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oh-theres-a-woman · 2 years
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Alexia Giordano in Genius: Picasso (2018)
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oh-theres-a-woman · 2 years
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Words to replace said, except this actually helps
I got pretty fed up with looking for words to replace said because they weren’t sorted in a way I could easily use/find them for the right time. So I did some myself.
IN RESPONSE TO Acknowledged Answered Protested
INPUT/JOIN CONVERSATION/ASK Added Implored Inquired Insisted Proposed Queried Questioned Recommended Testified
GUILTY/RELUCTANCE/SORRY Admitted Apologized Conceded Confessed Professed
FOR SOMEONE ELSE Advised Criticized Suggested
JUST CHECKING Affirmed Agreed Alleged Confirmed
LOUD Announced Chanted Crowed
LEWD/CUTE/SECRET SPY FEEL Appealed Disclosed Moaned
ANGRY FUCK OFF MATE WANNA FIGHT Argued Barked Challenged Cursed Fumed Growled Hissed Roared Swore
SMARTASS Articulated Asserted Assured Avowed Claimed Commanded Cross-examined Demanded Digressed Directed Foretold Instructed Interrupted Predicted Proclaimed Quoted Theorized
ASSHOLE Bellowed Boasted Bragged
NERVOUS TRAINWRECK Babbled Bawled Mumbled Sputtered Stammered Stuttered
SUAVE MOTHERFUCKER Bargained Divulged Disclosed Exhorted
FIRST OFF Began
LASTLY Concluded Concurred
WEAK PUSY Begged Blurted Complained Cried Faltered Fretted
HAPPY/LOL Cajoled Exclaimed Gushed Jested Joked Laughed
WEIRDLY HAPPY/EXCITED Extolled Jabbered Raved
BRUH, CHILL Cautioned Warned
ACTUALLY, YOU’RE WRONG Chided Contended Corrected Countered Debated Elaborated Objected Ranted Retorted
CHILL SAVAGE Commented Continued Observed Surmised
LISTEN BUDDY Enunciated Explained Elaborated Hinted Implied Lectured Reiterated Recited Reminded Stressed
BRUH I NEED U AND U NEED ME Confided Offered Urged
FINE Consented Decided
TOO EMO FULL OF EMOTIONS Croaked Lamented Pledged Sobbed Sympathized Wailed Whimpered
JUST SAYING Declared Decreed Mentioned Noted Pointed out Postulated Speculated Stated Told Vouched
WASN’T ME Denied Lied
EVIL SMARTASS Dictated Equivocated Ordered Reprimanded Threatened
BORED Droned Sighed
SHHHH IT’S QUIET TIME Echoed Mumbled Murmured Muttered Uttered Whispered
DRAMA QUEEN Exaggerated Panted Pleaded Prayed Preached
OH SHIT Gasped Marveled Screamed Screeched Shouted Shrieked Yelped Yelled
ANNOYED Grumbled Grunted Jeered Quipped Scolded Snapped Snarled Sneered
ANNOYING Nagged
I DON’T REALLY CARE BUT WHATEVER Guessed Ventured
I’M DRUNK OR JUST BEING WEIRDLY EXPRESSIVE FOR A POINT/SARCASM Hooted Howled Yowled
I WONDER Pondered Voiced Wondered
OH, YEAH, WHOOPS Recalled Recited Remembered
SURPRISE BITCH Revealed
IT SEEMS FAKE BUT OKAY/HA ACTUALLY FUNNY BUT I DON’T WANT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD Scoffed Snickered Snorted
BITCHY Tattled Taunted Teased
Edit: People, I’m an English and creative writing double major in college; I understand that there’s nothing wrong with simply using “said.” This was just for fun, and it comes in handy when I need to add pizzazz. 
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oh-theres-a-woman · 2 years
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If you want to, I’d love a fic with reader deciding to go to Margate with Alfie once he tells her he has cancer, she knows it will be much healthier for him to be there so she tells him to finish up all his business in London and they leave. She tries to make each day memorable, she wants him to enjoy whatever he had left so she bakes with him, she reads to him while cuddling on the couch, she takes him on walks around the beach, she dances with him while the music plays on his record player, etc... but of course Alfie is a badass and yes, some days he’s too tired to move or eat but he still gets to live lol because I can’t handle too much angst, I need my fluffy ending :)
· Life In Margate ·
Author’s note: Ahhhh this request was too cute and I’m sorry it took so long, but I really wanted it to be perfect and sweet. I hope you like it and have a lovely day! ❤️
Warnings: bittersweet emotions.
·
The sea breeze hitting her face as the car neared Margate brought an immense feeling of calm she didn’t know she had been needing so badly. With each breath she took she became more and more convinced that deciding to come to Margate with Alfie had been the best idea she had ever had.
During the first few days there, Alfie was worn out and still recovering from being shot. Drug fueled hallucinations and strange pains tormented him for full days during which Y/n never left his side.
She would never tell him, but with each wince that fell from his lips, she felt herself dying a little. She remembered the exact moment she felt a timer being set on her own life when he told her he had cancer and each pain and medication served as a dreadful reminder that the unavoidable was coming. Creeping up on her neck slowly but steadily like a crocodile does on an unsuspecting zebra.
One morning Y/n woke up and felt immediately panicked when she didn’t see Alfie laying in bed.
“Elizabeth?” She called with an anxious voice to one of the maids.
“Where’s my husband?” She asked frightened once the young woman walked into the room in a perfectly collected manner.
“He’s having breakfast, madame” she said politely.
Y/n rushed downstairs “Alf?” She asked softly as she neared the terrace in which a nice table was set with an array of alluring foods in front of Alfie.
“I would have thought that me coming down for breakfast wouldn’t cause you an attack” he said lightly, a soft teasing tone lingering in his gruff voice.
“I  didn’t even hear you get up” she said drawing out a chair and sitting down next to him
“You seemed peaceful sleeping, waking you up seemed sacrilegious”
Y/n chortled a bit before helping herself to some toast and jam, her initial shock of waking up without him next to her, not having dissipated yet. She couldn’t shake off her own nasty voice telling her that it would always be like that some dreadful day.  
Alfie noticed it immediately and went to hold her hand in his.
“Im alright, treacle. Feeling much better today, maybe its all this fresh air”
Y/n smiled weakly and intertwined her fingers with his. “I told you it would do you good”
They finished having breakfast among joyful banter. The sound of Alfie’s voice, that day unburdened by tiredness made Y/n feel joy for the first time in a long time.
That night they basked into each other’s embrace as Y/n read to him on a couch adjacent to an open window. The sea breeze pouring from the window  along Y/n’s soothing voice and occasional caresses made Alfie feel he was in heaven.
“I love everything you bake for me, Alf, but really, you should know by now I’m dangerous in the kitchen” Y/n said when Alfie lead her to the kitchen one Friday evening.
“You just need some patience” he assured “plus it can’t go wrong when you have me here to guide you”
“Alright” she said giving in with a smile “but I refuse to take the blame if this pie turns out awful”
And so Alfie lead her through the whole recipe and when the pie was ready they remained in the kitchen eating it and fooling around till the first rays of sun began teasing the morning sky.
Life in Margate felt like life in an alternate universe. An universe that belonged entirely to Alfie and Y/n, in which the troubles and worries of the outside world couldn’t penetrate.
Between informal dances in the living room and tender kisses in the kitchen, Y/n was fast to ignore the cruelty of the real world.
It wasn’t till one day Alfie was too tired to get out of bed that Y/n was reminded that not even Margate’s magical air could make everything disappear. She stayed in bed with him that day, fed him soup and took care of him as he rested.
It took some days for Alfie to feel better again and when he did Y/n felt she could breathe again. When Alfie suggested talking a walk on the beach Y/n couldn’t help but be a bit worried.
“Are you sure?”
“I can manage a walk down the beach” he said tenderly.
And so they ventured to roam the seashore, which was something that always brought great peace to both of them. When they tired of walking they doped for sitting down to admire the sunset.  Holding hands Y/n let her head rest on Alfie’s shoulder with a soft sigh.
Days and then months flew by and had less and less days where he couldn’t get out of bed. His sick days seemed long gone, but Y/n refused to let herself dwell into that dream. She knew life wasn’t that perfect.
The sound of soft music began flowing through the small parlor one late evening as Y/n stood on the balcony looking at a ship sailing at a distance. Soon after, she felt Alfie’s rough hands take hold of her was it and softly turn her around.
She smiled up at him and threw her arms over his shoulders as he started swaying softly to the tune. Y/n followed along, giggling as she let him spin her around.
“You are a sight for sore eyes” Alfie’s voice rang through her ears causing a soft red tinge to paint her cheeks.
“You don’t look to bad yourself, Mr. Solomons” Y/n smiled in a teasing tone before letting her head rest against Alfie’s chest, which vibrated with a chuckle at her compliment.
“I love you, Alfie” Y/n confessed as she listened to the beating of his heart.
“I love you more, treacle”  
·
@nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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May I request a john smut in which, despite being the cocky beast that he usually is, he manages to get all gentle and intense when, after years of mutual pining, he finally makes love to ada's best friend who's younger and totally inexperienced. Idk I just need this to be fucking intense, like John suffocating his desire for ages and now finally indulging in his worst temptation and showing her what lust is... please i'll burn in hellll
a/n: first of all let me say: this killed me. like, it’s literally all i can think about. god help me. but thank you so fucking much for requesting this bc i liked it sooo much that i decided to make a mini series out of it with the help of my babe @stxdyblr-2k who was sweet enough to offer to ghostwrite on the series 🥰 and to all my other angels who requested fics, don’t worry i will get them done! just wanna give you guys the best quality work i can. my 1st priority are some tommy requests i got, as well as some michael ones after :)
love, abi xxx
whiskey business - john shelby x reader (1 of ?)
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warnings: nsfw! eventual smut, slow burn, john being sexy as all hell but also soft
John couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked into the Garrison, arm loosely linked with Ada’s, clad in a black lace dress that hugged you just right, he couldn’t stop staring. Even Tommy and Arthur had noticed, cracking some joke about him being pussy whipped. The words floated right over his head, his mind on one thing only. The last time he had seen you, you were barely eighteen, cheeks pink as you waved goodbye out the train window to Ada as she sobbed. Ada had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the two of you had practically been attached at the hip your entire lives. So, he consoled her, reminding her that university wasn’t forever, that you would be back soon enough. And back, you were, red-stained lips sipping at a glass of something that Ada had practically shoved in your face. You weren’t a girl anymore, black heels crossed at the ankle as you sat across the room in a booth, laughing as Ada waved her arms, telling some sort of story.
“Just fuckin’ talk to ‘er, John-boy,” Arthur’s voice cut through John’s train of thought like a sharp knife, and he focused his eyes on his two brothers sitting at the booth across from him, clouds of smoke from Tommy’s incessant smoking heavy in the air around them.
“Fuck off,” John returned as he stood, earning a chuckle from Tommy.
“That’s right,” Arthur shouted as John made his way towards the bar, rolling his eyes at his older brothers. “Make sure you show her a real good time, eh?” Arthur’s voice was soon drowned out by the crowd around John, as they parted to let him walk through. He didn’t even see them, his eyes trained on your smile. Fuck, you were pretty.
***
“So, then I fucking kicked him in the balls.” Ada’s eyes sparkled triumphantly as she recalled the time she’d incited a riot, managing to cause great injury to a certain part of a policeman’s body. She did so casually, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t control your laughter as Ada grinned, pleased that she’d been able to make you laugh. “Fuckin’ missed you, Y/N,” she professed, shooting the rest of her gin and gesturing at the bartender to “leave the fuckin’ bottle, already.”
“Missed you too,” you smiled back at her, happy to be back in Birmingham in the company of an old friend. London was beautiful, but lonely. There was something inside you that missed the dirty streets, the crowded pubs bursting with familiar faces.
“Had to come over here myself to make sure it was you,” A deep voice interrupted your reverie and you looked up to see none other than Ada’s older brother John, looking even handsomer than the last time you’d seen him, in a grey-three piece suit, a cigar hanging from his lips. You’d had the hugest crush on him growing up, and the butterflies swimming around in your stomach seemed to confirm that you still found the tallest Shelby brother irresistible.
“Hi, John,” You offered him a shy smile and scooched over as he slid into the booth next to you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but drink in the smell of his cologne, the various drinks that Ada had encouraged you to down making you press yourself closer to him.
“M’kay, if you’re going to fuck, at least wait until I’m gone.” Ada’s voice snapped you out of it and you looked away, a pink blush staining your cheeks.
“Says the one who managed to fuck three of my best mates before you left school,” John retorted, causing Ada to roll her eyes, shooting her whiskey and pouring the three of you another glass each.
“I feel like getting drunk, and I’m not doing it alone,” Ada announced, causing both you and John to crack a smile at her forcefulness.
“Good thing we took a cab here,” you returned, before shooting your whiskey. If you were going to have to stare at John all night, you thought, you might as well be drunk doing it. Wasn’t like he was going to be staring back.
***
Ada was shitfaced, dancing in the middle of the pub. Luckily, Isaiah had stepped in as her partner, making sure her stumbling didn’t cause her to trip and fall. Unluckily for you, this left a tipsy you and John alone tucked into a booth in the corner of the room, out of view. The conversation was friendly, and you were trying your best to keep your mind off the way you could see John’s forearms practically bulging out of his suit. It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, for him to walk around looking like that. Especially when you knew that he was probably fucking the latest movie star, or something. It was almost impossible for you to keep your head straight, yet you managed to keep it civil. However, you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting to his lips. God, they were so pink and looked so soft, it was unfair. You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how they’d feel on your mouth, let alone other parts of your body. Jesus, you were fucked.
A third of a bottle of whiskey later, you couldn’t help but let yourself slide closer to him, heart beating fast in your chest as you sat tucked into his side, his arm around you as you laughed at a joke he’d made, something about the stick up Tommy’s ass. Your eyes shone as they met his blue ones, his arm sliding down until his fingers were brushing against your waist, radiating heat into your skin.
“Y’know, I’d tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look tonight, but I think you already know that,” John rumbled into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your neck. Your breath hitched, and he noticed, a small grin spreading across his lips.
“You’re something else, you know that?” You shot back, a small smile threatening to take over your lips.
“M’not just sayin’ that. Couldn’t take my eyes off ‘ya, since you walked in.” John wasn’t kidding. For a second you didn’t know how to reply, staring up at him with a slight look of disbelief. The whiskey, however, had other plans, and had decided to respond for you.
“Can't keep your hands off me now." You smirked, waiting for him to escalate the moment, anticipation and liquor silencing the blaring alarm in your mind. God, you shouldn't want him as badly as you do.
"Can you blame me?" He muttered, dragging his fingers across the lace of your dress, tracing the pattern's loops absentmindedly, watching your jaw tense and lips part to take a gasping breath, your jacket having long vanished into the chaos of the pub. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, fingers twisting into his short hair. "Fucking come 'ere lass."
His strong arms lifted you onto his knee, gripping a thigh to help you balance, the friction of his rough hand against the stiff fabric pushing your dress up slightly. The need for more and the desire to know him completely intoxicated you far more than anything from a bottle; you'd never felt as though you were on fire from your drunk hookups. His fingers found the zip of your dress, tugging it down desperately, gripping the flesh of your exposed shoulder blades. A small groan erupted from your lips as you felt him chuckle below you, pressing a thumb to your lips to quieten you.
"John," you whined, pouting playfully against his thumb.
"I'll sort you out, I swear," He muttered, slipping his thumb between your lips. Instinctively, you sucked, locking eyes with him, his hand straying from your back to roughly grab your jaw, holding your gaze. "But if you're going to scream your 'ead off, we'll get caught."
"You wish you could make me scream, John-lad."
"Come off it, I could ruin you, Y/N." He stated, lifting your jaw, as though memorising the construction of your face, tone brimming with a cocky confidence only John could make attractive. "You want that?"
"More than anything." The words tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly, watching how his jaw tightened in response as you attempted to read his expression. He studied you for what must've only been a few seconds, but the moment passed so slowly, you could barely remember what it felt like to not be examined by his dominating blue eyed stare.
His grip guided your face to his, fingers tilting your chin so John's lips could brush against yours, before pulling you into a heated almost aggressive kiss, the straps of your dress barely grazing your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunching around your waist as he reached down your back to grab your bum in a firm squeeze. Your mouth gaped open in a gasp of pleasure, John taking the moment to run his tongue against your lips, gaining access and deepening the kiss. You were so caught up in the thrill of John's seduction that you hadn't noticed his hand suddenly pull away after moving your skimpy underwear to one side. You had instinctively ground your hips against him, he'd broken the kiss to let out a string of curses, complimenting you through his quickening breaths (“Fuckin’ wet for me already, aye?”), gripping your thigh. But as soon as he had pulled the thin silk from your thighs, the atmosphere shifted, his lip curling in frustration as his hands left your skin as though your flesh was suddenly scalding.
"John?" You prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time.
"It's getting late."
"What?" Your voice sounded high and whiny, you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so needy. It was embarrassing to be rejected by the man you've admired for many years, but even worse to be openly vulnerable and so pathetic in front of your best friend's brother.
Ada.
Oh fuck.
Realisation hit you, it was either that or the unholy quantity of alcohol you'd downed which turned your stomach. You had gone too far this time. It was one thing to flirt with John and desire him from a distance, it was an absolute betrayal to have sex with him, knowing Ada's insecurity about being used to get close to her gangster brothers- sex, power and politics. You had sworn during those tearful walks around the canal that you'd never hurt her. You couldn't do that to her.
Your sudden panic must've been obvious, you tried to stand up from John's lap, stumbling slightly, only regaining balance due to a sudden arm across your back, anchoring you upright.
"No one has to know. It's our secret yeah?" He muttered into your ear, his words comforting.
You nodded silently, the reality of the situation settling in. Your hands are shaking by your sides, John catches them, locking his fingers with yours.
"It's fine, now. Nothing happened yeah?" He stood up in front of you, his muscular physique looming before you, the creases across his torso reminding you that just a few minutes ago his body was under yours, he was breathless, needing your skin against his, desperate and vulnerable. "I'll zip you up. Turn around."
His hands dropped from yours to fumble clumsily with your zip, struggling in the gloom and fog of intoxication, he eventually succeeded, the lace clinging to the curve of your hips, waist, back and chest again. You wished it was him instead that was skimming your figure but you pushed the thought away with a simple, "Thanks."
"I'll walk you home yeah?" He offered, as he straightens your skirt and his tie, allowing you to fix his crumpled shirt collar and the row of shining buttons below his throat which you'd ripped open as he whispered dirty nonsense in your ear, smirking at how you arched your back and swore back at him through your moans.
"Isaiah already said he would, it'd be better for us both that way. You know how people around here talk." You replied, glancing at the mirror on the wall of the booth to quickly smooth your tousled hair. Despite only recently returning to Small Heath, you'd already encountered the rife gossiping and quickly realised your neighbour was incapable of minding his own business. "Nobody has to know, right?"
John nodded, disappointed but appreciating your rationale and quick thinking despite your state, "Right."
"Good night, John," You said politely, ignoring the tension in his tone and the sudden soft sadness of his eyes, turning your back and walking to the door. Back to the sticky dance floor, back to Ada, Isaiah, Finn, Tokyo, back to spilling drinks, ashing cigarettes, back to noise, safety and far from the man who made your morals vanish with the same lines he uses on probably every single one of his conquests. Fuck it. You were going to enjoy it, you sped up your pace in your heels, trying to ignore your shaking legs. You tried to ignore the guilty twang in your gut when Ada screamed your name across the pub and stumbled over, dragging some lad on her arm, pressing drunken kisses to your forehead and cheeks.
You couldn't help but look back to see his shadow sloping away into the darkness of the booths closer to the dance floor, being bullied mercilessly by his brothers you assumed. You watched him fake a smirk, take the knuckles to his brow from Arthur, snap an insult back to Thomas and settle into his rightful seat. You only shifted your gaze to Ada for a moment but when you looked back up, he was staring at you, jaw tense, icy stare burning into yours, arms folded on the table, the gold chains of his sleeve garters barely glinting in the dim light. He looked away but you could see his cheeks were flushed with blood even in the glow of the oil lamps.
Pretending nothing happened was going to be impossible.
***
to be continued!
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲 || 𝐭.𝐬.
pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader
warning(s): SMUT, choking, degradation, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, explicit language
word count: 1.7k
summary: lately, tommy hasn’t paid you much attention, so you get your revenge by flirting with michael. this leads to… other things
a/n: special thanks to @inureflower @deepdonutkid @slutforsalvatore @peakyblinderswhore @quindolyn @randomoutsiders and @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for helping me edit this!
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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Dancing with the Devil: Part II
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Part 1
Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader
Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.
The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!
Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)
Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing
Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed
@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan
_____________________________________________________________
You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.
When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.
How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.
“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.
“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.
His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.
Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.
Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.
It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.
You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.
His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.
“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.
He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”
Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.
“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.
With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.
“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”
“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.
He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.
Yes, you urge him, come on, now.
And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.
“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.
It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.
“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.
“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.
In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”
You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.
****
Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.
“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.
“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”
The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.
It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.
****
“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.
“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”
“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.
It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.
You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.
“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.
“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.
Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.
“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.
“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.
“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”
“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.
“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.
“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”
“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.
“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”
Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?
“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.
“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.
“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”
You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.
“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.
“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.
“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.
“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”
You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.
To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.
There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.
“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”
“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”
*****
You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.
Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.
“Was it good, then?”
A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.
“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.
“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”
You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”
“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.
“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”
“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”
You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”
“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”
“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”
The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.
“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”
The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.
“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”
He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.
You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.
“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”
A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.
But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.
“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.
“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”
“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”
He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.
You don't look back to see if he follows.
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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#RIPHelenMcCrory
“Actually, I’m looking forward to being 50. Because to me, that’s when a woman is at the pinnacle of her femininity and her womanhood.”
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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Rest In Peace Helen McCrory.
A true icon of our time, a sad day indeed when I heard of her passing after battling cancer.
I have been lucky enough to have watched some of her most iconic roles in film and TV such as Harry Potter and Peaky Blinders but what I admired most about Helen McCrory was her charity work and support. A true legend of a person. She will be sorely missed.
In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan;
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.
Our God, heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain,
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty —
Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom Angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.
Angels and Archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But only His Mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.
What can I give Him,
Poor as I am? —
If I were a Shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part, —
Yet what I can I give Him, —
Give my heart.
In the Bleak Midwinter by Christina Rossetti
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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Thank you for the tag @theshelbyclan​ 💖 Honestly, this was super fun playing around with and totally recommend for anyone. 
Tagging: @amys-small-world @fandom-fucking-shit @peakascum @hinagiku0 @peakyblinded @peakyblindersgifs
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real me vs. fantasy me
thank you @lunamooney2406 for tagging me!!!!! 💕 this is the coolest tag game I have ever seen!!!!! tagging so many people because this is really fun and now I want to be fantasy me for freaking bad!!!! She's way cooler than I will ever be!!! @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lotzrickards @moonlit-imagines @emcon-imagines @locke-writes @tiannawashere @fangirlsarah16 @smallheathgangsters @peakyxtommy @supervalcsi @biscottibitch @swanimagines @cactiem @murswrites @randomfandomimagine + anyone else!!!!!!! 💜💖💜💖💜💖💜💖💜
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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Heaven has just gained on hell of a bad ass. Rest in Peace Helen. Forever and Always, the only, Polly Gray.
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Helen McCrory on Cillian Murphy: “On set my best friend is Cillian. We’re always talking to each other about music. That man has an encyclopadic knowledge of very cool bands.”
I would pay a lot of money to hear their conversations between takes. Brilliant duo.
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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This Australian had become shortly accustomed to the business run within the four walls of the Garrison, in Small Heath. On such short notice, she'd come to town, like a windblown somewhere in the wind.
Dorothy Helen Townley found herself here with little to nothing. A small bag of things. One of which were letters accumulated from the war. On plump lips, ushered a promise to look out for a lost love's father. To protect him, in a way, his son couldn't in death.
So, here she was. Dorothy's honey-brown eyes took in the sight of the patrons that graced the crowded bar. Everyone there was from all walks of life and various business.
Harry had run her through things. When certain people came, things were on the house. No questions were to asked. She needed to keep her head down for such men.
Men with peaked caps. Decorated at the edge with razor blades. The Peaky Blinders, Kings of Birmingham.
A group of people that remind of her... Of a far distant past. Where sand was red-orange and stained slacks she wore. A home where the slouch hat protected her from the harsh sun. The family she found amongst brothers, miners and gangsters.
A lifetime that ended with the beginning of the World War. Where final words were only scribbled over pieces of paper, and laughter in moments long gone. Could never be bottled like scent.
God, she missed them. Her brothers and fiance. There were times Dorothy wonders if they waited for her. If she'd ever feel someone's love again like she did with Ralph. She had done her share of terrible things, after all.
Pacing the counters, Dorothy shared laughs with men. Filled pints and jugs with all sorts of liquor. Women were out for the night it seemed, as well. Making for a shrill amount of noise. By no means, was she like most of the girls from London.
Dot was pretty in the face, skin smooth and full. Almost plump in cheek, ruddy from the work that night. Spike and mild heat from the collection of bodies in one small pub. Her dress was a simple cream that complimented her skin tone and headpiece. Make-up brought out the vivid brightness to her eyes.
She had been in the middle of clearing a table when a stranger approached her. Golden hues lifted to the stone-cold, almost dead eyes.
"I don't suppose many would have," her answer was soft over the bustling life around her. Placing glasses on the tray. Her accent warm and inviting. Thicker than the richest of creams. "Haven't been in town for long at all, merely started the job a week ago." Dot admitted with a laugh. Trying to offer some explanation as to why an Australian woman would even be in Europe, in the first place.
"Do you want the table?" Dorothy gestured to the clear space. Back straightening and her posture held tall. Even for a young woman so small. It seemed she could stand above her height. A rare trait in most. Let alone in front of Thomas Shelby.
@justafairytailofinnocence
All I hear now is the screams of the men I've killed in the past the war and even along the lines Buisness. Its all about Buisness to me what can I say being the leader of a gang isn't the most glamorous of things in this world but sure beats alot from being in the war.
If your wonderin who I am the names Tom Shelby a gang leader that runs Birmingham. I have two other brothers that work beside me. I'm mostly feared due to my status of being intelligent and witty. No one crosses Tom Shelby...no one.
Tommy woke up with a sore back since the nightmares never ended of well seeing the ghost of grace and all the dead men. He could've sworn even Alfie appeared at one point to shoot him but that ended quickly.
He pinched his temples with the tips of his fingers and then decided to head out I'll spare you the details of well the boring content. You know getting dressed and having a shower before looking at the reflection of the past that haunts you. He doesn't really talk about that stuff to his brothers and for good reason they don't need to know.
He heads out of his mansion before grabbing a cig that was his iconic trademark the cig which lingers in his mouth inhaling and exhaling the scent of decay.
He arrives shortly to the garrison after a car ride still he remembers when the pub was close by when everything was well...to him normal he still had grace and everyone seemed almost happy but now he felt lost like a man trapped in the past. Grace changed him he didn't care if she was a spy he loved her but now that's all gone.
Sometimes he shutters at the thought of that night. He sat down at the bar full of rowdy men nothing out of the ordinary. He kept that stone cold face with the cigar lodged in that was until he noticed someone unfamiliar. He kept staring at the stranger confused "what the hell is a woman doing in a hellhole like this" she looked more classier then any of the wemon thats seen here mind you they were prostitutes. Hm seems a while ago he needed a good shag to forget the hell he was in.
Eventually he looks at the woman wondering if he should approach. He decided to see what she's like after all beats talking to a brute or a hooker. He slowly approached her with no bad intent and asks "scuse me don't bieleve I know you round ere" he asks with his eyes stone cold.
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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Blood Doilies; Part Nine
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A/N: it's been a while since I updated my writing of any sort. This is something quick I whipped up tonight. Not the best but I'm still hoping people enjoy it. Sorry for how long it took me. I'm thinking about the next part being the last part. Purely because I want to work on finishing other stories and starting new ones. Giving other characters love. Making more the Peaky Universe and writing them.
Taglist: @zodiyack, @itsfrancisneptun, @hesagod-notyet, @amys-small-world, @smallheathgangsters, @hinagiku0, @dylanlover24, @amirahiddleston, @a-dorky-book-keeper, @theamuz, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @rosiemaisworld​, @queencoraline3​
Parts: [ 1 ], [ 2 ], [ 3 ], [ 4 ], [ 5 ], [ 6 ], [ 7 ], [ 9 ]
Word Count: 649
A singing bird, landing on the roof of the caravan, stirred you awake the following morning. For a tangle of limbs lazily, a hand swept through untamed locks of bed hair. Dreamingly looking down at the man who laid by your side. Hair in his face, chest bare exposing the light dusting of freckles across his shoulders. Little features—you did not even know about last night. Something so intimately hidden by the moonlight. Now revealed to you naked eye under the glory of the sun peaking through the caravan’s little window.
Last night. The memories flickered through your mind as if they were vivid dream. Almost unbelievable. Not for a moment had you ever pictured such a thing happening with Thomas Shelby.  But here you were. Happy and contented. Settled in watching him sleep for a short moment. Goosebumps beginning to kiss up the tender skin of your nipple. Making the peaks harden in the morning cool. Blankets bunched over any further indecencies.
 Stretching to release all the tenses from your body. Tommy rolled onto his side, lazy arm curling around your waist. Grip fastening on the curved expanse of skin, covering your waist and hip. “Don’t get out of bed yet,” Thomas said with a voice thick and full of sleep. One eyes barely open in the morning light cast soft across his face because of your movement. No longer sheltering him from that light.
 Exposing the pale scarred skin to you in it is in entirety. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Said a voice that you did not recognise as the mask worn over the last few years—with your husband. It was light. The lightness that you found with Tommy. Just in the soft and slow moments. After last night—you felt like there was a new chance to life and love. In a way it did not seem at all possible.
 Leaning down, your lips brushed against the chap of his. Smiling at the roughness. Tommy’s lips moving against the edge of your jaw. Warm and inviting. It was almost impossible not to imagine what would happen next. Bodies meeting once more, furthermore waking you and Tommy entirely. Sweat clung to flesh and the smell of sex was thick in the air. If your hair wasn’t anything remarkably like a bird’s nest before; it was now.
 Laughing as if you were high on the release and gitty feeling deep down. Safety measures didn’t seem too high on your list momentarily. It just felt raw, real, and beautiful. Things you truly desired for a long time in a partner.
 This had been the start of something between you and Tommy. Time together started with days or nights when work didn’t hold such a demand. An extraordinarily little pocket of normal for the head of the Shelby family. Where for even only for a moment he could be just a man.
Arriving in Birmingham again; already late afternoon. There was just a fluttering of Euphoria still causing through your body. Even when it came to seeing your children after the first night away, since possibly the youngest was born.
Collectively, you kissed their head. Their little brows frowning at the motherly affections. Terribly—was the way you would describe missing them. Though, the night away was nice. A little break amongst the chaos. You were certainly sure that Tommy needed such a break too.
 Thomas. Tommy. Tom. At night it made him lay there awake. A promise burning heavy into his mind. That he would not let any risks come to you. Not to you. Not to your children. Or now, the baby that he fathered that night in the field. Growing within you.
 The child that came to him in a dream. Which came true with the doctor’s confirmation and continuous swell of your belly.
 This was nice. It was what was needed.
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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‘All right, I want it known, if anyone calls her a whore again, I will push the barrel of my revolver down their throats, and blow the word back down into their hearts.’
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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‘She’s here by my side, and she says, “Don’t trust these people.” Now give me permission to kill the priest.’
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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US Helplines:
Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696
Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433
LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255
Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386
Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743
Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438
Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673
Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272
Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000
Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253
Child Abuse: 1-800-422-4453
UK Helplines:
Samaritans (for any problem): 08457909090 e-mail [email protected]
Childline (for anyone under 18 with any problem): 08001111
Mind infoline (mental health information): 0300 123 3393 e-mail: [email protected]
Mind legal advice (for people who need mental-health related legal advice): 0300 466 6463 [email protected]
b-eat eating disorder support: 0845 634 14 14 (only open Mon-Fri 10.30am-8.30pm and Saturday 1pm-4.30pm) e-mail: [email protected]
b-eat youthline (for under 25’s with eating disorders): 08456347650 (open Mon-Fri 4.30pm - 8.30pm, Saturday 1pm-4.30pm)
Cruse Bereavement Care: 08444779400 e-mail: [email protected]
Frank (information and advice on drugs): 0800776600
Drinkline: 0800 9178282
Rape Crisis England & Wales: 0808 802 9999 1(open 2 - 2.30pm 7 - 9.30pm) e-mail [email protected]
Rape Crisis Scotland: 08088 01 03 02 every day, 6pm to midnight
India Self Harm Hotline: 00 08001006614
India Suicide Helpline: 022-27546669
Kids Help Phone (Canada): 1-800-668-6868
FREE 24/7 suicide hotlines:
Argentina: 54-0223-493-0430
Australia: 13-11-14
Austria: 01-713-3374
Barbados: 429-9999
Belgium: 106
Botswana: 391-1270
Brazil: 21-233-9191
China: 852-2382-0000
(Hong Kong: 2389-2222)
Costa Rica: 606-253-5439
Croatia: 01-4833-888
Cyprus: 357-77-77-72-67
Czech Republic: 222-580-697, 476-701-908
Denmark: 70-201-201
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Finland: 040-5032199
France: 01-45-39-4000
Germany: 0800-181-0721
Greece: 1018
Guatemala: 502-234-1239
Holland: 0900-0767
Honduras: 504-237-3623
Hungary: 06-80-820-111
Iceland: 44-0-8457-90-90-90
Israel: 09-8892333
Italy: 06-705-4444
Japan: 3-5286-9090
Latvia: 6722-2922, 2772-2292
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(Singapore: 1-800-221-4444)
Mexico: 525-510-2550
Netherlands: 0900-0767
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Russia: 8-20-222-82-10
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Switzerland: 143
Taiwan: 0800-788-995
Thailand: 02-249-9977
Trinidad and Tobago: 868-645-2800
Ukraine: 0487-327715
(Source)
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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Finn Shelby + 5.06
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oh-theres-a-woman · 3 years
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