#14 women killed by male violence

[coochiequeens]

A Canadian college invited a trans-identified male to speak on violence against women in observation of the 33rd anniversary of an act of mass femicide.

Fae Johnstone, a trans-identified male, gave a keynote address today at Durham College in North Oshawa, Ontario as part of the school’s National Day of Remembrance Ceremony marking the anniversary of a massacre that left 14 women dead.

Johnstone, who describes himself as “trans feminine and non-binary,” is the Executive Director at Wisdom2Action, an LGBT-focused consulting firm. Johnstone’s website lists him as a “public speaker, consultant, educator and community organizer on unceded, unsurrended Algonquin territory.”

On Twitter, Johnstone announced his speech was part of the school’s “16 Days of Activism” to end “GBV [gender-based violence].”

The event Johnstone spoke at today is described on the Durham College website as commemorating the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence against Women in Canada.

The Day was first inaugurated by Parliament in 1991 as a way to honor the lives lost during the École Polytechnique massacre, which took place on December 6, 1989 in Montreal, Quebec. On the campus of the scientific university, a man identifying as an “anti-feminist” targeted female students for slaughter. 

Prior to shooting all of the women in a mechanical engineering class, Marc Lépine, born Gamil Rodrigue Liass Gharbi, told the male students to leave the room. He then told the women he was “fighting feminism” and expressed a hatred of women’s rights to an education.

“You’re women, you’re going to be engineers. You’re all a bunch of feminists. I hate feminists,” Lépine said, before opening fire on the female students. Lépine later committed suicide on the campus after taking 14 women’s lives, and injuring 10 more people.

In total, Lépine murdered 14 women in an act that has since been recognized an act of terrorism.

After his speech at Durham College tonight, Johnstone was confronted by Jennifer Anne, a Canadian women’s rights advocate who has been working to secure the release of the analysis that was done on gender self-identification legislation in Canada. 

Anne attended the event and recorded some of Johnstone’s address before proposing a question when given the opportunity by the event’s host. 

“Today is the day we mark 14 women who were killed in Montreal by a man who subjected them simply because they were female. It is sex-based violence, not gender based violence. I am a female,” Anne is heard saying, before listing off examples where self-identification lead to the victimization of women.

“I am wondering why, on this day, we would have a man dressed in women’s garb to talk to us about sex-based violence and keeping women safe? How can women stay safe in this environment?”

Johnstone replies curtly: “Thank you. Next question!”

“Really? So you’re not going to answer it because you know I’m right?” Anne responds. The host of the event, as well as other administrators, are then heard trying to discourage Anne from continuing to assert her question.

Anne uploaded the recordings to her Twitter account.

Johnstone’s consulting firm, Wisdom2Action, marked the anniversary of the women’s deaths by posting an infographic titled “Queering GBV,” which asserted that “gender based violence disproportionately impacts 2SLGBTQ+ people who are BIPOC, transfeminine, bisexual, youth, newcomers, disabled, homeless, and/or involved in sex work.”

For Canadian Women’s History Month in October, Johnstone was “honored” by a Government ministry for his work with “2SLGBTQI+” people.

Johnstone had previously slammed the Canadian Femicide Observatory for “retweeting TERF and TERF rhetoric.” TERF is a derogatory term most frequently applied to women who acknowledge two distinct sex groups.

He also claimed the Declaration on Women’s Sex Based Rights was a “roadmap for erasing trans people from public life, denying our rights and restricting our healthcare.”

Johnstone is not the first trans-identified male be given a platform to speak on the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence against Women. 

Last year on December 6, the Prince Edward Island Advisory Council on the Status of Women invited Anastasia Preston, a biological male who identifies as a woman, to speak on “gender-based violence” at a vigil honoring the women murdered in the École Polytechnique massacre.

Preston, a “trans community outreach coordinator” at a sexually transmitted disease resource service, became the subject of widespread outrage on social media after he was interviewed by the Prince Edward Island branch of the CBC and claimed that trans-identified males were not given enough opportunities to speak on violence against women.

“For decades, trans women have been kept out of the conversation around gender-based violence,” Preston was quoted as saying, going on to assert that he intended to “speak about some of [his] experiences of harassment on P.E.I.” at the event memorializing the 14 women who were murdered.

After the article began to circulate, CBC P.E.I was so inundated with backlash they had to turn off their Twitter comment section. Johnstone defended Preston at the time, calling him a “hero and a champion.”

By Jennifer Seiland Jennifer is a founding member of the Reduxx team, writing with a focus on crimes against women and sex-based rights advocacy. She is located in the American south where she is a passionate animal welfare advocate and avid coffee drinker.

[youremyheaven]

The Internal Corrosiveness of Venus: Venusian Women & Self Harm

TW: self harm, abuse, suicide, violence, trauma

Claire had remarked that "Venus is internally corrosive whilst externally pleasant and Mars is externally corrosive but internally pleasant". This led me down a rabbit hole to try to understand whether this "internally corrosive" nature manifests as self harm & eating disorders and unfortunately, it does. Venusian women struggle with perfectionism and are extremely self-critical. Venusian energy is HARSH. Venus natives struggle to uphold a certain standard that they subject themselves too because if I'm being honest Venus is the OG "not like other girls girl", they believe they're better than others, and tbh in many ways they probably are but this also means they put undue pressure on themselves to keep being that way.

All Venusian naks are Ugra or "fierce" in nature and while I've talked about how Venusian violence and cruelty can be directed at others in my other posts, I think its worth mentioning how Venusians can be just as cruel to themselves. This is especially true of Venusian women as women internalise their problems while men wreak external havoc (like causing wards and killing people) but there are many male Venusians who struggle internally as well.

In ancient religions, Goddesses of love also had other functions or powers that had nothing to do with love

the Egyptian Goddess Isis was the goddess of love, healing, fertility, magic, and the moon. She was the goddess of life and magic, Isis protected women and children and healed the sick.

She was a great magician, whose power transcended that of all other deities.

The Mesopotamian Goddess Ishtar is the goddess of love and sexuality, and thus, fertility; she is responsible for all life, but she is never a Mother goddess. She is also the Goddess of War.

I'm using these examples to show that the ancients had a more complex and nuanced understanding of Venusian energy. One cannot worship love without understanding that "war" is a consequence of it. Love & war are not very different from each other. When someone believes in something and is willing to die for it, we find that to be very honourable. Sometimes this belief leads men to kill others over it and depending on the cause, we describe the war as "good" or "bad" (kill a bunch of fascists and then its a "righteous" war, if you kill innocent people, then its an unholy war etc). Being at a state of war describes Venusian nature very well since Venus is also connected to royalty and if you're born into royalty, you get to live a very "exclusive" very privileged life that few get to enjoy but the stakes are also that much higher since you could be beheaded or executed or exiled and live a life that is far worse than the average person.

In this post I want to explore how this "state of war" can manifest internally in an ordinary Venusian and contribute to self harm, eating disorders and drug abuse.

Bella Hadid- Purvaphalguni Moon & Rising

Bella has admitted to smoking since she was a teenager and getting a rhinoplasty at 14. Her pro ana Tumblr from when she was a teen is infamous at this point. She has never openly spoken about it but it is widely speculated that she struggles with an eating disorder and possible drug abuse as well.

“I was the uglier sister. I was the brunette. I wasn't as cool as Gigi, not as outgoing,” she said. “That's really what people said about me.” I also feel like Venusians grow up feeling really ugly and completely unaware of their magnetism. They only really grow into their looks when they're older (obvs there are exceptions) and I think being bullied for what they have and don't have are also big themes.

Demi Lovato- Bharani Moon

Demi has spoken about struggling with self harm, eating disorders and drug abuse.

Lovato said, “growing up, I had been bullied in school,” saying she “felt like an outsider," and "like an outcast,” but then she became friends with a girl who was popular. “One day, I asked her ‘how do you have all these friends?,’” Lovato noted, and the girl asked Lovato “do you party?" Lovato explained, "She asked me, 'Do you drink?,'" with Lovato saying that this was her first experience with drugs and alcohol, adding, “we experienced a lot of stuff together, drinking and using, and growing up.” Bharani being an outcaste nakshatra resulted in Demi feeling like one growing one :(((

Taylor Swift- Purvashada Rising

Taylor opened up about her eating disorder in her documentary

Lindsay Lohan- Bharani Moon

LiLo has struggled with self harm, drug abuse and battled eating disorders

Oscar Wilde, Purvaphalguni Rising wrote The Picture of Dorian Gray

The plot goes like this : An attractive Englishman's image is captured in a painting that keeps him from ageing, when he exchanges his soul for eternal beauty. But for every sin that he commits, his image in the portrait rots.

This is a very deeply Venusian story, and very specifically Purvaphalguni esque because Purvaphalguni is the height of Venus. It can be said that its also true of Venusians in general. They are outwardly splendorous, they seem to have it all together but inwardly they tend to be inflicting wounds upon themselves in order to keep it all together.

Johnny Depp- Purvashadha Moon

He has also battled eating disorders, self harm and drug abuse.

Iggy Pop- Bharani Moon

"THERE IS EXTREME, there is legendary — and then there is Iggy Pop. Beginning in his earliest days with the Stooges taunting Ann Arbor frat boys and small town Michigan folk, Iggy made an art of excess: self-mutilation, self-exposure and self-destruction. His risky theatricality required an audience to respond, participate or get the heck out of there. And the sex and violence hardly stopped after the show was over."- this is how Rolling Stone described Iggy Pop and tbh this is a very Venusian description

In 1974, at his first solo concert dubbed The Murder of a Virgin. "Do you want to see blood?" Iggy asked the crowd, which howled affirmatively back at him. Then, at Iggy's urging, guitarist Ron Asheton, wearing a Nazi outfit, whipped Iggy repeatedly. Iggy began hurling racial epithets at a black spectator, hoping to goad the man into stabbing him with the steak knife he'd brought onstage. No luck, so he closed the set by carving an X into his chest himself.

Marilyn Manson- Purvashadha Sun

He has struggled with self harm in the past (there are images online if you're interested) and in 2013, he tried to simulate self harm on stage by holding a knife to his wrist in the middle of a performance??

Christina Ricci- Purvashadha Moon

Ricci has said she suffered from anorexia as a teenager and was sexually assaulted as a child. “There was no discussion at that time about trauma, and about recovering from those things, about PTSD,” she said. As a result, she ended up “acting out and coping in ways that weren't good."

Robert Downey Jr- Bharani Moon, Mars in Purvaphalguni

its pretty well known that RDJ was severely addicted to drugs at one point and it started when he was a child and drugs was given to him by his dad:///

Megan Fox- Purvashadha Rising

"I have body dysmorphia — I don't ever see myself the way other people see me," Fox said. "There's never a point in my life where I loved my body, never, ever." "When I was little, that was an obsession I had of, like, but I should look this way,"

‘However, at a certain point, I went through some trauma in childhood and I developed a pretty severe eating disorder and manic depression, which runs in my family, so there was definitely some wrestling with chemical imbalance going on,’ she shared.

its interesting how so many of these natives begin struggling with these issues very early in life

Colin Farrell- Purvashadha Rising, Jupiter conjunct Ketu in Bharani

While he did not say that he had cut himself when he was younger, Colin Farrell had some self-inflicting behavior during his younger days. He spoke on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and said that he used to actually enjoy pulling out huge tufts of his hair. 

Pete Davidson- Purvaashadha Rising

'I used to bang my head against walls,' he admitted. 'If I couldn't deal with something -- if someone told me something sad or something I couldn't deal with I would bang my head against the wall, hoping I'd pass out because I didn't want to be in that situation because I couldn't handle that.

Melanie Lynskey- Bharani Moon

“I stopped throwing up, mostly. It took a while. But that was a big one. I had, for a very long time, been on this diet that was basically 800 calories a day, and if I ate anything over 800 calories, I would throw up,” she said. “I was never bingey. Sometimes I’d be starving, and I’d have another teacup of Special K. Then I’d be like, ‘Well, now I gotta throw it up.’”

Tila Tequila- Purvaphalguni Moon

On March 7, 2012, it was reported that Tequila had agreed to check into rehab after having reportedly "almost died" from an attempted suicide by overdosing on pills. The incident caused her to be hospitalized for a brain aneurysm. Tequila completed her rehab treatment on April 5, 2012.

Jeffree Star- Purvashadha Moon

images of him self harming once went viral

Till Lindemann- Purvashadha Sun

he's known for his SH scars and has even written poems about it in German??? its called "The poems: Knives on silent nights"

Portia de Rossi- Rahu in Purvashadha 2h

she's struggled with an eating disorder

Padma Lakshmi- Purvaphalguni Sun & Moon

"When filming "Top Chef," I consume about 5,000 to 8,000 calories a day,'' she wrote. "I typically gain anywhere from 10 to 17 pounds every season. Once I get home, what's taken me six weeks to gain takes me 12 weeks to take off. It's always a nail-biting extravaganza at fittings, praying that a few pretty dresses that came down the runway on a teenage model who is a size 0 will miraculously fit my 40-something body,'' she wrote. "Getting ready for the Emmys is always fun, and it's truly an honor to be nominated. But at the same time, in spite of my high metabolism, I worry each year that I'm not going to fit into anything nice. So, this year, I've decided my weight will not be my focus,'' she wrote. "If I need a bigger dress, so be it. That one day — or any day — on the red carpet isn't nearly as important as making sure my daughter doesn't measure her worth by her dress size."

i guess this is a more positive manifestation of Venusian self image struggles

Jessica Alba- Bharani Stellium (Sun, Mercury & Venus)

“I was meant to feel ashamed if I tempted men,” she said. “Then I stopped eating a lot when I became an actress. I made myself look more like a boy so I wouldn’t get as much attention.”

Katie Couric- Purvashadha Sun

“I wrestled with bulimia all through college and for two years after that,” she shared with Lovato while interviewing her, per Glamour. “I know this rigidity, this feeling that if you eat one thing that’s wrong, you’re full of self-loathing and then you punish yourself, whether it’s one cookie or a stick of gum that isn’t sugarless, that I would sometimes beat myself up for that. How do you have a healthy relationship with food, and say, ‘You know what, I can have one cookie and it’s OK?’ That is such a huge thing for people who wrestle with this.”

Zayn Mailk- Purvaphalguni Moon

 In his 2016 autobiography, Zayn, he shared it would sometimes cause him to go two or three days without eating a single bite of food. “Something I’ve never talked about in public before, but which I have come to terms with since leaving the band, is that I was suffering from an eating disorder. It got quite serious, although at the time I didn’t recognize it for what it was,” he wrote. “When I look back at images of myself—before the final tour—I can see how ill I was. The workload and the pace of life on the road put together with the pressures and strains of everything going on within the band had badly affected my eating habits. Food was something I could control, so I did.”

Zoe Kravitz- Purvaphalguni Moon conjunct Ketu

“I think it was part of being a woman, and being surrounded by [fame],” she said. “I think it was definitely about being around that world, seeing that world. I felt pressured.” After playing an anorexic character in a movie, she hit her lowest of lows and was so malnourished that her immune system shut down. Months later, she decided to make a change. “I just felt it was different,” she said. “I don’t know… if a f—king spirit came over me and said: ‘You have to stop.’”

Mel C, Purvaphalguni Rising

"When I was in the Spice Girls, the stress of suddenly being thrust into the limelight led me into an unhealthy relationship with food and exercise,” she told The Mirror in 2012. “I became obsessed about what I ate and I cut lots of food groups, like carbs and protein, out of my diet. I survived on fruit and vegetables and little else.”

Nicole Scherzinger- Mars conjunct Rising in Purvaphalguni

"I really struggled with feeling like I fit in. I even had a hard time feeling like I fit into my own skin. I was really hard on myself and had a lot of struggles with self-esteem and a lot of insecurities,” she said. “Later on, that resulted in me having eating disorders because of my body dysmorphia.”

if you're reading this and struggling, you're not alone. please get help!! its not too late to turn things around!! youre so strong and you can do this!!

[butch-reidentified]

As I discussed in my reply here, when I was impregnated through rape at 14, I had serious medical issues nobody knew about that easily could have killed me (and the "baby"). In fact, not only was it undiagnosed, but at that time virtually no doctors had even heard of what I had, let alone knew how to diagnose it. It wouldn't have been discovered until I was dead - and likely not even then!

Why have I never heard this talked about in abortion discussions? So many women and girls are walking around with serious medical problems that could make pregnancy a threat to their life or potentially permanently disabling. Some of these are probably like mine were then, where most doctors are utterly unfamiliar. All of these, and their undiagnosed state, are a direct product of medical misogyny. This alone should, imho, qualify the life of every single woman and girl as imperiled by pregnancy.

And as I also mentioned in that post, with homicide (male violence) as the leading cause of death for pregnant women, that should further serve as proof that pregnancy alone is a life-endangering condition.

Abortion for all with no conditions and state funding is the ONLY way to save lives.

*Edited as I was 14 when I had the abortion, 15 when all the other shit I disclosed in the linked post went down (the Catholic boarding school covering it up and what they did to me to make that happen)

[bi-disaster-yn]

Female Rage

Paring: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks it’s a success when the team manage to uncover a Hydra human trafficking operation targeting women and girls. Reader knows it’s only a drop in the ocean of patriarchal violence towards women.

A/N: This was very cathartic for me to write. I carry around all these feelings and fanfic allows me to outlet them. Thanks for being part of it <3

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This fic discusses systematic issues around violence towards women and has mentions of trafficking, sexual violence, domestic abuse and murder.

The sirens, the flashing blue lights, and all of the people around you overwhelmed your senses. Your body became a mere vessel which moved without any control or instruction. A part of your soul had died but you had to keep going.

All around you were women and young girls who, just an hour prior, were being held in a lorry and were being trafficked to a covert Hydra base. The purpose of the operation was an early stage attempt to revive the Red Room but with a team of you, Bucky, Sam and Yelena you were able to put a stop to it.

Having managed to track the lorry down to the specific coordinates, you infiltrated the mission. They had been driving on a long and quiet country road, seemingly hidden by the cascades of giant trees in an extensive woodland. A nasty fight with the Hydra agents ensued when you and Yelena caught up with them in an Audi, while Bucky met them head on with a motorcycle and Sam flew in and took the roof. It concluded with them being hauled away in handcuffs but you wish you’d killed them.

Then came the aftermath.

The scene seemed to be carrying on around you without any of your input, as though you could disappear and nothing would have changed. Government officials, policemen and ambulances had arrived to assist in getting these women to safety. You were supposed to be directing them to safe points, instructing the paramedics and police officers on what to do next but the more you tried to focus, the harder it got.

Each time one of the victims thanked you, it sent an ugly shudder down your spine. An abnormally large shaped lump swelled in your throat, rendering a response impossible. All you could offer was a solemn nod, which somehow, they managed to receive your true meaning. An unspoken understanding that could only be shared between women endured throughout all of your exchanges.

Bucky and Sam were still capable of focus as they liaised with officers and helped women, offering more words of encouragement than you or Yelena ever could. Every now and then, Bucky flashed you an encouraging smile, clearly proud of what you were able to achieve today. It was something you couldn’t return.

Ringing in your ears persisted and you flinched as more sirens arrived. You moved without purpose, trying to point in different directions to aid the girls to paramedics if they needed medical attention, and to a police officer if not. Even then, a peculiar feeling churned in your stomach as you stared at the officers, who were all men and mentally cursed that no one in the police department had thought to send any women to this scene. Effectively, it felt like you were passing these girls from one evil, male-dominated organisation to another.

A strong sense of injustice built up tension in your body, harbouring an overpowering reaction, which you were unsure if you could suppress for much longer.

The match in the powder barrel, however, was witnessing a girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 sheltering and comforting two little girls who were terrified and crying for their mother. At first glance, it appeared as though the little ones had no relation to her whatsoever. Yet, this girl had adopted this maternal role which she was far too young to accept. As soon as you saw them safely situated in an ambulance, you decided you couldn’t take this anymore.

Passing by everyone and ignoring calls from Sam, you stormed into the woods, descending deeper and deeper into the trees and the natural beauty of Mother Nature.

You couldn’t remember when you started crying, you just knew that tears streamed down your cheeks. The combination of the tears and the intense headache they brought blurred your vision. You brought your hands to your head and wailed, knowing that no one would hear you.

You thought about how those girls had now secured this trauma and although the Hydra mission hadn’t been completed, this ordeal would alter the courses of their lives forever. This would manifest itself in different ways in all of their lives. They’d never be able to live without the memory of this ever again, tainting their experiences, putting them on their guard, making them cautious of the world and what monsters harboured amongst the humans among them. Honestly, you preferred your chances against Thanos than the men that walked this Earth.

That very concept made you angry. No, not angry. Incandescent.

The lump in your throat was surpassed by a bloodcurdling scream, the sound of which was so terrifying that the birds from the trees desperately flew away in a flock.

It was the only sound that could be heard for miles. All your rage was buried deep inside these woods like it had been in your body for years.

At this moment, this is all you were capable of. You continued to scream despite the scratch it created in your throat, or the fact it had worsened your headache. There was just so much rage contained in your body and you needed to get it out of you, no matter what it took. It was a fury so specific; so intertwined with womanhood and the female experience that no cisgender man could ever comprehend it.

It was female rage.

You were in so much pain. While yesterday you had been wrapped up with Bucky under a blanket, watching TV, eating food, having sex, doing all the normal things one does in a relationship; somewhere else at the same time, this operation was starting. It wouldn’t have been the only one. You were having a carefree day with your boyfriend while elsewhere in the world, men were committing atrocities against women – whether at a systematic level or a domestic one.

You squeezed your eyes shut in aid of your screams. Still without any control, your limbs moved on their own as you started to violently kick and punch one of the trees. Any injury sustained from this frantic display didn’t matter to you. The harsh bark of the tree broke the skin of your knuckles and soon it was decorated with your blood. 

The screams and cries persisted as you channelled this anger into the assault of the tree. You were picturing those Hydra agents with the smug grin on their faces. You pictured the man that groped you in the club without your consent on your last girls’ night. You pictured the images of those incels you had curiously watched interviews with but had to turn your laptop off halfway through. You pictured the men who had refurbished the compound and had stared at you as you trained in the garden. You pictured every man who had ever questioned your ability to keep your emotions in check as a female Avenger.

You pictured them all and you desperately wanted them all to know how fucking helpless and infuriating this all felt. You wanted them to feel the weight of the world just as you had done from being a little girl.

Without warning, some force had pulled you back from the tree and had hauled you close into a smothering embrace. In spite of your blurred vision and your relentless howling, you recognised Bucky’s smell immediately as he held you close to his chest, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly together with his vibranium hand and using his flesh one to put your face in his neck. You struggled against him, feeling suffocated and not having abolished nearly as much fury as you needed to.

“Please, doll, please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bucky mumbled against your forehead, pressing several gentle kisses to it. 

Nevertheless, you still fought against him. But Bucky was too strong for you and even in the arms of your beloved, you were still trapped by a man.

“Bucky. Let. Me. Go.” You shakily told him with gritted teeth.

“I’m scared to, sweetheart. Your hands… look at them.” He sobbed back, clearly in distress. A quick glimpse at your hands validated his concern. The skin round your knuckles had been torn open and in amongst the blood and mangled flesh lay splinters and chips from the tree.

It wasn’t sore, but the rest of your body was.

“I don’t understand, doll. Did something happen back there to upset you? You saved those girls. We wouldn’t have been able to do that mission without you.” Bucky said gently, loosening his grip only slightly to cradle you lovingly, rather than to protectively restrain you.

It triggered a scoff and even further anger from you.

“That’s not the point! The point is it keeps happening! We saved those girls today, sure. But somewhere out there, another one of those operations is starting and more girls will be hurt. Those operations are going on round the world, Bucky! They want us to be slaves to them in any way they can think of – whether that is to be used as a weapon or for sex or as working mules!

And these men, they’re so fucking clever! They’re making this untraceable! And we won’t be able to save them all. It’s never-ending, we’re trying to scoop up water from the ocean!”

Whether you intended it or not, the words came out as a yell and Bucky let you go. Clearly, none of this had ever occurred to him and your fury scared him. Meanwhile, your hand gestures went wild as you spoke, your facial expressions became more animated. This was only the beginning as your thoughts continued to spill out to the unassuming and gentle man you loved so much.

“And this? This is worst case scenario! Every single day women are subject to the violence of men! We’ve saved those girls, right? And we’re gonna do what? Give them normal homes so they can walk about with their keys in their hands?! We handed them over to fucking police officers who themselves have a history of being violent towards women. The cycle repeats itself!

That’s not the end of it though, these men are in our homes with us. They are beating us, raping us, killing us. We can’t escape them. The good ones aren’t signposted – we just have to trust you and it is the biggest and deadliest risk that we all take.”

Bucky nodded along with you, processing your words and affording you as much space to speak as possible. At first, he was just relieved that you hadn’t resumed your beating on the tree. Then, he began to really listen to you and consume your words and your fury. It horrified him.

In truth, he always appreciated that there was a disproportionate tendency in violence to women and that the world existed on a patriarchal system and that some men were just sexist pigs. Admittedly, this had gotten a lot better than things were in the 40s. However, he had never truly really given it much thought or considered how to change any of it. That was just the way things were. How does one go about revolutionising an entire system? Especially one that appeared to be changing over time as he had suspected.

He took a step forward, holding his arms out for you in case you needed some sanctuary. It was an offer you refused, standing awkwardly and wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your mission jacket. Attempts to comfort you at this point were futile.

“I’m sorry, doll. I have never thought about it like that. I guess it’s because I’ve never had to.” Bucky began with a sympathetic look. “But you can’t do this all by yourself. You did something so good today and you should be proud of yourself for it.”

You sank to your knees, planting your palms in the dirt below you to try and restore some strength to your frail frame. He was right, but he’d never truly understand.

“I just feel so helpless, Bucky. I feel like I’m drowning and every time I put my head above water, someone pulls me back down again.” You explained with fresh, stinging tears. “I’m a fucking Avenger and even I can’t stop this.”

Bucky knelt on the ground in front of you with a sigh, knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t make this better for you. It killed him to see his girl so heartbroken and defeated while he could do nothing about it.

“Those girls we saved are going to tell you their stories and you’re going to be upset and you’ll cry for them because you know what it’s like on a human level to be captured and forced to do something you don’t want to do. But you will never understand this pain and fear on a systematic level like I do! To know that you’re inherently in danger just because you were born a woman. I need to stop it. But I don’t know how.”

This time, when Bucky took you in his arms, you let him. The early exertions had exhausted your body and now you were ready to bury your face into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and feeling safe. The venting had alleviated some of the pain but it still persisted, bubbling discreetly under the surface of your skin, ready to boil again when you were next pushed.

Bucky pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. He appreciated that there was nothing he could say to make you feel better. Instead, he offered himself to you as comfort to take from him what you needed. The real effects of your headache and bloody knuckles came into fruition and you clenched your fists to deal with the physical pain while Bucky rocked you in a comforting motion.

“Promise me one thing, sweetheart?” Bucky asked and took your hum as permission to keep talking. “Promise me that no matter how tough this all gets; you don’t let it consume you. You are the best person I know and I will follow you into any mission, battle or war for this. But please don’t hurt yourself over it or try and deal with it on your own. I love you, please let me help. Tell me how I can be better.”

You held him so tightly that you might crush him, grateful for his support and his pledge of allegiance to your cause. Blinking away tears that threatened to fall you nodded against his neck so that he knew you had understood him.

“I promise. And, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Just know that all this anger and hatred I have towards men and how they treat us never applies to you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Bucky held you there in that spot in the woods for what felt like hours until he eventually carried you home. Fatigue had overpowered your body but your brain was still active, already plotting and planning what you were going to do next and how you were going to use your Avenger status as an advantage.

You wouldn’t change the system overnight but you were going to do everything in your power to rally up as much support as possible. The pain and anger that was deep rooted inside you was converted to raw energy and you had the appetite to make a difference.

Female rage is a powerful thing.

[maslows-pyramid-scheme]

The household was fast asleep when the six men broke in. They sought out Sobia Batool Shah, 22, and one of them attacked her with a hatchet, chopping at her limbs in an effort to sever her legs. “He was relentless and must have hit me at least 15 times,” she says. “I screamed in pain and pleaded with him to stop, but he was like a man possessed,” she adds. “I even told him I will not seek a divorce.” Shah was attacked by men from her own family – including her father, Syed Mustafa Shah, her uncle and cousins – who broke into the house, in Naushahro Feroze, in Pakistan’s Sindh province, as “punishment” for refusing to withdraw her application to divorce her husband. ... “It’s all about power control,” says Dr Summaiya Syed Tariq, chief police surgeon in Sindh’s capital, Karachi. Syed Tariq, who also heads the Sindh police medico-legal department, has seen hundreds of women physically and mentally abused, raped, burned and murdered over the last 26 years. “We are nurturing abusers who are worse than animals,” she says. On an average day, the department receives reports of about six cases of sexual violence and 10 to 15 cases of domestic violence across the medico-legal centres at three public hospitals in Karachi. “In the case of sexual violence against minors, my assessment is that for every three cases that come to us, seven more go unreported. And I am not counting the dead bodies that we receive,” Syed Tariq adds. Gender inequality is a global problem, but Pakistan’s indicators reflect especially alarming rates of disparities and violence faced by women. According to this year’s World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap report, Pakistan is ranked second from bottom out of 146 countries, behind only Sudan. It ranked 164 out of 193 countries on the 2023-24 UN gender inequality index. Abdullah Lakhair, deputy superintendent of police in Naushahro Feroze, says the victim’s father admitted the attack, telling police his daughter had brought “dishonour” to the family by filing for divorce. She had asked the authorities for protection after her father threatened to kill her previously. “Earlier last month, the district judge had referred her to a women’s shelter, where she stayed for two weeks, but then decided to return to her mother. The incident happened soon after,” Lakhair says. Shah says her father had left her mother and siblings and cut all ties with them. “Had it not been for my maternal grandfather and my uncle, we would not have had a roof over our head all these years. How dare he talk about his honour being sullied by my divorce,” she says. Lakhair says Shah’s father is awaiting sentencing and could face up to 14 years in prison. The incident has sparked angry reactions from the public and civil society organisations in Pakistan. Anis Haroon, a women’s rights activist and former chair of the National Commission on the Status of Women, travelled from Karachi to visit Shah in hospital. She is sceptical about the case sparking any meaningful change. “Like so many harrowing incidents in the past, this will soon be forgotten,” she says. Pakistan has the laws but no “political will” to implement them, she adds. “The legislators think their work ends after laws are passed in assemblies. They fall short of putting efforts towards their implementation,” Haroon says. After the attack on Shah, her mother went to neighbours for help, thinking her unconscious daughter had lost so much blood she must have died. “After giving her immediate medical help, we sent her to Nawabshah, an hour and a half from here,” says Lakhair. “She had to be given 10 bags of blood, which the police arranged. She is in safe hands, for now.” Although her father is in prison awaiting sentencing, Shah has been provided with round-the-clock police protection in the hospital. “My father has been apprehended but his brother has been granted bail. I am very scared,” she says.

[bemyawakening]

HAYLOFT; chapter one

fandom: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Original Female Character short summary: Marzia Moretti, known as Siren, is one of the secret agents of the CIA, meant to deal with missions quietly and gather information. Not only did she work on her biggest mission for seven years, digging for information about the Sicilian Mafia which was running the most secretive human trafficking business, but she also did this to get revenge. Recently, she gets assigned to Task Force 141 in order to finish the mission once and for all.

translations of Italian can be found at the end word count: 3076 credits to the gif owner

warnings: strong language, descriptive violence and gore, 18+

The male gaze has affected the movie industry far too much, in her opinion. Jumping and squatting down in tight jumpsuits was uncomfortable, loose hair in a fight most likely would give you the disadvantage and not the opponent, and the seducing part? Lord…

            Her job was to seduce and kill and she mostly worked with a psychology based on men and women. Bringing back their survival instincts was the most important if she needed to wrap someone’s head around her. It was about showing enough cleavage to peak interest and not look suspicious and it was all about the way you present yourself.

            And she already had her target in sight.

            Well, the target was sitting on the chair, tied up not in the way he expected with a towel stuffed in the mouth so that he wouldn’t scream and be heard. It took her about ten minutes to interest him by the bar with the help of the pheromones that she got from the CIA, which were working fucking wonders and the man was glad to bring her back to his hotel room.

            So infatuated, he completely ignored that her Italian accent slightly slipped out while catching him, that she was slightly nervous, but that only proves that the rational mind will always lose against senses.

            “Allora,” Siren exhaled, placing herself on the table that was right in front of where the man was sitting. He was panicking, he wasn’t whimpering like a dog and begging for mercy – he was a fighter, only a really stupid one. “I know you won’t tell me where he is, since you all are sworn to protect his identity, but I’d like you to answer some questions about yourself.”

            The only reason she wasn’t speaking Italian was that Laswell was listening to that conversation in the earpiece since Laswell has openly refused to learn Italian since it was far too complicated and fast-paced.

            Siren could see that if the man would be without the towel in his mouth, he would be smirking and not screaming. That’s why she grasped the other end of the towel and pushed it out of his mouth, receiving a whine from him.

            “Testa di minchia!” The man groaned out and it only made her chuckle.

            “Just a few minutes ago you were calling me amore mia, what happened, huh?” The smile on her face was humiliating him since she knew how much men loathed to see women being better than them. She knew that with his eyes he was strangling the poor soul out of her body, but knowing in which business he is involved, he would much rather sell her for someone to humiliate her until her body can’t take it.

            The man in front of her was involved in the biggest human trafficking business in Europe and South America. All they knew, was that a Sicilian gang or mafia as they call themselves, named Torro were deeply involved in this. Their connections and little traces were splattered all around the world and the CIA was following all of them without any visible ending.

            Torro was playing with them and they were doing it precisely. Every day that was lost meant a woman or two kidnapped in half of the world. They were choosing their targets carefully, not wanting to strike chaos and too much attention on themselves, but by the information that the CIA has gathered the number of abducted women from ages 14 to 35 could be over thousands.

            Their boss was unknown going by the name of Luca Torro. The name was fake, he was basically non-existent. All of the captured members of the gang, just like the man in front of her didn’t utter a single word about him, taking a bullet into their brain was met with more love than saying who it was. It was admirable, really, she knew well that all of the mafias had little rituals and games that brainwashed their members.

            The man sat silently in front of her, smirking at her, watching the slit of her dress that revealed her bare thigh. The pheromones were still raging a war inside him with hormones, and she was barely close to him. She didn’t even know what was in that stuff that the CIA gave her and why it worked so well, but it definitely wasn’t one of those shitty perfume bottles from eBay, who claimed it was going to make men crazy about you.

            “Where are you from?” She asked, slightly twisting the towel in her hands while watching him.

            “Di Italia,” he replied, unbothered that she can inflict pain on him anytime, but she wasn’t even planning to.

            Knowing that Laswell will start complaining, she sighed, “In English, my love. Be a good boy and I’ll let you run off to your boss with your nose intact to your face.”

            “Look at you,” he scoffed, watching her as if she was a disgrace. “Working for the CIA like their little lap dog. With a face like yours, you could be doing so much more.” His accent was heavy, not trained like hers and it was making her slightly chuckle.

            Straightening her back, she gazed at the covered window before flicking her eyes back on him: “Dai,” she smirked, her breath getting stuck in her throat for a second, “do you seriously think a compliment will get me running to your boss and asking for his mercy so he could throat fuck me every night?” She shook her head, their brown eyes meeting together. “You think I’m an idiot?”

            “Yes,” he answered, the tanned skin of his was almost glowing in the dimmed light. “You’re an idiot for chasing us in the first place. How long have you been after us, huh?”

            “Hit him, Siren, he has gotten too cocky,” Laswell’s voice in her ear made her slightly roll her eyes.

            Violence didn’t mean shit to these guys and she wasn’t really an expert on torturing someone like some Special Forces. Her job was to seduce and kill, trying to get the information out. She didn’t have the time to leave him here for days until he pisses himself with a swollen face from her punches, begging for her to just kill him already.

            She got bits and pieces of information from their behaviour and their answers. How? By realising that all of the assholes with their ego through the roof had many flaws they were unaware of. The use of pheromones slightly took their guard down enough for them to relax and her calm tactic of interrogating would make them slip a word or two, unimportant to them, but valuable to her.

            It did take her long to catch all of these trails left by the Torro and it was a sensitive topic to her. But showing your enemy that you are flustered was the worst thing you could do. At this point, you should retire and get back to normal life. She wished.

            “When did you get accepted into the mafia?” She asked, ignoring the order of the Laswell.

            “Always been one,” he replied, nudging his head down, his nostrils flaring – he could still smell her on his clothes.

            It was always the same answer, whenever she interrogated them. Where are you from? Di Italia. When did you get accepted into the mafia? Always been one. What’s your favourite food? My mother’s lasagne. Where’s your mother? Dead. Always had the same answers and she knew them by heart, yet she was still hopefully going one after another, getting a small lead, getting stuck in the same circle.

            “Your interrogation skills are stupid,” he cocked his head to the side and now she wanted to hit him. “I got nothing you need from me.”

            “Perhaps,” she hummed, leaning slightly forwards. “Or maybe I don’t work for the CIA and I just enjoy killing men after I get my fill watching them tied on the chair, bad-mouthing me.”

            That possibility seemed to shut him up for a few seconds before he grinned like an idiot. God, this Italian mafia was getting on her nerves and she was one step from closing herself in a psych ward in order to have some rest.

            “We know the CIA is on us,” he stated.

            “We are not hiding that,” she deadpanned. “It’s a shame he is such a coward not to go out in the open to talk with me.”

            “He has no business with you.”

            Siren’s eyes slightly squinted, “He forgot me?” Her voice raised in displeasure.

            The look on his face was worth taking a picture of. She finally kicked the confidence out of him and replaced it with confusion.

            “Chi sei?”

            Of course, they didn’t know who she is. No one lived the tale long enough to tell the others who was she. A clean slit on the throat or a bullet in the brain was all that met them. That kind of job could be put on many organisations and from all of them, there was quite a number who were doing the job as she did.

            “Where are you from in Italy?” Siren asked, not answering his question as it didn’t matter to her.

            “Calabria.”

            “That’s why your accent bothers me,” she scrunched her nose.

            “There are incoming cars to the hotel from the backside. They were expecting us,” Laswell’s voice informed her, but she didn’t budge one bit. She still had time.

            “Sent for your friends?” Siren asked.

            “He never leaves us completely alone,” he said softly, almost proudly and it made her sick to the stomach.

            Moving to him, she positioned herself on his lap, feeling the way his body tensed underneath her, his chest rising heavily. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she straddled him and kept the eye contact that was making him slowly go nuts. Simple eye contact could make people go crazy. Once they start turning their eyes away from you, it means you succeeded in making them feel nervous. One quality about humans that really fascinates her is that they always want to be on top of what’s going on.

            Yes, the Torros seemed to be trained like a bunch of puppies to give the same answers and be unbothered, dying for a better cause. But no person could be trained to stay in the dark because human curiosity always takes the bigger part.

            The second thing humans, especially horrible people despised, was when the other didn’t react to danger. It made them feel like they finally met their equal – another sociopath. Clearly, the tied man didn’t understand why she was wasting time sitting on his lap instead of killing him and running away before she will get caught.

            “Do you find me pretty?” She murmured, not too far from his face.

            “W-what?” He stuttered, taken aback, his pupils moving down from her eyes to her lips.

            “I asked you a question.

            “Bedda Matri,” he almost whimpered, his eyes moving even lower, reaching her collarbone. “Sì! Sì!”

            “You’d drink Chianti with me? Go to the beach with me? Solo – tu ed io,” she was so close to him, watching the way his pupils dilated, watching her as if she was the finest meal.

            “Yes, I’d go with you,” he nodded, almost like a lost puppy and she put a smile on her face, reaching down into the cleavage of hers that made him gasp for air. But with a swift move, she grasped the towel and stuffed it into his mouth as she grasped the little knife, stored in her cleavage and she slit his throat with a very precise move, moving away so the blood won’t get on her dress.

            “It’s done,” she replied, wiping the knife into the towel in his mouth as the blood kept on coming, his eyes frozen in spot, little choked sounds leaving his mouth. “Approximate time?”

            “Thirty seconds. You know where to go. Use the back entrance. There are two at the door outside. You know what to do. Over and out.”

            Laswell’s orders were clear and she took off her heels, holding them in her hand as she left the room, hearing the distant footsteps by the stairs, so she turned to the other direction, moving into the lift and pressing to the floor one below.

            It almost felt like a game to her at this point. The adrenaline rushing in her veins was slightly blurring her vision, but it helped her to go faster. Going out on the third floor, she walked to the door leading to the staircase, hearing the footsteps moving above her. It was her sign to go.

            Quietly opening and closing the door, she moved downstairs to the ground floor, opening the door where the laundry was kept and walking straight, not looking back once. The few people passing her wanted to show their anger with her presence, but she had no time to spare them. Moving into the kitchen, walking through the slightly sticky floor with her bare feet made her nose scrunch, but she quickly flowed through the white cloud of uniforms opening the back door.

            The two men quickly looked at her and as they reached for their pistols to interrogate her, but she threw her little knife at one man hitting him straight in his throat as she lunged for the other, stabbing the heel into his eye as she covered his mouth that he wouldn’t scream. What a good day to not be wearing platforms.

            The breath got stuck in her throat as she felt her back ache – those two men were huge. But luckily one of them fell right by the dumpster and the other one, she took the knife out of his throat, watching the way his muscles were still spasming, hitting him with a heel right at his temple so he could shut down quicker.

            The rough pavement under her feet was making her wince, but she grabbed the man’s legs and huffed out as she pushed him closer to the dumpster, making a mental note to herself that she should work out on her arms more because this was getting too hard for her.

            Taking out a few trash bags, she put them all over them and she placed her heels back on her feet, making her way away as if she wasn’t hiding a bloody knife in her palm.

            To her luck, it was already dark and around the hotel, there were too many little alleys for her to disappear into. As she was getting near the meetup point, about five hundred meters from the hotel where Laswell should pick her up, with her peripheral vision, she noticed a figure behind her.

            Fuck.

            Walking faster, she made a sharp turn to the right into a dead-end alley, she moved beside a dumpster, hiding her figure as she heard heavy footsteps. Sounded like military footwear and not the gang. What the fuck was going on? Her missions were not interrupted by the Special Forces. They had no right.

            As the footsteps came closer, she suddenly stood up and extended her knife to a man that raised his hands in defeat.

            “Jesus Christ, kid! Thought I’d be getting a hug, not a knife to my throat,” the man wheezed in surprise, but his face was content with her action.

            Siren’s lips curled into a smile and she rolled her eyes: “Dio mio, Price!” She slightly laughed, pulling the knife away. “The hell are you doing in here?”

            The woman wrapped her hands around his neck and they shared their warmth for a few seconds before moving away.

            “Laswell told me I’d find you here,” he admitted.

            “In the middle of a mission?”

            “She said you’re late,” he stated, slightly raising his hands in defeat.

            “I still have time,” she shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what the time was and that dragging that dead body to the dumpster took quite some time. “Don’t come up at me like that again,” she slightly pointed the knife at him.

            “Wanted to see if you still got it,” he admitted, his rough voice slightly playful.

            “Piss off,” she rolled her eyes at him, but the smile didn’t fade away. “You don’t see me if it’s not necessary. What’s going on?”

            “What about that football game?” Price disagreed, brushing his hand through his beard.

            “Manchester United versus Aston Villa?” Siren deadpanned. “No offence, John, but I couldn’t care less about England playing football. And even after that game, you told me you needed me for a mission. So what is it now? Are you taking me somewhere fancy?”

            “See right through me, kid. Where did the time go?” He mumbled.

            “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

            “You up for Italian cuisine?”

            Her eyes lit up, only then realising that she was ravenous. “I’m choosing the place and you’re paying.” She turned away, slightly squinting her eyes: “And Laswell?”

            “She knows. Your evening is free.”

            “I’m all yours, John,” she hooked her hand through his elbow and he chuckled.

            The man chuckled as they made their way out of the dark alleys. “I got an offer.”

            “I’m on a mission.”

            The man walked silently for a bit, before speaking up: “We’ve been assigned to your mission.”

            Blood left her face and she stopped in her tracks before turning to him: “What?!”

            Price was already expecting this reaction, so he slightly shook his head: “Orders from above. They want us to take action.”

            “I’m not fucking ready yet—this… This took so long to prepare and I still need time!”

            “We got a lead from another source. We can finally put this down.”

            Staring at him, she almost felt betrayed that no one told her apart when the time came. Staying silent, trying to calm down and ignore how much time she has invested in this, she needed to know what information to have and if it was trustworthy. They couldn’t ruin this.

            “I need a fucking drink,” she mumbled, walking away from him.

            “I’ll take it as a yes.”

            “You are still buying it!”

            Price chuckled, “I thought it’d take you longer to convince.”

            If she wouldn’t say yes, she would be taken off the mission. That’s the least thing she would aim to do. Seven years working on his case in order to get even with them. Seven years in order to get revenge. She won’t give this up.

Translations: "Testa di minchia" - cunt in Italian "Allora" - well in Italian "Amore mia" - my love in Italian "Di Italia" - from Italy in Italian "Dai" - come on in Italian "Chi sei?" - who are you in Italian "Bedda Matri" - Oh my God/beautiful mother in Italian "Solo - tu ed io" - Alone - you and I in Italian "Dio mio" - oh my God in Italian

[dmbakura]

doing this meme with V cuz I FEEL LIKE IT WEHHH. warning for necrophilia, minor incest implications (with Bhaal) and SA mention 👍

1. vers-bottom, and very much a sub.

2. he's a dark urge so you can imagine violence and gore gets him off but even without the durge stuff he's still quite morbid. he has a bit of a silly side in bed too tho and if you can make him laugh (with terrible gallows humour especially) he's all for it. turn offs? uhh he doesn't really like chivalrous hero types at all and anything like that is likely to just make him really bored.

3. he's kind of a rapid fire cummer 🤨 lord have mercy that boy can squirt

4. his chest is pretty sensitive, especially around the scarring. his ears and neck as well

5. again, offering him gore, either killing someone/something or hell, even just talking about it really gets him going. but if you ACTUALLY want to get to know him, paying attention to his emotional needs and offering him a place to spill his thoughts and he's pretty damn easy lmao. he's not hard to seduce at all, he's quite lonely.

6. uhh pre tadpole, actually quite a lot. he kind of worked it into his killing schedule 💀 again, he's pretty lonely and doesn't feel safe with a lot of people so he only really found solace in dead bodies. post tadpole, after meeting Astarion, Abdirak, Halsin, etc he has way too many boyfriends to really bother with it at all

7. V would answer "yes". he probably likes riding the most, anything where his partner can touch him or look at him easily

8. 🧍‍♂️I don't really know if having sex with dead bodies counts as losing virginity. but anyways his first real sexual encounter with another person was at the temple of Bhaal. he got there late teens/early 20s and was curious and did it with another cultist

9. anywhere. bed, floor, sacrificial altar. he doesn't care and not much bothers him in terms of comfort

10. yep... it's not so much that he has an exhibition kink (I mean maybe a little) but he literally just doesn't care if he's caught

11. loud, extremely loud

12. ehhhm... I guess the closest thing is he learned a magic penis spell and uses it sometimes?

13. he *generally* prefers receiving. being a bhaalspawn, he's somewhat afraid of what he can do to another person, hence post tadpole he's pretty passive in sexual encounters with say- Astarion. however, he also has streaks where he REALLY wants to please his partner, so yeah i guess once he's more comfortable with his own autonomy he's more comfortable giving and being in control.

14. pretty often once he's with his boyfriends... you can imagine lmao

15. he wants to be understood, he wants someone to be able to handle him and make him feel like he won't fly out of control. he gets really comfortable when people take him seriously and pay attention to his needs. he's been neglected a lot of his life and he tries to portray himself as a mindless killing machine, but he really just wants to be known.

16. starved. he's a bit like Astarion in the sense that might come across as a mindless hedonist, but he really wants genuine connection and he's quite greedy for it when it's offered to him.

17. he doesn't have tits or a dick so idk what to put here 💀

18. pre tadpole: Bhaal. worshipping Bhaal. utter devotion to Bhaal... yeah he desperately wants the approval and love of his father and it comes out in really unhealthy ways. post bg3 if he somehow finds the time to masturbate he's doing it while thinking about either Astarion, Abdirak or Halsin.

19. he prefers men but he's open to pretty much anything else. I'd probably classify him as bi with a male lean. he thinks women are hot too and kind of laments he doesn't have many female partners 😔 maybe I should give him a girlfriend too.

20. pain REALLY gets him off. he usually likes being punished or rough treatment during sex, and then being thoroughly taken care of afterwards. specifically he likes his pussy being spanked. also likes being bitten.

21. currently doing an RP with him where he and Astarion sneak in Gortash's bedroom and have sex 💀 but honestly there's probably been weirder places

22. neck probably. V would just say "everywhere. kiss me everywhere."

23. he was sexually abused by Kressa Bonedaughter during his captivity in the colony. he only remembers this when meeting her again and he Doesn't Take It Well

24. as mentioned above, yes. Abdirak basically makes it a requirement when they have their penance sessions LOL

25. decently often. not really all the time tho. it just sort of happens when it happens

26. so V had? a weird experience with being trans? his self consciousness only sort of came into play AFTER he got bonked on the head by Orin and lost his memory. his senses got scrambled, he was kind of surprised (?) he didn't have a penis? so for whatever reason he got a bit thrown off about that and thought Astarion might be weirded out by it, even though Astarion wasn't. he was also really unimpressed when he got his period and just went "how the fuck did i deal with this again?"

27. V likes a drawn out session... so long, ideally.

28. as mentioned above, he has a silly side. I've drawn this with him cracking puns while Astarion fucks him as well

29. I've mentioned it before but Orin did his top surgery and it was part mastectomy and part murder attempt. he got some pretty sick scars out of it tho!

[sevensistersofsussex]

for the choose violence asks let’s go with 1, 8, 14, 17, 21, 23, and 25!

the character everyone gets wrong

Caroline or rather how some interpretations turn her into a perfect girlboss.

She had some relatable flaws.

Being jealous of her friend and being in a one-sided competition with her. Not having a filter and letting the insensitive, socially unacceptable things come out of her mouth. She was downright harsh. Not being able to keep a secret.

The whole "being a vampire made her better" thing is strange to me. She was still wildly jealous. With Tyler and that random party girl. With Stefan later when she thinks he and Elena are getting along too well?

I think the only thing that changed with her character is that the telegraphing of those scenes are done in a way to make it seem like she's a boss when in reality, she is still that insecure girl. Which is understandable and relatable. How many of us have insecure moments?

common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Some people act like the sire bond broke after Elena turned off her humanity and I think all that happened was she got a reprieve from it but every time we see her after she is tortured gets her humanity back is a moment when she's sired to Damon.

It's why she handles his death so differently than the other deaths she experiences. I think the sire bond was trying to drag her down with him.

that one thing you see in fics all the time

Reading mostly Klena, I see a lot of Klaus being obsessed with the bite mark he would have left on Elena and making him possessive over it.

there should be more of this type of fic/art

More rarepair art and fics! I honestly just love them. They aren't canon? Good. They barely had scenes together? Fantastic. They weren't even in the same show? Stellar.

On a real note, the thing I think I'm starting to pin down about my love of rarepairs is how creative you have to be to write them. There is no canon to follow. This is all from your own head and I eat it up.

part of canon you think is overhyped

Klaroline.

I just - don't really understand where the connection was supposed to come from. He put her life in danger to show Tyler the control he had over him and then heals her. And she's like "are you going to kill me" and he's upset that she thinks he'd be a monster on her birthday. And that made him like her?

Ultimately Caroline chose Stefan, the man she'd been pining for since the first episode despite his commitment to her friend and Klaus never really did much to pursue her. He wanted to be her last love but then just...meh?

It just seems people mostly like how those two actors look together and the chemistry they had. Which....the show is full of hot people. They all mostly had chemistry with each other.

ship you've unwillingly come around to

Forwood.

The vocalness of the KC fandom made me just want to turn my brain off for this but the more I think about it the more I like their early days. One of the rare friends to lovers ships that I enjoy. And I think a lot of it had to do with him being there for her with Matt and her being there for him with his supernatural journey.

They really could have been cute all the way through. Just a stable, supportive couple for the entirety of the series. I think it needed some stability in that way.

common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Elena is a crybaby.

And so what if she does cry a lot? So what if any of the female presenting characters cry? What is it about women crying that makes us point to them and claim they are too "emotional" as if it is a bad thing but when a male character kills someone's friend or relative because he got rejected that isn't "too emotional".

[actualadvocacybruh]

Gotta say seeing a rad fem call a post where an older rad fem told a 14 year old to shoot up her school to kill moids a “act of activism” is a level of disgusting I never thought I would see from even them

Yeah for those not in the know I’ve been fairly annoyed at rad fems cause their rhetoric targets minors, advocates for mass violence and they often speak about “radicalizing young girls” in their discords and posts on this site

One reblogged a post by a minor saying how she hated her male peers and responded by saying she should shoot up the school (the post is now deleted but it was still disgusting) and get rid of them for all women

We literally just had another school shooting here in the states so we take this shit seriously and as we should all know by now radicalized youth do in fact take their bs into their schools and often act violently

So no I have zero remorse or mercy for these scum that seek to turn your children into mass shooters for no other reason than they can’t get over their pathetic life and refuse to seek therapy

[placegrenette]

Why domestic violence (against women primarily) is a big concern in Kazakhstan right now.

I haven't seen a good informal roundup so I'm going to take a stab at one. As always, do not entirely trust your ignorant American narrator.

It's not that domestic violence hasn't been on people's radars previously–y'all might recall that way back in 2019 Ninety One took part in a campaign against gender-based violence led by the US Consulate General in Almaty–and there are a good number of grassroots organizations that I know nothing about and can't do justice to. (A coalition of 16 of them, the Union of Crisis Centers in Kazakhstan, gets mentioned in this 2019 Human Rights Watch piece.) But it seems to have exploded in the last week or so as a result of several high-profile cases.

Quite possibly the biggest, and ugliest, one is the murder of Saltanat Nukenova; her husband, Kuandyk Bishimbayev, has apparently been ordered to jail as the suspected killer. I think this case is getting a lot of attention because Bishimbayev was a well-known figure who was in government at 27 and who is now suspected of corruption (apparently his father was buddy-buddy with Nursultan Nazarbayev; the top article on Orda.kz right now is an article raising questions about his mother's wealth) and because he was rich (see previous clause; also, the argument that may have led to him beating Nukenova to death apparently started at their restaurant); but friends of Nukenova's are coming forward saying that Bishimbayev had been physically abusing her for years.

I say "several cases" because the translated introduction to the latest Zamandas podcast refers to three separate cases, but I only know of the Nukenova murder. Suffice to say it seems to be the tip of a longstanding, widely-known iceberg. Here's the translation of a Facebook post by Zhanna Muhmadi, whom Eurasianet describes as a "well-known lawyer":

I would like to remind you that in Kazakhstan they give a WARNING for intentional beating of wives! You beat her once, you get a warning, but the second time you can kill her. In our country, even for the murder of wives they gave 1.5 years. P.S. Sincere condolences to the girl's family. The most severe punishment for all murderers!

(Note that Google Translate rendered "You beat her..." as "You beat him," but I changed it; I suspect Russian has the same direct object for male and female third person.)

I've found translating timestamps useful in the past, so here they are for the most recent Zamandas podcast linked above:

00:00 Start of the podcast. Why are we recording this issue and important issues of domestic violence. 03:11 Terrible news of the past week. 07:08 About justifying comments and impunity. About Bishimbayev. 09:07 About manipulation in the media and blogging sphere. About Rashev. 10:59 What is known at the moment? 12:40 About silence. 13:56 Why do men hate women in Kazakhstan? 18:49 About rape in Taldykorgan. [note: this is harder to find information about, but apparently a high-ranking police officer in Taldykorgan has been detained on suspicion of rape.] 20:46 About the law on domestic violence and the inaction of the police. 24:04 “If you don’t hear girls, listen to men” 28:30 Why are men silent? 33:36 About n*violence and emotional tyranny. 37:20 About the incident with the security guard at the nightclub. 42:02 About misogyny. 44:50 About traditions and non-violence. 47:48 “If someone raises a hand against you, leave” 50:20 About education. 54:15 We as a society cannot forgive such things. 56:20 The problem of domestic violence does not have a social portrait. 58:14 About divorce and conviction. 01:00:02 About romanticization in the media. 01:01:03 About tightening the law. See something - say something. 01:04:01 About the relationship of law enforcement agencies to victims. 01:07:07 About male solidarity. 01:08:03 About the incident on the train and the conductors. 01:10:06 About the Don’t Be Silent Foundation. 01:12:51 About the situation in bars and spiking. 01:16:55 Conclusion.

The "Don't Be Silent Foundation," by the way, is NeMolchi (Не Молчи = "do not be silent" in Russian); I don't know if they're taking donations.

ZaQ and Alem both linked (in Instagram Stories) to a petition (machine translation) currently circulating that's calling upon the Kazakhstani government to take domestic violence more seriously and create stronger criminal punishments for it. (Alem spoke in his stories before sharing the link; unfortunately, as usual, I can't tell you what he said. @ninetyonekz translated the stories: one, two, three.) Orda has an article about the petition (machine translation) that notes that it was originally created in 2021 and basically went ignored for two years. The more cynical among you might say that domestic violence is this week's Current Thing in Kazakhstan, and the guys do not want to be seen as lagging behind. To be fair, I think Veronika has been publicly and privately acknowledging these issues for much longer; she linked to the petition as well, as well as to Dr. Aigerim Turekulova, who recently wrote about the health risks to Kazakhstani women and girls from interpersonal violence. Backup dancer Diana also linked to it, and wrote (if the machine translation got her caption right) about how her ex-husband was physically abusive, and people told her not to bother reporting it to the authorities, it would be a waste of time.

I don't know if this is going to lead to longer-lasting change. I sure hope so, but there's a lot of competition for We Need to Do Something About This right now, both in Kazakhstan and globally (a week or two ago a bunch of people, including I believe all of Irina Kairatovna, were raising money to help residents of Gaza City, and we haven't even gotten to the ArcelorMittal mine disaster in Karaganda last month). Also I would put the odds of a backlash as high. But at least something is happening. And since I suspect most of my audience is either against domestic violence or pro learning about Kazakhstan, it seemed worth reporting.

[spicywhumper]

@femslash-february bingo 2024 (dark edition): enemies to lovers 

series: untitles // rating: mature

trigger/content warnigs: blood, temporary captiviy, mental health issues, mentioned blood &amp; violence, arranged marriage, implied child abuse. whatever the fuck you call "forcing your daughter to pose as your son so you don't lose the throne".

01 –  Destiny

There’s fate, there’s destiny, and there are people meant to hate each other; people who meet across the battlefield but can’t bring themselves to draw the other’s blood.

02 – Royal

In a world built by men, first-born daughters don’t have the same rights of the firstborn son; sometimes she forgets her name’s the one carved in a tombstone, and that the reason she suffocates all the time is because if she’s not Krystian, than she’s nobody – and being nobody us dangerous when you do have a womb.

03 – Forest

The witch was collecting herbs in a cold winter morning when she found the bundle, impossibly, impossibly small, and a baby that somehow survived the night  that kills even the strongest men.

04 – Protection

It’s annoying, how he father will forget she’s a princess for everything but his insistence that she needs protection, a knight to be around her all the time; her, Prince Krystian, the best soldier that came out of the Royal training in years.

05 – Silver

Prince Krystian shouldn’t be here, it’s what her commander says, he’s the Crown Prince and he’s the second most important person of his kingdom. And he’s her prey as soon as the commander orders.

06 – Dark

Krystian is mildly surprised that the barbaric enemies of her kingdom allow women in their ranks, but judging by her tall and broad the one attacking her is, it’s probably because she can easily go toe-to-toe with the order tall and larger savage; she’s, luckily, the average size of her people’s male soldier, still easily defeated by the behemoth.

07 – Eyes

Krystian pretends she’s not mesmerized by silver eyes, moonlight eyes, definitely not human eyes.

08 – Compression

Her routine is to spend her day with her chest bind with tightly wrapping, hide in her quarters or private tent and take it off so she can breath; in the forth day of captivity, she’s lightheaded all the time and probably with some damaged ribs.

09 – Purple

Savina’s more worried by the purple and black on the Prince’s soldiers  chest than with how that’s definitely not your regular male chest.

10 – Silence

“Will you say anything,” she asks, exhausted, her chest and back hurting even if now she’s free from the bindings for the night. The savage in front of her, the one who gave her a shirt of hers that is large enough to hid most of the bulge just gives her  water and a bow of broth.

11 – Secret

She frowns at the way the savage lies without even looking like she’s lying, telling her commander that the only reason she gave the prince one of her shirts is because he’s injured (Krystian pretend she doesn’t want to hug her as a thank you).

12 – Sharp

It’s a full moon, she notices how the savage is restless, how fast she eats and how she looks jumpy, weird; the commander enters their tent, she bares her teeth at him, sharp fangs – mo than one set of canines, eyes shining brighter than ever; all he does is roll his eyes and tell her “please do not eat the prince”.

13 – Blood

“Why,” she asks one night, “because my father needed an heir”; because they’d make him sell me as soon as I bled, because it’s being his son or being a breeding stock.

14 – Water

The savage, Krystian won’t go a low as call her “Savina” or whatever. Guard the body of water as Krystian takes her bath; because I won’t let any of you see royal goods, she tells the men and women of her brigade, half of the men grunt, the men made disgusted noises.

15 – Cold

Savina watches the prince – the princess? – shiver, teeth clattering, and covers her with her own warmed blanket;.

16 – Touch

Krystian doesn’t know how it escaped from borrowing a blanket to standing close to curling up on Savina’s arms, but she’s not complaining when she has a warm touch to stop her from freezing to death.

17 – Joke

The savages joke about how Savina must be riding the princes dick for him to get this attached to her, Krystian is disgusted by the blatant show of “a woman needs to be fucking a guy  to be his friend”; Savina rolls her eyes and tasks him if that’s how he got into the position of member of this brigade

18 – Armor

Krystian’s shoulders are broad, well-sculpted, and she has been wearing a rather heavy armor since she was eleven – since her body started to reshape itself in a form too feminine for a prince; she’s so used to layers of thick leather and metal that it’s weird to feel safe without them.

19 – Predator

Savina’s a predator by nature, Krystian has been sure of that since she saw her coming towards he in the battlefield; she’s not ready to watch a wolf take place of her and bring a large buck to fed the brigade.

20 – Share

Krystian shares how the pressure of being the heir makes her feel small (how she’s desperate because how the fuck she’ll get her own heirs?); Savina shares sweet nothing, comforting words and keeps her own burden a secret – Krystian doesn’t like the feeling that it’s because it’ll hurt her.

21 – Sweet

Turns out that the enemy that was supposed to kill the Crown Prince brings her little candies, the woman turns into a giant wolf and is still the sweetest person she has ever met.

22 – Venom

In hindsight, Krystian finds it almost ironic that turns out Savina is the one holding her when the venom wrecks havoc on her body and changes her so deeply that she feels like a dead woman walking.

23 – Pink

Savina’s lips are pink, and soft, and warm, and everything Krystian shouldn’t be addicted to.

24 – Moon

Under the moon, all Krystian can think of is how she managed to get capture and fall in love with one of them; the answer, she think, is that it’s because they’re just in opposite sides, the devil is decided by who wins.

25 – Hold

Savina doesn’t think she can get used to the way Krystian curls up and relaxes on her hold, the so feared prince is just someone that hasn’t been held since she was a baby.

26 – Sword

The tip’s painted red, coming out of her chest, the wielder is dead before Savina’s knees touch the ground.

27 – Lonely

There’s something lonely about being a Prince, there’s something lonely about being a wolf without a pack – finding each other seems to fix it; (then there’s something lonely about not being allowed to die).

28 – Marriage

The issue with this marriage, Krystian thinks, isn’t that her wife is a bad person, not even that she still doesn’t know how to tell her “you see,  Myrian… I’m not a male and I do not have the needed parts to get you pregnant”; is that apparently Krystian’s not the only one easily charmed by Savina.

29 – Flesh

Warm and tender, under her fingers and under her mouth, Savina decides to not think about how delicate it is; she pretends she doesn’t know how sweet human flesh tastes (but she thinks Krystian knows what she has done before, and somehow still trusts her with her very human, very breakable body.)

30 – Mark

Krystian offers to watch over Savina during baths, as a thank you, the soldiers frown but don’t mind it when Savina says “I trust the prince”, she takes a sneak peak; Savina’s all muscles and smooth skin, and marks down her back that Krystian doesn’t want to think about what it means.

31 – Noise

The forest sounds are soothing, calm, Krystian misses them when she comes back to the castle – she learns in a few days that the noises of her home are too much for Savina, the other guards side-eye them when she lets the woman sleep on her quarters; she doesn’t think they need ot deal with a distressed werewolf.

32 – Glint

Many things glint: her eyes, her sharp canines, her chin when she lifts her head from her apparent favorite spot between Krystian’s thighs.

33 – Tears

When her father dies, she wonders why half of her tears feel fake; when Savina and Myrian hold her at night, she wonders why the tears felt more like relief than grief.

34 – Bird

“A little bird told me you’ve been eying my bodyguard,” Myrian just stares at her and smirks; a little bird also told her that better a bodyguard that can’t give the Royal Family bastard heirs than any other member of the Kingsmen.

35 – Father

Krystian’s supposed to Father a dozen children, the court says, since ‘he’s’ the only heir of the royal family, she wants to ask them if they can make her fingers suddenly able to impregnate women (Savina laughs at her face, pulls her closer and pats her head like she’s trying to mollify a dog – it works).

36 – Smile

They have different smiles: Savina’s a predators barely in disguise and Myrian a wolf in sheep’s skin; Krystian loves both equally, and also fears them because she’s not stupid.

37 – Devil

The man cries “devil!” when Savina’s teeth sink into his throat, she doesn’t care, not when he was trying to break into Myrian’s room, expecting Savina to have followed Krystian in a trip; Myrian laughs maniacally until she’s sobbing when it hits her.

38 – Night

Krystian lies that she has “tried to secure an heir” after every night of “genuine attempts at keeping my bloodline alive”; it’s pretty funny that they don’t find the silence suspicious.

39 – Seasons

Days pass, weeks and years, seasons change and Krystian keeps doing her best to visit both of the graves; she finds them again, again and again, different faces and different names; but she always comes back to where there’s nothing but bones turned to dust and smooth gravestones.

40 – Grab

The baby boy grabs her finger, he doesn’t seem scared that a stranger with blood-red eyes visits him at night; she wonders if that’s the good ending, that this version of Myrian is happier than the ones that came before.

41 – Summon

“I can’t fix your curse,” the demon’s blacker than black, “I can’t save you from your love.”

42 – Miss

When Krystian’s away from home, before she does befriend Savina, she misses something she never had; in hindsight, she thinks maybe her soul had been tethered to Savina’s since they were forged deep in the pit of the underworld.

43 – Spite

For the first few years, she survived out of spite – for her father, for the usurper, for the bloodsucker that bit her, and for how something greater than her cursed her like that.

44 – Spirit

“What do you see? When you look in the mirror,” the spirit, the hallucination asks, the mockery of a mx between Savina and Myrian, nothing, vampire’s don’t have reflections.

45 – Talk

The first time she takes time to talk to Myrian, she think it’s when she’s doomed to love her for the rest of her life (unaware of how long that is).

46 – Past

Savina doesn’t tell her about her past, but whispers to Myrian and she pretends she didn’t listen (and she pretends it doesn’t hurt that Savina trusts Myrian more than her.)

47 – Fever

Maybe she should have known she loved Savina right then, after the weeks of torture as the wolf fought to survive the poison, when she only could breath again when the fever broke.

48 – Double

There’s much more than double the pain when you loose two soulmates.

49 – Plan

When she meets Harlow, she doesn’t see the spark, the silver or the golden, she only sees normal human eyes; so her plan is to settle down with this human that doesn’t host the souls of people she has loved for centuries.

50 – Fairytale

It’s almost a fairytale, her story – meeting one in a battlefield, meeting the other under the duty of a Crown Prince, and never being free of them.

[bat-besties]

Who is Lili? (1.5)

Part two got quite long, so this 1.5 is going to focus on the time between Lili’s backstory in Cambodia and her appearance in the “current” continuity. It’s the most speculation-heavy segment as we only get one line about what she was doing. I’m also going to discuss her suddenly being an expert martial artist. 

CW: discussion of the real human rights violations in these camps, discussion of Cambodian cultural erasure, no graphic detail for either. 

It makes sense comics-wise for where Lili has been to be a quick line- but it leaves a gap in her story. What could she have been doing during this time? 

If Rose is 14 when Slade said this, that would be 6 years in a camp. (Lili would have left the camp in 1987 if this was 8 years before 1995)

Thai camps were referred to as “determent camps” because they were meant to “deter” Cambodian refugees from coming to seek a better life. They were poorly provided for and protected. In Site 2, the most populous camp, violence, rape and robbery were common from both the gangs within the camp and the Thai rangers meant to keep order.  There were dirt-floored hospitals and little schooling. In the dry season, water had to be driven in by lorries, and the few supplies brought to feed refugees entered the black market. 

To have stayed in those conditions so long implies that Lili’s wider family were killed/imprisoned and she had no contact with Slade, as either could have provided her a way out. She was totally alone. 

Giving birth with inadequate medical support and raising her baby alongside the threat of violence and without basic needs being met would be horrific. It’s no exaggeration to say that without her metahuman genes Rose was likely to have died in infancy. 

[Rose spending the first five years of her life in one of these camps is so massively psychologically damaging and it is NEVER mentioned or discussed. She would have been malnourished, witnessed violence regularly, and been told not to trust men with guns and uniform. No wonder she has issues with authority!]

Going back to Lili, the fact she survived this ordeal and kept her daughter alive through it is yet again testament to her love, strength, and intelligence. Based on her previous actions, I can very much see her being “princess to” others and providing leadership and negotiation with those in power. I think her fluency in English would be valuable for those hoping to get to the US, and I imagine she already spoke some Thai or if not would have an easier time picking it up as she’s already bilingual. Like the real adults in these camps, she may have taught in the makeshift schools, performed in basak plays and raised Rose on folktales, trying to pass on her culture to the next generation. 

There is something else which I think happened during this time - later on in the US we hear and see that Lili is suddenly an expert martial artist.

Now, Lili had no combat skills in her backstory, and martial arts in Cambodia are traditionally male-only so I doubt she learnt that before the civil war as a minor royal. The decision that once Lili is the owner of a brothel and not in sexual slavery she should suddenly have martial arts skills shows her transition from one stereotype to another - the lotus blossom to the dragon lady. 

Like the lotus blossom, the dragon lady is exotic, othered and sexually available, but she is a powerful villain rather than a love interest. (Lili is not a villain in the US arc, but she does wish to kill people and she’s allied with Slade, so she’s definitely not portrayed as a hero.) The dragon lady is not as weak as a lotus blossom trope, and for defying Western ideas of demure Asian women she becomes dangerous and amoral. She is a ruthless fighter, usually with a proficiency in martial arts - but, as in the panel above, her skill is sexualised.

The audience is not expected to question why Lili has this expertise- there’s an implication that when an Asian woman becomes powerful she magically gets martial arts skills. 

However, taking Lili’s backstory as-is from comics, I think the Thai determent camp is the most logical place for her to have learnt martial arts.

 Pol Pot persecuted men who practised traditional Cambodian martial arts like bokator, and many teachers fled as refugees or went into hiding. It’s possible that Lili made a connection with a martial artist in a determent camp, and he taught her enough of his craft so that she could defend herself and her daughter in this dangerous environment. Perhaps she was ahead of her time in being a Cambodian woman who broke gender roles to learn bokator and preserve the art Pol Pot tried to destroy. And perhaps it was those skills which kept her and Rose alive and safe until they made it to the US. 

Whatever happened, she and her women passed on self defence skills to Rose. 

Slade was never Rose’s first instructor - Lili was. 

After her mother’s death, Rose tries to repress all memories or thoughts of her to avoid the pain of her grief. The first time she’s able to think of her without breaking down is when she uses her mother’s teachings to protect herself. The moment is one in which Lili is able to protect Rose even after her death. 

Sources:

Report on overview of Cambodian refugee sites in Thailand (I didn’t go into it in the main post but she could be in any type but one run by the Khmer Rouge, and Site 2 or 8 are most likely. I discussed Site 2 in the post as an example with most written about it, not that she would have definitely been there.) https://policy-practice.oxfam.org/resources/just-waiting-to-die-cambodian-refugees-in-thailand-134989/

Article focused on daily life in Site 2 - https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1988-11-24-vw-202-story.html

Study from 1995 (the year this storyline is written) about intergenerational PTSD in Cambodian refugees in the US - https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/7559310/

Study from 1996 about PTSD in adolescents from Site 2  - https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/8714328/ 

Dragon lady tropes-

https://www.washingtonpost.com/arts-entertainment/2021/03/26/asian-women-hollywood-portrayals/

https://www.hercampus.com/school/american/the-dragon-lady-the-lotus-blossom-and-the-robot-archetypes-of-asian-women-in-western-media/

Bokator - https://intocambodia.org/content/bokator (note the use of amulets)

https://sankimsean.com/  - the history of the modern father of bokator

The Cambodian women learning bokator today -https://www.khmertimeskh.com/89481/female-bokator-martial-artist-challenges-gender-norms/

Taglist:

@sporkberries

@gnawingonwood

@mariniacipher 

[idolision]

Vasai Murder

Let's apply the knowledge of abuse I learnt from Amber Heard's supporters:

[The perpetrator excuses]

"I have a sad, SAD childhood!"

"SHE proposed to ME first!"

"I got her a JOB!"

"BUT, on job, she cheated on me!"

"I tried to end my life! Pity me!" Should have ended it.

The victim was 14 when the relationship started, a young age. There is an age gap of around 9 years.

The victim was killed after two weeks of break up. Trying to leave the abuser is when a lot of women gets killed.

The victim approached the police, they didn't pay attention to her allegation, next she's dead.

Don't bother listening to this criminal's bullshit. His conduct so far fits the pattern of abuse.

There is a VIDEO of how this criminal killed her. What do you mean 'alleged'?

For the Manipur video, I read a tweet of a swine, who shared a blurry video of a man being beaten, and was lamenting how male victims don't receive attention and things like 'Is it his fault that he wasn't born a woman to receive sympathy' or something like that---

THIS Vasai murder video DIDN'T generate national outrage.

Every few days, videos depicting violence surface on the internet. Muslim man being attacked by a mob, women being kidnapped, molested, dragged on street, dead woman lying on ground.

Most of these videos DO NOT send the nation into a frenzy. The Manipur video was AN EXCEPTION that sent a nation of 1 billion into fury.

If you think being born a woman is sooooooooo nice, you're more than welcome to be one.

[ukrfeminism]

Killed Women is a campaign organisation and network for bereaved families who have lost daughters, mothers, sisters or other relatives.

Violence against women and girls remains widespread and persistent throughout society, with a woman killed by a man every three days in the UK.

These senseless deaths shatter the lives of the family and friends affected, and leave women and girls feeling unsafe in terms of their wellbeing and safety – and a new campaign is aiming to combat that. 

Eleven bereaved families have come together to launch Killed Women, a campaign organisation and network for bereaved families who have lost daughters, mothers, sisters or other relatives to male violence. 

The network has a range of policy demands that they’re campaigning to change, which includes better education about domestic abuse and coercive control to improve the support and rights of the families left behind.

A statement on the organisation’s website reads: “Many of us have faced not only unimaginable loss but also huge failings from the organisations and systems that were supposed to protect, support or deliver justice – whether that be the courts, the police, social services, the media or any other institutions. We believe we have been let down by a litany of failures from public bodies and negligent inaction from successive governments. We want to make sure what has happened to us never happens to anyone else.”

The organisation adds that they want “as many family members as possible to be part of this campaign group so that our voices are listened to. 

“We want to work with families of different backgrounds and experiences to make sure we have laws and policies that protect, support and ensure justice for all women. We know that racism, prejudice based on disability, financial position or immigration status, can impact the abuse, violence or organisational failures women and families suffer.”

Carole Gould and Julie Devey are two women who’ve been campaigning to change the minimum sentence for domestic homicide since 2020. 

Gould’s 17-year-old daughter Ellie was killed by another sixth-former the day after she ended their relationship in 2019, while Devey’s daughter, Poppy, was murdered by her ex-boyfriend, Joe Atkinson, on 14 December 2018.

Since campaigning, a government review is officially underway and looking at whether a killer outside the home will face a decade more in prison than a murder committed in the home. At present, if a killer uses a weapon found in the home the tariff is 15 years, while one who brings in a weapon will get 25 years.

“When you tell people there is this 10-year disparity in sentencing, everybody is shocked,” Gould told The Guardian. “So let’s see the change. Let’s see these perpetrators properly monitored, let’s stop releasing dangerous perpetrators back into society, let’s stop allowing them to change their names. And let’s recognise that domestic violence and domestic homicide is serious, and it should never be treated as a lesser crime to anything else.”

Killed Women is also calling for public support in the form of a GoFundMe page to power their campaigning, which at the time of writing, has amassed over £5,000.

Donations to the GoFundMe will help families “elevate their voice and build this organisation, to create a legacy of change that ensures justice and protection for women in the future”.

[leeknowsnot]

it's mercy (serial killer!au i.n) MINORS DNI!!!

genre: murder

warnings: TW mature themes (minors dni!!), violence, sa, mentions of physical ab-se, dni if uncomfortable!!

disclaimer: this piece is, in no way, a mirror of the actual person. yang jeong in is the most precious maknae any group could ever ask for. this is also not a piece to portray the said idol's parents in a negative way. this was only made for literary purposes only.

note: serial killer au brainrot. NOT AN X READER. please proceed with caution!!

'A young male in his mid 20s, that was how she would describe him. He wasn't very tall nor was he short either. There was alacrity to his steps, even. His steps, unwavering. His gaze, piercing. There was something about how he dragged the axe through the ground subtly, emanating a low, yet haunting sound as he trudged after her,' the voice from the platinum TV announced.

"I was running for my life but my legs wanted to give up. I had a very tiring afternoon that day so I had less stamina," another voice spoke up, but this time it was distorted.

"I tripped on a wire and he heard me fall. Then, he started laughing and the dragging axe sounded louder and rushed as it dragged through the concrete. Then he swung the axe at me. It was dark so it was probably why he missed but he almost cut off my ear," the distorted voice spoke again.

It was both unnerving and out of place. The news mixed in uncontrollably with the calming, jazz music that emanated from within the wall speakers inside the establishment. It was a Wednesday morning so the café was mostly filled with just a few salarymen, women, and some students who have decided to cut classes for the third time of the week. Within the middle, a group of young adults sat. Cladded in white shirts, and ironed yet stained brown aprons.

A small, disappointed sigh came from the other end of the table. "Gosh, it's so scary to go out these days."

Another voice spoke, "I can't even go party with my girlfriend at the bar at night. She keeps on telling me she's scared to go out because of the recent women serial killings."

"Yeah, I'm worried about my mom too. She always has the night shift, I wish I could accompany her to work," another boy added, his chin resting atop his palm, a worried expression painted on his face.

A silence came between the group of males and the only noise that pulverized the empathetic nothingness. The sound of a grinding coffee machine.

They turned towards the other male who stood behind the counter, head slightly tilted down as his eyes were fixated on the small cup of cappuccino that he had been brewing for 3 minutes. "Hey, Yang Jeong In. It's the weekday, there aren't that much costumers. Come sit with us."

The younger male, Jeong In, only flashed them a smile. His cheeks reached up to his ears, and his eyes forming into half-crescent moons as he faced his co-workers. "You know I like to be productive, hyung," he said as the cup within his hand flown with too much frothing.`

Looking back 14 years ago, Jeong In used to have the same smile. When he got an answer right back in elementary school, he'd always flash that cheeky, innocent grin. Whenever the teacher would pat him on the head for a job well done, he'd smile. Whenever he would accidentally fall on his knees, he'd just stand up and smile as his knees bled. Whenever someone calls his name, he would smile. He always smiles. Yet, there was only one place that Jeong In never smiled.

His house.

It wasn't small nor was it big. In fact, it was cozy. It always smelled of pancake dough because of the neighboring bakery, and seemed to always emanate such a warm, welcoming feeling from outside the doorway. The 10-year old Jeong In would just stand there, clutching on the strap of his bag, eyes staring at the knob and would ponder over something for about 20 minutes. Eventually, he'd find himself walking into the place that he disliked entering.

He hated the smell of varnished wood by the living room. The lingering smell of air freshener sprayed inside the bathroom that got out and mixed into the open smell of newly cooked tteokbokki by the kitchen room, turning into a horrid mix of lavender and chili. The spotless cabinets and sink. Or even the cute little plushie he used to have as a child, sitting by the sofa. He hated it all.

Eventually, the silence within the four cornered house always be disrupted by the sound a loud slap from the second floor. Then the bedside table. Then a glass. It was always the same routine, the same order. And then his father's nagging would follow—no, he wasn't shouting. He was screaming.

When Jeong In was around that age, his parents fought a lot. Unfortunately for the young child, the argument between both his parents weren't only verbal. He wasn't safe from the physical beating either. Each day at school, Jeong In would show up at school with new bruises, lying through his smile that each bruise was gotten from a bad fall that he had whilst climbing the stairs. He took the beating, mostly. Even until now, he would always flinch or gasp whenever someone accidentally broke a plate or anything fragile. It traumatized him. And it went on for years for the young boy.

The moment Jeong In's father died from an accident, he thought he was finally out of the misery. His mother, especially. But then again, Jeong In had to check twice whether the one who was at fault was actually his father or the other.

By the time Jeong In turned 12, his mother started disappointing her own son as well. Each night was a different man, a different fee, a different name, a different face, and a different position. Whenever Jeong In was in his room, scribbling away today's pile off assignments, he'd hear the headboards from the other room followed by slaps of skin, and overlapping muffled voices of his mother, and another individual he'd never recognize. His mother became a prostitute. But that wasn't all.

Whenever he looks at them, he'd see her. He'd see the deep set eyes that looked up at him, pleading with tears and cried with her mouth, not just her eyes. He would remember how the black mascara would drip unpleasantly down her cheeks, or how her red lipstick smudged off her lips and how half of her blouse's buttons were missing. He would never forget the words she shouted at him. They weren't of ill-intent towards him but rather, her sentences begged him.

"Why?" she said.

Why, indeed? Jeong In would internally ask himself.

Why was the 20-year old Yang Jeong In standing above a pool of blood, glancing down at his mother? He would always ask himself the same thing over and over again. Why? But then, the blame would always shift towards his mother. He towered over her crawling form, eyes filled with pity.

"Why?" he would repeat. He takes his hand out of his pocket and bends down at his mother. As his fingers forcefully grip her by the jaw, he smiles once again. "Why was mother so irresponsible, bringing multiple men in the house and being so preoccupied with their girth rather than her own son?"

"Why was mother pretending I wasn't her son but a distant relative whenever a different man was at home? Is mother ashamed of her own son?" he asked.

"You—"

He cut her sentence off. "Tsk, tsk. Is mother being naughty?" He traces off his thumb at her lower lip as he stares at it. Jeong In lets out a small chuckle.

"...Why did mother do that?"

`It was unlike any other day. When the 17-year old Jeong In came home from school, the house smelled of cigarette and mixed with it was something else. As he entered, the smoke seeped in through his nostrils. He called out for his mother but got no response. The idea of a thief causing this crossed his mind but he immediately brushed the thought away when his mother's figure became visible by the kitchen.

"Mother?" he called out. Her head tilted towards him, hair disheveled in so many places and bags formed beneath her eyes. She whispered in response, waving her hand as a gesture telling him to come closer, and he did. Jeong In sat beside her as her hands cupped his face. From the corner of his eyes, he could see discoloration from her fingers and by the table were small packets where white powder spilled out. He repeated the word 'mother' again but with confusion in his voice. He never hung out with various people and only stayed with a single group, nor did he stay long enough at school to know what they were and not see the other kids sniff them through their little nostrils and go streaking around the streets at night, high on whatever substance they were in.

The woman strokes Jeong In's head. It was a contact that made him feel warm. Even before his father's death, she was never the affectionate mother towards Jeong In. Although she never raised her hand on him, she wasn't the type who'd go to her own son's bring-your-parent day at school. She was either too busy being beaten up by her husband or pleasing the same man who threw her on the floor multiple times with her body. She was a good wife but a horrible mother. Even now when Jeong In had immersed himself on the newly found affection from his mother, she was busy running her hand uncomfortably through his arm and on top of his thigh.

"Jeong In-ah, how was school?" she cooed, her voice an octave higher from her usual raspy voice that he had grown hearing. It was a tone he'd only hear whenever his mother was busy milking off a man at the other room.

He stuttered, uneasy at both her way of speaking and the way how her hand rested on his chest. It was the first time she ever spoke to him about school. "I-It was fine. I'm.. just a bit tired from soccer practice."

For a brief moment, he saw his mother lick her lower lip but as soon as he blinked, her eyes were fixated on his eyes again. "Jeong In-ah plays soccer?"

He nodded, hesitantly. He had been playing soccer since elementary and his mother did not even bother to remember each time he'd ask for permission to attend practices or soccer games at the neighborhood.

It went on for a few minutes. His mother taking her time asking her long due questions about how he was coping with school and his sports. But eventually, awkwardness and the uncomfortable conversation came to an abrupt halt when she started groping areas that made Jeong In snap away from her. His eyes looked at her with so much confusion.

Her voice cooed once more, taking her son's face between her palms.

"Jeong In-ah. Do you know how much mommy loves you?"

Her gaze pierzed through his puzzled ones, staring at them for more than a minute before she did the unthinkable. She crashed her lips at her own son's and forced herself through his teeth.

She tasted like meth.

It was unpleasant. He couldn't scream for help nor was he able to struggle. There was quite an amount of drugs that had gotten into his system the moment her face came in contact with his and in a matter of minutes, he was out of control of his own actions, bobbing his head and speaking groggily as he weakly pushed his mother's head away from his now naked waist. Only a string of "please stop"s and sobbed "mother"s came out from his lips as she made her way with him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  From then on, he was never the same again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  🔴 `Recording...`

"Jeong In-ah? Hmm... He's pretty cool. He's in the soccer team and he was always smiling. I think it's kind of cute," his classmate would giggle.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  He was never the same again, mentally.

"Jeong In? Um, he's very friendly. I rarely see him alone at school, he was always with a lot of groups and got along with everyone. I think he's a really fun guy."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  He despised her.

"Ahh, Yang Jeong In? I heard he's really good at soccer. He gets good grades too, it's kind of making me jealous haha. I wish I was good at stuff and be as good-looking as him too."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  He despised them.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  🔴 `Recording Ended...`

ㅤ

From across the room of flashing red and blue, he stared, a glass in his hand. The booming music from the club was loud enough to silence the loudest of whispers yet each gaze seemed louder than the music itself. A smirk crept upon his lips, eyes trailing towards her orbs and both their gazes lingering.

Eventually, they found themselves sharing the same cubicle. Lips intertwining with each other sloppily as their hands roamed at each other's body. There wasn't any affection that lingered between them. There was only lust.

She lusted for his body. He lusted for his objective.

She smelled like nitrites and she, no doubt, had more than one poppers inside her pockets. In the midst of her lusted absentminded mutterings, she always called him Minhyuk. And Jeong In responded to that.

He never knew her. They never had any proper conversations but he did hear from his friend that she was popular among the men. She'd step inside the bar and never go out empty handed. She always had a prize.

"She tightens up real good, man," his friend brags. Jeong In raised an eyebrow at him and chuckles in amusement.

"I can't believe you're such a pervert," he jokes at him.

"Tsk, this is why you're still single. Hey, Yang Jeong In. It's okay to think with your dick sometimes, you know? Some girls like that," he slaps his friend's shoulder.

Jeong In only laughs in response, "You're such an asshole, Minhyuk."

Minhyuk laughs, "I know right!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  But this time, she had the wrong prize.

It happened all too fast for her. Her lust drowned eyes turned into troubled ones once the sudden feeling of warm liquid dripped down from her neck. As she patted the skin to check what it was, she opened her mouth to scream, only to be covered by his hand.

"We don't want them to catch us, do we?" he spoke in a hushed tone, a calm smile gazing down on her as he held a calm expression at her state. It was only then she'd properly identify his face, devoid of the Nitrite's effect, and had come to realize it was not Minhyuk.

With his right, he covered her mouth. And with his left, he held a knife adorned with blood, lighlty dripping on his leather shoe. "Young ladies shouldn't be high on drugs at the bar at this time of night."

He slightly bended towards her eye level and whispered, "Didn't your mommy teach you about strangers and how you shouldn't take candy from them?"

He watched as her body went limp from the loss of blood by the slash around her neck. He watched as she coughed through her mouth and the concentrated liquid of red bubbled with a pop from the open wound and flesh from the cough.

Jeong In observed for a short while, staring at her now lifeless body and muttered under his breath before leaving. "Mother would be so happy I brought her a new friend."

The next day, Minhyuk had been reported to have taken his life by consuming multiple pills that spread throughout his table and the case had been closed with that statement.

It was his first rodeo. After the woman from the bar and Minhyuk, many other followed the list. His victims were always women who had history or recurring experience with prostitution or drug intake. Men weren't an exception though. Those who had indulged themselves in pleasure with prostitutes, or forced themselves on those who didn't want to eventually found themselves, lifeless in a ditch a few days later.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  He had messed up the day before.

As he took the hacksaw that he gripped with his right hand, a muffled scream came from the woman a couple of inches away from him. He was a narrow tunnel. The lights past the tunnel weren't working and only the one by the entrance was lit. It was around 2 am and neither car nor man passed by. He carefully slipped on a pair of silicone gloves, a smile adorning his relaxed yet eerie expression once more.

'It wasn't meant to mess up and just go smoothly, but she just had to pass by.'

The clopping sound of heels by the streets lightly pattered on the ground. Jeong In had his back turned by the street and was too focused on making his preparations to even notice the young woman who was tied down scuffle through the ground in an attempt to roll herself towards the light where the approaching individual would hopefully see her.

A woman in her early 30s, appeared. Bag slung on her shoulder and had most likely been overworked from the day's overtime that resulted to her walking the streets on the way home at such an ungodly hour. It was such a perfect timing.

She heard the scuffles, slowly stopping in her tracks as she squinted her eyes to adjust to the tunnel's darkness that was a couple of steps away from her.

As soon as the tied woman's face momentarily peeked into the light, it shook her. Her face was stained with multiple drips of black mascara and strands of her hair stuck on her wet cheeks that pooled with tears. She muffled a weak plead for help. By that time, Jeong In had already turned around, immediately pulling the woman's leg, out of sight and away from the light again.

The other woman shook at the sight before her. She stood, frozen. Not until Jeong In emerged from the dark tunnel, sprinting towards her with a hammer in his hand did she start to uproot herself from her position.

"Are you sure you don't recognize his face?" the reporter asked from the TV again. The woman's silhouette shook her head through the white fabric that covered her whole body from the screen.

"I was lucky enough to even be able to run away. I couldn't process what happened to me or what could've happened to that woman I saw in the tunnel. I was too scared to even think and eventually fell asleep. The next day, I woke up and went to wash myself but when I turned on the TV, she was already in the news. That couldn't have been anyone else, her body was found in the same tunnel I passed by last night. So I thought to myself, would I have been able to do anything?"

The former news flashed on the screen as she spoke. Most parts of it were blurred out but anyone could make up at least the mutilated limbs and the stomach that had been sliced open.

As soon as it appeared, the TV had been shut off with the sound of the remote falling on the table.

"They must be crazy, children are watching TV too. Even if it's blurred out, it's still inappropriate!" the other barista from earlier spoke.

"It's quite scary to think that the killer's still out there. How would the women even be able to go out at night," another guy added.

`They were wrong. He only targetted the prostitutes and those who had taken advantage of them. He wasn't doing anything wrong, he thought. In fact, they should be thankful.`

"You be careful at night too, Jeong In-ah. The killer might mistake you for a girl," his co-worker joked a little before shaking his head at the memory of the victim's body. "I can't even fathom the fact that the killer's still out there, murdering other people. It's brutal and merciless."

From beneath his breath, Jeong In muttered.

"It's not murder. It's mercy."

i just rewatched strangers from hell so i got this brainrot again

[1whitewitch1]

Leftist men will make offhanded jokes about Andrew Tate and jokes about porn and jokes about rape and they will giggle in their discord chats and they will tell feminists online to kill themselves and in their heads they will call us every misogynistic name under the sun. I know that this anger sits right under the surface with these men, because I've seen it in ALL of them. Push them a little too far and they will threaten to gutter stomp you. Or 🍇 you. Or doxx you. Or they will mock you with DV and sexual violence statistics.

What sickens me as well as the expected amount of men online is the women who are so brainwashed by gender ideology stuff that their pronouns in their bio are fae/faers or it/it's etc. I don't have an issue with pronoun usage (it's just virtue signalling or having a good complex at that point) in general, I'm just commenting on the fact that so many of them are women who use they/them and are so misogynistic and have so much internalised misogyny that they probably think they've dealt with. But they have not. And one day they will/might realise that and regret telling people to kill themselves online for wanting women safe. But today is not that day for most of them. Why are YOU telling me to go and buy rope and a chair? Why are YOU telling me to cut to the bone? Why are YOU fighting for males who would walk over your dead body in the street, and do - metaphorically.

Too many people online are literally still 13/14/15 and should not be engaging in these communities online in the ways that they are. Older people supporting hormone therapy, changing your body, it's okay to hate your body and want to change it, in fact that's empowering and radical.... 🤨

It is a saddening reminder of what their priorities are and who they care about. They want to line the pockets of big pharma and private institutions that profit off insecurities and literal children struggling with "gender" because of early access to the internet or they don't know about gender non conformity, and are supported by a bunch of adults (usually male) online.

It is painful and so saddening. Such a connected and beautiful community of radical feminists and radical learning feminists is constantly torn down by the other women we want to help.

Anyway I just needed a rant. XY make me very mad.