#Brics+6

[scienza-magia]

Alla ricerca di nuovi equilibri economici mondiali

Brics+6 e G7, due giganti a confronto. L'ampliamento del gruppo preoccupa l'Occidente soprattutto dal punto di vista economico. Dal 1 gennaio 2022 i Brics (Brasile, Russia, India, Cina, Sud Africa) includeranno altri sei Paesi: Argentina, Egitto, Etiopia, Iran, Arabia Saudita ed Emirati Arabi Uniti. Un ampliamento massiccio che preoccupa l'Occidente soprattutto dal punto di vista economico, dopo i puntini sulle 'i' messi, in toni trionfalistici, all'annuncio dei nuovi 'acquisti' dal Presidente brasiliano Lula da Silva: i Brics+6, ha affermato, "rappresenteranno il 36% del Pil mondiale e il 47% della popolazione dell'intero pianeta". Ma solo per ora: una ventina di altre economie emergenti, ha aggiunto Lula, hanno già bussato alla porta chiedendo un possibile ingresso. L'ampliamento, soprattutto per Pechino e Mosca, ha per obiettivo la competizione economica (col dollaro) e quella politico-finanziaria (in istituzioni internazionali riconosciute come Imf e Banca Mondiale) con l'Occidente. Chi sono i due blocchi in lizza? È veramente possibile compararli? Brics e G7, la storia I Brics: nascono nel 2001, con l'acronimo coniato dall'economista Jim O'Neil di Goldman Sachs per indicare facilmente quattro destinazioni economicamente 'attraenti' per gli investimenti: Brasile, Russia, India, Cina. Nel 2006, i ministri degli Esteri dei quattro Paesi, a margine dell'Assemblea generale delle Nazioni Unite di New York, formalizzano il gruppo BRIC che si sarebbe incontrato annualmente.

Nel 2010, con l'ingresso del Sud Africa, il gruppo "per rafforzare il coordinamento e le consultazioni tra i cinque principali Paesi in via di sviluppo" e per rendere più rappresentativo l'ordine mondiale dominato dall'Occidente, diventa ufficialmente Brics. G7: il Gruppo dei Sette, ovvero delle 7 maggiori economie del Pianeta (Canada, Francia, Germania, Giappone, Italia, Regno Unito e Stati Uniti) nasce a metà degli anni'70 come foro di coordinamento informale economico e finanziario, sulla scia della crisi del sistema di Bretton Woods (basato sui cambi fissi tra valute e sulla centralità del dollaro) e della crisi energetica del 1973. Il G7 fu istituzionalizzato più tardi, negli anni '80, con l'ingresso del Canada e dell'Ue in qualità d'inviato permanente alle riunioni. La sua missione è quella di facilitare iniziative macroeconomiche condivise dal Gruppo, definire risposte rapide in caso di crisi economiche, monitorare gli sviluppi mondiali. Il peso economico, finanziario, militare, politico e industriale del G7 è storicamente ritenuto d'importanza cruciale su scala globale. Le popolazioni a confronto I Brics: secondo le statistiche disponibili (statistica.com, dati 2021) la popolazione combinata dei BRICS è di 3,24 miliardi di persone (40% circa della popolazione mondiale). In termini demografici il peso di Cina e India, entrambe con oltre 1,4 miliardi di persone, fanno la parte del leone. I BRICS, ad accezione della Russia, sono anche i Paesi con i tassi di natalità più elevati del Pianeta. Dal 2024, con circa 404 milioni di abitanti dei nuovi Paesi membri, la popolazione dei Brics allargati arriverà a contare oltre 3 miliardi e 600milioni di individui sfiorando il 48% degli 8 miliardi che abitano il Pianeta. Il G7: la popolazione delle sette maggiori economie non arriva neppure a 700milioni di individui fermandosi, esattamente, a quota 772 milioni (dati World Bank, 2020), neppure il 10% della popolazione globale. Del Gruppo, alcuni membri come Italia e Giappone sono in piena decrescita demografica. Le loro economie Brics: secondo dati IMF/statistica.com le economie attuali dei Brics valgono in termini aggregati circa il 32% del Pil globale (20 anni fa pesavano poco più del 15%). Si nota tuttavia che il Pil cinese, da solo, pesa più di quello degli altri partner messi insieme. A livello nominale, il Pil combinato è di 26mila miliardi (dati 2022)ovvero il 60% del Pil combinato del G7, dato che rende il temuto 'sorpasso' dei Brics ancora parecchio lontano. Brics+6 i nuovi membri aggiungeranno altri 3mila miliardi al Pil dei Brics portando il dato complessivo a sfiorare i 30 mila miliardi di dollari ovvero. Per misurare a colpo d'occhio il peso relativo del nuovo gruppo basti dire che il Fmi ha stimato la crescita mondiale a fine 2023 a 105 trilioni di dollari.

Gli Usa, da soli, quest'anno dovrebbero essere confermati la prima economia mondiale, con un Pil previsto di $26,9 trilioni e la Cina dovrebbe rimane al secondo posto con un Pil previsto di 19,4 trilioni di dollari. L'unico soprasso sicuro sarebbe, sempre stando alle stime, quello di Nuova Delhi, candidata a diventare la quinta economia mondiale, su Londra. G7: secondo elaborazioni Ispi basate su dati della Banca Mondiale, il Pil combinato delle prime economie pesa ancora almeno il 46% di tutto il Pil globale (una decina di anni fa, tuttavia, il G7 da solo rappresentava il 66% circa del Pil globale). La contrazione del peso economico relativo dei Grandi nel decennio non oscura comunque il dato del Fmi secondo cui il Pil nominale del G7 ammonta a 45,1 trilioni di dollari, mentre quella dei Brics si ferma a 27,8 ovvero circa 30 trilioni, sempre secondo stime del Fmi, dopo l'allargamento del 2024. Il sorpasso? Le statistiche e, in generale, i numeri possono essere lette in diversi modi e interpretate secondo diversi obiettivi. Comparando i due blocchi sulla base del Pil nominale è evidente che il sorpasso resta una prospettiva, nel migliore dei casi, di medio-lungo termine. Gli esperti in materia riconoscono che i Brics+6, specie se continueranno la loro campagna acquisti, andranno seguiti con grande attenzione. "Se il coordinamento dovesse funzionare, la sua massa critica, a livello politico, potrebbe avere un ruolo sempre più determinate nell'orientare le decisioni di organizzazioni internazionali come Onu, Fmi o Omc", come osservato da Gianni Castellaneta già Ambasciatore italiano negli Usa. Considerando il Pil a parità di potere d'acquisto (sempre secondo dati del Fmi) la fotografia però cambierebbe decisamente i suoi connotati perché in questo caso i Brics, anche senza i nuovi sei membri, hanno già contribuito al 31,5% del Pil globale, rispetto alla quota del G7 del 30%. Gli economisti sottolineano, tuttavia, che il Pil a parità di potere d'acquisto è utile per analizzare la crescita di un'economia rispetto al proprio mercato interno, in base ai propri tassi d'inflazione, ma non per ponderarla rispetto agli altri Paesi, soprattutto alla luce del fatto che le economie odierne sono 'aperte'. Un nuovo ordine mondiale, fine del dollaro? Fanno parte dei Brics+6 Paesi con crescite molto diverse fra loro e diverse visioni politiche ed economiche. I cinque di oggi, e ancor di più gli 11 di domani, divergono anche sui grandi obiettivi da perseguire. Il presidente cinese Xi ha invocato una riforma della finanza internazionale lasciando intendere che i tempi siano maturi per istituzionalizzare un'altra valuta forte oltre il dollaro, una sorta di moneta unica dei nuovi Brics. Ma anche su questo tema, sostenuto con diversa intensità dai Brics stessi, il Gotha degli economisti è stato piuttosto 'tranchant': le strutture, troppo diverse, delle economie emergenti renderebbero del tutto impraticabile allo stato attuale l'idea di una valuta unica o dell'internazionalizzazione del renminbi cinese. Alla luce delle difficoltà economiche cinesi, della contrazione conclamata del Pil di Mosca, del debito e dell'inflazione galoppante argentina (solo per citare alcuni fattori di 'fragilita'') fanno apparire remota anche l'ipotesi di sostituire il dollaro come valuta per gli scambi internazionali. Non da ultimo, sempre secondo il pensiero 'main stream', la prospettiva di una eventuale integrazione economica e finanziaria dei cinque, oggi, o degli undici, domani, è poco più di una chimera. Read the full article

[moony4pads]

*voice of a girl that zonned out 2 hours ago and does not now what is going on*: I Sleept 0 hours last night and is totally functioning

[vyzz-undercover]

[Squad Damocles/f!serf]

(11,000 words) (OOPSIEEEE MAXED IT AGAIN)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•intercourse [M/M/M/F]

•oral sex (m & f receiving)

•discussions on the codex

•discussions on reproduction

•essentially a bukkake

•vaginal fingering

•dubcon (via power imbalance)

•definitely size kink

•mild fear elements

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i live despite god, cato chapter 6 will be coming soonish ANYWAYS PSPSPSPSPSP heeeeere kitties kitties!!!! @moodymisty, @mothiir, @sinistermojo, @kit-williams, @primarisly-marooned, @thevoidscreams, @the-raven-lady, @lemon-russ, @blasphemme, @grimdark-raccoon, @pluvio-tea, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond, @ma1dmer, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @scriberye, @sinistermojo, @undeaddream, @historitor-bookshelf, @vivacious-hyena, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan. If you want on or off lmk!! I HAVE BAD MEMORY ILY!! ALSO SPECIAL FUCK YOU TO MY DEAR @triassicnautilus WHO IS TO BLAME FOR THIS FIC!!

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It is by no means an offhanded consideration.

Your familial line and ancestors have served the highest echelons of the great Angels for hundreds of years, and yet—of all of your far more worthy, servile kin—you're the first in generations to be sequestered to a new voidship.

It's terrifying.

You're not even sure if you're being demoted in status, because you drift between duties like they hadn't really planned to have you just yet.

When the head serf of the Barge finally has you delegated to a Primaris—it is to Lieutenant Demetrian Titus, of Second Company.

It has been less than a week, now. To say nothing of the fact he hadn't even acknowledge you in his dormitory, at first.

He has made no comment of your presence besides a huff. It's to be expected, as is his right. Your duty is to serve with or without order. But it's certainly not entirely unpleasant being freed of demands —pointedly, he appears to be largely self sufficient. Your new Lord sets his rest attire aside for you, folds sheets to be washed; and, once, brought his cot down from the wall when he saw you struggling at the task.

It takes three days of this for you to notice stern green eyes lingering.

Like most of the Adeptus Astartes who are more often called to active service, there's scant bric-a-brac to be organised in his lodgings.

Perhaps due to the fact that none of the souvenirs of his long service are small in any way.

Much rather, everything your Lord owns is each a hulking testament to his might in war. Like the intricate pauldron hung on the side wall that is the size of your ribcage, and the length of fine red fabric fitted within that which is almost the height of you.

Nonetheless, your Lord begins to try snag your gaze; despite the fact you most often keep your head bowed.

It begins first as you rise to your tippy-toes to dust off the chainsword upon a small outcrop.

It's a tap on his chest armour, that you turn to catch the sound of. Then, when you return with a small crate to stand upon to better reach the shelf, it's a rapt of gauntlet'd fingers on his hip-plating; and a curious focus in his eyes as you spin around to heed the noise.

Lots of little things to coax you to glance at him.

His strange plans pay off, more often than not. It's very difficult to ignore the out of place song of ceramite and steel being drummed against.

This all entertains your Lord, apparently. He doesn't go so far as to laugh or anything, Throne forbid; but he does huff a little from his nose while keeping a neutral, unchanged face. And to that ends, it's difficult to believe a great being as he would stoop to such.

But the Astartes aren't as stalwart every waking hour as the average individual would believe.

Your Lord included, it seems.

On the fourth day, he starts speaking to you.

Nothing more than, 'Good, serf.' when you neatly fold his sheets under the thin mattress and press the wrinkles flat. His voice is a steady lilt, stoic and rugged, and all you can do is nod doltishly.

Then it worsens. It worsens into fully fledged questions, that you shudder and hesitate to answer. At first, it's a stray comment of asking why you have hair still, and that too is a surprise—the serf's on this Battle Barge appear to be clean-shaven on their heads, and yet nothing has been asked of you to undertake such yet.

Then the situation nosedives.

"Where were you stationed, prior to this?" He asks as he's unclad, seated on his cot in a loincloth as you mop.

You haven't dared look at anything more than the skin below his knees as you labour. Even his calves dwarf you, they may as well be one of your thighs.

"I–" you begin, stammering. "I was previously assigned upon the Primarch's Flagship, my Lord."

"Truly? To whom?"

"My mother is indentured to the Chapter Master, as were her parents," you say softly, and clutch the handle tightly.

His brows furrow before asking, "And you were bade sent here? By Lord Calgar, of all people?"

You cock your head, and you aren't sure why his tone is accusative; nor can you parse out the confusion in it. The fact remains your family served on the flagship, the point of who matters not more than simple competence pedigree.

"Nevermind," he sighs, and tips his head down.

You realise you're actively looking at him a bit too late.

He is very handsome, ruggedly so. It is a fact you've viciously tried to repress acknowledging since your assignment to his service—he is as all of his kind is—tall, mighty statue given flesh, built for warring on a million worlds and excelling at such a leviathan task; yet there's a softness to your Lord in the warm, yellow-red candlelight not afforded to him under the harsh hallways lumens.

His chin is darkened with light stubble, and his usually sternly knitted brows are steadily becoming calm and flat. The harsh lines on his face aren't at all as unnerving when they're countered by the thoughtful expression he now wears.

"I believe you may be a sort of gift from him," he supplies dryly.

"A gift, m-my Lord?" You stutter, unseated by the hulking, unclad form of the Primaris Lieutenant so close.

"Titus," he corrects softly, leaning in; and the room is a little less frigid with him practically breathing on you.

"My Lord T-Titus," you adjust, and he snorts good-humouredly.

"Close, but not quite," he tuts, "You may call me Titus."

You lower your head nervously, keeping your gaze down; ultimately receiving an eyeful of his large chest and navel. The scars littering his flesh are a hodgepodge of livid cicatrix, old tissue, and the healed over pitted marks of bullet holes. He has a light dusting of hair across the span of his pectorals, patchy with the aforementioned damage.

Then it deepens to a darker, coarser shade down his dense abdomen, arrowing lower, and lower and—

"Calgar's privy to much," he chuffs, then reaches a large hand up and you're greeted to the sound of a palm scrubbing against stubble. "My predilections, too... worryingly."

You hesitate, completely bemused by the admission—you have no clue what your Lord is talking about. Point of fact, there's a need to reply hanging in your heart; but you stifle it down.

He seems to recognise this, and sighs.

There's a fey, strangled sort of anchor in his voice as he says, "Is it a stretch to say you've been with an Astartes before?"

You cock your head again, "I have served my whole life, my Lord Titus, I assure you that I am—"

He snorts, "Not that kind of service."

"I–I don't understand," you stutter.

"Have you bedded another?"

You hesitate, and feel very real fear seize your mind as you speak, "I-I—If you mean intercourse, such has not been sanctioned for me, m-my Lord."

He stares at you with a deep contemplation, and you can feel your heart thundering in your chest at the lie of omission.

"You can answer truthfully," he says.

Swallowing around the dryness in your throat once more you mumble, "Once, m-my Lord."

"We are evenly matched in that contest, then."

Eyeing the Lieutenant in place of further responding offers you little respite from the heat and panic boiling in your veins.

"If it's to your liking," he starts, "I could indulge you?"

You blink, "My Lord?"

"I'm not going to see you punished should you decline me," he says with that same terribly earnest tone, "I'd only ask you not to speak of this proposition occurring with any others."

There is something in the way the he speaks, the way his voice slips lower, into rougher and barer territories that vaguely resemble what you imagine your Lord might've-been propositioning you as a mortal man that is utterly staggering. It isn't even about what he is saying—it's more about how he is saying it.

The naked urgency is strange, and you're terrified and entranced all in one.

He pats what little space on the side of the cot his bulk doesn't consume and you take a half step before freezing on instinct.

He repeats the gesture and you drag your feet, cautiously approaching before perching yourself beside him and being swallowed by his seated form in the candle-light's shade.

His hand raises, and you shrink slightly.

Your Lord seems to recognise the worry and lowers it a little, only to leave it hovering over your tunic'd leg.

You imagine the great Angel sees you as some shivering wet animal at his mercy, somewhat. You eye his huge hand nervously but ultimately sigh out your nerves and relax a little.

If this was a test of some sort, surely the guillotine would have fallen by now—not that the thought eases you in any way.

His hand tentatively settles on your thigh, and you're shocked at the sheer heaviness of the thing. It's a pressure all it's own, and so heated that you're hyperaware of the warmth suffusing through your garb onto your skin.

It drags up, ever so slowly, and you inhale shakily—stunned by the strength in just one hand most definitely being more than you have in your entire body.

You feel like you should be squirming with the thrill of the gesture, moving against that huge limb; but are too frozen by the gravity of the situation to act.

"I will need an actual answer, however," he remarks belatedly, smoothing his calloused palm back down your thigh.

A cold, wild animal horror sinks in beside something wretchedly simmering as you dither, finally replying with, "I-I would, should you wish it, my Lord."

"Titus," He raises a dark, scarred eyebrow lazily, correcting you once again with a light sigh, "Calgar has schooled you on your manners a bit too well, it seems."

You frown, at shameful odds with maintaining discipline despite your Lord's repeated protest, and avert your eyes again. Trying to play off the shiver his voice so close inspires in your spine.

A choked grunt escapes him not long after and you meet his gaze haphazardly.

Only to be met by an uncanny sight, and heavy, clogged-engine laughter.

Your Lord's lips have skinned back over his teeth at you in a large grin. Charming as the gesture should be, it is certainly not something a fellow baseline would call a particularly friendly expression—maybe due to the fact it felt strange seeing so much emotion at once from him. It looks more akin to a beast in human skin baring it's fangs, and just as animalistic. The back of your brain screams there's a threat of being mauled.

It is a somewhat fey thing to witness, despite the fact it appears to be a genuine display of mirth. And when it falls away to a closed smile, it's much better to behold—the age lines on his face crinkle just right to make him just that little bit more attractive.

"We'll get there," he chuckles. "But first, you will need to be stretched."

That sounds painfully ominous.

You scowl a little in confusion and parrot the word, "...stretched?" back at him in an almost unconsciously quiet voice.

He hears it, and his brow raises a tad.

"You can't fit me ordinarily."

The breath you take in is almost choked with hind-brain panic, mind crafting a series of impossible sizes—crushing and rending, turning your insides to paste. Worse than the time you'd seen a servitor veer into the pulleys of the lift platforms.

"Move further up on the cot," he huffs,

You oblige, and slide back a little; ruining your earlier efforts of fussing with his sheets.

He lifts himself off the cot, kneeling, and breathes in solemnly; his face pinched a tad.

"Settle," comes the Lieutenant's affirmation, "I'll make sure you're unharmed... now, if you allow me see what I'm to be working with?"

You nod shakily, and the massive hand previously upon your thigh splays you out. His other joins it on the converse and mimics the gesture, spreading you.

He shuffles closer to the cot's edge on his knees and chuffs, "Lean back, and put your legs up on me."

Stuffily, you obey, resting your calves on his broad back as you sidle astride his head.

"Very good," your Lord hums; and Holy Terra, you can hardly believe that you're feeling his warm breath dance across your skin. You have a feeling of what he's planning to do, it's unfathomable—nor can you bear to watch one of the great Angels do this.

One of his huge hands cups your hip as he hikes up your tunic's hem to keep you still, nudging it up, and up, until you realise he's trying to coax you into disrobing—to which you oblige with a flustered timidity.

Emperor have mercy, you can't fathom the looming act, and it's consequence—so with scant preamble, you quickly cover your face with both palms.

What a wretched day to've forsaken briefs in favour of a longer garb. Now, you're stuck stark naked on the Angel's bed, and you can feel he's—he's kneading your waist, then squeezing your hip—you're so beyond forsaken it's laughable. You're doomed. But your insides are twitching at the contact, and the feeling of his worn palm taking a moment to grope your thigh has your nerves aflame with anticipation. What a great shame to have brought an Astartes so low, to have him disgrace himself in—oh, no.

A wide band of slick muscle drags upward, and the sensation is nigh ecstasy. The heat of his mouth is divine, and—and rolling against your clit.

Your Lord rumbles contentedly when your legs jump and you almost choke trying to hold back a ragged, stunned moan.

His huge tongue worms into you, big nose jammed against your clit; his mouth several times larger than your own forced to practically eat at your cunt—going at you with an almost desperate eagerness before raking up again and humming against your tender little nub.

"Are you aware you're in season?" He says, still smothering himself to your sex, and it is so offhanded it's jarring; like a finger stuck in a door hinge.

A flabbergasted whine is all you can offer in answer.

He steals another greedy lick of your entrance, "I already knew by how you smelt—but I can taste it too," he notes smoothly, and laps at you again.

Your Lord pulls away and you grow enough backbone to glance between your fingers. He has a blank look on his stern face, pupils blown out, rolling his tongue around his mouth before he apparently frees himself from whatever haze overtook him.

His chin and chops are wetted with clear, slimy lubricant—your slick—and he takes a deep breath.

It's a little mind boggling seeing his other hand rise up from beyond your view. Why is it already glistening slightly? Had he been...? Surely not, surely...

"Your turn with this, I suppose," comes the straightforward, depraved confirmation of your suspicions.

The hold already on your side turns into a vice; and then there's massive digits tracing your entrance.

"It's alright," he rasps, "It's only two."

—then you're crammed full of a Primaris' ring and middle finger.

The sheer size of just that alone is insane, but most of all, it's brilliant. And yet, somehow everything gets even better.

Your Lord's mouth claims its' place back on your clit and sucks.

A garbled whine, and the bliss has you shaking like a leaf.

His fingers stretch your walls as he scissors them out, only to curl in sharp, precise motions; as if your cunt is some weapon he's searching for the trigger mechanism inside of.

Wound too tight, it all comes to an embarrassingly quick end with you letting out a ragged sob, bucking sharply in surprise. Absolutely stunned into orgasm as your core muscles cinch up, keening.

Unfortunately, set on his goal, your Lord does not let up immediately—holding fast and unmoving—and is only disengaged when, cotton-mouthed to words by overstimulation, you blindly flail, stamping your heels into the massive span of his upper back.

He looks a little confused as he releases you, as if he'd been in some sort of trance again.

Blinking a few times and righting himself, he clears his throat, "We should... learn to coordinate that better," he admits, his voice a little rougher, "Tap three times to stop. Two to slow. Once to continue."

There's a short lapse of speaking after that as you ogle his face lingering between your thighs; until you abruptly realise he's waiting for your answer.

"Y-Yes, my Lord."

A big, dark brow raises, "I believe you're simply misbehaving, now."

Your stomach leadens as panic sinks its' claws into you and with a blubbering whine you stammer, "N-No, no... please, my Lord—I mean, my Lord Titus, I-I am not, I swear—"

"It's only a joke," he huffs, and his dark brows arch down a hint in a somewhat sympathetic manner. "Do... do I really frighten you that much?"

You swallow harshly and stutter, "I-I-I—I am a serf, my duty is humility."

It's not the right answer, that much is obvious. It's strange to say that some sort of childish disappointment passes over his features.

"You'll settle in time," he says softly, more like a prayer than anything.

His hands manoeuvre you onto your belly, so your ass is poised high at the edge of the cot for easy access.

Your Lord is tall enough to mount you on his knees like this, and it's clear that's his intent when a thick cock slides experimentally between your thighs.

You try to look behind you to see just how big a thing is to be rammed into you—but he clicks his tongue like you're some unruly little creature, and that's all the discipline you need to be dissuaded.

"You'll only spook yourself," he sighs lowly.

A fat, rounded tip prods at your entrance, wet and hot.

"I'll be gentle as I can," he continues.

You strain to fit even that, and then the burning starts.

Your Lord groans, his hips hitching forward in little motions as you shake, fighting to keep yourself presented on steady knees for him as he presses deeper.

The pain is incandescent, and you cry out—

"Breath," your Lor—Titus urges, sounding strained himself, "Breath."

You squirm, and there's a burning at your rim as he pushes a little deeper; it's a painful reminder of your own lacking size compared to him.

"Almost there," he all but growls, then you hear him raggedly ask, "How... how are you faring?" but you're nowhere near up to the task of responding.

Still, attempting to be dutiful, you try—and all that comes out is a seizing gasp.

You are far too preoccupied with twitching on the scalding slab of Primaris currently giving your insides a stern word to manage a sentence.

In your panic, you manage to smack some part of him twice, even if you have no idea what you're hitting—dragging your hand across wall-sturdy muscle.

Titus stills.

You freeze in fear, waiting for a reprimanding that never comes.

He takes a deep breath in and grits out, "It's alright, it's a difficult fit," to which you whine dumbly, and Titus continues, "I am... larger, than I once was," he says softly, pausing to groan when a shudder sends you squeezing on him, "You're still taking me very well."

He is large, that is true; but he's also warm. So terribly warm, he's almost fever-hot inside of you.

The pain abates in the interim as the pleasure of you steadily acclimatising replaces it, and slowly, you ever so carefully tap him once to continue.

Titus shimmies and you squeal at the burr of electric sensation that makes your mind melt for a half-second, only for your ass to coincidentally scud backwards into his hips with a sticky plap.

You're struck daft when a sudden shrill of lightning sparks up your spine as you feel him bottom out at last, hitting your cervix, blinding you for a heartbeat.

You whine loudly at the sensation.

"All in," he rasps, breathing harshly as he rocks his hips to keep you pliant. "You've done it, hush... it's all inside, little one."

Your cunt's tingling around every inch of him, clenching down—trying desperately to decide wether to buck back against him or scramble off and run for your life. You doubt you could manage the latter. Despite his strange insistence on altruism, there's no way you'd have the nerve to deny the great Angel, lest the Emperor Himself punishes you for it. But you're surely not about to complain about the situation when you're enjoying it so thoroughly.

It's dazzling having him so deep, it feels more akin to being impaled than simply filled.

His balls sit snug against your vulva, heavy against your clit; and you moan—rolling your hips back against his in a moment of delirious bliss.

Titus groans appreciatively, and you strain to tip your head into the big hand petting you while your chin is tucked into the crease of his elbow.

"You're tough for such a small thing," he begins with an airy huff of satisfaction, "I was stunned the last time I managed to fit in a baseline..." he hums, then apparently something seizes his humours and he grumbles, "...let alone now after crossing the Rubicon."

His voice rumbles in his chest where it's pressed to your back, like the purring, hardworking systems of some mighty machine spirit. But the strain behind his cadence plays havoc with your mind, and the sinking realisation you've got him hilted inside your truly takes root.

Your thighs shake, and the room feels stuffier—he feels impossibly closer, and your body is boiling despite the cold press of armour interface ports against your skin as he thrusts back and forth; to say nothing of the fingers fussing your hair out of your face—he's–he's so agonisingly tender.

"Are you finishing on me?" You hear him say, but you honestly cannot even tell if you're cumming because everything is a buzzing lurch of cramping electricity. "Good, that's... very good. Throne, you're—"

You're barely cognisant of him straining forward to a stop; but your body judders with satisfaction, and the rest of his words melt together in your ears into an insensible baritone as you struggle through dazzling ecstasy. It steals the air out of you, nigh agonising bliss sharp and rising from your belly—scrambling at the huge forearms now keeping you in place while he continues fucking into you, weakly crying.

When you return to having a functioning body, you're hyperventilating; and leaving a smear of drool across the interior of Titus' elbow.

Slowly becoming audibly cognisant beyond just the ringing in your head to the wet slapping sound of him chasing his own end in your cunt.

"You'll... you'll have to forgive me for being a little quick, on the first... round," he rumbles against your ear, panting as he nails you right through your afterglow. "It's been... so long, since..."

Titus doesn't even manage to finish his sentence. Instead, he snarls out a low, subharmonic sound and his hips slam forward into you. He's bending you up underneath him; forcing you to let him stuff himself to the base. You feel his balls sandwich against you, and you hear the sopping wet squish of him bottoming out.

His cock throbs inside you, and you're left warbling a dazed whine rife with pleasure addled pain at the sudden roughness.

Hot spend fills you and you keen, acutely aware of it spilling over and dripping out between.

The sensation of having it so deep and yet still too much to contain is playing havoc with your hindbrain, and in that fucked-out state you exhaustedly rock your hips.

A soft grunt is your reward for the effort.

"Careful, careful..." He grits out, panting as his hand draws a smooth, comforting line down the side of your leg before he manages, "You'll get more, just... give me a moment. I promise you, there's plenty where—"

You hear the sound of steel parting, and the white lights of the corridor near blind you.

"Brother," Titus says sharply.

You sober nigh instantly as your stomach proverbially drops to the floor, and your head snaps to the doorway shutting behind the form of a tall, darker Primaris.

"Brother," he receives in answer, "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining... a guest," Titus clears his throat against your ear and tips his head back a little, leaving you clearly shaking in mortification.

He still graciously keeps his body covering yours, and you try to hide under the mass of it.

"I was not aware this sort of entertainment was sanctioned," the other Primaris says, taking a deep inhale and making a strange face—hold on, you–you know this Astartes. You had served in his arming staff temporarily for a day while your judicator had been shuffling positions to keep you busy on the Barge prior to your Lord's arrival and your assignment. You remember the first letter. It was a C—perhaps Cato? No, it began with a digraph—like the end of the word stomach. Chrysion? No, no—it's Chairon—his name is Chairon.

"I ask only that you don't involve the Chaplain," Lord Titus groans, seemingly exasperated. "Just petition the Chapter Master and be done with—"

"No," Chairon interjects flatly as he exhales.

Titus' breath catches, "...no?"

"I want to understand why," he receives in answer, snorting a bit before taking another gulp of air and making the same strange face.

A long, tense silence—and you ought to be terrified and flee, but you can't do much more than squirm weakly on the fat cock stock stiff against your cervix. He still hasn't gone soft, why hasn't he gone soft? Is–Is this what he meant by first round? The frightening stamina of an Astartes in battle is one thing, but it extends even to this? How many rounds have you signed yourself up for?

Chairon harrumphs, "I've never heard of this sort of thing happening, so I want to understand."

Titus huffs hard through his nose like a sort of equine and regards his battle-brother with a knowing tone, "You want a turn then, I assume?"

"If you're willing to allow it," Chairon answers, then looks to you. "And if she's up to the task of two."

You hear Titus hum lowly, and then he gently—ever so gently—cups your chin and tips your head up to see his face.

"Are you?" He rasps, "We'll be mindful not to harm you, should you... accept, such a task."

It's painfully difficult to even think about denying Titus when his big, pupil-blown green eyes meet your own. Your insides ache where he's still buried, but nonetheless some brainless, whorish urgency sends you swallowing harshly and nodding, "Y-Yes, my Lord."

"Go on," Titus chuffs, clicking his tongue at Chairon as a gesture to sit.

Chairon lowers himself down on the thin mattress with one leg off the side of the cot and the other tented up on it, thighs spread.

"I ought to pull out, now."

"No," Chairon huffs, "Not yet, I have an idea."

"Very well," is Titus' answer.

You blanch, and the urge to curl up and simply die nearly overcomes you. You're still—you're still full of your Lord, in every sense of the word, what more can you fit?

Chairon slides himself a little closer until you're practically nosing at his loincloth.

A big hand tilts your chin up and stuffs a thumb between your surprise-parted maw, depressing your tongue.

"You have very pretty lips," Chairon hums as his metal hand pulls his garments away for you.

With a little pressure, you're being guided close to his mostly flaccid cock like a fish by the hook. Then his thumb leaves your mouth and you glare at the length presented to you.

You look up at Chairon's face next, and he raises a brow. So, in turn, you press a soft kiss to the side of his shaft; watching intently when he inhales sharply at the act, pursing his lips for a second.

Then he smiles.

He has a smile that makes you want to melt despite the fact he's an Astartes. It's warm, and suits his fuller cheeks—it's more personable in appearance than you would ever admit aloud out of shame.

You fluster and glance down, taking the head of him into your mouth. He's still huge, regardless of the fact he's mostly half-soft.

Your reward is a thoughtful hum, and a big hand petting your head.

"Lieutenant, do you wish to continue...?"

Titus apparently needs no further invitation.

You're being driven into anew, whining around the steadily hardening member in your mouth and time, for a moment, loses it's bearing. All your mind can bother to focus on is red hot pleasure and heat on your tongue, your own airy, cock-stifled sounds and two syncopated sets of groans and grunts.

"Her mouth's nice and warm," you hear Chairon moan above you.

There's no stall to Titus' pace of thrust as he pants, "I wouldn't know."

"Care to try?"

You have no idea how long you've simply been content in having them both sink in you, but you suddenly return to awareness when you hear Titus' curt, "Gladly."

Then you're suddenly being manhandled like a doll, the cock in you slips out with a pop—as does the one in your mouth—and the room spins as they lift you and change.

You groan in confusion, and paw for the familiar figure now afore you, glancing up.

Titus' hand combs through your hair softly and he chuffs that strange subvocal sound that makes you entranced for a moment.

"Deep breath," your Lord says, and then to your surprise—Chairon's cock presses into you.

It's actually largely easy to take, after having had Titus in you for so long. Chairon's is not as thick as to send you aching, yes, he's big of course, but it's a perfect, pleasurable size inside—and judging by Titus' length now a few inches from your face, it makes sense why he needed to stretch you.

It's practically a bottle of wine, how on Terra did you manage to—

Your thoughts wither as you're forced to moan heartily; namely due to Chairon bottoming out and settling against your cervix.

He moans back, and a huge, warm hand strokes down your spine, heat thudding in your face at the sheer show that he's enjoying you.

Then you're yelping, and something bitterly chilled is on your flesh, sending goosebumps arcing up your back as you flinch.

"Are you alright?" Chairon starts abruptly, and you groan at the freezing steel now pawing at your side.

Titus scowls as he finds the issue before you can voice it, "I think it's your augmentic."

"Really?" Chairon tuts, and leans down to ask, "Is there something the matter with my hand?"

It's clearly a lighthearted accusation, but you haven't been properly subjected to this sort of teasing by a Primaris until today, and you whine.

"It's—it's c-cold," You stutter, and nose against Titus' thigh for comfort; a little uneasy by the confrontation.

Chairon pouts, "I'll keep it's use to a minimum, then."

You swoon at the meagre kindness, and feel your already scalding face boil over as excitement rises.

Titus simpers down at you and remarks, "Is that to your liking?"

You nod and seek a closer hold on his leg for leverage, squirming a little before settling. Your cheek rests against the high point of Titus' thick leg—every so often able to sneak a lick of him.

Titus tuts, "She's very sweet."

The cock in you jerks when the hulking Primaris inside you laughs.

"She smells it, too," Chairon coos, "Don't you, sweet little thing? You smell like you're practically sugared."

You whine needily at the words, Titus' huge cock plastered against your cheek as you leer forward desperately and lap pre-cum from the tip.

"Because she's currently mid-cycle," Titus says flatly. "Her hormones are trying to convince you to breed with her."

Chairon hums thoughtfully, "Fortunate for her that we are, then—still, I'm glad to know that's what that is."

Titus pets you as you continue licking him, one hand carefully managing your hair as the other holds his length to better allow you getting it in your mouth.

Chairon bottoms out again and your body shakes, a trying whine escaping around the cock on your tongue as you relish the sensation.

"You're doing well," Titus rasps out at you, hips making small circles that let him dip into your mouth in short pumps.

Your reaction is wantonly pathetic, if you're completely honest with yourself.

It's a desperate, nasally whimper and a sudden eagerness to please that sends you letting his cock-head bump your epiglottis. Holding for a second despite the ache of your jaw and swallowing before inching yourself away; sputtering a little and moving the heavy swell of his member to warm your tongue instead, sucking on him.

Titus groans in approval, and his hand pets just that much more; earning a sigh when you try stuffing more of him in your mouth again.

Chairon's thrusts steady as he simply takes his time, pacing himself; it's all the better to give your Lord Titus a nice, wanting hole to fuck at his own pace.

"I completely understand... why you were doing this, now," Chairon hums, his pelvis skewing with a slight jerk.

All pretence of steadiness are banished as he starts grinding downward into you, causing a wave of hypersensitivity to stagger you daft.

You clench down hard with a flinch of surprise. Pleasure swelling out of the blue to a crescendo, tipping you over the edge only moments later. The roll of your orgasm ripping through you has your legs locking stiff for a moment, your internal muscles tensing on the intrusion.

Chairon inhales sharply, holding himself perfectly still as your insides cinch down hard around him erratically.

It's certainly not the only finishing happening though, because the cock in your mouth is suddenly painting the inside of your mouth and gullet as you hastily try swallow it down.

Your hear Titus hiss, and the hand in your hair tightens when his thighs start shuddering through heavy throbs of spend.

It feels for a moment as if it's going to come out of your nose there's so much. What doesn't go down your throat definitely tastes wholly unpleasant, but the resumed affections nullify any complaints you have.

You cough and carry on a little at the rapid succession of events and hide your face in Titus's lap again; half-consciously licking your spend stained chops where hopefully neither of them can see.

"My... apologies," Titus is still panting as he says, "I... I should have warned you."

A soft whine is all you can offer.

"Are you well?" Titus asks, tone a little ragged.

You practically shiver around Chairon's cock, and the sound you let out is long-suffering, but not enough.

His voice turns serious, "I need an answer."

A moan flees your throat, "Less—less than before, m-my Lord," you whimper, breathing hard, "But, I'm okay, I'm—n-ngh... not injured."

The grunt he makes in return is an amicable noise, and Chairon seizes your hips with his flesh hand. Lifting you to line up better with his rutting, trying valiantly to ease the pressure.

Oh, that's so much better on your internal walls—the pressure is bliss, and everything is warm and fuzzy and soft; you shut your eyes, moaning—and then you hear the familiar thunk-thunk-click-vshhh of the door opening.

"Titus, you've returned! I'm so glad to hear of your—" a voice starts, then rightly hesitates.

The silence is deafening.

"Chairon?" the blonde Primaris barks suddenly, "What... what are you... what is the serf...?"

You hear Chairon blubber for a moment before laughing in astonished horror, "I'm not even going to try explaining this."

"Gadriel, this is perhaps not a good time," Titus sighs.

The blonde Pri—Gadriel, looks at what little he can of you past your Lord's form and sneers.

The expression only deepens as he scowls, "What are you both doing?"

Chairon lets out a long, trying breath and you feel him lean back a little, yet still remaining inside you as he says, "At least let the door shut before you set about interrogating us, Sergeant."

Gadriel blinks and takes a step in, and promptly sets about putting himself in the furthest corner from the spectacle as possible.

"It reeks of molasses in here," the Sergeant huffs.

Chairon harrumphs, a little strained, "We have been at her a while..." then the attention turns on you, "...she's enjoying herself."

"And that's what the stink is?"

"That," Titus answers, "And seminal fluids."

"To what ends?" Gadriel grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest. "Procreation?"

"There's no restrictions on it in the Codex, believe me."

The look on the Sergeant's face is somewhere between intrigue and confusion, "I've never even heard of it happening."

"It does," Titus offers.

"Really?" Gadriel says.

"I wouldn't have guessed before either," Chairon scoffs.

"From time to time the odd one of us engages in it," your Lord digresses over them both, "But it's under absolute discretion."

"Interesting," the blonde hums.

"Sit," Titus says this time.

Gadriel pouts, "I think I'll stand by, for a while, Lieutenant."

"Suit yourself," Chairon scoffs.

It's distantly amusing watching the trio of great Angels bicker like baseline teenagers.

You might've even dared to laugh at the sheer absurdity, if not for the fact the instant you're about to start you're promptly being fucked stupid again—a heady plap, plap, plap of balls against your vulva and pelvis against your rear.

You try to hide your face in Titus's warm lap, but you're still visible to them all and it's mortifying. Squirming on the heated drag of a cock in you with nothing to shield the fact you're loving every second of it, you toss your gaze aside and accidentally meet the Sergeant's.

He's—he's definitely standing by, and he's certainly watching.

There's a growing redness on his patrician face that proves he's aware of the lewdness of the situation.

"How does it..." Gadriel starts, only to hesitate; failing to feign only vague interest. "How does it feel?"

"Warm and wet... and tight," Chairon rasps, and strokes a huge hand down your back.

Titus hums in agreement, "Very tight."

"Especially when you..." Chairon bucks forward, bottoming out and stealing a gasp from you as your cunt shivers around the sudden effort.

Gadriel's gaze half-lids with the distraction of the sound.

He shifts his weight between his feet irritably, and you can—on some strange level—tell you've got yourself into a looming predicament.

Three. You're to take three Primaris, sooner or later.

Evidently all the so-called inhuman warriors need to return to baser wants and lusts is an example and free reign.

"Where did you even get her?" Gadriel asks, and takes a step closer, keenly looking at your face as you drool on Titus' lap.

Too many eyes on you at your most vulnerable sends flustering, even if your cheeks blaze at the thought.

"I second that," Charion huffs out a wry, short laugh and pets you again, "Where, Lieutenant?"

You whine in embarrassment, insides clenching—there's an infinite torment to the moniker that sends your heart into your throat with lust so wanton you can hardly bare it.

"Lord Calgar apparently knows my tastes all too well," he says lowly above you.

His hand outstretches and cups the whole side of your head including your cheek in one huge palm.

You can't bring yourself to stifle the urge to moan at that, and lean into your Lord Titus' touch like a lovesick dog. "I'll make sure you're not hurt, hm?" Titus rasps, then, to your dismay, decides he's to extricate himself for the time being and starts to scud off the cot.

"Your turn, Gadriel," Chairon huffs at the Sergeant.

You can't really say how quickly he sets about swapping himself in place of your Lord Titus in front of you, because for some reason you blink and the Sergeant is there.

Quite frankly, you weren't sure how long you'd even blinked for. You might have dozed off for a few seconds as far as you're aware.

The cock in front of you is long, smooth, and pretty; with a thatch of dirty blonde hair. Which seems to match it's owner to a fair sum, and it's also already hard. Which is somewhat surprising, given the fact you'd had to mouth at—

"Get on with it, serf," Gadriel says with a stiff jaw; and sits a little more forward, thighs spreading, presenting himself. Big, sturdy quads that would surely be a perfect temporary cushion to rest against.

His cock's heavy with blood and leaning leftward, and you lap at the side—dragging your lips from the base lined by dark blonde hair to the flushed, leaking tip.

You slowly start pumping him with a small hand in a steady jerking motion as you keep the tip of his cock on your tongue.

"Not so bad, then?" Chairon ruts forward, and the push coaxes you to take the Sergeant into your maw.

"Not so bad," Gadriel groans, and a large hand cards across your scalp to fist rudimentary reins out of your hair.

He lets out a choked noise, hips jerking forward in shallow movements in time with the bobbing of your mouth.

It's too large of a thing to even manage more than a few inches, and when the Primaris currently hilted in your cunt decides he's simply got to start grinding himself against your cervix, you're nigh slack jawed on the cock in your mouth.

Big thighs judder beneath you as you let too much too far in all at once, and Gadriel makes a sound you only have a split second of sensibility to associate as an Astartes whining. Then you're gagging around him, tears in your eyes—before he rears back a little and angles himself against your soft palate, a hot flush thudding on your face when he sighs appreciatively.

You moan, and then you're being filled again; only this time it's from the back as nigh molten hot spend spills into your cunt.

Chairon makes an almost inaudible groan, subvocal and menacing; and then smoothes a war-calloused palm down your back.

A shiver races up your spine, innately aware of the feeling as Chairon lets his balls drain as deep as he can.

You're dazed and sensitive as he slackens against you, chuffing softly, "That... that was good."

"Let me have a turn," Gadriel huffs at him, to which he's obliged.

Without complaint, Chairon tentatively withdraws, moving you on top of the Sergeant as he settles on his back.

You swallow the excess drool pooling in your mouth, focus fixated on the sheen of sweat on his scarred face; raising yourself a little with a splayed hand resting between his large pectorals.

"Up, serf—" he rushes, and sneaks a hand between you both to hold himself straight, trying to quicken you sliding down onto his cock.

You can't entirely reign in the shrill whine that escapes your throat.

He's—he's a lot.

You slump against his chest and groan impotently into his large pectorals.

He's too long, and gravity is damning you.

It feels as if he's slamming into your diaphragm instead of your uterus.

Then you're being treated to a ride.

And Throne of Terra, the Primaris Sergeant is rough.

Rabid, even.

A particularly poorly executed thrust jams into your cervix so hard it makes you yelp, blindly clawing at the Sergeant's forearm twice.

He does not heed it, nor feel it, apparently; and continues rutting, head thrown back, heaving in great gulps of air—using you like a toy.

"Gadriel," you hear Titus interject, "Slow down, she's much smaller than you."

Titus' words sends heady attention rushing south despite yourself, and your insides squeeze around the Sergeant, matching the well-fucked ache that thrums through you.

"Can't, feels... ngh—" He bites out in answer, snorting harshly as the grip on your thighs grows bruising.

It hurts, but your mind is suddenly screaming harder, harder, harder—namely thanks to the fact your clit slams into his huge pelvis on the downstroke.

You slap his deltoid and claw down the skin pointlessly.

He sits himself up in reaction, with you in tow.

Your vision smears to colours and shapes for a moment and then you're limbless, being made to bounce on his lap.

He's heaving into against your small shoulder, using you to satisfy himself like a free hole to fuck to completion—and by Terra, he's dragging you along to the same place.

It all happens absurdly fast.

Your insides feel swollen and electric, then they're suddenly jerking, finishing with a quick, wet splash—and everything's stickier where the cock inside you sits.

For a second you can't breathe, it's torment.

But fuck, if it's not amazing.

There's a heavy moan afore you, laden with rumbling subvocals—then finally an airy, pitched keen—and you're pressed flush to the Sergeant despite the fact he can hardly fit all in.

He bucks, and tucks his head against you; and you feel a big slick tongue drag across your shoulder as his cock knocks into where your cunt ends again—sending you sobbing against the huge, scarred span of his chest.

Boiling, overfilling spend leaks out between, adding to your Lord's and Chairon's earlier expenditures in your cunt.

"T-Throne... that's—good," Gadriel strains momentarily, shivering as he grits his teeth and rides out his fulfilment.

Tears have blurred your vision again as your mind reels to understand that you've just been fucked to apparent incontinence. You've just had your insides over-screwed and bullied into squirting on a Primaris, Emperor help you.

Apparently, despite your horror—none of them seem to care.

A few droplets stray from your cheeks and land on the Sergeant's skin. He makes a strange, confused chuff before he realises what's happening.

"W-Why...?" Gadriel pants, attempting to gather himself before he adds, "Why are you... crying, serf?"

You sob weakly, face buried against the hulking swell of one of his pectorals.

"...are you hurt?"

You shake your head.

He inhales harshly, lifting you off him weightlessly with a wet, slick sound of you both disconnecting.

Gadriel's eyes glue to the cum sloughing out of you. It's mostly his, currently—and there's a foreboding look of rabid hunger on his face that almost makes you want to shut your legs.

Suddenly, another set of huge hands join the Sergeant's, holding you aloft as Gadriel moves to stand.

The metal of the right is frigid, and the pressure mechanisms are a tad too stiff to be considered gentle; but the other is warm and tender.

You glance up, and find Chairon softly looking down at you; his big brown eyes crinkled at the edges in a muted smile as he says, "He's too rough with you, isn't he, sweet thing?"

Chairon's lovely smile makes you dopey with sudden charm. It's an infectious sort of look, full of doting that makes you ogle him dumbly; trying to reciprocate with a tired, cock-drunk flutter of your lashes.

"You need to be more careful with her," Chairon glances at Gadriel and clicks his tongue before turning back down at you. The discipline seems purely theatrical, though—and that fact is wildly apparent when you hear the Sergeant scoff.

Then, Chairon is tilting his chin down to fuss over you; his wide jaw nudging your temple, nuzzling into you. Your heart jumps, and it's–it's painfully gratifying having a great Angel do such a thing. Even if you're being buttered up before finally being asked; "Do you still want more?"

You strain up to nose against the large Primaris' jaw, panting as you mumble in agreement.

"I believe that's a yes," Titus hums somewhere to the right, and your vision swims as it tries to find him.

Lo and behold, he's leaning against the wall of the small habitation, glaring low on your body over the rim of a water cup.

Chairon makes a similar sound and adjusts his handhold on you to your legs; splaying your thighs, presenting you.

"We've made a mess," he huffs amusedly.

Peering down yourself if absolutely lurid. Given how you're folded slightly, you can see the sticky lines of leaking semi-opaque white smeared down your thighs, and feel seed leak from you.

You can only imagine how egregious it looks from your Lord's perspective.

Strangely, Gadriel groans at the sight.

"Can..." he starts abruptly, "Can I have her again?"

Chairon laughs, "You've only just finished, she needs a break."

Gadriel grumbles, but gets distracted when you squirm a little and he says, "I... I could give her a break—" but abruptly hesitates and looks over his shoulder, "—unless you want her now, Lieutenant?"

Titus harrumphs, "I'll have her afterwards."

The Sergeant nods, and looks back at Chairon before asking, "Can you keep her up like this?"

"Only if I get her tongue next," he counters.

Gadriel huffs, "Haven't you already?"

"You're to be in her cunt twice," he claps back rather swiftly, "Why can't I do the same with her maw?"

Gadriel snorts sourly, "I'm not going to be just yet, I..." he hesitates, "I have a plan."

Chairon hums, "What sort of plan?"

"Just be careful with her," You hear Titus grunt from the sideline, and then—then you're being lifted a little higher, spread a little wider—and the blonde Primaris gets to his knees.

Two big thumbs spread your labia and you squeal, dithering at the fact he's fondling you in your current dishevelled state.

"If her mouth on us is pleasurable, then the converse must be the same..." he mumbles.

A loud, dry humoured, sarcastic huff from Titus is quickly followed by, "Impressive deduction, Gadriel, you've discovered cunnilingus."

Gadriel shoots a petulant pout over his shoulder at his Lieutenant, before your wriggling drags his attention back.

"You want to...?" Chairon hums.

Gadriel nods, "I just like the sounds."

"Fair enough," says Chairon.

"Now, where do I..." the blonde starts almost inaudibly, seemingly more to himself than anything.

Titus takes a ling sip of water before clearing his throat, "There should be a nub at her upper flesh, that's the female equivalent to our glans."

The Sergeant nods, then turns his big blue eyes up to yours.

"Can you show me, serf?"

You whine and chew your bottom lip, "L-Lord?"

"You'll show me, won't you?"

Your mind can't even begin to think to decline nor argue with him. Swallowing your useless shame, you tentatively move your hand and spread your own folds to give him a target.

Your skin is slippery with slick and cum and hard to properly get a hold on, but you manage and he grins.

It's not as vaguely friendly as Chairon's, nor as strangely brutish as your Lord Titus'... but it's still a little unsettling. Even if it's eager.

"Good, serf..." is the last thing he says before wet warmth is practically locked on your clit.

An airy whimper leaves you, and your body jackknifes pointlessly at the sudden acute pleasure.

You shudder bonelessly in Charion's arms, and you're only vaguely aware you're tugging two-handed at Gadriel's hair while you squirm.

His tongue curls against it, rolling in nigh tidal attenuation; making your hamstrings pull taut and shudder lax. He's not as precise in his torments as Titus, but the enthusiasm makes up for it.

Both Chairon's organic hand and mechanised one grip under your thighs, while Gadriel's firmly keep your hips still.

Throne of Terra, you can feel your own heartbeat reverberating through you against his tongue.

Your fingers dig into his scalp but it just makes him lap just that little bit faster, only for him to discover that sucking makes you cry out. Your abdominal muscles start to hurt at the strain of your body being tormented while reaching down to tug, as do your hips from being so wide.

Your left's fingers find cold metal instead of hair in a mindless haze and you hiss, and try to find a hold.

Gadriel's suddenly open-mouthed against your cunt, keening with a groan.

His scarred chin is saturated with cum and slick, and he's bright red across the belt of his cheeks and sloping nose; he looks dazed periodically, like a slavering hound going at it's cut of meat.

One hand moves from your hips, and a finger prods at your perineum—then jabs you in the arse entirely on accident.

To your surprise, there's enough of his semen coating you that half of it slides in with lubricated ease; still, you yelp loudly.

It burns almost as much as it stings and the stretch of just his finger is maddening, but it starts to disappear in an instant when he licks your clit again.

Chairon grumbles, "What did you do?"

"I..." Gadriel pants, huffing in bemusement as he licks his lips and pulls away from your cunt. "I only put a finger in?"

Titus groans and claps a palm to his own forehead, "In the wrong hole, Gadriel."

The blonde pouts, looking up to Chairon with open confusion, "Should... should I pull it out?"

Even squirming with a Primaris' ring finger up your ass, it's surreal to be treated to the spectacle of them bickering once again.

"It's not my rear," Chairon laughs a little and looks down at you, straining and thudding hot in the face.

Gadriel blinks and realises himself, then meets your gaze.

"Is this painful for you?"

You manage a quick, "F-Fuh—feels a lil w-weird, m'lord."

"How's this?"

His finger curls inside your guts and by sheer blind luck pokes right into the back of your uterus. There's only a membrane and a thin bit of muscle between the two channels, afterall; and the shiver of surprised bliss that assails you doesn't go unnoticed.

Gadriel's breathing quickens, "Is that better?"

You nod shakily as he repeats the gesture, and then ogles up at you from between your spread legs.

His middle finger suddenly crooks to fit into the hole he intended, and you're overwhelmed at the feeling.

It's a combination you can't even begin to explain, new and odd, but addictive and then you're crying out something—something you're barely even cognisant of saying, a high pitched; "P-Please, please—"

Gadriel all but groans at the words, drawing his fingers out and rearing up to lick your abdomen; trailing his mouth up to one of your breasts and dragging a wide band over one with his tongue before groaning.

Before you can even moan, Gadriel's crowded himself against you and his cock is sloppily pressing back into you.

A sob rackets out of your throat, and your eyes swim in their sockets for an instant. Head thrown back against Chairon's clavicle as you heave in desperate gulps of air.

You're hyper-aware of the two sets of massive hands now holding you in place, and the huge cock sawing in and out of you; kissing your cervix on every thrust. This position is easier on your insides, but not by much. Gadriel is still a fraction too long to manage sheathing himself without your mild discomfort.

Both their eyes are locked upon your face, one pair of brown and one pair of blue—both half-lidded and focused on the surely fucked-out expression you're wearing.

It's pure, utter debauchery; and you paw mindlessly at the Sergeant's pectoral, gasping as he grows more and more frantic.

"She's... she's s-still so tight," he groans.

Chairon laughs lowly, "Never thought you'd be brought so low by something so tiny."

Gadriel's too preoccupied to meaningfully argue beyond curling his lip derisively.

Time blurs into delirious moments of aching and bliss, and Gadriel is much less feral in his pace than the last time—every thrust is easier, as your body begins to learn to take it. Or at least, you're certainly getting there—even if there is probably another agonising orgasm on the dusty blonde's cock.

You're only cognisant of being spoken about when Chairon's smooth voice offers, "Put your thumb on it—"

Gadriel snarls, "I... I know."

You blink, and glance downward, confused—and then you're fighting uselessly against the massive vices holding you open.

A reedy, straining shriek tears from your throat as the Sergeant's finger depresses your clit.

Your struggles make the overwhelming sensation so, so much more intense; and you may as well be getting electrocuted for the abrupt sensation you experience. It's as if you're being doused in ice and steam and promethium in one fell swoop.

They're beasts scenting weakness like blood on the gale in that moment, for all intents and purposes.

Chairon rocks you forward into Gadriel's hips and you're overfull of cock and shaking—dragged insensibly into your finish with another scream.

Every nerve in your body is a live wire as you try to fight the severity of it, mindless to the fact you're clawing at skin that's too invulnerable to even hope to mark.

They force your crest higher and higher, Charon still fucking you into the Sergeant's animalistic rutting, even as you cramp and squeeze helplessly.

Lungs several times larger than your own gust out a rapid series of breaths, and abruptly there's a long moan reaching your ear—and fresh heat in your cunt.

A weak, exhausted moan leaves you as you're carefully relieved of the massive cock inside you and deposited on the cot, on your back—only for Chairon to take his place near your head like he had to begin with.

Except this time you're on your back, and his cock is already at your cheek.

Meanwhile, Titus moves your thighs to bracket his hips as he kneels; sliding himself in place, seating balls-deep.

A whimper tears from you at the heavy sensation of being filled so soon again, and you moan when he slowly pulls out, only to slide back in. The pace is tender but firm, keeping you alert to the stretch but not suffering from it. Your body has had what feels like—and what very well may have been—hours to get used to having an Astarte in it.

You mouth at the side of Chairon's length with a daft sort of hunger; drooling across the blood-fat shaft before tilting your head to let him angle the swollen tip of himself in.

"That's it," he huffs, and pets your cheek.

You can taste your own slick, plus he and Titus' cum, and it's still not an entirely pleasant of a tang on your palate—but the big hand raking soft strokes through your hair riles you to continue.

It's clear he's high-strung after having to help Gadriel with you to no service to himself, and it's all the better to give him that attention.

You're getting tired, but regardless, you offer your tongue to Chairon and try heartily to let him take what he can; and he's more than happy to apparently just use your mouth to keep the head of him nice and warm while he strokes the base of himself.

His breathing starts to stutter as Titus gains pace, and you're actively tipping your head forward into his thrusts to let him stuff more of himself into your mouth.

The thrill of having the two of them panting like beasts is sending you spiralling, bucking your hips up against your Lord's pelvis in time with his thrusts in a sloppy, uncoordinated desperation that he rewards with a moan each time.

You hear Chairon keen, heaving through his nose as his hips jerk forward; groaning heavily as he finally finds his end.

A fat, heated spill of cum on your tongue makes you whine and double down your efforts, swallowing the Primaris' load.

"Hah, there... you go," he grind, teeth gritted and sneering a little.

Chairon pets you again before he runs a thumb across your lips to wipe away the few ropes of his spend that you hadn't managed to wolf down. He promptly sits himself back and continues carefully patting you while Titus manhandles you closer beneath his frame.

You glance down to watch your Lord's cock disappear inside you, pulling free and then sinking back in before repeating the action; eyeing big sturdy hips made for supporting a huge cock.

The Emperor surely is all knowing given his proportioning of His Angels.

But you aren't given a chance to think further on the matter as you're suddenly being folded under Titus.

Squirming, you're deaf to the sounds being driven out of you as you're locked in place by a body infinitely stronger than your own.

You paw at his chest, whimpering nonsense and he groans—and you're all but stunned daft and pliant by what he says in answer.

"That's it, one more... good, very... very good," he pants, fucking just that little bit harder.

You're helpless to your own orgasm, crying openly when it's claws sink into you. It's too much, it's far, far too much and this is as far as you can go—anymore and you feel like you'll dissolve into the cot. And you can't even stop yourself from sobbing your Lord's name as the tide of it nigh smothers you.

"Finally..." He groans loudly and his rhythm deteriorates almost immediately to choppy little bucks—and with a last bit of effort, he keeps you pinned and held down despite your overstimulated squirming and his load is emptied right into your womb like it's always meant to've been there.

Titus keeps you like that for a moment as you barely scrape your sense off the proverbial floor. Legs twitching where hooked over his hips, all the while you cunt's milking him for every drop he's got.

"I think... I think you've had... enough, hm?"

Titus lifts himself away and pops loose of your sore, puffy hole with an audible wet slide and a frothing mix of cum layered on his cock.

A soft groan escapes you as the weight and toll of exhaustion sets in, drowsy and well-fucked almost to the point of limpness.

"Up," you hear Gadriel harrumph.

Despite the fact you feel like you're about to pass out, you try valiantly—and get about a forth of the way there, leaning forward while resting back on your elbows as Gadriel takes a seat beside you, with a mug of water precariously filled a bit too high in his huge hand.

Gadriel thrusts the cup close to your face, sending a few drops over the cusp and onto your chest, trailing down a cum splattered chest.

You and he both ogle the water dumbly for a moment in surprise, flickering your gaze between him and it a few times for good measure.

He pouts and his cheeks redden a little as he mumbles, "Drink, serf."

You lap at the side for a second and manage to gulp down a mouthful, swishing it about for a second before swallowing.

You get three more sips as he steadily tilts the cup into your mouth, before he decides you've had enough kindness for the time being and pulls it away.

Titus hums, "Up you get, little one."

You fuss, and try to rise once again.

"There we go," Chairon tuts as he lifts you by the arm as you struggle to stand, supporting you effortlessly.

The care is flattering, even moreso seeing as they've apparently drawn a line in the sand for your apparent usefulness as a seminal dump.

Titus has long since settled back into a kneel again at the side of the cot, petting your thigh like he's trying to calm a skittish stray animal.

He reaches sidelong for the discarded fabric of his loincloth, before promptly deciding it unfit; and reaches for a stray corner of the half sloughed off bedsheet, tearing a large piece away.

You start at the sudden display, half in belated surprise and half in concern for the state of his bed—it's your duty to make sure it's in good keeping foremost, and—

"Hush," your Lord says with a small chuff, "Don't worry about that, just stay still."

Gadriel lowers the cup towards Titus and he dips the edge of it in the water before carefully dragging it across your cheek.

The three of them are very much ogling you, and it's very hard not to dither and fluster at the attention as you're methodically wiped clean. Especially when the cloth dips between your thighs and drags over your abused, sensitive sex, making you whine.

Titus chuffs, "Sore?"

You nod sheepishly as your insides cramp, and rub your legs together, accidentally making a show of liquid leaking out of you.

"Poor sweet thing, look at you drip..." Chairon interjects.

You dare a soft, impish smile which your Lord mirrors.

But the comment makes Gadriel almost instantly tilt his head to watch your overfilled cunt weep their combined slurry of cum; to which he decides the best thing to say is, "Shouldn't have bent over for us so easily."

In your weary, near fucked-to-delusion state, the urge to frown sourly like a petulant child supersedes any decorum, and you're met by a husky snort of amusement from your Lord.

"Some of that's yours, Sergeant," Titus remarks dryly.

Chairon begins laughing as Gadriel's face colours a pretty, endearing pink.

[arthur-two-sheds-jackson]

It's... Monty Python's Media Masterpost!

Here, my fellows, as I promised, are the links for nearly every Python content released and available on the internet (missing only the Not the Messiah (He's a Very Naughty Boy) complete oratorio and PDF versions of the books - including Michael Palin's diaries), for the Python-obsessed, brain-fried completist like me. If you ever need to have easy access to something, just click on the links! And if you or someone you know wants to get into the Python fandom, just refer to this post!

Enjoy!!!

[Audios are in blue, TV shows, docs and specials are in green, films are in orange, games are in red and other kinds of content are in pink. (I chose the videos based on whether they were in good quality; most of them are in HQ or close to that when possible.)]

Monty Python's Flying Circus (Internet Archive version - Google Drive version)

Monty Python's Fliegender Zirkus

Another Record

Previous Record

And Now For Something Completely Different

1971 Montreux Special

Labour Party Instructional Film

Birds Eye Peas Industrial Film

Close-Up Industrial Film

Matching Tie and Handkerchief

1973 sketch for Dutch TV

1973 French TV appearance

Is This a Record? Guinness Film

Live at Drury Lane

The Holy Grail

Live at the City Center (side 1 - side 2)

Life of Brian (Internet Archive version - YouTube version - The Pythons' 1979 a.D. BBC documentary - 1979 debate on Saturday Night, Sunday Morning)

Live at the Hollywood Bowl (Internet Archive version - YouTube version)

The Meaning of Life (complete with The Crimson Permanent Assurance!)

Parrot Sketch Not Included (Life of Python)

1990 Omnibus documentary

Monty Python Sings (Again)

Python Night (Paramount Comedy Network mockumentary)

Live at Aspen

Spamalot (concert film featuring the original Broadway cast - playlist of original Broadway cast recording)

Channel 4's 2006 documentary

Almost the Truth: Lawyer's Cut (with Russian subtitles... don't worry, I have BRICS immunity, I'll cover you) (part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6)

Holy Flying Circus (by @anythingcanhappeninmay and complete with bonus thingies!)

A Liar's Autobiography (the movie - audiobook narrated by Graham Chapman)

Live (Mostly) (And Now For Something Rather Similar)

Monty Python at 50 radio broadcasts (by @gordonsgano)

Michael Palin: A Life on Screen

Graham Chapman's Pre-Python Home Movies

Terry Jones' Home Movies

Michael Palin's 1978 Home Movies

The Holy Grail flash game

The Holy Grail PC videogame (at the Collection Chamber blog)

The Meaning of Life PC videogame (also at the Collection Chamber blog)

Complete Waste of Time PC videogame (also also at the Collection Chamber blog)

[ari0921]

＜正論＞「気候変動問題」はもう終わりだ

キヤノングローバル戦略研究所研究主幹・杉山大志

和党が上下院を制しトランプ大統領が誕生する。バイデン政権が進めたグリーンディール（脱炭素政策）は廃され、エネルギードミナンス（優勢）の確立を目指すことになる。

すなわち米国が豊富に有する石油、天然ガス、石炭の採掘を進め、豊富で安価なエネルギー供給を実現して経済を発展させ、軍事力も強化して敵を圧倒する。

これはトランプ氏の独断ではなく共和党の総意だ。「愚かな脱炭素をやめるべきだ」とは次期国務長官に指名されたルビオ上院議員の発言だ。気候変動問題に関するパリ協定については大統領就任初日の1月20日にも離脱を表明することが確実だ。

国際協調は妄想に過ぎぬ

だがそれ以前にパリ協定は既に行き詰まっている。G7諸国はできるはずのない2050年CO2ゼロという宣言をして、グローバルサウス諸国にもそれを押し付けようと躍起だ。だが同諸国はお説教に従うつもりは毛頭ない。

このことはロシアで10月に開催されたBRICS会合のカザン宣言を読めば明らかだ。BRICSはイスラエルの侵攻を非難してG7との対決を強めているが、自前の決済システムを構想し、脱炭素も重要な対立軸となった。世界情勢の緊迫で気候変動問題は、もはや国際的な議題ではなくなる。

ロシアは石油と天然ガスを採掘し輸出することで経済を維持し軍事費を賄っている。中国もインドもそのロシアから大量に石油を買い、また石炭火力発電所を建設し続けている。CO2を減らせとG7が説教してもやめるはずがない。全ての国が協調してCO2をゼロにするなど、元来妄想に過ぎなかったが、地政学的緊張で��れがいよいよ明白になった。

CO2を本気でゼロにしようとする国などごく僅かだ。

その一つのドイツは、風力発電の大量導入など不合理なエネルギー政策の挙げ句、光熱費は世界で最も高くなり、化学、自動車などの産業が崩壊している。更なる脱炭素のための財政拡大に反発した自由民主党が離脱して遂に連立政権は崩壊し、2月に総選挙が行われる。既に支持率が地に落ちた緑の党は消滅の危機を迎える。

CO2目標を設定するな

日本はどうか。石破茂首相は、菅義偉・岸田文雄政権の路線を継承し、10月末のグリーントランスフォーメーション（GX）実行会議で年内に第7次エネルギー基本計画を策定するよう指示した。これだけ世界情勢が大変動しているのに相変わらず脱炭素に邁進（まいしん）している。政府はCO2削減目標を「野心的に」設定し、パリ協定に提出する構えだ。

3年前の第6次エネルギー基本計画では2030年度までに13年度比で46％削減というCO2目標が書きこまれた。この数字を当時の小泉進次郎環境相は「おぼろげに浮かんだ」と説明し失笑を買った。実態は50年にCO2をゼロとして13年度から直線を引いて30年度の数字を読んだだけだ。同じ論法なら35年度は59％削減、40年度は73％削減となるが、またこんな出鱈目（でたらめ）をするのだろうか。

再エネ賦課金などにより、光熱費は高騰している。政府はCO2が順調に減っていると自慢するが最大の理由が産業空洞化だとご存じか。このまま突き進めば製造業は消滅し日本経済は崩壊する。

パリ協定を離脱せよ

政府は愚かなCO2目標の設定をやめ、来年2月が期限となっているCO2目標のパリ協定への提出は延期すべきだ。そのまま提出しなければ、事実上のパリ協定からの離脱となる。米国に続いて日本も離脱すれば、パリ協定は事実上消滅する。これには前例もある。2010年に日本が数値目標を提出しなかったことで、京都議定書は空文化した。

その後は、安全保障と経済を重視する本来のエネルギー政策に戻ればよい。即ち化石燃料の安定・安価な供給を実現し、コストのかかる再エネ推進をやめる。

米国もパリ協定離脱後には新しい枠組みを求めるだろう。それはエネルギードミナンスの国際版であり、友好国が協調してエネルギー供給を強靱（きょうじん）化するものになる。日本はもちろん、脱炭素お説教に飽き、経済成長のために化石燃料利用を渇望するグローバルサウスの諸国も喜んで参加するだろう。

その枠組みの下、日本と台湾は米国から石油、ガス、石炭を長期契約で買うとよい。中東有事の際のエネルギー安全保障となる。のみならず、米国の利益が関わることは重要で、台湾有事等の不測の事態において、中国といえども海上封鎖を躊躇（ためら）うだろう。またエネルギーの購入は、来たるトランプ政権との貿易交渉で、ディールにおけるカードとしても使える。

統計を見れば自然災害の激甚化など起きていない。気候危機説の事実無根を米国共和党もよく知っている。日本が50年にCO2をゼロにしても気温は0・006度しか下がらない。現在の国際情勢に鑑みれば、エネルギー政策は、かつてそうであったように、安全保障と経済を優先すべきだ。（すぎやま　たいし）

[rizzoliandislesecretsanta]

DETECTIVES

Jane Rizzoli • Vince Korsak • Barry Frost • Frankie Rizzoli Jr. • Sean Cavanaugh • Nina Holiday • Riley Cooper • Darren Crowe • Rafael Martinez

FORENSICS

Maura Isles • Susie Chang • Kent Drake • T. Pike

FAMILIES

Angela Rizzoli • Frank Rizzoli Sr. • Tommy Rizzoli • TJ Rizzoli

Constance Isles • Arthur Isles

Hope Martin • Cailin Martin

Colin Doyle

ANTAGONISTS

Charles Hoyt • Warren Hoyt • Patrick Doyle • Dominick Bianchi • Alice Sands • Dennis Rockmond

F.B.I.

Gabriel Dean • Cameron Davies

MISCELLANEOUS

Casey Jones • Catherine Cordell • Stanley • Ian Faulkner • Giovanni Gilberti • Jack Armstrong • Rondo • Tasha Williams • Kiki • OC

PAIRINGS

(Friendship • Romantic)

Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles • Jane Rizzoli/Casey Jones • Jane Rizzoli/Gabriel Dean • Jane Rizzoli/Rafael Martinez • Jane Rizzoli/Barry Frost

Maura Isles/Ian Faulkner • Maura Isles/Kent Drake • Maura Isles/Tommy Rizzoli • Maura Isles/Frankie Rizzoli Jr. • Maura Isles/Barry Frost • Maura Isles/Jack Armstrong

Barry Frost/Frankie Rizzoli Jr. • Barry Frost/Vince Korsak

Vince Korsak/Kiki • Vince Korsak/Jane Rizzoli

Frankie Rizzoli Jr./Nina Holiday

Angela Rizzoli/Sean Cavanaugh

PLACES

Precinct • Homicide Squad Room • BRIC • Ballistics Shooting Range • Autopsy Room • Labs • Maura's office • Division One Café

Jane's condo • Maura's house • Maura's guest house • Jane's house (season 6/7) • Frankie's appartment • Korsak's house • The Dirty Robber

Hospital • Other places

TROPES

Chosen One • Dark Lord • Dystopian Society • Enemies to Lovers • Fake Relationship • Forbidden Love Romance • Friends to Lovers • Haunted House • Hero's Journey • Love At First Sight • Love Triangles • Magic Mentor • Mean Girl • Prophecy Foretold • One Bed • Queer Relationships • Race Against Time • Soulmates

GENRES

Adventure • Angst • Bromance • Crime • Drama • General • Family • Fantasy • Friendship • Horror • Humour • Hurt/Comfort • Mystery • Poetry • Romance • Sci-Fi • Supernatural • Suspense • Thriller • Tragedy • Whump

VERSES

Alternative Universe • Books • TV Show

FANWORKS

Digital art • Traditional art • Story

This is a non-exhaustive list that can be completed over time.

[pinkshiftbites]

photos by @larodgersphoto (pinkshift in charlotte 9/10/23)

anyone wanna exchange living energy we’re playing a free acoustic set at bric a brac records (2845 N Milwaukee Ave, Chicago IL) on thursday 9/14 @ 6 ⛈️ come hang out discuss any questions& concerns or maybe buy us dinner if it’s the vibe. we’ll be playing unreleased things (& poss suraksha in full). then riotfest. yay!

[grozdovas]

Russia's top AAers w combined scores (just using 2023 RUS cup, 2024 nationals and BRICS games scores)

1. Viktoria Listunova 58.683

2. Angelina Melnikova 57.832

3. Anna Kalmykova 56.732

4. Leyla Vasilyeva 56.465

5. Lyudmila Roshchina 56.233

6. Diana Kustova 55.550

7. Zlata Osokina 55.449

8. Elena Gerasimova 55.400

9. Alyona Glotova 55.200

10. Maria Agafonova 54.666

11. Ulyana Perebinosova 54.150

12. Arina Semukhina 54.133

13. Ekaterina Andreeva 54.032

Vladislava Urazova hasn't competed all around in a long time, so I didn't include her

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary 2024

A masterlist of short stories of various genres, each coupled with an illustration (hopefully). Each fic will be tagged individually along with possible trigger warnings. Fics featuring adult content will be marked as (*)

All of these fics are happening within the same universe, one created by yours truly and the spectacular @tea-withjamandbread - A New Chance At Life, however, I'm fairly certain many of them can be read as standalones ;)

1. Candy

2. Shadow

3. Wheelchair

4. Firewhisky

5. Dungeon (*)

6. Kneazle

7. Quidditch

8. Scarborough

9. Portrait

10. Breakfast

11. Moste Potente Potions

12. Bad day (*)

13. Alihotsy

14. Valentine

15. Ashwinder

16. Blush

17. Hair

18. Cold

19. Gherkin (*)

20. Hogsmeade

21. Mirror of Erised

22. Altercation

23. Black Lake

24. Slytherin

25. Youth

26. Prickly (*)

27. Bric-a-brac

28. Smirk (*)

29. Reparo (*)

Current progress:

Fanfictions: 29/29 completed

Illustrations: 29/29 completed

Huge shoutout to @ynyseira who compiled these prompts, and set me on a journey to insanity creativity ❤️

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil announces Indonesia's entry as full BRICS member

The Brazilian government announced on Monday (Jan. 6) that Indonesia will become the first new full member of BRICS in 2025. Home to over 284 million people, the Asian nation boasts the world's fourth-largest population and ranks as the tenth-largest economy by purchasing power parity, according to the World Bank.

“The Brazilian government congratulates Indonesia on joining BRICS. As the most populous nation and largest economy in Southeast Asia, Indonesia aligns with the group's commitment to reforming global governance institutions and plays a vital role in strengthening cooperation across the Global South—key priorities for Brazil’s BRICS presidency,” stated the Brazilian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

This year, nine countries are expected to join BRICS, including Cuba, Bolivia, Malaysia, and Thailand, either as full members or partners. Brazil assumed the rotating presidency of the international forum on January 1 and will hold the position until December 31.

Continue reading.

[darkmaga-returns]

Full Lavrov-Tucker Interview. US defense secretary scraps South Korea trip. Make France Governable Again. Syrian rebels capture key city of Hama. The Ongoing Dehumanization&Abuse Of Reiner Fuellmich

Lioness of Judah Ministry

Dec 06, 2024:

Full Lavrov-Tucker Interview: US & Russia Need To Cooperate 'For The Sake Of The Universe'

Tucker: Do you believe the United States and Russia are at war with each other right now?

Tucker Carlson first unveiled Wednesday that he had traveled to Moscow to interview Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, and the full interview has subsequently been published Thursday night. Among the most important messages conveyed was directed by Lavrov toward Washington and its allies, which "must understand that we would be ready to use any means not to allow them to succeed in what they call strategic defeat of Russia."And referencing Russia's recent use of its Oreshnik hypersonic missile, Lavrov expressed hope that Kiev's backers took "seriously" the new weapon, for which Russia says there is no defense, as Moscow remains ready to use "any means" to defend itself. "We are sending signals and we hope that the last one, a couple of weeks ago, the signal with the new weapons system called Oreshnik... was taken seriously," Lavrov emphasized.

Lavrov slams ‘fantasies’ about Western troops in Ukraine

Such speculation will “only make the situation worse,” Russia’s foreign minister has warned

The ongoing speculation about the potential deployment of troops to Ukraine by Western nations are “fantasies” that “only make the situation worse,” Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov has said. The top diplomat delivered the remarks on Thursday during a press conference of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) ministerial meeting in Malta. “I believe that all these fantasies only make the situation worse and show that the people who are running around with such ideas stubbornly prefer not to hear the very clear warnings that [Russian] President [Vladimir] Putin has repeatedly made publicly,” Lavrov stated.

Dmitry Trenin: How Russia plans to win in Ukraine

NATO knows it has lost its proxy war, but many of its members will still try to prevent a genuine peace

Russia’s military operation in Ukraine has shattered many preconceptions about modern warfare. The ‘drone revolution’ has garnered significant attention, but there is something far more critical at play. The conflict represents a direct, though proxy, clash between two nuclear superpowers in a region of vital importance to one of them. During the Cold War, these sort of wars were fought on the periphery of great power confrontations, with significantly lower stakes. Today, in Ukraine, much like six decades ago during the Cuban Missile Crisis, the world teeters once more on the brink of a nuclear catastrophe.

Work on BRICS Settlement Tool to Proceed Despite Trump's Threats - Russian Deputy FM

On November 30, Trump threatened the BRICS countries that he would impose 100% duties on them if they did not abandon plans to create an alternative currency to the dollar. At the same time, Russian President Vladimir Putin said earlier that it was too early to talk about the creation of a single BRICS currency.

RAS AL-KHAIMAH, UAE (Sputnik) - The work on the development of settlement tools for BRICS member states will continue despite US President-elect Donald Trump's threats to impose 100% tariffs against the organization, Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Alexander Pankin told Sputnik on Friday. "This is a calculated platform opportunity. Of course the work on it will continue," Pankin said on the sidelines of the XVII Verona Eurasian Economic Forum in the UAE's emirate of Ras Al Khaimah.

[mariacallous]

Forget for a moment all the potential foreign-policy implications of a second Donald Trump presidency. What are the implications for U.S. foreign policy if Trump loses the election, denies its outcome, and tries to overturn it? How would the United States, longtime champion of democracy promotion abroad, be able to continue doing so when it has become clear that so much of the country has so little support for the actual exercise of democracy?

If Trump performs as he did in 2020 and narrowly loses the upcoming election—and polls suggest the race remains a toss-up—the likelihood of a repeat of the “Stop the Steal” campaign and a concerted effort to subvert the outcome again appears high. 

Both Trump and his running mate, Ohio Sen. J.D. Vance, have repeatedly refused to say whether they’ll accept the outcome of the election (unless they win). The mechanics for a similar challenge to the election’s outcome, focusing on replacing legitimate state electors with fraudulent electors, which was invented on the fly in late 2020, has been significantly built up. Election experts fear Trump has a more robust plan to overturn the election than his ultimately failed bid after the 2020 vote. And he’s already saying as much, launching broadsides in late October against allegedly fraudulent ballots in Pennsylvania, a critical state for both candidates.

His first effort to subvert a presidential election, culminating in the deadly attack on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, was harmful enough to the image of the United States as a bastion of democracy. 

“Our soft power, our ability to attract and inspire, has already been damaged by all this—by the threats that Trump made in 2016 that he wouldn’t accept the election unless it went his way, and then what he did in 2020,” said Larry Diamond, a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution.

But the Biden administration nevertheless made democracies-versus-authoritarians a guiding principle of its foreign policy during its first years in office, even convening a handful of democracy summits. It seems to be a losing battle. Illiberal and authoritarian regimes are growing in number (most recently in the republic of Georgia), while democracies and freedom are in retreat. Those regimes are banding together, whether through bilateral ties (such as Russia and North Korea), multilateral groupings (the expanded BRICS is taking an anti-Western tilt), or even inside the European Union (Hungary’s prime minister has become Russia’s new Vyacheslav Molotov).

If Trump wins the election outright, fears of another Jan. 6 are moot, and major concerns can revert to issues such as the future of NATO, the fate of Ukraine, and the promised global trade war. But a Trump victory would also severely diminish U.S. democratic credentials, Diamond argued.

“If Trump wins, particularly after the campaign of racism, misogyny, authoritarian threats and intimidation, xenophobia, and so on, if he wins after that, the damage from that compared to the fallout from a contested election will be far greater,” he said.

If Vice President Kamala Harris wins the vote—and takes office next January after a prolonged campaign to delegitimize the election—how much could U.S. democratic credentials suffer on the global stage?

“It’s a very plausible outcome, another period where we look like the problem when it comes to democratic practice,” said Richard Fontaine, chief executive of the Center for a New American Security, a D.C.-based think tank. Fontaine recently published a joint call for the next administration to revitalize democracy promotion to bolster U.S. national security.

“It would make it harder and be a major distraction. The world has become less democratic over the last 15 or so years, and I think that is a more dangerous world than otherwise,” he said. “The degree to which U.S. policy and leadership can influence that direction one way or the other is important for the world, and for our own security.”

For some 80 years, Washington has sought to promote democracy abroad as a way to boost its security and prosperity at home. More democracies generally means a more stable international order, with fewer threats to U.S. prosperity or core interests. The issue has become especially acute as illiberal and authoritarian states attempt to promote an alternative vision of the international order that would have both as its goal and its consequence a weaker United States. Democracy in disarray at home would only blunt that longtime fixture of U.S. diplomacy.

Democracy promotion “is in our DNA, so it should be part of our toolbox and a natural component because of who we are,” said Derek Mitchell, nonresident senior advisor at the Center for Strategic and International Studies and former president of the National Democratic Institute, a nongovernmental organization that promotes democracy globally. Mitchell also just wrote a piece underscoring the importance of democracy promotion.

“More than that, it is, I think, our comparative advantage right now in the defining question of the 21st century: What norms will guide the world in the decades ahead? The question is, are we going to be reaffirming those democratic norms both at home and abroad as something in our interest?” Mitchell said.

That’s why the risk of a repeat of a contested election, coming in a deeply polarized and paralyzed American society, would be problematic in that bigger contest.

“Obviously the brand is degraded, and the autocrats will be able to use what is happening in the United States as a cudgel against America’s pretension—I think real support—for democracy,” Mitchell said.

The other risk from a contested election and a repeat of January 2021 is the power of example. Diamond noted that former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro’s effort to stay in office after losing in Brazil’s October 2022 election “was completely inspired by what Trump did and even the methods. So it’s not just that our soft power will be damaged by another post-election crisis, it will also have demonstration effects.”

Perhaps concerns over the tarnish left by another messy election are overblown. After all, Woodrow Wilson pledged to make the world “safe for democracy” while championing segregation, and before women’s suffrage was real. Succeeding presidents, including Franklin D. Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George W. Bush, and Trump officials all championed democracy abroad while grappling with democratic deficits at home.

“The United States has always had flaws in its democracy even while maximally promoting democracy and human rights,” Fontaine said.

History suggests that not even overt shows of support for authoritarianism and disdain for democracy can derail that train. Just two years after the first mass Nazi rally in New York City in 1939, Freedom House was created to promote democracy around the globe—the start of a decade that culminated with Roosevelt’s “arsenal of democracy,” the creation of the United Nations, and the birth of the Marshall Plan.

The United States’ own travails with democracy could, in the event of an eventual Harris win and successful inauguration, even give Washington the ability to more effectively promote democracy abroad tempered by the experience. That could make it better able to relate to fragile democracies that struggle against the seemingly never-ending attacks they face, Mitchell said.

“The U.S. struggle only points to how difficult it is,” he said. “Institutions are vitally important—that was the lesson of 2020, and maybe of 2024.”

[takigawa]

プラザ合意とペトロダラーと戦争ビジネスを睨んだ国際ビジネスマンの視点 #プラザ合意 #ペトロダラー #戦争ビジネス #note https://note.com/takigawa/n/nd2388572add1 昨日は国際的に活躍するビジネスマンと打ち合わせがあった。 彼は仕事の話をする前に良く国際政治経済の話をする。 彼の話が全て事実で真実かどうかは分からないがほぼ本当の事のように感じた。 因みに彼は日本人でもアメリカ人でも無い。 彼は言う「そもそもアメリカ🇺🇸は戦前は本土にいた蒋介石を応援して来た。彼を通してアジアをコントロールしたかったが、中国共産党に負けて🇹🇼逃げてしまったので、じゃあ日本🇯🇵を通してアジアをコントロールするか、となって日本は朝鮮戦争特需もあり、大きな経済成長を遂げた。 だけど大成功しすぎて、日本は大喜びしていた。 そこでアメリカは【プラザ合意】で日本の成長を制限する事にした。　 https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E3%83%97%E3%83%A9%E3%82%B6%E5%90%88%E6%84%8F さすがに日本の国土でアメリカ本土全部を2.5回買えるぐらいまで成長するとは思ってなかった。 このプラザ合意の後、日本は失われた30年を過ごす事になる。 瀧川さん、アメリカの強さはどこにあるか分かりますか？ アメリカは昔はドル💲金本位制だったでしょう。今はドルを持っていても同価値の金をFRB（連邦準備銀行）が保管していないから、金💰と交換してくれないでしょう？ アメリカのドルはペトロダラー（石油に裏打ちされたドル）なんですよ。 世界の産油国ランキング1位はアメリカなんですよ。 瀧川が「ブラジル🇧🇷、ロシア🇷🇺、インド🇮🇳、中国🇨🇳、南アフリカ🇿🇦のBRICSはドル💲とは別の新しい通貨で石油取引をすると合意したんじゃないですか？」と質問すると 彼は「BRICSは新しい通貨を創ると言ってるけれど、お互いの国の通貨との利害が一致しないから、実効性無いでしょ。」と答えた。 そして 「アメリカは日本を抑えた後、ドイツ🇩🇪やEU🇪🇺の復活を気にして、今は中国、ロシアを抑えようとしているでしょう？ ドイツはロシアから石油パイプラインを引いて依存し始めてた訳ですよ。それでドイツは経済絶好調で喜んでいた。アメリカはじっと見ていて、ウクライナとロシアの戦争を画策して、実行した訳ですよ。 そしたら、当然、ドイツやEUへの石油パイプラインが止まり、ドイツやEUはヒーヒー言ってるんです。戦争でロシアも疲弊させた。 中国と台湾の危機もアメリカが煽ってる感じがする。何故ならアメリカは今、中国を最も警戒してるから。台湾と中国がドンパチやったらその瞬間に上海株式市場、北京株式市場、香港株式市場が大暴落📉するから中国🇨🇳は戦争はやりたくないんですよ。 アメリカは中国を疲弊させる為には台湾とドンパチして欲しい。 習近平はやりたくない。口では強気で言ってるけどやりたくない。 それと中国はこれまで多額の公共投資を重ねて道路、橋、ダム、ビルなどインフラ作りまくって、雇用を産み、関連産業が潤い、かなら上手く行ってた。習近平も凄い自信を持っていた。自信を持ち過ぎた。 ここに来てバブル崩壊すると思うし、アメリカが【中国がアメリカを抜く事】を許さないから、ここから20年は中国は苦しいと思う。 逆にここから20年はアメリカは日本を優先するから日本はラッキーな時代になるよ。 あとね、ウクライナ🇺🇦には韓国🇰🇷の武器弾薬がアメリカ経由流れてるし、ロシアには北朝鮮🇰🇵からの武器弾薬が流れてますよ。 正確には韓国が新たに製造した武器弾薬はアメリカに残って、アメリカにあった古い在庫の武器弾薬がウクライナに渡っている。つまり古い武器弾薬の在庫一掃セールなんだよね。アメリカにとって戦争はビジネスなんだよね。 イスラエル🇮🇱とハマスの戦いも両方とも腐敗したヤツらでハマスの3人のリーダーは10億ドル以上の資産家ですよ。イスラエルのネタニエフ首相は、ユダヤ教会に労働義務、軍役義務を免除する事で支持を得て首相になったんだけど、その義務免除対象人口が国民の25%にもなってしまって、75%の国民が食わせなきゃいけなくなってて不満がたまってたから、ハマスと戦争が始まったら一部の国民はお祭り騒ぎやイベントみたいな感じで空爆を見てたりするんですよ。全然、ユダヤ教のイメージじゃないし、若者に麻薬が蔓延している。 アメリカは世界一の産油国で、元々アメリカと親しかったサウジアラビアがここに来てバイデンを無視したりして、アメリカに楯突いてるんだけど、OPECのリーダーを自認するサウジアラビアは【石油価格維持】の方針を強く打ち出していた。 でもアメリカが下げたら57ドルぐらいまで下がっちゃった。サウジアラビアは80ドルで採算取りたいから頑張ってたんだけど、結局、サウジアラビアも下げちゃった。これでOPEC諸国からの信任がかなり下がったんだよね。 これもアメリカがサウジアラビアが強気に出るのを見てて泳がしてから、痛い目に遭わせる、という常套手段だと感じるよね。 日本、ドイツ、サウジアラビア、みんなそう、そしてその力の源泉は石油とドルですよ。 トランプ氏は2024年の大統領選挙に向けて47の政策綱領を発表したんだけどその中に【バイデン大統領が���めているEV義務化をやめる】とハッキリ言ってるんだよね。 EVは中国を利するだけ、という主旨。 ドイツやEUも中国EVが普及し過ぎて、制限しそうな感じ。 ここでも中国潰しが進行しそう。 トランプ氏はアメリカ大統領選挙で当落の行方に影響を与える共和党と民主党の支持が同じぐらいで選挙のたびに行ったり来たりする6つの州（スウィングステート）の内、5つで支持を拡大していると言う話があって、トランプ氏が復活の可能性がかなり出て来た。」 僕が「選挙で各州の最高裁判所がトランプ氏への投票を認めないって判決がポロポロ出てるけど、どうなんですか？」と聞いたら 彼は「それは元々、アメリカ民主党支持の州での話なので、どっちにしてもカリフォルニア州やニューヨーク州はいつも民主党なので余り影響は無いよ。もちろんスウィングステートでその判決が出たら影響あるけど、連邦最高裁判所判事が今は共和党シンパが過半数だから、連邦最高裁判所の判断になれば【トランプ氏に投票させない】とはならないでしょう。トランプ氏が大統領時代に判事が共和党シンパにどんどんと代わった経緯もあり、こんな影響が出てくるのはトランプ氏はラッキーかもね。 ただトランプ氏はアメリカ第一で同盟国とか国連は二の次の方針だから、外国から見るとやりにくくなる可能性はある。 まぁアメリカの行動は大統領が誰になってもCIA的な覇権、ペトロダラー、戦争ビジネスだから、変わらない部分はあるよ。」 なんでそんな話をするのかと思ったら、彼はアメリカに会社を創り、そこを上場させようとしているんだけど、アメリカ政界のかなりトップに近い人から、アメリカ資本を80%以上にして欲しいと言われてて、彼はアメリカ資本オンリーは嫌だなぁと思っていて「他の国はどこなら良いの？」とその人にアドバイスを求めた。 そしたら上記の今のタイミング（ここから20年）は「日本だよ」と言われたと言う話でした。 流石にこの長文を読んでくれた人は余り居ないかも知れませんが、ここまで読んでいただいた人には感謝します。 ありがとうございます。 彼の発言はあくまでも彼の意見なので、そこはご理解のほど、よろしくお願いいたします。 あと、思い出したら、追記とか修正する可能性もあります。 よろしくお願いいたします。 #日本 #日本復活 #アメリカ #中国 #台湾 #ロシア #戦争 #ドイツ #ウクライナ #イスラエル #ハマス #トランプ #産油国 #EV #バイデン #CIA ☆☆☆ 🇯🇵 新しい企画や海外展開を目指す。元・スペースシャワー取締役、元・石森プロ副社長、元コミックスウェーブ非常勤取締役、元・アイキャスト社長。JSAT、スカパー！、MOTTAINAI、インドネシア特撮ヒーローBIMA、立ち上げ♫

https://note.com/takigawa/n/nd2388572add1

[seeking-elsewhither]

OKAY so the Boba Fett episodes are done along with s2.

1. Mace Windu is weirdly several steps ahead and quick enough to realize that it's a bomb by Boba Fett which is so unrealistic. But it is a kid's tv show, so whatever, they can have their improbable upper hand.

2. Okay, so Aurra Sing knew Jango Fett?? I'll need the lore on this, because wow do I have questions.

3. PONDS NO ;-;

4. How is star wars okay with so many children entering a bar?

5. Hondo taking a supremely neutral stance and Aurra taking no offense about it is...something, given the nature of their...eugh..."relationship" or whatever

6. Plo Koon being AWESOME in general. And of course Little 'Soka :')

7. Boba screaming for Aurra not to leave him behind and she does, like nooooo

8. Boba had such a hard childhood, poor kid, a blaster all but forced into his hand and made to pull the trigger. He doesn't want to kill.

9. Hondo using Jango's name and legacy to get information out of Boba has to be evil on some level, c'mon.

10. Windu telling Boba he has no choice but to forgive him?? Yeah, hate to break it to ya Mace, but that isn't helping you any :/

ALRIGHTY season 3

1. I'm gonna watch this first one all over again because keeping track of these clones is proving tough.

2. Okay so what I got out of this is:

a. Hevy - our bold leader, trying his hardest to get the rest of the squad to follow him and his unorthodox choices

b. Cutup - the smart cheek, always there with a pun or a joke and often bickering with Fives

c. Fives - Fives, his name is Fives

d. Echo - he's so baby here Awfully by-the-book, horrifically serious rule follower, which often gets him into fights with Hevy for it

e. Droidbait - he's not going to go down swinging, he'll just give up

3. So guess who isn't fond of Bric!!!

4. Did he seriously call Cutup to the hangar (?) just to berate him and teach him a lesson?!

5. Not over-fond of Shaak Ti either, but let's see, that might change

6. That last scene where General Ti is sending them off as graduates?? You can't see the older clones crying hecause their buckets are on

7. So this is ARC Training. I genuinely want to know just how different it is from regular clone training, not to mention Commando Training.

[asmuchasidliketo]

10 shows, 10 people

Tag game: add 10 gifs from your favorite shows and tag 10 people.

Thanks for the tag @anewkindofme!

1- Il était une fois la vie (when French TV did science for kids)

2- Navarro (which I watched because my Dad watched it)

(there are no gifs for Navarro)

3- Earth: Final Conflict (first series that made me actually interested in learning English)

4- X-Files (first series I wrote fanfic for, before knowing such a thing existed)

5- The Sentinel (yes. I am one of the 5.6%)

6- Black Sails (I have a WIP on my computer whose publication expectancy is more than 0%)

7- Hawaii Five-0 (whose fandom made me happily realize that hurt/comfort blogs are a Thing™)

8- Stranger Things (I still can't bear with how cute they were in Season 1)

9- Good Omens (if you haven't seen it you need to see the Under Pressure video Spellbound did on YouTube)

10- The Rookie (currently working on fic n°2 on 12. TWELVE)

Tagging with no pressure @shesliketexas-17, @intelligentfan, @backonmybullship, @mamadoc, @therogueduchess, @mauve-bric-a-brac, @adelaydebclouds, @sewickedthread and @doggoneloser