radicalize people, how to weaponize anger and helplessness. And I'm sitting here, every day, seeing posts that sound exactly like these guys did and it worries me.

I know I'm talking to the No Reading Comprehension Website, but I'm begging you guys to develop some now.

You are not immune to propaganda. We are all angry, as we fucking should be. We are watching an entire culture, thousands of lives, whole bloodlines, being wiped out in real time, and for many of us our nations are at best, wringing their hands, and at worst, shipping them weapons, all to protect capitalist greed. It's monstrous, it's disgusting. But look, REALLY LOOK, at the things you are tweeting, sharing, look at the language and how it's used. Take the time to educate yourself about how hate groups use social justice causes and civil unrest to recruit, research the posts your spreading, check your sources. If you are out protesting, be situationally aware, and do not be afraid to clock and call out Nazis. Listen to Jewish people, listen to their concerns, educate yourself on what Zionism and antisemitism actually are and how they can be weaponized. It doesn't feel as good as rage, it doesn't feel as good as having a group you can functionally rail against in a way we can't against a nation a world away, but it's a skill that's going to help you and a lot of other people in the long run.

[heyftinally]

Inspired by this post, and specifically this point:

"The people most responsible for providing that soft intro are other allies, not the people who are being directly harmed."

Anyone who calls themself an ally, this post is for you. Consider it obligatory ally reading.

Allyship is active. Allyship is loud. Allyship is also, quite honestly, something you can't label yourself as. You don't get to decide when you've done enough work to be considered safe for that community - the community you want to be an ally to will recognize your allyship over time, but it's something you earn by repeatedly doing the work.

Now let's talk about the work.

Being an ally to any community doesn't just mean you don't hate us/aren't actively a bigot. That's the bare minimum to be a good person, not an ally. Like I said, being an ally is active.

Being an ally means:

Challenging bigoted ideas when you encounter them with facts, statistics, and real-world examples. That means at the family BBQ as much as at the local grocery store on a Thursday evening.

Informing yourself. In order to do the above, you need to be knowledgeable. That means reading books by us about us. Reading blog posts and watching YouTube videos about lived experiences. You have to know us, as best as you are able.

Stand with us. Is there a protest happening in your area? Be there. Not necessarily in the front row, unless they want you there, but adding bodies to the total number in attendance shows support and strength for the cause. Maybe there are only 10 people of a group in your community, but if 20 allies stand with them, that 10 becomes 30 standing up for justice.

Fight for our resources. Is your local library considering removing books about us? Go in and tell them why you think it's important that they stay. Go request books about us and check them out - multiple times. All books about us, too - kids picture books, YA novels, nonfiction, fiction, historical. Get their numbers up so that the data reflects that we are wanted and valued. Or push for local community building to be more accessible. Does the town hall notoriously have a broken elevator? Why? Push for them to fix it.

Volunteer. Is there a resource near you that specifically serves us? A shelter, a nonprofit, etc? Figure out how you can help. Can you work in the office? Serve lunch? Make lunch? Raise money? Donate your time - it's as valuable as money.

Raise awareness. Wear merchandise that represents us (designed and produced by us - shop small!). Educate others on our struggles and how they can help. Any time someone says "I like your shirt" is an opportunity for you to say "thanks! It was designed by [artist], who is [minority] as a way to raise awareness about [topic]".

Now more than ever, marginalized communities need support. That means we need allies doing the work that we've been doing for so long. Because we're tired, but we don't have the option to stop fighting, because it's *our* lives we're fighting for. Allies can help take some of that burden, at least for a little while.

[dogshit-enchantment]

saw a post that was like 'activism fatigue is only for actual activists' and like ??? huh ??? someone in the comments of the same post was like 'ppl complaining about seeing whats going on w palestine arent tired of seeing brutality theyre tired of having to care and see them as people' like bro what the fuck. what an evil and bad faith argument to make.

people can care and be unwanting to see brutality as theyre scrolling the funny images website. that's fine. that's normal even. people should go to (unbiased) news outlets and search out information when theyre mentally prepared to see those images and truly digest what's going on.

going from 'haha funny meme give me dopamine rush' to 'this entire city has been leveled by an unparalleled amount of bombs' isnt good for the human brain! sorry but its just not! and truthfully going 'oh you just dont care' isnt going to make people care, it's just going to make people feel worse (especially those of us that suffer mental health issues and have to survive that first before we can consider giving any part of ourselves to a cause)

stop having bad faith because not everyone can be a red cross worker. stop having bad faith because not everyone can give thousands to mutual aid. stop having bad faith because not everyone can call their congress members and convince them to care. (because let's be fuckin for real how many calls do you think it would take to get ted cruz to care? I don't think there is a number high enough)

thank the people that can help in any fashion, do what you can to assist, and stop trying to guilt people into looking at something they not be able to even process. it doesn't help and it never will.

activism fatigue is for those who are strong enough to be on the front lines and those of us who can't do much more than hold hope in our hearts. Sadness isn't exclusionary and I'm tired of people acting like it is.

(and i dont want this to come across as a 'woe is me' type deal even tho i know anyone reading this is bad faith will instantly see it as that, but educational empathy and misery porn are not the same thing. it's important to know what's going on, it's important to look at the war crimes that have been enacted in recent days and take a stand against it. go to a protest if you can, sign a form, donate where you can, but you do not have to sit there and watch hours and hours of footage of the travesty going on. it's not helpful. take care of yourself first.)

[dectech]

reposting this because OP turned off reblogs but i feel this is too important not to share

I have been noodling over posting this for several days but I think it's important for some people to hear.

At a March on Saturday, at a pro Palestine march, my group and I were targeted by by nazis. Not targeted for violence, but targeted for recruitment. They weren't wearing swastikas, they weren't spewing blatant antisemitic hate speech. They seemed like two normal dudes. They marched with us, talked about how awful everything in Palestine was, how we wished world leaders would grow a pair and hold Israel responsible for fucking war crimes, how existing in the world right now was hard. They were empathetic, they were kind, they seemed like genuine good dudes.

Until we passed a synagogue where people were handing our water to marchers. They had signs defending Palestine on their table. But the tone of the conversation changed. These two seemingly normal dudes started talking about how "performative" the gesture felt, that Jewish people should be doing more. That they needed to PROVE it. They started talking about "Zionist" propaganda in the US, about how it was deeply entrenched in capitalism. Things that, on the surface, seemed reasonable but it set off alarm bells in my head.

When I was a kid, I remember getting the speech of "don't repeat anything your uncle or cousin so and so says and don't argue with them. Try to avoid them but if you can't be polite." Because those uncles and cousins said a lot of hateful things about anyone who wasn't like them, but their favorite targets were black people and Jewish people. I would find out as an adult it was because many of those uncles and cousins were in the Klan. When I studied hate symbols for a class in college, I found my self looking at images I'd seen on arms and necks and hands my whole life, because I live in an area of the US where the KKK is still around. And standing in that crowd, listening to these guys talk, i had the most horrible realization I've had in a long time.

We were being fished by Nazis. We were a group of able body, white American leftists. At a march in support of stopping the murder and genocide of Palestinians, these motherfuckers were out here, trying to find people they could get to hate Jewish folks. I wasn't the only one in my group who clocked it, and when we called them on it, the masks came off. They called us a bunch of "Jew loving bitches" before they moved on.

But we're marched with these guys for a couple hours, talked with them, laughed with them, brought them into our circle. For a moment we forgot we also weren't immune to propaganda, we weren't immune to people who make hate sound reasonable and that people like that never start out saying the quiet part out loud, they lean on your anger and your sense of helplessness to move you where they want you. If the last eight years has taught us anything, it's that fascists know how to adjust to the times, to work with what they got, to recruit. They know how to radicalize people, how to weaponize anger and helplessness. And I'm sitting here, every day, seeing posts that sound exactly like these guys did and it worries me.

I know I'm talking to the No Reading Comprehension Website, but I'm begging you guys to develop some now.

You are not immune to propaganda. We are all angry, as we fucking should be. We are watching an entire culture, thousands of lives, whole bloodlines, being wiped out in real time, and for many of us our nations are at best, wringing their hands, and at worst, shipping them weapons, all to protect capitalist greed. It's monstrous, it's disgusting. But look, REALLY LOOK, at the things you are tweeting, sharing, look at the language and how it's used. Take the time to educate yourself about how hate groups use social justice causes and civil unrest to recruit, research the posts your spreading, check your sources. If you are out protesting, be situationally aware, and do not be afraid to clock and call out Nazis. Listen to Jewish people, listen to their concerns, educate yourself on what Zionism and antisemitism actually are and how they can be weaponized. It doesn't feel as good as rage, it doesn't feel as good as having a group you can functionally rail against in a way we can't against a nation a world away, but it's a skill that's going to help you and a lot of other people in the long run.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

(im)perfectionist

vinny hong x jo!reader

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 3

part 2 | part 4

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

part warnings: fem!reader, cursing, mentions of blood, descriptions of graphic violence, jo!reader, intelligent!reader, implications of academic pressure, second person's pov (you, you're, your), wb SPOILERS

—

It was Friday afternoon, you were free from your academic responsibilities—at least temporarily. 

Jay was sitting on the dinner table while reading his textbooks again, and Kay was in front of the TV smothering Jack, the injured black cat he and Minu found astray, and decided to take in. He's watching a show about weird cat animations with a comical, eye-sorely bright art style again. You left Kay's bungeoppang at the countertop and dropped your keys on the table.

“Kay, stop watching that crap and come eat. It's dinner time.” 

“It's not crap! It's art!”

Your younger brother, Kay, peered at you from behind the sofa backrest. You put your closed fist against the side of your waist and frowned.

“I'm surprised you haven't puked cats and rainbows yet. You always watch that show, why don't you watch horror films instead? Give me that remote, let's watch 'Saw'.”

“No! Weird-noona!" Kay withheld the remote behind him when you pretended to reach for it. 

You displayed a sinister grin. “What? Gore films are educational.” 

“Unbelievable! Jay's obsessed with bikes while you're obsessed with… everything!”

“And you're obsessed with watching weird shows!”

“Says the one who's not weird!”

Jay ignored your sibling banter and resumed studying, his eyes blaring at the words on the textbook under his glasses. You're sure he's not going to rest anytime soon. You sighed in hopelessness. You admit how you're quite a studyholic yourself, but you try to give yourself a short break every now and then, discreetly. That's part of the reason you chose to stay in an apartment rather than your family home. 

You get flashbacks of those nights. After a long, draining day in school, you just want to do anything that doesn't involve having to bombard your head with information and reviewers. But then your mother enters your dim-lit room and catches you resting. That's when the constant “Why aren't you studying?”, “I don't want you slacking off”, “Make us proud.” ring in your ear.

Sometimes you only come home to make sure your brothers are still alive. At home, it felt as if taking a break was a crime. You hated how it felt to be watched. It was exhausting how you only matter when you're a high-achiever. It didn't feel like home.

It felt like hell.

“It's the weekend. Shouldn't you at least take a break?” You lightly put your hand against the table and leaned down at Jay.

“I'm good. Thanks for worrying, but you're the one who should rest. You're left with Student Council work. And you tend to overwork yourself too.”

Right. Jay got stripped off of his position of being the Student Council President. You shrugged it off. Jay shot you a glance, until he remembered a question he's been wanting to ask you an hour ago.

“So, why did you suggest Vinny?” he opened up the topic. “You've met him?”

You were a slightly taken aback by his question. Yes, but also no. “No. I don't even know him personally.”

”I just can't think of another escape so my mouth moved by itself. And judging from Dom's protests, surely you won't really recruit him, right?”

Jay looked at you for a few seconds. He knows you're not telling him something, but he doesn't intend to be intrusive, you can tell him some other time. “...Okay. But why him?” 

Besides, from the way Vinny Hong was ready to meet his death and unremorsefully uttered the words "I'd rather die than pay a hospital bill" that was still fresh in your memory as the picture in your head of the pool of blood from the concrete he sat on that night, months ago, he needs help. But you weren't a savior. You wouldn't just cross the line and pretend you know everything about what he's going through in his life.

You checked your phone's inbox. You clicked the most recent unread message from a group chat made by Dom. Was it Dom? Or was it Minu?

You backread the recent few messages. It's from Minu.

(Sent to Group Chat: Dom Kang, Yuna, Mia, Shelly…+others)

Minu Yoon: Guys, someone came to our school. He's Vinny's friend and he's asking for our help. I'll fill you in with the details later. brb walking with him rn

A friend of Vinny's? Speaking of the devil.

You were going to disregard the messages until Minu's name once again flashed on your most recent inboxes. This time it was a private message.

Minu Yoon: Hello, [Y/N]! Are you currently at your family home? If you are, please tell Jay I'll be out just for a moment. As we both know, your brother doesn't have a message app on his jurassic phone lol

[Y/N] Jo: i am at home right now, sure.

[Y/N] Jo: why are you with vinny's friend by the way?

Minu Yoon: We're trying to call him from outside his house. I think no one's home. Sung's trying to contact him right now but his number's out of reach. We're here to talk to him to convince him to join the crew.

Then he sent a selfie of him with Vinny's bespectacled friend. He looked like a student about the same age as you, which was confirmed when you looked down on his chest pocket and saw Gunn High's logo. They're in front of a gate.

You purse your lips together, not knowing what to reply. 

[Y/N] Jo: you considered it?

[Y/N] Jo: vinny joining your crew, i mean.

Minu Yoon: Yeah, no. Not really. Me and Vinny aren't exactly on good terms so as I've reacted earlier when you mentioned him, I wouldn't really have given it a thought. But as it turns out, Vinny needs us, too. His friend came all the way here just to ask us to help him. He needs to join the tournament along with a group. It's only a coincidence how you mentioned him earlier.

You asked him more about Vinny Hong, and apparently, the bespectacled guy, who you found out was called Sung, told him about Vinny's situation. Minu filled you in with the details.

So Vinny needs the prize money… to aid his mother's immediate need of a liver surgery?

When you were done with your questions, you reminded him once again to come home.

[Y/N] Jo: come home immediately after.

Minu Yoon: Yes, ma'am :D

[Y/N] Jo: jay wouldn't lock the door. my parents are coming home tonight–

Your fingers halted from typing. Your parents are coming home tonight? Tonight… Aren't they on duty? You checked their schedule on the cork board.

Shit.

You didn't have the time to even send the message before you briskly ran inside your long untouched bedroom to bring Suki—your apartment roommate, your notes from the hospital training, and a change of clothes from your closet to pack inside of your bag. You didn't even bother changing from your school uniform anymore. You'll just change when you get back to the apartment. All that matters to you right now is to get out of there immediately.

“What's going on?” Jay curiously queried as he heard the sounds of your shuffling and rushed footsteps.

“It's getting dark outside. I gotta go back to the apartment. Suki's coming back from her hometown vacation tonight, too.” 

You gathered your things and got your keys from the table. Kay turned his head to you and aired a quick "goodbye" while also lightly waving Jack's paw to you.

"I’ll see you again, Jack. Make sure to be fully healed by then.”

You petted the black cat's head before walking past the sofa. Jay's eyes followed you as you marched your way to exit the front door.

"You're not going to stay for the night?"

“No. Mom and Dad are coming home tonight.” You put your hand against the door-frame while looking down at your feet to put on your slip-on shoes. Jay immediately got what you meant.

“So what, if we're coming home tonight?” you halted your movements when you heard that arrogant, authoritative female voice.

It's as if the universe was testing you that the very person you're avoiding came to you. It's almost as if you were an animal for the wilderness that triggered their fight-or-flight instincts. You don't want to lie to people, but why is escaping them getting difficult?

“Mom.” you cautiously stepped towards her and went in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss. “You're home.”

“My shift finished earlier than expected. Your dad's on his way home too. Where are you off to?” She held one of your arms and leaned back a little to scan you from head down.

You exhaled shakily. “Suki's coming home from Japan, but I have the key to the apartment so she can't enter unless I unlock the door.”

Suki actually has a spare key for your apartment door, you only lied, again, to her about it to run off as fast as you can. Suki can handle herself and come straight home after her plane lands. Besides, you already texted her earlier.

Her lip twitched, looking very unconvinced—Hell were you bad at keeping up a lie, but instead of trying to pry, she blinked and averted her eyes inside the house, passively accepting your lie as a response.

“Very well. Send my regards to her,” came her curt reply when she walked past you to come inside, clutching her Chanel purse.

“Kids, where's Minu?” She looked ahead to Jay and Kay while taking her shoes off. Minu's living with your family after he ran away from his own home.

"He's left at school with the others.” Jay replied, before he glanced past Dra. Jo and simply waved goodbye to you.

You turned your back from the door to make your way out. The only thing that mattered to you is escaping, but it looks like your mother had something more to say.

“[Y/N].” You stopped your tracks without facing her, and side-eyed her from the front while your body was still facing ahead on the gate, “Mind your grades. I don't want you and your brothers falling behind anyone in all of your semesters this school year.” 

You didn't reply, but you can feel her sharp stare drilling the back of your head. Your brothers inside the house can't hear what she's saying, because she only intended for only you to hear. She quieted down for a while, possibly waiting for your reply but getting nothing in return. Just when you thought she's done talking and you were about to continue walking, her last remark made your blood turmoil.

“One of these days, I'll introduce you to one of my work partners' medicine practitioner sons. You'll marry to continue our family's line of Doctors of Medicine. You'll honor and represent our family. Set up a good impression on them from now on. Make me proud." 

You gritted your teeth and clenched your fist as your eyes darkened in anger. With all of your might, you faced her and returned her sharp glare.

“I will never agree to what you want for my life, mother. You can't control me. You'll have to kill me before that happens because I'll always go against you.” 

With that, you ran off and loudly slammed the gate shut purposefully without giving her a chance to retort. You know you pissed her off and she'll be yelling at you anytime soon, so you left as soon as possible, not bothering to give her time to respond. Your blood boiled as you harshly adjusted your bag on your shoulder. Marriage? "Continue our family's line of Doctors of Medicine"? That's bullshit, she didn't even ask for your opinion!

You don't know where your feet are taking you anymore. You just wanted to go as far as you can from your house. The sky was already dark and the bustling atmosphere was still present, but now toned-down. Your eyes blurred in anger as you harshly stomped and accelerated the pace of your walking. Marriage… Marriage... You will never be ready for something like that.  During your walk to god knows where, you find yourself in a deserted alley. And because of your preoccupation, you didn't even notice how a man found his way and crept behind you. His presence made you shudder.

“Hey, pretty girl. Are you from near here somewhere?” The male whispered to your left ear. “Drop your belongings and I won't hurt 'ya.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

You immediately checked if he's armed. No weapons? That's suspicious.

“On second thought, you're kinda hot," he scanned you from head down. "...and your legs are long. How about, I let you go if you compensate with your body?”

Something inside you snapped, and the anger you felt earlier doubled. Fucking men and the way their fucking brain works. 

You glared and looked down on him. “Get the fuck out of my way, motherfucker.”

The man's sinister smile quickly vanishes as he takes offense at your words. “You sharp-tongued bitch!” 

He raised his hand to smack you, but you expected his offense so you went in first and swung him a jaw-breaking punch.

“How dare you touch me? I just came from a fucking stress room. You raised my blood pressure and stress levels more.” 

You kicked his face continuously with the edge of your heel. You made sure the sharp edge hit his face hard. At that moment, your mind was out of the gutter, and you didn't intend to stop anytime.

“Agh! Whore! Crazy bitch!” he let out another muffled groan when you stepped on his face and put your weight on your feet. When he attempted to get up, you hit his face with your knee.

But little did you know that you missed the hooded man meticulously emerging from the dark, carrying a knife whose blade shone under the moonlight sneaking up behind you.

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?” You sadistically smirked down at the helpless man once again under your heel.

You looked around and saw a broken glass shard near his head. You bent down and scanned it, before you aimed at his neck. As you pull your hand back, recoiling slightly to charge before stabbing, you felt something sharp pierce your lower back. You didn't see what it was, but you felt how it drilled in your flesh and you didn't have time to react.

Fucking hell.

Now that, that hurts like a bitch.

***

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2023, don't forget to support your creators by reblogging !!!

[hindahoney]

Hey - this is kind of an odd question, but I was wondering if you had any recommendations for books or articles to read to learn more about Judaism for someone who’s kind of Jewish (but not really)?

My mum is Jewish, but stopped practicing when she was a teenager, and I was brought up atheist - my dad’s family are Protestant. I basically don’t know anything about Judaism, which feels particularly weird because I know loads about Christianity, just through osmosis. And I’ve never met a whole branch of my family who are apparently very orthodox and live really near us in London. Anyway, I’d like to learn more, and don’t really know how to start? Or if I should start?

Thank you for your question. First of all, if your mother is Jewish, you are Jewish. You're not "kind of Jewish," you're not "Jew-ish." You're fully Jewish, and every movement of Judaism recognizes you as such.

Second, there are endless amazing resources for people in situations like yours. I wish I could say that it was more rare to have descendants of people who assimilated wanting to reconnect, but sadly it's not. I've known some people have found resources for converts to be helpful in reconnecting, so those are mixed in with my list as well.

MyJewishLearning is a great resource for really anything Jewish. I've found their articles to be pretty diverse in terms of approach, and they give perspectives of different movements on each topic.

Jewish101 Playlist - This is great not just for beginners, but for people familiar with Judaism already. They are talks given by one of my favorite Rabbis, Rabbi Mark Golub, about everything from how Jews view G-d, our relationship & struggles with Him, how sex is treated in Judaism, to Jewish holiday traditions & the meaning behind them.

Jewish Learning Institute - This entire channel is beneficial for learning about really any topic. They have a more frum perspective, but I think that learning the core observant values is really important when deciding which ones speak to you. It's also important for Jews to understand their more observant siblings, as many people don't and that ignorance leads to observant Jews being marginalized by their own family. By having that baseline understanding of the reasons behind why Jews do what they do, so that you can decide for yourself it that matters or can fit in your life. The video I've attached is about the survival of the Jewish people, a brilliant and moving speech given by Rabbi Y.Y Jacobson. I think this speech is sure to give every Jew a sense of pride and connection to their fellow Jew, which is vital when forming a Jewish identity. We're a tribe for a reason.

TY Channel Henry Abramson - Not a Rabbi but many people mistake him for one because he's highly educated (PhD). He gives very educational lectures on all sorts of Jewish topics, usually Jewish history. Peppers in some humor too, so he's entertaining to watch.

Unpacked - Gives crash-course type videos (entertaining, some animation, higher budget, etc) on issues that Jews face today, conversations Jews are having in the community, and Jewish history.

My Jewish Mommy life - Jewish vlogger who makes videos on the basics of Judaism, shabbat, holidays, etc. A good resource for anyone just entering the fold. Comes from a more reform background but does a decent job of explaining different perspectives.

Books

The Torah (Hebrew-English, also has Spanish, French, Portuguese. There are tons of versions online)

The Jewish Book of Why - This book is essentially a compilation of a million different questions commonly asked about Jews/Judaism and the answers given range in the interpretation of various movements.

Choosing A Jewish Life - Kind of a how-to guide in terms of choosing a Rabbi, synagogue, overview of basic Jewish concepts & movements, choosing a Hebrew name for yourself (You can give yourself one if you don't have one!!), and how to discuss with your family your decision to be Jewish, or more observant.

Jewish Literacy - ABSOLUTELY MY FAVORITE JEWISH RESOURCE. Can be read like a novel or an encyclopedia (like for referencing certain topics). I read through this completely and it is an amazing compilation of every topic from important Biblical stories and their Jewish interpretation, Jewish history from its creation to modern times, IP conflict, major Jewish historical figures, modern Jewish thought on certain topics. Genuinely, if you want to know something about Jewish tradition and practice, it's probably in this book.

To Be a Jew - Halachot (Jewish laws) around observance in daily life, their oigins, and why we do them. Guide for major and minor holidays, major life events, and an explanation of rationale for modern Jewish life.

Living a Jewish Life - Another why-to and how-to guide for Judaism in your daily life.

Helpful Apps:

Shabbat Times (Self-explanatory, you put in your city and it tells you what time Shabbat starts)

Jewish Chronicle/Jooish News - News around the world for what's happening to and by Jews

TorahAnytime - Like Youtube but for Jewish learning

Daily Jewish Prayers - Invaluable resource that explains when which prayers are said, provides it in transliteration, English, and Hebrew

CalJ - Jewish calendar. Great for knowing what the Hebrew date is and when/what times Jewish holidays start.

JVL (Jewish Virtual Library) - a bunch of Jewish books

Jewish accounts to follow:

Here's a very short and incomplete list of Jewish accounts I recommend following, because they post about Judaism a lot and give a good idea of what every-day Jews think about a wide range of things. They are really invaluable resources when it comes to learning from real Jews and I trust their judgment:

@shretl

@tikkunolamorgtfo (has been around forever, literally amazing)

@adoratato

@jewish-kermit

@spacelazarwolf

@magnetothemagnificent

@laineystein

@gonnauseanomdeplume

@hiddurmitzvah

@girlactionfigure

@rimonoroni

@anonymousdandelion

@starlightomatic

@unbidden-yidden

[littlefreya]

As I was saying

Summary: You recently found out that you’re pregnant and Henry is being all sorts of over-protective and annoying about it and won’t shut up about what you should or shouldn’t eat. So you find a creative way to shut him up...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (no description of body type or ethnicity thought it’s mention that Henry is taller)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, RPF, fluff to smut, early pregnancy, blow job, bodily fluids, slight FemDom/SubMale, My overuse of poetic sex metaphors, cottagecore!

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or parts from it.

A/N: This story was born out of a convo I had with my sweet @the-soot-sprite​ about the photo above. Many thanks to @agniavateira​ my solid rock who betas all my work and to @firefly-graphics​ for the dividers

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my story. I work hard on each one of them and your validation means the world to me. 🖤

As I was Saying

Henry’s velvety voice carried through the cottage like seductive vapours of honey liqueur. It wasn’t often that he'd sing a blissful tune so casually out of the blue—after earth-shattering sex perhaps, which indeed you had the night before. However, this morning, his chants were laced with a new flavour of sugary bliss. 

Two little pink stripes. That's all it took for his eyes to shimmer the way precious cobalt is kissed by a moonlight glow.

Sneaking about in the mien of a curious little mouse, you trod after the pleasant tune of his voice, which was now accompanied by a soft rustle. Wander laved your face once you leaned against the kitchen door frame, peering at the prodigious man who stood in front of the open fridge. 

Preoccupied, he appeared to be ransacking through the shelves with the song ‘Cheek to Cheek’ thrumming on his tongue.

“Heaven... I'm in heaven…”  

Fingers clutching at the edge of the wall, you pressed into the chilled surface with a relaxed smirk, lingering on the irresistible view when your ease of mind faded with a blink of an eye — while methodically rummaging through the fridge, Henry threw fresh food straight into an open trash can.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice rising to a high-pitched yip. 

Henry made a soft flex; the muscles of his back rippled in a tidal motion. Though acknowledging your presence, he proceeded to hover a finger over different products. 

“Cleaning up the fridge," he answered absentmindedly.

With a soft shove, there went your French cheese. 

“That’s brand new!” you protested and rushed toward him, alarmed. 

Towering over the trash can, you considered diving in to salvage the precious bulk of cheese from the dreary pit. Henry glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, testing your resolve while his claw grabbed some papaya salad leftovers and pushed it over the edge of the shelf, joining the rest of the discarded meals. 

“It is,” he nodded and closed the refrigerator door, carrying on to the high cabinets. With a slight wrinkle between his brows and a hand scratching the stubbles of his dimpled chin, he narrowed his eyes to scrutinise the items carefully. “I'm pregnant-proofing the kitchen. I called Hanna while you were asleep. She created a proper daily menu for you with the dos and don’ts: less sugar, more veggies and protein.” 

It took you a moment to process his words, your eyes narrowing while asking, “Hanna? As in Hanna, your nutritionist?”

Henry nodded at your question, a faint crease lining his cheek. “That’s the one. Don't worry, princess, she specialises with pregnant women.”

Unwittingly, a somewhat inhuman growl sounded in your chest. You were only getting used to the idea of developing another person inside you, and here stood your husband, already seeing fit to dictate your diet. Slithering into the narrow space between the heavy man and the counter, you tilted your chin to meet his stare while your fists pressed into your hips assertively. 

“Listen here, Cavill! You might have jizzed me one too many and succeeded in putting a baby in there, but this is still my body. I can take care of my own pregnancy diet.”

With an arm stretched above your head, Henry offered a charming display of pearly whites to pacify your strained nerves. His dimples nearly managed to beguile your senses when your eyes flared at the sight of what was held between his long fingers.

“No! Henry, no! Not the coffee!”

“Oh, I’m afraid so, my love. You shouldn’t have any caffeine at your current state.” Despite his argument, the tenderness of his gaze stroked upon your face like a warm ray of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Lazily it dropped to your belly, the cascading heat cradling your unborn child. 

Words of protest left you for a sliver of a moment, too in awe of the dreamy grin on his face. 

Thoughts of how beautiful you’d look rounded and full with his child illuminated him that you swore his skin developed a glow over the night. Didn’t they always say women are radiant when they are pregnant? Well, it seemed that in your case, it applied to your husband as well.

The charming haze of bliss almost swallowed you up; but you quickly slapped yourself back into reality, reaching a hand in an attempt to stop Henry from throwing away your delicacy. Though taller, Henry held his hand far out of reach, a hint of a smugness stretching his lips.

“A pregnant woman is allowed to have a little bit of caffeine!” You muttered and sent both hands in an attempt to retrieve the box while Henry teased you by throwing it from one hand to the other, further fueling your annoyance. 

Vexed to the point of frustration, you stood still and sighed, “you know what else is bad for the baby?” 

Henry paused his foolish games and tilted his head as he waited to hear your answer.

“His father at the morgue after I’ll kill him. Now stop that and hand it over! A pregnant woman can have a cup a day, according to Google.” 

“Nope,” Henry clicked his tongue, his laughter replaced with a severe stare. “Love, I know they say it’s okay to have a teeny bit, but I’ve been doing some research while you were asleep, and it’s not recommended. Caffeine increases heart rate and blood pressure, which is not good for you nor for the baby. It also increases urination, which may cause dehydration.”

Clenching your jaw at the onslaught of information he bestowed, you watched his lips move while none of his words registered. Preoccupied with the rules of a “healthy” pregnancy, Henry was set on being the practical one, completely forgetting to enjoy the moment. And damn, it was the moment to celebrate. All you wanted right now was to stay in bed for a day, ride your handsome husband to hell and back and eat as much ice cream as possible.

“Everything you eat from now on goes to our baby,” Henry proceeded to lecture on a thing you were perfectly aware of.

Ire found you within seconds, embroiled with pregnancy hormones which made him further intolerable at the moment— intolerable

... and delicious.  

Soaked with hunger, your eyes raked his sight: the thickness of his muscles was apparent beneath a plain black t-shirt and those good old grey sweats outlined the source of your current predicament. Your fingers twitched just from thinking about it, mimicking the sensation of squeezing its girth and eliciting those low groans that made your heart flutter. 

But his chatter still interrupted your sultry thoughts. If only there was a way to get him to shut up, you mused. Then your eyes focused on the soft bulge that winked back at your hungry glare.

Unaware, Henry turned toward the table to grab a bulk of informative documents he printed earlier in order to educate you of your pregnancy, he licked his thumb and began to read through, “As I was saying….”

Hastily, you exploited his lack of attention and took a step forward, your fingers latching around the hem of his sweats. With one swift movement, you fell to your knees and tugged his trousers along. 

Lost in his passionate speech, Henry was still muttering nonsense when your hand seized him; but as the lushness of your tongue bedded his soft cock without warning, all that could be heard in the kitchen was a husky gasp. 

Feeling the warm silky flesh swell and harden within your mouth, you sent your eyes up to peer at him, admiring the sight. Nothing spoke of your power better than the wrinkle between his shut eyes and his mouth agape with all air draining from his lungs. There you were, lowered to your knees with a maw full of his cock and yet, he was the one who lost his ability to speak and had his legs quaking of need. 

Unable to help yourself, you sent one palm to feel the tremor that ran through the muscles of his thighs while the other cradled his heavy sac. 

“Uh……” he finally managed to utter, a groan of bemused bliss pushing itself between his parted lips. “What… what are you doing?” 

You crooked an eyebrow in response and answered by dragging your mouth along the length of his shaft. Your pillowy lips ran across ridges and thrumming veins, your jaw loosening until you felt him deep in the back of your throat. 

Locked in the cavernous cage of your maw, he tightened his gut and shuddered with pleasure. Though, the low unbridled groans that sputtered from his chest fueled your enticement just as so; memories of how the same thick girth that brimmed your mouth would split open your narrow canal made both your eyes and abandoned cunt tear of desperation.

It always beguiled you how much arousal could be found in bringing him to his rapture without touching yourself. The harder he throbbed on your velvety serpent, the more you soaked.  

With fervent strokes, you feasted on the briny flavour of his cock; the tendons vibrated with bliss while your tongue twirled and pushed around them. You pulled, sucked, and pumped him in your warm mouth, milking the senses of a man infinitely stronger—a man who succeeded in conquering your womb yet now crumbled to nothing at the touch of your tongue.

“Fuck…. Babe… keep going,” Henry breathed out a plea. The documents held by his hand slipped between his fingers as he pressed his palm to the cabinet with a thud, and began to rock his hips back and forth to fuck back into your mouth. Like feathers, the white slips floated around you, landing onto the ground while you worked him to his ecstasy.  

His other hand found your head, caressing lovingly and trying to take control: yet his strength waned and his head fell back with a moan. Faster, harder, you sucked your husband to the point of submission while hums of admiration laced around his rigid length. Your eyes beamed as you watched his resolve shatter. Your fingertips toyed with the coarse hair at the apex of his thighs, your thumb seeking the tendon at the base of his cock and pressing into it, urging him to spill his gift down your throat.

“I’m going to… I’m going to…. In your throat… fuck.”

With a guttural grunt, he thickened against your tongue; the overflow of salty-sweet cream glazed your mouth and then flowed down your flaring throat.

The room thrummed with the buzz of the refrigerator, Henry’s heavy exhales - these were the sounds of your triumph. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you cracked a smile and neatly pulled his trousers back on before you rose to stand straight. 

Overwhelmed and drenched in sweat, your husband scrutinised you while you reached for the box of capsules and tilted your head.

“You were saying?”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 || dark!jan (the edukators/die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) x reader

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 | in scoping out his next target, jan hadn't realised that you wouldn't be joining your family on their next vacation; in choosing to stay home, you hadn't realised what you were in for.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 | 4.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 | smut (noncon, with fingering and penetrative sex), innocence kink, virginity loss/first time, brief exhibitionism, degradation, daddy kink, spitting (in mouth and on pussy), breaking and entering/home invasion, touch of misogyny kink, slight objectification kink (petnames like babydoll/dolly being 99% of this), slight bleeding (from sex specifically), death mention (no threats, just the fear of threats if that makes sense?)

𝗔/𝗡 | you don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, as long as you know that jan and his friends break into rich people's houses as part of their anti-capitalist rebellion. note that the vast majority of dialogue is written in english for simplicity, but that these conversations would actually take place fully in german.

this is a DARK fic, if you hit 'keep reading' I don't wanna hear you upset about content listed clearly in the warnings section

It’s probably normal to hear a bump in the night, to wake up and be a little freaked out, but to ultimately just stay in bed and not do anything about it. At first you were sure you were sure it was nothing, though your gut told you otherwise; then, as you heard more and more you spent quite some time convincing yourself that it was just pipes creaking or the foundation settling. But the thing about pipes and foundations is they don’t speak German.

“Hier entlang, hier entlang,” someone whispered, and footsteps shifted all along the lower floor.

Maybe you were still asleep, and this was just a strange dream, a terrifying dream. You pulled the blanket up over your head and prayed to wake up, but the denial turned to terror when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

You jumped out of bed, but it was too late to go out your bedroom door— you could hear them walking and whispering outside. Your bathroom had a small window, but even if you managed to fit through it you’d be on the second story with no way to ropel down. Maybe in your mind you could be some daring adventurer with the perfect plan to escape, or with the skills to defend yourself with something random you could grab, but you knew better than to really think you could do anything but hide.

As the footsteps and voices got louder, your eyes frantically searched the room and finally landed on the large upright dresser— maybe it was a little obvious, but it had a handy little feature that made it lock from the inside. It had come in handy for a decade of hide-and-seek, and now it would hopefully serve you one last time.

With not a second to spare, you ran over and grabbed the golden handles, swinging the doors open but being careful to shut them quietly after you’d stepped inside and made room for yourself among the coats and dresses. You searched for the lock in the pitch darkness, only able to find it because it was right above the keyhole that glowed from the dim light outside. Just as you turned the knob and heard the metal lock slide inside the wooden door, you heard your bedroom door open.

Someone walked around your room briefly, you even heard them pick something up and set it down— probably your bedside lamp, based on where it was coming from, but you obviously couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care that much. Footsteps approached the dresser and you saw the keyhole light up as a flashlight passed over it.

“Let’s take all the clothes and put them in the fireplace,” a voice in the room announced. “We won’t actually light the fireplace, but it sends a message.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet when the doors shook briefly from an attempt to open them.

“Fuck, it’s locked.”

“Here, you go on to the next room, I’ll pick it,” a second voice decided, and you heard more footsteps as someone else approached the armoire. “Look how fancy the dresser is, they’ve probably got furs in here too— god knows people living in a house like this can’t miss an opportunity to destroy the environment.”

You heard something jiggle inside the keyhole, a clicking noise that went on for just a few moments before you heard the metal slide inside the wood again and the doors slowly opened.

A man, dressed in black and holding a flashlight in his gloved hands, stared at you from behind a mask that left only his brown eyes visible. You both stood still, staring at each other, until he did exactly the last thing you expected: he lifted the mask up to his forehead and showed you his face.

He was a lot younger than you would’ve expected, though he had the scruffy beard of a guy trying to look older; his teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled at you, and when he raised a brow while he gave you a quick look-over, you noticed the way they almost connected in the middle.

Under his gaze, you suddenly felt very aware of how little your lacy, baby pink nightgown protected you from the chilling night air.

"Well, what's this?" he asked coyly as he watched you shiver. "Guess these capitalist pigs left one of their little piglets behind." He put on a cooing sort of voice as he addressed you directly: "Did mummy and daddy leave you all alone while they went on holiday?"

He stepped closer even as you tried to shrink away, examining you carefully.

“Get out of there, silly, what are you hiding for? I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured, not that you found it especially comforting. When you didn’t step out of your own accord, he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you forward; he slammed the dresser doors behind you, and you whimpered in fear as he pinned you down against them by each arm. "Shh, hey, don't worry— I'm here to take care of you, you can call me daddy instead until your heartless banker father gets back. Go ahead, tell me what's wrong."

"I—"

"Ah ah," he tutted with a mix of bemusement and disappointment, "I already told you how to address me."

You shuddered but finally responded, "Daddy, I'm scared."

He gave you a demeaning little pout, but you continued.

"Some men broke in and I'm alone and… and I don't know if they want to hurt me."

"No, baby, they don't want to hurt you," he promised with a gentle smile, but it turned horrifically sinister as he leaned in to add with a whisper: "but we will if we have to."

You swallowed thickly, your gut twisting when you felt him breathe out against your neck.

"So you're gonna be a good girl, right?"

You nodded quickly, turning away when he leaned in closer, looking down at you with darkened eyes and running the fingers of his black gloves over the neckline of your pyjamas.

“You were just waiting for me, huh? All tucked in in your cute little nightgown, dressed up like a doll,” he grinned. “I bet you want daddy to play with you, hm?”

He laughed cruelly when you shook your head, fighting harder to get away again as he squeezed your arms tight enough to leave marks where his fingers had been.

“Wanna play, little dolly?” he continued, pressing his body into yours and roughly shoving his leg between your thighs. “I know you do… c'mon and give me a kiss," he requested.

“N-no,” you stammered, but he grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand and forced you to look ahead, slamming his lips onto yours and ignoring your muffled protests. When he pinched your side you gasped instinctively, and he shoved his tongue inside your mouth roughly— but that only lasted for a moment, before you found renewed strength and managed to shove him back. It wasn’t far enough to free yourself, but enough to get a break from the oppressive kiss.

“Aw, don’t be mean,” he pouted, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “You said you’d be good for me, remember?”

“Just stop, please,” you whined, gasping before you could stop yourself when he rubbed his thigh up against you— hitting right on your clit which throbbed in spite of everything. Somehow the fear made you more sensitive, or at least something had because you’d never felt quite like this before.

“See? You’re all worked up,” he explained, “I’m gonna help you.”

This time when he leaned in he started to kiss and suck at your neck instead, starting right beneath your ear and moving down slowly until his tongue laved over the crook where your shoulder began. As much as you hated it, it made arousal pulse between your legs where his thigh continued to push hard on you.

When he moved even closer, you could feel his erection against your hip; you didn’t even realise that you’d let out a gasp until you felt him smile against your neck. “Oh, babydoll… you want daddy’s cock inside you, I can tell.”

“N-no, I don’t— just stop,” you begged.

“If only it were so easy, to just ask someone to stop,” he mused. “You know how many times we asked people like your father to stop before they fucked us? You know how far that gets us? You don’t just get to ask nicely, you have to fight for it…”

He chuckled as you writhed in his embrace.

“But you’re too weak to fight, poor thing.”

"Please, I'm not a part of whatever you’re talking about,” you tried to explain, “I don't know much about what Papa does at work—"

"That's your problem, baby, you're blissfully ignorant! Not all of us have that luxury. But the good news is, I'm here to educate you." He pushed up even closer to you, speaking lowly right into your ear with rage starting to bubble up in his voice. "Your father is a piece of scum who feeds on the working class and then robs them blind. You live like this, unquestioningly, and the rest of Germany suffers. Stuck-up bitch like you wouldn't even notice me if you saw me on the street, would you? Wouldn't even give me the time of day, but now you're at my mercy. That’s what you people need to learn: that you’re not gonna be on top forever.”

Suddenly you felt his hand cup your sex through your nightgown, and you choked on your gasp. “No—!” you started to shout, but his right hand covered your mouth as the left hastily pulled your pyjamas up and reached under them.

“Stop fucking squirming,” he grunted as he reached between your kicking legs and slid quickly up your thigh. “Mm, bet you’re hiding a pretty little cunt under this nightgown— hold still, baby, you’re gonna like this.”

Finally maneuvring his way into your panties, he abruptly shoved two gloved fingers inside of you, watching closely as you scrunched your face up tight in discomfort. He thrusted and twisted them around for a bit, carelessly stretching you open as you tried desperately to squirm away; it stung a bit, and the leather of the gloves was cool and awkwardly firm against your walls. For some reason, when he dropped his free hand from your face, you didn’t try to scream again— maybe because you knew no one who cared could hear you— and you just panted heavily instead.

As quickly as he’d pushed them in he pulled them out, bringing the glove up to his mouth to take it off with his teeth with a little growl before rubbing his bare hand over your pussy again. You whimpered when he slid his fingers inside you again, this time feeling the texture of his skin as he curled the pads of his fingers right against your spot. “Yeah?” he mumbled his taunt around the leather between his teeth before spitting the glove out onto the floor. “Fuck, so warm… you’re so wet already, dolly, has nobody been giving this pussy any attention?”

He stopped moving his fingers inside you to pull out and give your clit a few slaps, licking his lips when you cried out from the sharp sensation.

“Huh?” he reminded you to answer when you never gave a response.

“N-no,” you shook your head, finally, and he smiled like he was proud of himself.

“Yeah? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

You only looked down at the floor, blinking a few times as you focused on the teal carpet, and heard him laugh darkly.

“Oh, dolly, I might break you,” he warned roughly as he pushed your gown up to your waist, ignoring your sobbed pleas for him to stop. “We don’t usually take anything from the people we visit, but if I take your virginity maybe your people will finally get the message.”

“Please— you don’t have to do that,” you stammered, rushing through whatever you could think of to make him change his mind, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. You can have whatever you want, if I call them they can send you money—”

“You aren’t even fucking listening to me, we don’t want your expensive bullshit and we don’t want your dirty fucking money!” he corrected sternly, clutching your sleeves tighter and shaking you slightly with the intensity of his movements. “We just want you to be afraid, because the revolution is coming.”

But you were afraid of something much more imminent than a revolution.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he demanded, though you couldn’t do much else considering he was already roughly tossing you onto it, climbing on top of you and pinning you down when you started to crawl back instinctively. With his legs resting on yours and keeping you (somewhat) still, he only needed one hand to grab your shoulders while the other rushed to open his jeans.

Your eyes got a little wide when you saw his cock— before that, it was almost like some part of you didn’t really think he’d go through with his, but now you could see clearly that he was hard and ready… and big enough to make you question how that thing was even supposed to fit inside you.

He tore through your panties like they were paper; he lifted and spread your legs as he sat between them and, much to your humiliation, just stared down at your pussy for a moment. You’d never felt so exposed and it made you feel worse than ever. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he announced smugly, “can’t wait to see it all stretched out and covered in my come— I’m gonna ruin you, babydoll.”

You weakly struggled as he held your hips down with one hand and haphazardly stroked his cock a few times with the other, rubbing himself over your opening before pulling his hips back to spit right onto your clit. After spreading the improvised lubrication around with his head for a moment, he pushed down on it with his thumb to line up with your hole and, without any further warning, slid inside in one motion.

You bit down on your lip hard, and even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the sting; it felt like he was ripping you open, not to mention going so deep that you could feel him in your stomach.

He groaned loudly, head falling back for a moment as he started to thrust into you. “Fuck, I can tell you’re a virgin— it must be hurting you, huh?”

But the question was a bit redundant, since tears had already begun to stream down your temples and your fingers were clutching tightly onto the sheets beneath you; if they were any less expensive, they probably would’ve ripped.

“Maybe a little pain will be good for you,” he decided with a smirk, “I think a spoiled brat like you has been spared the rod a few too many times.”

It was definitely more than a ‘little’ pain, and it only seemed to sting more each time he pulled back and pushed in again— he wasn’t going very fast, yet, so that was one thing you could almost be thankful for. That said, he wasn’t very gentle either.

He hastily reached up under your nightgown to grope your breasts, quickly moving from one to the other as he squeezed them just a bit too hard. “You like how daddy plays with your tits, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say, ‘yes daddy.’”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mumbled awkwardly; maybe being embarrassed to say that was superfluous considering everything else happening right now, but your face got warmer regardless.

A whimper almost caught in your throat when he pinched your hardened nipples, but it broke through when he seemingly-randomly gave a spank to your inner thigh.

He looked down at where your bodies were joined, where he was stretching you out with steady pumps of his cock that filled you to the brim, before reaching up to quickly pull his black sweater off over his head— a t-shirt underneath came off with it as his chest was exposed. He wasn’t unreasonably pale but he clearly wasn’t the type to get a ton of sun, and he had a thin scattering of dirty-blonde hair over some of it. It was sort of embarrassing, now, seeing how thin he was and yet he was still so much stronger than you.

"You're getting so wet, babydoll, look— you're making a mess on these expensive sheets," he grinned. And he wasn't lying; the sting of the stretch had slowly faded, replaced with a friction you actually couldn't help but enjoy. Each time he moved, he seemed to slide right over a spot that made you tighten up your legs so they wouldn't shake.

But, apparently, there was still plenty left that he could do to hurt you.

You cried out, so louder it echoed across the room, when he suddenly thrust into you hard and deep, hitting the very end of you as your body involuntarily jolted— he clapped his hand down over your mouth instantly, muffling your cries to near-silence as he set a punishingly fast pace out of nowhere. You couldn’t turn your head when you heard your bedroom door open, but you could glance to the side and see another burglar appear in the doorway, staring forward at the scene in front of him.

A new sense of shame burned inside you for being seen in such a way; oddly, it came with guilt, too, as if you were doing something wrong yourself, when really it was just something wrong being done to you. The man on top of you didn’t seem to feel much of either, though: he didn’t even slow down.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" the other man asked his partner, face still hidden but his voice a mixture of bewildered and disgusted. "This isn't how we roll."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," your attacker scoffed. You tried to use the distraction to fight him again— you swung your arms to try to scratch his face or push him away, but without even hesitating he simply stopped covering your mouth to pin your wrists at either side of your head.

"Is this really what you think the revolution is about?" the man in the door sneered. "Or does that even matter to you when you think you might get some ass? Jesus, I always knew you were a creep but this is…" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should take a turn with her, might fix your attitude," the man on top of you suggested. "She's real tight— trust me, you'll feel better."

"I promise that raping that girl isn't gonna make me feel better, Jan," he frowned.

"Fine, then just go so I can finish and I'll meet you guys in the yard," Jan— apparently that was his name— instructed.

"Don't go," you begged the man in the door, seeing the concern on his face— you could tell he wanted to stop Jan, maybe if you asked him to, he would.

"Shut up, bitch," Jan growled, correcting you with a slap to the face.

The man in the doorway just shook his head and sighed, stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. You cried harder, more sure than ever that Jan was right when he said you were at his mercy; and he didn’t seem to have much.

He fucked you rough and fast, recklessly chasing his own pleasure with no regard for yours. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that you didn’t feel any pleasure, though… it was building, in fact, sort of like when you touched yourself but so much stronger, and deeper, and threatening to overflow at any moment. “Oh fuck, you’re close,” he noticed with a tilted grin, “you love it so fucking much, huh? Wanna cream on daddy’s cock?”

You shook your head but he slapped you again, spinning your face to the side as he held both your wrists above your head in one hand and gripped your jaw with the other.

“Stop lying,” he growled, “I can feel it, I can feel your cunt getting tighter… you’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, aren’t you, babydoll? God, what a nasty fucking whore you are…”

He held your face to look straight ahead, up at where he hovered above you and bared his teeth in a snarl, before forcing your mouth open and spitting into it. You grimaced and tried even harder to squirm away but he quickly clamped his hand down over your nose and mouth so you couldn’t try to spit it back out again.

“C’mon, swallow it,” he instructed roughly, voice a bit strained from the force it took to hold you down. You could hardly breathe with his hand this way, and when you tilted your head back to try to get away from it, you accidentally swallowed his spit with a disgusted, muffled grunt. “There you go, good girl,” he purred as he watched your throat bob a bit involuntarily, “that’s it, I know you wanna come— say it! Say ‘daddy I wanna come.’”

He let go of your mouth and slapped you again before you even had a chance to hesitate. “D-daddy,” you whined, “I… I—”

“It’s not that fucking hard,” he hissed, “just say it, you dumb fucking slut!”

One more slap was apparently all you needed to just choke it out: “I wanna come, daddy!” you cried, back starting to arch as the pressure of holding back your release became too much to bear.

“Then fucking come,” he demanded, “come for me, baby, right fucking now.”

You tried to hold out just a moment longer, just to spite him, just so you wouldn’t obey him so easily… but it only took one rough thrust right into the end of you to make it all spill over. You came with a sob, shaking and jerking beneath him for a moment before a warmth spread through you; it started right where he filled you and spread everywhere until your mind was all foggy and your fingers started to go numb— or maybe that was just because of him pinning you down at the wrists.

Much to your disgust, you could hear how wet you had become with every stroke inside you, a sickening squelching noise that made him laugh as your face tingled with numbness and burned with shame all at once. “Oh fuck, that’s it,” he praised, “naughty little dolly, making a mess on daddy’s cock with that dirty fucking cunt of yours… I’m gonna cover it in my come, are you ready, baby? Ask daddy to come on your pussy, don’t make me hit you again.”

“Daddy, please,” you mumbled quietly, “come on my pussy…”

“I can’t hear you, babydoll, you need to speak up,” he mocked.

And you were just so exhausted and overwhelmed and his thrusts inside your sensitive walls were starting to get painful again— that was why you really meant it when you sobbed through your begging: “Please, daddy, come on my pussy!”

With one more panted moan he pulled out and only had to give his cock one blur of a stroke before white, warm come began to paint over your sore opening, your swollen clit, your bruised inner thighs. “Fuuucckkk…” he groaned under his breath as he watched himself coat you, and you caught a tinge of pink from your blood on his cock and hand as he slowed down to a stop. "Sheiße," he sighed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and close his eyes for a moment before looking down again at where you were limp and splayed out on your bed beneath him. “See? I’m getting reckless, I really shouldn’t be leaving evidence…”

Even without that, you knew his name and face, but apparently he was focusing on the copious amounts of DNA he’d just left on you.

“I suppose it won’t be a problem, because you’re not going to tell anyone,” he posited, leaning down slightly to hover over you as you swallowed around the rock that had suddenly formed in your throat. “You know how I know you won’t?”

You weakly shook your head, already terrified to imagine what the answer to that question was going to be. Of course, your first assumption was that he was going to kill you, or threaten to do so if you involved the police. He knew where you lived, he could threaten your family, too: the thought made your skin crawl as he leaned down further to whisper right against your ear as you instinctively turned your face away from him.

“Because if you tell someone that I raped you,” he finally continued, “then you’ll also have to tell them that you liked it.”

Speaking right against your ear, it took him no effort at all to stick his tongue out and lick you right on it, making you squeal with fear and disgust.

He quickly hopped off the bed and recollected himself, stuffing his softening and blood-stained cock back into his pants before gathering his discarded clothes from the floor. "Your folks won't be home for two more nights, right? I should come visit you again," he winked when he spared a glance at you. “Now get some rest, baby, you deserve it. Don’t worry, I’ll lock the front door behind me when we leave… wouldn’t want anybody unsavory getting in, now would we?”

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: A Wild Woman 1/1

Title: A Wild Woman

Summary: By Victorian Standards, you are considered the dreaded Wild Woman! Your aunt and uncle threaten to disown you and turn you out into the streets unless you agree to a little re-education on how to be a proper lady.

Rating: Mature, fluff, Soft Dom Sherlock!Henry, sex, unconventional

Pairing: Sherlock x YOU

Note: This was inspired by  "A wild woman brought up a wild child. We'll make her acceptable for society." from the EH trailer.

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Your Aunt and Uncle had had enough of you. They were fed up with your lack of female decorum and your absolute insistence to star gaze, associate with male aeronauts and start fires from chemistry experiments gone awry. But you couldn't help yourself. After the scandal of the woman who attempted to join the Chemistry Society a few years back, you had been forever changed. Women could do anything and you were intent on grabbing that elusive gold ring. If that meant attending boisterous underground resistance meetings, or not wearing your corset, then so be it.

Unfortunately, your family did not see it that way. To them, you were a wild woman who had no place in decent Victorian society.

One gloomy autumn evening, when your uncle returned from the gentleman's club, he sat both you and your aunt down at the dining room table for a talk.

Your uncle then gave you a choice.

Well, it was a choice between scylla and charybdis, but a choice nonetheless.

You were either to be turned out into the street to fend for yourself, with no money and no prospects and definitely no husband, or you were to travel to London to be kept, re-educated and made acceptable to be returned to society by a pair of reputable brothers who promised to produce reputable ladies.

What could you do, but agree to the latter, as the former was a nightmare you never wanted to experience.

So you made the long involuntary train-trek cross country to London.

The man who met you at the train station was tall, and slim with a well-manicured moustache that curled up at the ends in the most fashionable way. When he reached for your single suitcase and turned to walk away, you followed without protest.

**

Baker Street was a short narrow avenue that seemed unnecessarily busy for so early in the morning, and when the Hansom slowed, your companion opened the door and hopped out. He offered his gloved hand, which you took and followed him to the ground.

The cab rode off and gently taking you by the arm, the man guided you across the road. He walked up the steps to a dark painted door with the numbers 221b etched on a half-moon of glass above it.  He led you inside and up the stairs to a room at the end of a long corridor.

It was a well-appointed room. Against the wall was a large bed with a patchwork cover flanked by two low dark wood tables upon which sat twin lamps with beaded green lampshades. To the left, a tall window brought in the hazy morning light and illuminating the small writing desk beneath it.  There was also a large wardrobe stood in one corner opposite a bookshelf which was crammed with books.

'Your room, for the duration of your stay. I expect that it will be maintained without clutter.'

He then looked at you and slowly perused your form. You felt scandalised! No man had ever dared make his inspection of your body so plain before. Scandalised, yes, but a slow simmer of heat in your belly belied your inner outrage.

He humphed, and his  eyes moved to meet yours again.

'Sloppy,' he said. 'That you expect to be taken seriously, dressed like this is insulting.'

You opened your mouth and he lifted his brows, waiting for you to speak.

'I expect, sir, for you to watch your tongue when addressing me.'

He laughed quietly.

'My brother will be home shortly,' he said ignoring your protest. 'I believe you will be spending the evening in his company. Granted, he is less strict than I am, so don't get used to his...'

The man pinwheeled his hand in the air as if searching for the most appropriate word, but the opening and then the closing of the front door distracted him.

'Ah,' he murmured. 'He's come home early. Please wash thoroughly and change your clothes. I expect that you have something better than this?'

You narrowed your eyes.

'I will give you one hour and then come downstairs and into the study for inspection. The study is to the right at the bottom of the stairs. Have you... questions?'

'Do you intend to stand here and watch me wash and dress?'

He smiled and wordlessly turned to leave you to your task.

'We'll break you of that attitude,' he promised and closed the door behind him.

You wavered on your feet and collapsed on the fainting couch at the foot of the bed. You were breathless, excited, astounded that you were aroused by the man's quiet dominance.

'This is ridiculous girl!' you chided yourself aloud. 'This whole thing is ridiculous.'

But at least you were in London. You had promised your aunt and uncle that you would be 're-educated' and that you were going to come home the niece they always wanted so that you could be married off to the local farmer's son. What they didn't know, was that you were going to use the little stipend they'd provided and run away into the arms of the big city.

In the meantime, this was what you needed to do to get to where you needed to go.

You got up, stripped out of your travel clothes and inspected the pitcher and basin on the wash stand in the corner. There was water in the pitcher and a clean cloth hanging on the railing. There was also a lump of lanolin soap sitting on the side of the basin and you went about washing the dirt from your travels off of your skin. You didn't bother with a corset, or your stockings. You merely shrugged into your chemise, dress and shoes and went down to the study.

You stood at the closed door, humming with excitement and terror. What if this brother was a hunchback, with a mutilated face and was only gentle because his looks terrified everyone. What if he was old and decrepit and smelled of liniment! You wrinkled your nose at the thought and opened the door.

The study was beautiful, quiet and a fire burned in the small hearth. The walls were covered with dark tapestries and old maps. Books and newspapers were stacked everywhere, but it did not appear to be done in a chaotic manner. There was an order to this room and your heart clenched when your eyes fell on the man who was rising from the high wing-backed chair.

If Gods walked the earth, on a regular basis, you would not have been surprised by his appearance. He too was tall, like his brother, broad across the chest with a narrow waist and sturdy thighs.  He was in his shirtsleeves with a high starched white collar and dark brown tweed waistcoat and matching dress trousers.

And the curls. Oh the soft mass of chocolatey brown curls were stylish and clipped short and nicely complimented his handsome chiselled face.

'Turn around, please,' he said, his voice all honey and milk and you obeyed immediately.

'Face me again.'

You did so and he approached, hands clasped behind his back. He shook his head.

'You know this is unacceptable, don't you.'

It wasn't a question.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go, you thought. You had practised on the long train ride to London. You knew exactly how you were going to respond and exactly what you were going to say. But your mind had gone blank and only silence came out of your sweet quivering mouth.

You lowered your gaze.

His dark shoes were buttoned neatly and had been shined carefully. He was obviously a man who cared about his appearance.

'I expect things from you, when you're under my roof. This shabbiness and unruly nature will not be permitted and if you continue to pursue these avenues, you will be...'

He trailed off, and began to walk in a slow circle around you, prowling, like a sleek beast and you couldn't help feeling helpless.

Like you were prey.

He stopped after one revolution and stood at your back. He was so close that the heat and scent of him engulfed you. You closed your eyes, and sweat broke out across your upper lip and brow.

He 'humphed', sounding just like his brother and stuck a finger against your side. You didn't dare squirm away from his examination and you held yourself taut.

'No corset,' he said, finding you soft and unrestrained beneath your clothes. 'And I wager, no stockings or combinations.'

You were silent and it seemed that the very silence was a living creature, pricking your skin.

'Answer me.'

'No, none of that.'

He took in a long breath and let it out slowly.

'Upstairs, now. Gather your undergarments and bring them here.'

You turned so fast that you nearly banged into him. But you managed to scurry round him, and dart up the stairs as fast as your legs beneath your full skirts would carry you. You blindly grabbed everything that you had and nearly tumbled back down the stairs in your haste to please this man, this stranger, who within moments of meeting him made you want to drop to your knees and worship his masculinity.

He was still standing in the same place where you left him, back straight, head up, elegant hands clasped behind his back.

Out of breath, you stood before him, arms full of undergarments and he smiled. That smile took your breath away. He directed you to dump your clothes on the nearby desk.

'Now,' he began, scholarly. 'The makings of a society appropriate lady, begins at her skin. Do you understand?'

You swallowed hard and nodded.

'Good. Now, remove your clothing. We have to start from the skin.'

There was heat in his voice, filled with a demand that brooked no argument, and with trembling hands, you unbuttoned your waistcoat, unpinned your skirt and shrugged out of your rough collared shirt until you stood there bare beneath your chemise.

You worked your hands together in front of you feeling damp between your legs and ready to show him everything that was private about you.You unlaced the chemise at the collar and let it fall.

He looked at you for a long time, appreciating you, drinking you in and he was very obviously pleased with you.

He pointed to the combinations lying in a heap on the desk.

'Combinations.'

Your combinations were in two pieces so you stepped into the split bottoms and pulled on the top.

'Now corset.'

You went back to the table. You had two corsets, and you looked to him for his opinion.

'Blue,' he said. 'It laces in the back.'

Normally, as you dressed yourself, your corsets (when you wore them) laced in the front. But this one, he chose purposefully. He wanted to have control over dressing you.

The blue one was already partially laced so all you had to do was pull it over your head and hold it in place. You turned your back to him and waited. He began to slowly tighten your laces, starting from the top and working his way down, one after the other after the other he pulled the narrow fabric through the eyelets closing the boned corset around you, trussing you like a tart and stealing your breath.

The corset was tight, but not overly so, just enough to make you realise that you liked it. He tied the remainder of the cord round your waist and tucked in the excess.

'Will you take it off me when it's time?' you breathed, lightheaded with arousal.

And he hummed a soft response.

Then followed your simple cream and blue coloured dress, which you stepped into with his help. It buttoned up the back and he took his time doing so.

After what seemed an eternity, he stepped away from you and mourning the loss of his heat, you watched him walk to the chair, turn and sit down.

'Come here, and bring your stockings and ribbon.'

Like a puppy, you followed and stood at his knee.

He took the stockings and thin blue ribbons and laid them across his lap.

'Right foot,' he murmured and patted the spot on his thigh where he wanted you to put it. 'Balance yourself on the chair if needed.'

You put a hand on the top of the wing back and sighed softly when he rolled up the first stocking and slid it on your foot and up your leg. You bit your lip, but you couldn't look away from the deft fingers that trailed fire along your skin. He tied the ribbon just below your knee and folded the top of the stocking over it.

'Left.'

You switched legs and he repeated the process, only this time after he had tied the ribbon and folded the stocking down, he held your calf with both hands and looked up at you.

'Now you are finished. Is there anything that I did that you did not understand?'

You shook your head, not trusting your voice to come out as anything but a squeak. He nodded to acknowledge your answer, paused, and then slid one hand up your calf, to your thigh and over the material of your combinations to where they split to reveal your tender sex. He lightly brushed his fingertips over your naked mound and you made a noise that was quite unbecoming of a society lady. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you did the only thing you ever wanted to do the moment you laid eyes on him; you widened your legs.

'I prefer an unruly woman,' he said, sliding one finger into your slick wet cunt. 'I think they have spirit.'

Whining, you grabbed onto the other side of the chair and leaned on it for support. He stroked your clit slowly, carefully, pushing back the swollen little hood and pinched it between his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut and stars burst against the darkness. You were going to scream if he continued.

'Please,' you whispered, jerking your hips forward, encouraging his further exploration. 'Please... just please!'

He slid his fingers out of you and with his eyes still on your, he put those same fingers into his mouth.

A cry of frustration escaped you. You hiked your skirts and climbed onto his lap, giving him just enough room to unbutton the opening of his trousers and draw out his leaking cock. You took him in hand and he grabbed your hips and pressed back into the chair as you positioned yourself enough to sink slowly down onto him.

You leaned back into his hands, tipping your chin up and moaning loudly, voluptuously, clenching tightly around him, circling your hips to feel all of him filling you completely. He groaned quietly, much more subdued, but no less aroused and he looked up just as you looked down at him. You grabbed his exquisite face between your hands and kissed him, lapping eagerly into his delectable mouth, letting your body rise and fall as your cunt greedily devoured him.

You pushed your fingers into his soft curls, and held his head up, kissing and biting at his plush lips, riding him slowly at first, and then faster as the crescendo of desire and lust and pleasure crested then exploded inside you. Every part of you clamped down hard on him and you rocked and back and forth, milking the shuddering orgasm out of him.

It took a moment before the two of you finally relaxed from your shared high. Still holding his face, you kissed his cheeks and his forehead and his lips over and over until his softening cock slipped out of you. You sat back on his thighs and imagined his cum leaking out of you and onto your combinations.  You giggled at the dirty thought.

'I'm Sherlock,' he said after a long silence, looking up to meet your gaze.

'I'm... smitten,' you answered.

Maybe a little re-education wasn't such a bad thing.

-End

I hope you enjoyed it. Please like, share comment reblog all that good stuff. :)

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Spider's Bride Part 2

Pairing: spider!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: yandere, obsession, stalking, forced marriage, mentions of suicidal thoughts and breeding (but everything is not as dark as it seems).

Words: 2544.

Summary: Whoever your stepmother sold you to, he wasn’t as honorable as she claimed.

Part 1

_________________

"Bucky, do you have canines?" You asked him in quiet voice, lowering your head to his shoulder and holding your arms around his wide chest while the arachnid carried you on top of his huge spider-like body.

"I do." He answered calmly, heading back to the house.

"Could you kill with them?"

"I guess I could."

You pressed yourself to his back lazily, watching other arachnids and a few elderly dark elves passing by the street, your path lighted with many long intricate lampposts.

"Would you kill me with them?"

"No."

You hadn't seen how he bit down on his lower lip. He didn't like casting so many soothing spells, but you refused leaving your chamber before he sedated you almost to the point of leaving you unconscious. After two weeks you spent in the house, staying in your room most of the time, he needed to present you to the elders to prove he was treating your fairly. They weren't too happy to see you in such state, though you have admitted it was solely your wish to be under those spells. In the end, it wasn't uncommon for human females.

He hated the charms and how they affected you with all his heart. Most of the women he saw when he was a child were always heavily sedated, and not much changed since those times. However, it was better than seeing the unfortunate ones who had lost their mind from all the suffering.

"How do you feel?" He asked the same question over and over again every day.

"Good." You nuzzled against the back of his neck mindlessly. "Bucky, you have pretty hair."

Gulping down, he urged himself to continue walking, enjoying the way your hands were touching him through his leather clothes. He'd give anything to hear those words when the charms wore off.

He knew well you should never get addicted to the spells, succumbing to the calmness they were giving you. But a part of him wanted to listen to you talking so desperately... You had never been so relaxed around him before, even getting on his back without a protest.

"You know, the hair on your lower part is a bit itchy."

"I'm sorry, my love."

"Don't be. I like it, I think." He heard your soft giggling and suddenly blushed, his cheeks burning. It was the first time you laughed for him.

You were so precious, his dearest one, his beloved, the one he'd give his own life away for. Once one of his sisters said he'd go to Hell if you asked, and Bucky agreed to that. He would.

He still hoped you could grow to love him one day. Although the progress was slow, you weren't as hostile as before and didn't cry upon seeing him entering your chamber. Bucky tried bringing you jewelry and beautiful dresses, yet you refused his gifts. However, you seemed eager when he brought you books instead - you read slowly as your stepmother didn't care about educating you, but books brought you joy like no other present of his. You read everything from children's fairytales to pieces with recepies his sisters occasionally forgot inside the books they were giving him.

Maybe there was still hope for him that one day you could accept him, even if only in his human form. It would already be enough for him.

"Bucky, somebody's singing again." You said curiously and peaked out his shoulder, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. "Is it your sisters?"

"I can hear the voice of the oldest one." Bucky agreed, knowing they were coming closer to the nursary cave.

"Who is she singing for today?"

Your question made him stiff. Maybe you were sedated, but he didn't think you were ready to learn the truth or, Gods forbid, see everything with your own eyes.

"The unborn children." The arachnid frowned and kept going, hoping you would stop asking him the things you shouldn't know yet.

"Unborn? Is she pregnant, then?"

"... it's not that easy with our species, dear."

"Ah, yes. It had to do something with the eggs, right?" As he kept his mouth shut, you moved a little and put your hand on his cheek as his eyes flew to you. "Right?"

"Yes, sweetheart. The parents weave a cocoon where they put the embryo, and the child slowly develops inside before they are ready to break free and come out."

"Does it happen to all children or only the ones female arachnids bear?"

"To all of them. Actually, before my grandmother invented this way, the process was different for any mate of ou-"

He hurriedly cut himself off before he would make you frightened again. What was happening before his grandmother invented the cocoons was a nightmare, pure savagery, and he knew it better than anyone with his human mother forced to give birth to him by herself. If only his father didn't make her suffer the horrors of childbirth, she could be alive still. Maybe then Bucky wouldn't loathe himself so much.

"But why is your sister singing to the unborn child?

The arachnid snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head to you, gazing at you relaxed expression. Apparently, the charms were still active.

"The children can hear the songs even within their cocoons. It calms then, helps their development, my love."

"Can I see them?"

Bucky abruptly stopped in the middle of a street at your odd request and rubbed your arm resting at his waist involuntarily, enjoying the warmth of your body. He really, really loved when you were curious about his kind, but he didn't know if you could stomach what you asked him to show you. Even though the nursery was the most beautiful place Bucky had seen in his entire life, he knew well it wouldn't look the same to you. Maybe you would be horrified, disgusted, and his charm would fall easier, leaving you traumatized for life.

"Cast one more spell and take me there, please?"

"I don't thin-"

Before he had finished the sentence, he felt a quick peck on his cheek and almost choked on air, unable to believe what was happening. Did you just kiss him? Him, the one who was so revolting to you? Dear Lord, those spells of his were too poweful if they could make you do this.

But he'd lie if he said he wasn't ready to give you whatever he had for just one more little kiss.

"Just one, please?"

"Just one, and we'll leave immediately if you get scared, ok?"

"Yes, I promise."

Gods, you could persuade him to do anything with those pretty eyes of yours. Grunting, Bucky whispered a few words you didn't catch, and his hands stared glowing softly when he caressed your arm - in fact, one simple touch was enough, but he indulged himself a bit more. Your soft skin was so warm...

Listening to your loud sighing, Bucky watched your pupils dilating and ensured the spell was working. Your grasp on his shoulder became weaker, so he carried you to the nursery much slower, observing you if you were close to slip. You seemed so fragile to him now. Before, when he was secretly watching you working from afar, you seemed strong - you carried so much on your shoulders. He was horrified you were treated so badly by your own family, but it seemed you were much more shaken by him, the one who wanted nothing but to cherish and love you.

His goddamn spider body was so ugly you had to take a dozen of spells just to come closer to him.

The cave was much smaller than the one where the town was founded - Bucky would call it cozy since it was way warmer, but he didn't voice his thoughts, leaving it up to you to make your first empression. Apparently, you weren't scared still, gazing at a few arachnids inside the nursery - most of them were singing, but you spotted a few weaving an odd flexible fabric of silver threads. Strangely, the process wasn't revolting at all. You expected the spiders to make the threads from their saliva, but they had carried neet reels instead and did all the weaving with their apparently magical fingers.

"I thought they'd be using their mouth." You said quietly, and one of the women shook her head disapprovingly at your words.

"No, no, we don't do that in public." Bucky answered hurriedly, bowing his head to the woman. "Unless in battle, it is considered inappropriate in our society. Family members could make the threads together if they want, but each arachnid can do it purely by themselves, alone. It is a very private business, my love."

"I see. My sincere apologies, lady of the cave." You bowed your head in front of her, and female arachnid smiled warmly at you, not upset with your words anymore. She pointed to the left, and Bucky followed there, looking among the ones who were singing. They were standing closer to the cocoons, and now you had a perfect opportunity to see how their little ones developed.

Staring at breathtakingly beautiful silver eggs surrounded by the halo of soft light, Bucky prayed to see the cocoon with his own child somewhere in the future. It was scary to even think of that now, knowing how repulsed you felt when you heard him speaking of reproducing.

Maybe he wouldn't be able to have kids at all. If it kept you sane, he would agree to it regardless how badly he wanted to have a child with you.

"They look like angels' eggs." You suddenly said, holding your hand up as if you could touch the pure light.

"What?"

Bucky froze on the spot, unsure of what he just heard.

"Angels. Do you know who are they? They have huge white wings and they are always surrounded by light."

"Yes, I know." He whispered, trying to withhold himself from crying.

Would you tell the same when the charms would wear off? Would you hate him for bringing you here? Would you scream and shout and cry if he reminded you of the cocoons you called angels' eggs?

Before he had sunk into a sea of despair, however, one female moved away from the line of singing arachnids, and Bucky saw a shining face of his older sister. She was smiling at both of them widely, and you gaped at her openly, trying to stand up on his huge spider body and holding his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"My beloved brother and his precious one." The woman said in a beautiful voice, throwing her hands to the sides as if she intended to give the two of you a hug. "I am overjoyed at seeing you here. Are you giving your betrothed a little tour?"

"I am." He quickly said, smiling uncomfortably. Bucky wasn't proud to keep you sedated and now felt ashamed. All his sisters married their betrothed willingly. "We... we came because Y/N wanted to see the nursery and listen to your singing."

By that time you had been watching his sister with curiousity, trembling on your unstable legs, and Bucky put his hands above yours resting on his shoulders. He wasn't afraid his sister would misinterpret your words or actions - she knew well what you had endured -  rather that she could unintentionally scare you with the way she looked, moved or talked. However, he was proven wrong rather quickly.

"You are pretty." You said, tilting your head to the side. "Much prettier than Bucky. It's like you're made of silver."

He could be offended by your words, but, in fact, he quite agreed to you - Arabella looked beautiful even by the dark elvish standards with her long silver hair covering her back, her body all shining like the webs arachnids were weaving. Even her lower part was more appealing than his since she didn't have much of hair there, and her eight legs looked like they were made from glowing marble. In a way, she looked more crab-like than spider-like.

All his sisters were like her. Bucky was the only one who reminded himself of a monstrous creature.

"Don't judge him too harshly, sweetheart." Arabella sent you a kind smile, knowing perfectly what her brother was thinking about. "Of us all he has the kindest of hearts."

"Maybe you're right."

Slowly sitting down because your legs couldn't support you anymore, you pressed yourself to his back and forced him to move his arm so you could look at the spider-woman in front of you. She didn't look scary despite those long legs of hers, but, well, nothing looked scary to you now. Bucky could push you off the cliff, and you'd fall without much of a sound coming from your mouth.

The woman in front of you looked young, yet her crystal-clear eyes had wisdom in them, the one that was gained with years. Oddly, she looked more human and inhuman to you at the same time. Her appearance was closer to the ones of your kind, but her eyes reminded you of high elves, immortal beings you were lucky to see once. Maybe she was right. If her sisters were like her, you thought Bucky might have the kindest of hearts - you suddenly felt he was more human-like than them.

"If you like my singing, I will come tomorrow to sing for you, dear child. Would you like that?"

"Arabella, I don't-"

"Yes. Your voice calms me down when I cry."

Your lips curled up in a faint smile as you watched her approaching the two of you carefully. Bucky felt an urge to hide you behind his broad back, though it was a silly - his sister would never hurt you intentionally.

"I'll come, sweetheart." Sending him a gentle look, Arabella reached out to lay a hand on your forehead, her skin softer, yet colder than her brother's. "Return home now, you are tired. Sleep soundly, precious one."

Bucky realized she casted a sleeping spell only when you had slumped lower to his spider body, closing your eyes. He shot the woman a furious look, and she pressed her long pretty finger to her mouth, forbidding him to speak when he was ready to snap at her.

"You are ruthless with your soothing spells, brother." Her whisper was barely audible. "They are too strong for her."

"Leaving her to lose her sanity is hardly better." He sounded quiet, but determined. "She asked for them."

"If you were in her shoes, wouldn't you asked, too?" The arachnid shook her head at him. "Do not be reckless, dear. Take her home, give her time, give her space. Do not let her succumb to your charms and do not wish for it yourself."

Bucky went silent, turning back to carefully take you in his arms to prevent you from falling. Resting your head against his chest, he looked at your with a hurt expression on his face. You would never let him come close to you unless you were sedated. What could he do? Arachnids mated for life. He would never love anyone again.

"Do not let it dishearten you, dear brother. She will get better. I feel it in my bones."

____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas @chris-evans-indian-fanfic

[chiliiscereal]

Hamato Sirani

Chapter two: Story telling

Summary: when splinter finds an abandoned human child he decides to bring her into the Hamato family.

———

Day one

Sirani watched the pages turn in front of her curiously.

Raph had a book and his new sister both sat on his lap as he read to her. Splinter was out searching for something the newest Hamato could sleep in. A normal bed wouldn't work for a baby and they did, after all, still need more food.

 Mikey snuck out the board again, Donnie placed himself on the floor with a thick book, and Leo still thought they were all playing hide and seek.

 Raph had taken it upon himself to take advantage of the rare silence and bond with Sirani as soon as possible. She was his sister now! He’d need to get to know her!

He realized after a while that there wasn’t exactly much he could get to know.

She seemed to be exactly like Mikey: no words and no real opinion.

So he took to reading to her instead.

He didn't really know what the words meant and neither did she. But it didn't matter. He was being helpful!

  Each time he flipped one of the thick pages it smacked into Sirani's nose.

But neither one noticed or cared.

Sirani was absolutely entranced by the pictures.

The colors... the movement... she loved them.

"-Then the worm ate a bunch of tree salad and grew!" Raph exclaimed, turning to the next page.

Smack.

Right into her nose.

"And it grew!"

Smack.

"And grew!"

Smack.

"And grew some more!"

Smack.

"Then, one day..." he paused, trying to figure out what was going on in the picture, "it hung up a sleeping bag and slept for a long time!" He was satisfied with that explanation and turned to the next page.

Smack.

"Then it broke it! And now it has blankets on its back!" He pointed at the butterflies wings. "See?"

Sirani giggled joyfully.

"And now the worm can fly!" Raph grinned.

Never before had he enamored any of his brothers like this. They weren't ever this impressed or joyful when he would beat them in a race, and they certainly weren't happy when he could catch a football better.

 But Sirani was amazed by everything he did. She watched everything he did with wide mismatched eyes in the few hours Splinter was gone.

 When he showed her that he could fit his fist in his mouth she couldn't stop trying to fit her own hand in hers. All she ended up with was a slobbery mess.

 When he showed her that he could jump really high she'd try to wobble to her feet.

 When he showed her that he could say a tongue twister super fast she wouldn't quit babbling.

He was her hero.

"It's not a worm, actually." Donnie corrected from his spot on the floor where he was reading the dictionary. He fixed his older brother with a bored look. "It's a caterpillar. Worms never turn into butterflies."

 "Whatever." Raph rolled his eyes. "Cant you see we're super busy?" He gestured back to their book.

 "Busy feeding her misinformation?" Donnie raised an eyebrow. "I will not have a sister that thinks butterflies are worms." He flipped to the front section of his dictionary. "Butterfly. B-U-T-T-E-R-F-L-Y. Noun.  It's a-."

  Raph stood up and shut his brothers book. "Just let me have this, alright? She thinks I'm amazing! I don't want you ruining this for me!" He straightened the football Jersey their dad had salvaged for him. "First impressions are important."

  "Her education is more important than some nonsense about a hungry caterpillar." Donnie stood up, dusting off his dictionary. "If she's gonna be part of this family then she needs to have the correct information!"

He held the book out in front of Sirani. "See? This is a butterfly!"

  Sirani leaned forward curiously.

 "Hey hey hey, I'm the one that's reading to her!" Raph protested, getting between Sirani and the book. "Dad said i can read to her while he's gone! I'm the oldest!"

 "Well you're doing a terrible job!" Donnie scoffed. "Oldest or not."

 Leo popped up next to the trio. "I don't know how to read, but I bet I can impress her!" He clapped his hands, earning Sirani's attention. "Look, I can do a cartwheel!" He moved to his feet and made a clumsy cartwheel, barely landing straight. "And I can skip!" He skipped a couple feet with a triumphant grin on his face. He turned back to the child sitting in silent awe.

 "Me to!" Mikey shouted, crawling over. He gripped the arm of the chair and clawed his way to his  feet. "Now Ani!"

 Sirani wrinkled her nose when the attention was on her, pouring all her concentration in being able to make it to her feet.

"Go Siracha!" Leo cheered, appearing next to the girl. "You got this!"

The girl fought harder to stand. These strange boys could do it so easily! She had to be able to do it to!

 "That's not her name you know." Donnie muttered. "It's Sirani. Siracha is a spicy-."

 "Well I think it sounds cool!" The red eared slider shrugged off the comment before his companion could even finish. "Go Siracha!"

"Ani!" Mikey joined, toppling over again.

"After this we gotta teach her how to play basketball, football, skate, and-!" Leo rambled joyfully, only to be cut off by Donnie.

  "You don't even know how to do those yourself." Donnie frowned, eyes drawn away from Sirani.

It wasn't all that impressive in his eyes.

 "Then she and I can learn together!"

Raph managed to let go of his bitter feelings and let Sirani have her moment. Besides, they had the rest of their lives to spend time together.

He could manage.

They had all the time in the world to spend with his new sister.

New chapter is on my wattpad account!

(Noandisaidno)

The edit versions are also there!

@dakotafinely thanks for the support!

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

[charnine]

Ok, I'm reblogging this again, but I'm adding my perspective because reading through the comments on this thread, some of you clearly don't understand the point of this post. Saying that some people choose to keep their tumblr space free of such content doesn't mean they aren't talking about it or being apathetic to it, it means they're choosing not to talk about it on tumblr. I come to this hellsite for gifs and art and fandom discourse of no real consequence. My political/social justice discussions are for elsewhere. Someone's tumblr blog isn't an entire sum of their lives, that is such a ridiculous assumption to make. Do you assume that people aren't talking about the protests at all because they stopped to take a mental break to play a video game or watch a tv show? Tumblr is that same escapism for some people, because we are constantly talking about it outside this platform, on top of our own issues. You have no right to judge someone on how much mental strain they can take. I don't need to "spread awareness" on this platform because A) it is your own responsibility to educate yourself, tumblr isn't a news source, B) I don't need to make self-congratulatory posts about how "woke" I am on social media, especially to a bunch of strangers, I will make posts because I want to make posts, not because I feel pressured into it so I won't seem like a "bad person", C) the way the tumblr works is that the algorithm will continue to flood my feed with the type of content I interact with, so even interacting with a few posts of that nature means I'll keep seeing that stuff, especially as it's a popular topic right now, D) I can't help anyone if I'm constantly being overwhelmed and burned out by current events, E) if choosing make this one platform my personal safe space makes me "racist" in your eyes, feel free to block me or whatever, but I will not tolerate any guilt-tripping or harassment over it. Saying that someone choosing their mental health is "white privilege" is a bad fucking take, especially if you have no idea what they're doing outside of tumblr.

With all the events going on recently I think it’s time to post this image againbc i’m tired of this shit