#Commonwealth Financial

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Commonwealth Games Australia offers Scotland multimillion-dollar cash to save 2026 event

Commonwealth Games Australia offers Scotland multimillion-dollar cash to save 2026 event #2026 #Australia

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hancock x F!Reader [ A03 ]

Summary: You are important to John Hancock; there is a radstorm brewing. As a skilled and reformed scavver, you’re after a part for a decommissioned lounger—it belongs to Doc Amari’s famed Memory Den.

Hancock's tense; he should have gone with you, but it’s not too late to search you out. He would be glad to have you home safe in his arms, only things don’t always go as planned, nor do you go unpunished for your negligence.

Explicit: NSFW / 18+ for PWP, PiV sex, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, whump / hurt and comfort, angst, gun violence, light bondage, praise, light sub/dom undertones, edging, use of chems, alcohol, foul language, and canon-typical violence and behavior. Other worthy mentions include fluff, romance, a worried and protective Hancock, and love confessions.

Notes: I am normally a Star Wars writer. This is my first time writing for Hancock, and my first fic for the Fallout fandom. I see Hancock as multifaceted, which I am having fun exploring. I have many ideas, but one fic can only contain so much! I used a few lines of dialogue from the game because they stuck with me T__T. I will also most likely try my hand at Nick Valentine at some point, (and maybe even Coop), but this ghoul stole my heart.

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Feedback appreciated. Like? Reblog! <3 Requests accepted!

Eyes as black as tar pits searched the ground at his feet, though no answers would present themselves, the cold, grimy filth of the Commonwealth something he could relate to on an atomic level. Flecks of barren soil and bits of detritus vaulted upward in a stagnate aggregate of dust, cavalier leather boots—having seen better days—leaving a swirl of varied particulates in their wake.

Hancock paced, the Mayor of Goodneighbor impatient as a hungry mole rat, the man left to stalk before the door that led to the Financial District. A dreary, dark green pall signaled to anyone with brains that there was a storm looming on the horizon, and yet you had not returned.

“Where the hell is she?” a raspy voice asked its sparse audience, two ghouls dedicated to his cause doubling as bodyguards, though if he felt safe anywhere, it was here among his brethren.  Besides, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about, it was yours, and he wasn’t afraid to convey his feelings to the whole of town.

“Startin’ to get antsy. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got me sweatin’ like a whore in church over this. Hope she’s havin’ fun at my expense.”

Scavenging was lucrative, or it could be if you managed to score the right loot. You had to know where to look, or where not to look; danger was always in the cards. It was a game Hancock didn’t like to play, and especially not now, not when lightning streaked the sky, rain clouds pregnant with radiation threatening to burst open like a feral’s head looking down the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun.

He knew what it was like to be forced to scour the bare bones of buildings, filching anything that was ripe for the picking. A single find could feed a man for weeks, and places like Goodneighbor just didn’t just build themselves. People needed things. Lucky for them, Hancock was able to provide. It was his one claim to fame—his rep was solid—but he didn’t look down on you for being one to scout for buried treasure.

“She’ll turn up,” one of his companions offered. It was a piteous attempt to console him, Hancock all but ignoring his dismissive comment. He felt his concern was obvious, yet his bedfellows were none of their business. Either way, he brushed it off like a decent man instead of snapping like he wanted to—the guy’d done nothing wrong.

Thunderclaps echoed through town, the first of many droplets pelting his marred face, the ghoul’s faithful tricorn not doing much in the way of shielding him from the dirtied water that had begun to trickle down onto its weathered surface.

He rued allowing you to go out on this wild-mongrel chase to begin with, not to say that you weren’t capable. What he might say is that you’re too good for this world, too good for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling head over heels.

You weren’t anti-social like most of your kind; you had a good heart, gave paying customers fair deals, and somehow you had kept the ruins from tarnishing your cheerful outlook; you sported a chipper disposition even at the worst of times.

In other words, you were his little ray of sunshine; Hancock had no qualms with telling you that to your face. And things as precious as you were to him? They needed protecting. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that he should have done the job himself.

“If this is her definition of ‘fast,’ we’re going to need to have a little chat to clear a few things up. Should have fucking gone with her, don’t know what I was thinking,” fried vocal cords scratched out, words tinged with worry as he made his way to the reinforced slab of steel that was Goodneighbor’s single entry point, not counting the alley behind Rexford.

“Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ at all, John…” that little voice inside his head nagged at him, reminding himself at every turn of the ways he’d failed, this on the verge of being one of them.

“Want us to look?” the other rejoined, aware you had been sent out on a job to find a replacement circuit board for Doctor Amari, as one of the memory lounger’s had been marked out of service. The doc would pay you well; everyone’s gotta eke a living somehow. Hers was made by sellin’ a man’s own memories back to him, and yours was made by sellin’ spare parts.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have skipped out on his Mayoral duties for one evening, Hancock mentally scolding himself, his sentiments leading him toward the need to kick his own ass.

Quick, adept and clever, he had no doubt you could pull it off, but you were used to traveling in a group, used to back up and a lookout. You had willingly ditched your crew and settled here for him, making Goodneighbor more or less your permanent home. He couldn’t help but feel like he was ultimately responsible for you and your well-being—so far, so good. He’d be damned if anything happened to you on his watch.

The coming radstorm was starting to sound like a stampede of angry Brahmin. Not even those of his ilk should be out in this mess. Technically immortal, sure, but not immune to accumulating all that bad stuff brewing in the atmosphere; he was comfy right where he was, but not without his lady by his side.

Their self-elected leader ignored the question, reaching into the confines of his red frock coat to unveil the firepower hidden just out of sight. His break-action, double-barreled 12-gauge had most of its stock removed for easy concealment; he knew better than to step foot outside Goodneighbor without packing heat.

“No, you might say this is a personal problem. Not to say she wouldn’t make a damn fine Ghoul,” he stated with deadly calm, kicking the door open with reckless abandon despite his unflappable demeanor, not caring what awaited him on the other side.

“I’m going with you, ain’t safe,” words spoken over harsh winds, a breeze not in the least bit refreshing having descended upon the Commonwealth as Hancock slipped out into the mounting tumult, both men following close behind. Truthfully, he was grateful for their loyalty.  

“Suit yourself, but don’t go gettin’ yourself killed. Would defeat the purpose of a search and rescue, ya feel me?”

A question not needing a response, he ventured forward, running headfirst into the growing tempest, chaos reigning overhead in the form of a blinding light show.

Hancock called out for you, yelling your name over the deafening commotion that was going to get worse before it got better, not about to go home empty-handed, even if it took the whole damn rest of the night. He hoped you were smart enough to know when to quit, or that you’d taken those Mentats he’d stuffed in your pocket on the way out.

“Get back here, scavver!”

Footfalls echoed in the dark, brisk in pace, inky, depthless eyes narrowing as the ghoul searched out the source. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps before he was forced to witness you at a full-fledged run, two burly raiders belting out insults and expletives hot on your trail.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he was stone-cold sober, time standing still as you dove into Hancock’s open arms.

“There’s my girl,” the scoundrel purred into your ear, sinewy limbs enshrouding you as the sound of gunfire and discarded ammo casings nearly went unnoticed. Hancock let his own weapon fall to the ground to accommodate you, your pursuers dispatched like the trash they were. The members of the Neighborhood Watch who had accompanied him outside the walls made short work of both men; they deserved a drink and some chems on his dime.

“John,” you breathed out, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth as you held up that piece of scrap you were so proud of. His name off your tongue was musical, a warm sensation spreading through him like wildfire, better than drugs—it was a high he would never come down from.

“I—I got the part,” you spoke softly, your tepid breath tickling the remnants of a disfigured ear.

Hancock almost shivered.

But oh, no. He wasn’t about to let you off that easy, not when he’d felt that pang of anxiety and the sickening feeling in his gut like someone had shanked him with his own knife. He held you back by the shoulders, breaking your embrace, his face taking on a displeased, stern shade.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? Makin' me all kinds of nervous. Scarin’ me half to death. And some might say I don’t look too far off.” He breathed in nice and slow, exhaling through exposed nasal cavities, Hancock emitting a sigh to emphasize his disappointment. “Can’t be doin’ things like that, or you’re liable to give this old ghoul a—”

“—Sunshine?” His heart sank, as if the universe was out to prove he had every right to worry, Hancock’s attention inexplicably drawn to the red staining your fingers—it neared the color of his coat. You only now seemed to notice, that radiant light swept from your beaming face as you acknowledged the presence of your own blood on your hands; no wonder it had been so hard to take those last few steps.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, eyes blown wide as you apologized for upsetting him. You would collapse into a heap, the adrenaline that had carried you home seeming to dissipate all at once—at least your fight-or-flight response had done its duty.

---

“Move over, out of the way. I ain’t askin’ twice,” Hancock seethed, the distraught man’s threat to bowl over anyone who stood in his way not to be taken lightly, though his tone was traitorously even and his despondency well-masked. He stormed the Old State House, ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor, carrying your limp body to a tattered red couch.

Refuse and empty Jet inhalers, along with half-drunk bottles of alcohol and boxes of Mentats, were all swept aside, Hancock throwing open cabinet doors and dislodging drawers in his haste.

“Oh, you’re really in it now, aren’t you, sister? Just had to make a few extra caps!” he chided, the ghoul’s husky voice rising in volume as he took to another part of the room.

Having not yet succumbed to blood loss, you were barely cognizant as you fought to stay awake, your beloved Mayor nothing more than a blur of motion and splotches of red as he systematically searched every nook and cranny for the syringe that would save your life.

“Hang on, dollface, you’re not dying today. Not if I have anything to say about it—and you know how much I love to run my mouth.” Hancock spoke to reassure you and himself, filling the silence with something other than the curses he wanted to dish out every which way to the wind. You couldn’t help but to smile again despite your predicament, eyelids drooping as you thought about the idea of sleep.

“There you are,” he growled, your vision starting to glaze over, though you were aware Hancock had come back to your side. His scarred, yet deceptively handsome face hovered inches above your own; it was an acquired taste you had no trouble in accepting.

“This is gonna hurt, but it’s better than the alternative,” he provided in short warning, withered fingers fumbling to unbutton your top, exposing first your sternum, your ribs, and then your belly.

“Shit, they got you good,” Hancock grumbled, your hand rising to cradle his jaw as he had peeled back the flaps of fabric to inspect the wound in your side. You were surprisingly calm, thinking that if today was your last day on Earth, at least you had been blessed to experience his company. 

“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” your voice, meek and mild, declared. Hancock hesitated for one precious second, caught off guard, but pleasantly so.

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me! Ain’t like these are your final moments or nothin’,” he assured, an audible tremble causing his words to waver, voice rising in pitch. He went on to stab you without ceremony, the needlepoint of a stimpak and its revitalizing medicine at once injecting itself into your damaged flesh and pulsing through your bloodstream.

You moaned in pain, hips arching as you lifted slightly up off the cushions before you settled once more, allowing yourself to finally relax as Hancock watched the regenerative process take hold, much to his relief.

---

You awoke, finding yourself supine atop a mattress, with Hancock crossed legged on the floor beside you. He had brought it down from upstairs, wanting you to have somewhere more comfortable to recover; the drifters weren’t using it, but he was sure he could scrounge another one up should the need arise.

The door was shut, the rest of the room empty, the man teetering off the edge of a high he wished he could prolong; he had pumped himself full of all those things that made him feel better. Riddled with guilt, he had imbibed both chems and alcohol, his body slightly swaying from left to right as he could not sit entirely still, yet he was too far off in his own head to notice you had come back to him.

You shifted, realizing he had draped his frock across your body to act as a temporary blanket. This simple gesture caused a flutter behind sore ribs, biceps activating so that you might push up and rest on the flat of your palms.

John was idle, near-dead to the world, eyes closed as he kept up that gentle rocking, back and forth, as if lost in music or in deep meditation. You only desired to watch him, studying the intricate, striated patterns of his ravaged flesh, gazing over the hollow of his once human nose, and admiring his sullied, foppish tunic that was a part of his infamous ensemble.

While some might consider him a monster, he was a being of light. He had superficial, obvious flaws, but he was no more guilty of sin than anyone else in this day and age. He was a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your opinion was the only one that mattered to you. Hancock always tried to do the right thing—it’s what drew you to him—even if that meant taking out a few loose ends. 

Your heart stirred, natural chemical processes taking hold that would prompt you to touch him, your hormones dictating that you wanted this man carnally.

The ghoul’s eyes bolted open as you shuffled forward on your behind; you set his coat aside almost reverently, folding your legs like his, knees brushing as you leaned forward to kiss his wiry lips. Soft flesh against textured skin, rough in comparison, felt no less wonderful, Hancock groaning out a throaty sound of appreciation as he slowly shut his eyes again.

That was all the encouragement you needed, pressing closer, crawling onto Hancock’s lap as his hands found the meat of your ass to give it a squeeze. “Someone’s feelin’ better…” he quipped, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. His smile was lackadaisical and content, his touch roving to your thighs as he gazed up at you, noting you were tugging off your already unbuttoned top to reveal your shapely breasts.

“How’d a guy like me get so damn lucky…” he drawled, Hancock’s normally assertive way of speaking temporarily replaced by a calming cadence—it was dreamy—his indolent tone arousing your most base instincts.

You didn’t answer at first, thinking you’re the one who’s lucky. You had wanted and needed a change of pace, not happy with the way your business partners were operating, willing to bring death to others in order to get what scrap they could. You only took things from the ruins, or from those who deserved to be robbed, the idea of senseless violence proliferating thanks to people like your ragtag group something you decided you couldn’t live with.

You’d come to Goodneighbor looking for work; Hancock had been willing to give you a chance, and you didn’t disappoint. After a few heady conversations and risqué flirtations at the Third Rail, you had wound up in his arms—a place you found yourself never wanting to leave.

“I could ask you the same question,” you finally muttered, grazing his mouth, kisses repeating, small pecks placed from one side to the other in a physical show of adoration. The ghoul laughed a wry, salacious little laugh, head turning to allow for this impromptu bout of affection, stretching one arm out behind his head to act as a pillow as he relished the attention.

Then, his smile faded, the chem’s effects lingering like background radiation, less intense than before—the high lasted mere minutes if that, his faculties gradually returning. The hand left free gingerly touched your side, just below where he had administered the stimpak hours earlier. Concern was apparent in glistening eyes, so dark and lovely, starry pupils reflecting the faint luminescence of his surroundings.

“Not lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he promised, every shred of levity fleeing to be replaced by austerity, low, somber notes causing a visceral reaction as the onset of something warm and fuzzy spread throughout your core.

“Bein’ out here with me? Means you don’t gotta work, but I should have had your back, sunshine. Ain’t got no excuse.”

“You can have me on my back,” you playfully retorted, the simple suggestion unleashing a purr from the bowels of the ghoul’s throat. The idea of being a kept woman pleased you, but you were more interested in pleasing him.

“You better watch your mouth, or I can’t be held responsible for all those things I’m going to do to you,” Hancock countered. He talked big game, but he was still feelin’ shook. He didn’t want to risk getting too frisky on the off chance your body needed more time to heal; you were only human, after all.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you simpered. Hancock was quick to snark back.

“I know that’s a lie, ‘cause you’re not wearing any.”

You gasped as Hancock flipped you without warning, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He drank in the smooth, supple flesh of your curves, hungry eyes making damn sure to get their fill.

He couldn’t stop himself, exploring the swell of a perfect tit, Hancock’s mouth becoming newly acquainted with the sensitive flesh of your nipple. He flicked its pert tip with the point of his tongue; you brazenly rolled your hips as you tried to contain the lewd sound that threatened to escape you.

“I double dog dare you, ” you tempted, not in the least bit afraid of what he might have in store.

Hancock didn’t take the bait.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love, but let’s say I give it to you nice and slow… Or as slow as I can give it; hard to keep promises, lookin’ the way you do,” he argued, ruined lips applying pressure as he began to suck, his growing erection gently grinding into the meat of your thigh.

“You won’t hurt me.” You shuddered as he pulled back, gazing into murky, otherworldly eyes, their glow hypnotizing. You half-assed a struggle, wanting to pull your hands free if only to touch him, Hancock chuckling mildly at your efforts.

“Don’t be so sure, ‘cause I got a hankerin’ for human,” his voice dropped emphatically lower, toying with you, his dire inflection sending tingles down your spine. Coming from a ghoul, most people would run the other way, but you knew from experience, Hancock had a twisted sense of humor—it was something you loved about him.

“Eat me,” you jeered, snapping your teeth playfully like some creature that roamed the wasteland, Hancock pulling his head back just enough to satisfy you, as if he had a nose to bite off to begin with.

“That’s the plan, sister,” he snickered, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You took the opportunity to take hold of Hancock’s already tousled vest, guiding him down to meet your lips. Your fingers busied themselves with its unbuttoning as the ghoul had his hands full, cradling the plump, healthy tissue of your blushing cheeks in the crooks of his palms.

Hancock fed a grating moan into your mouth before asking a pointless question he already knew the answer to, not one to miss out on a chance to have his ego stroked. “Somethin’ about me.. turnin' you on? Don’t know why you’d go for this ugly mug,” he conceded, fishing for a compliment. 

“You. You turn me on,” you whined plaintively, “everything about you,” you confessed, furling your tongue around his, willing him to shut his trap long enough for you to kiss him properly. He aided in the undressing, whipping his sash off in one fell swoop, an idea blossoming only to come into fruition shortly thereafter.

“That why you’re actin’ so desperate for me?” Hancock laced that bit of ragged flag around both your wrists, constricting them once more, his own arm extending to tauten its hold. He wouldn’t give you the chance to kiss him the way you wanted to, cinching its loose ends around the legs of the coffee table just behind your head, giving it a good tug to make sure you couldn’t break free.

In reality, it would have been easy to wiggle loose, but he knew you were the type to play along.

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning alarm. The ghoul only grinned a shit-eating grin, crawling backward across your lap to adjust to a better position for his next course of action. 

“Makin’ sure you can’t skip out on me,” he said matter of fact, a mischievous lilt to his voice, “gonna have to punish you for all that worryin’ you made me do.” 

“But, Hancock—” you protested, realizing he was barring you from the one thing you wanted—full access to his person, unable to grope and caress all those parts of him you were so eager to touch and kiss.

“—Hmm?” he hummed, the bastard having the nerve to stand. He left you in a recumbent position with hands tied, unable to do anything but gaze up at the seductive set of motions he was now subjecting you to.

The ghoul painstakingly unfastened the remainder of his buttons, wizened digits fondling each in turn, his manner suggesting something that for now would remain unspoken. Then, Hancock shrugged his vest off, allowing his arms to hang as the garment dropped silkily to the floor. It was followed by a festooned shirt, leaving the man bare chested and amused; he wasn’t sure you had blinked even once.

“Like what you see?” he asked lazily, tracing a line across his gaunt pecs toward his navel with the curl of a finger, black eyes glinting impishly at the sight of you jostling your wrists as you failed to liberate yourself.

“Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly, unable to deny the effect his little striptease had on you. This in and of itself was torture, finding his brand of punishment entirely unfair.

“Good,” Hancock crooned, doing the unthinkable as he vanished from view. He even went so far as to walk beyond your peripheral vision. Instead, you were reduced to listening out for him, the ghoul shuffling around somewhere behind you. 

“John,” you whined, sitting up and scooting back against the coffee table the best you could. You endeavored to crane your neck, hearing the clink of glass preceding other innocuous sounds, the gentle thud of Hancock’s boots echoing across the rotting floorboards as he made his way back around. 

“You can say my name all you want to, princess, but it ain’t gonna change a damn thing,” Hancock stressed, words clawing their way out of cracked pipes as he nudged your knees apart with his foot; he knelt between your legs, a dispenser of Jet in one hand, and a dose of Rad-X in the other. “Open wide,” he instructed. 

You should have known what he’d been after, the drug-addicted ghoul popping the lone anti-radiation capsule inside his mouth after dispensing a heavy spray of the illicit substance into his lungs; its potency was limited in his case, but you were easily susceptible to its high. 

You gratefully obeyed, wanting any excuse to be close to him, Hancock’s silver tongue molesting you as easily as it had persuaded you to listen. He deposited the pill into your mouth, kissing you deeply, your beloved Mayor giving you a shotgun of thick, odorous chems without so much as a single protest on your part. 

Your heart thrummed, Jet leeching its way into your bloodstream to trigger a bodily response via your nervous system. In the meantime, you had almost forgotten to swallow your dose of Rad-X, Hancock prompting you by trailing the full length of your throat with a single, sallow finger. 

He massaged it down, feeling for the activation of those muscles that would help ferry it along, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his cock once upon a time being slopped on by the wet whorl of your tongue. His prick had throbbed almost painfully, sequestered snugly inside your zealous gullet, the powerful suction of your hollow cheeks threatening to wrench his soul from his body, or it sure as hell had felt that way.

He was drawn back to the present moment by the look in your eyes, your pupils dilating to rival the circumference of dinner plates. You gazed at the man before you; Hancock pulled back the edge of your bottom lip, exposing your gumline, the ghoul snaking another of his fingers inside your partially open mouth. 

The slender extremity would bypass your blunt teeth, saturating itself in your saliva. Even in this state, you had the wherewithal to pucker up, intaking that explorative digit to the knuckle, your plush maw behaving like a deluxe pre-war vacuum cleaner. 

The ghoul shuddered, though keeping his cool intact, lost in the depths of your unwavering stare. He slowly slipped back out, releasing your lip for it to snap gently back into place, Hancock satisfied with the knowledge you had swallowed the pill.

“Look at you, bein’ such a good girl for me,” Hancock praised, speaking in a low, sultry whisper. You did not reply, your desire for the man at its all-time high, that warmth in your belly having spread to complement the unparalleled ache of your loins.

“Hancock,” you whimpered, once more tugging at the cloth that bound you. You felt delirious with longing, your heart racing as you saw stars, euphoria overtaking all of your senses. You pushed forward, halted partway by that fucking flag that had you fettered like some common criminal, too blazed to even think about squirming loose. 

“Please,” you begged, lips reaching for his. Hancock evaded you, trailing a divot devoid of cartilage across your sateen cheek, directing it toward your lovely, intact nose. 

“Please, what, sister?” he ruthlessly teased, watching as your tongue tried to skirt his teeth; its vertex barely met its goal. Still, Hancock would return the gesture with a sweep of his own, flitting his against yours, inhaling deeply the scent of Jet off your breath as he was suddenly consumed by an almost feral need to taste your neediness—it was nearly palpable. 

“Please.. touch you? Please kiss you? Please.. fuck your pretty little hole?” he asked in a derisive tone, though his movements were languid, Hancock in no rush to oblige you, even as his veiny hands glided over every inch of your sleek skin.

“Is that what my little ray of sunshine wants?” the ghoul taunted, moving to unbutton the clasp at the top of your pants, then pinching the pull of your zipper, teeth parting to reveal clean cotton. You were nearly embarrassed by how damp your panties were, the chems only making your arousal ten times worse; Hancock wasn’t helping matters, a lecherous moan reaching your ears as the man slid back and realigned himself, bending forward to bury his face in the moist outline staining your skivvies.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet—” he marveled breezily, “—is it all for me?” Hancock rasped, nipping you through the fabric, a desiccated finger tucking itself into its elastic hem. Hancock dragged it down just far enough to expose your sweet-smelling sex, the ghoul’s tongue slithering easily between slick folds. 

You inhaled a disjointed gasp for breath, voice cracking as you cried out in ecstasy, Hancock having barely swiped your thrumming clit. That alone was almost too much, your hips bucking beneath him of their own volition as you pleaded with him to keep his promise.

“Don’t tease,” you sighed, naked breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. Hancock’s eyes traveled up your fine as fuck body before meeting your gaze, a twisted hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his ghoulish mouth. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he snickered, fingers grasping the entirety of your waistband to help you shimmy off your bottom layer of clothes. Your hips wriggled all too desperately, overjoyed to finally be free of their constraints. 

“But that’s not fair!” you entreated, unabashedly spreading your legs in the hopes of providing him a suitable meal, ready and willing to be devoured if you could only convince him to take the plunge.  

“And why not?” he asked in all seriousness, nuzzling into the lush flesh of your labia as his silky tongue entombed itself, gathering your moist heat from its source. He dipped back out to your chagrin—you had inhaled sharply in preparation only to be left disappointed—Hancock licking a stripe to the cusp of your throbbing bud. 

“Because I’ll die,” you replied, overexaggerating, writhing in bliss, albeit temporary; Hancock seemed out to drive you mad, retracting once more to glance back up at you, reedy lips downturned in a disapproving frown. 

“No, you won’t,” he asserted, voice taking on a sobering, sincere quality; even if you were being hyperbolic, after the events that had just transpired, Hancock didn’t find it funny, resolving to dine on you good and proper, as if it would be the thing to save your life. 

“I—” You were cut off mid-thought, lightning crashing thunderously outside, the ghoul introducing two coarse fingers into your clenching cunt as the radstorm raged on. Hancock’s neck sank low as you arched your hips, the flat of a thick tongue bringing you toward rapture as he succinctly lapped your clit in delicious combination, playing you like some Old World violin. 

“Aren’t you glad you’re trapped in here with me instead of out there cookin’ alive?” Hancock asked offhand, digits curling to find the seat of your pleasure, warm, wet muscle dancing slow, precise circles across your sensitive nerves. You halfheartedly yanked at your bindings once more, wishing for nothing more than to ravish him like a woman starved, deprived of sustenance. 

“Yes, yes— please, just like that,” you answered, urging him on, the man encouraged to keep at it, long, languorous strokes titillating you toward release.

Then, he simply stopped, fingers glossy upon exit, Hancock sucking your slick clean off with a scarecrow smile, tilting his head like a curious animal as you bemoaned your plight, left to suffer on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Relax, I ain’t through with you yet,” Hancock remarked, lifting himself up to a seated position on his knees. You whined indignantly, made to watch as he unbuckled and unzipped his own pants.

The rogue stood completely, giving you another show, kicking one boot off after the other before slinking out of the rest of his clothes. 

You took a moment to admire him, skin pockmarked with scars, deep pits of tissue missing where cells had inevitably healed all too quickly, John a mosaic of gnarled, misshapen flesh and keloid. Yet he was so handsome, charming, and cavalier, the man leaving nothing on but his tricornered hat, returning to his previous enterprise by way of interring his roiling tongue into your aching center. 

“Oh, John,” you murmured, voice hushed, the man’s thumb working itself concentrically atop your little pearl. 

For once, he was quiet, his strokes inside you meticulous, the nearly silent room filled with a plethora of obscene sounds as he feasted on you like a Yao guai over a fresh kill. Just a little attention was all it took, nails digging into the palms of your tied hands as you twisted beneath him, vocalizing loud enough you were sure the whole State House would hear.

A shiver rocked you to your core, riding out your climax for as long as you could stand it. You were unable to push Hancock’s head back even if you wanted to, the ghoul finding a new way to punish you, continuing to stimulate your already oversensitive clit. 

“Hancock, please—” you begged him under different circumstances, the ball of your foot gingerly pushing against his blatant hard-on. The ghoul finally let up just enough to chortle dryly, obviously nonplussed.

“Done already? Thought we were just gettin’ this party started,” he flouted, sitting up properly, probing fingers caressing the curve of your slit as they trailed upward, ghosting over your navel to tweak your nipple. They didn’t stop there, reaching just behind you to nab a cigarette off the edge of the coffee table, your expression giving away your confusion as he struck a match to ignite the end.

“No, John— you’re supposed to fuck me!” you berated, another devious little chuckle let loose from wilted lips. The ghoul inhaled a deep drag of nicotine laced with radiation, though the amount contained therein was so trivial he didn’t bat a lash—not that he had any.

He gazed at you through a thin veil of smoke exuded from eroded nasal passages—a short burst of pressure from his lungs propelling it outward—a freakish sight to some, but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“So, that is what you want,” Hancock digressed, snubbing the end of his cig on the floor after a few more laggard puffs. The Jet was wearing off, Hancock having already sobered completely, its side effects leaving you feeling used-up and exhausted. Hancock had forgotten what it felt like to come down from such an intense high; you pouted pathetically up at him.

“Baby,” you whined, immediately capturing Hancock's attention. He dropped the act, eyes softening around the edges, colorless voids somehow the most expressive you had ever seen them.

“What is it, sunshine? Feelin’ all right? Need somethin’ to take the edge off?” he asked gently, concern present in his tone, the ghoul finally being kind enough to reach over your head to free you from your bindings. 

“I need you,” you implored, your speech sounding childishly irritable, tired, heavy arms lifting to wrap themselves around John’s neck; you couldn’t help yourself, having been prohibited from touching him for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a short length of time. 

“I’m all yours,” Hancock vowed, whisking a stray strand of your hair away. A soft kiss was pressed into even softer lips; the man was two sides of the same coin, like night and day. Part of you prayed you would never cross him, his temper volatile, like an active volcano lying dormant until such a time the right conditions were met, inevitably causing an eruption. 

But he was also kind, genuine, and a good person, only wanting to make the Commonwealth a better place; he held within him a righteous anger, and for good reason, determined to stick by him through thick and thin. 

"Nice and slow?" you asked, bringing the conversation full circle, ushering the ghoul down on top of you as you laid back, gazing up with heavy-lidded eyes. He searched your face, as if double-checking for something, needing to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing was wrong—you were only sulking. 

“You got it, sister,” Hancock replied coyly, the fullness of a finger returning to you as he tested the waters; you were still so unbelievably wet. It was a stark contrast to the dry, desolate landscape that stretched for miles just beyond his little town, the ghoul humming in gratitude as you kissed him once again. 

You wasted no time, slipping your hand between the depression of your bodies where hip meets hip, his weight a warm, inviting presence that comforted you like nothing else. Your fingers toyed with his variegated shaft, thumbing a bead of loosed pre-cum to moisten its tip; Hancock moaned lustfully as he buried himself deeper into the column of your throat, teeth raking tender flesh, barely withholding the intention to bite.

“I’m thinkin’ you must be the single best thing to ever happen to me,” Hancock confessed in a dulcet whisper, voice quavering with emotion as you carefully escorted his cock inside you, one delicious inch at a time. Jagged breaths found their way into your ear, distorted, ribbed flesh, more than adequate in length and girth, stretching you open, a subdued sound of longing and relief birthed from parted lips. 

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to keep your feelings at bay, any and all movements ceasing before they had wholly begun.

You had closed your eyes; they fluttered open, fear wheedling its way inside your heart as Hancock gazed at you in silence. You cursed yourself, having never before expressed such a sentiment out loud, unsure how the man would take it, or if he even felt remotely the same—all signs pointed to yes, but you refused to be presumptuous. 

Then, he pushed up into your tight cunt with one slow, smooth stroke of his cock along your anterior walls, stimulating your G-spot. Pleasure radiated through you as you emitted a stilted breath, Hancock cradling your cheek, resting his forehead against yours to stare penetratingly into your eyes.

“Took you to be smarter than this, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he breathed against your lips, slipping a motile tongue into your mouth, wanting to desperately deepen your connection. 

You readily accepted, your own tongue writhing and contracting in unison with his, heart beating fervently behind a wall of blood and bone. Your fingers clawed and grasped at his narrow shoulders and the tendinous flesh of his back, exploring every inch of your ghoulish lover, from head to jutting hipbone.

Hancock drove his cock into you, back and forth, keeping a steady, equal rhythm like the beat of a drum. “Why now?” he asked, voice tempered, each pump of his thick prick inside you unhurried and sensuous.

“Nearly dying may have had something to do with it,” you jested in-between indecent, muted moans, Hancock’s deliberate pace driving you toward orgasm. The arm not supporting his weight curled tightly around you. He clutched you to his chest, and you wrapped your thighs around his waif thin waist in return. 

“Mmn.. that it?” Spindly fingers moved to grip the back of your head, digging into tufts of your hair; your back bowed to support you in joining with him more fully, Hancock massaging your scalp as he massaged your insides, debauch, rich sounds filling both your ears.

“And because I have nothing to lose,” you reluctantly answered, breath picking up speed as you pushed back against firm, rawboned pectorals with the palm of your hand; you had the intention of arranging yourself at just the right angle to please— a simple slant of your hips would make things all too easy.

Within moments, you came, pinpricks of light overwhelming your senses. You were elated, as if your consciousness had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of love and electromagnetic radiation, a soul set adrift in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings and emotions that would amalgamate into something beautiful—it caused you to cry out a sound of intense, heartfelt bliss. 

Your mind went blank, only registering that John had simultaneously shared in the experience. It would take you both a moment to calm.

Then, you squeezed Hancock tightly between your legs, a signal for him to not withdraw, but to stay awhile, the tension in your body settling as you laid back down.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Hancock would smother you with his scant weight, caressing the point of your chin, his thumb snaking across your bottom lip. He gave a faint exhalation of breath, the concave outline of his nasal cavity grazing the convex shape of your nose; it tickled.

“Nothing to lose but each other.”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Brit here and there was DEFINITELY Press just before Meghan and Harry married saying that in future William & Kate would focus more on the UK as heirs to the throne and that Harry & Meghan would 'get' the Commonwealth. I remember thinking it a good idea at the time (when I still liked Meghan). William & Kate wouldn't have to travel so much with their young family; it would allow the BRF to provide 'coverage' of both UK & Commonwealth; it would give Harry (who so famously loved Africa etc.) a proper job and of course Meghan's bi-racial heritage was seen as a massive advantage. Everything points to this being official BRF policy rather than M&H PR. They were given their meaningful Commonwealth titles, Meghan was told enough about the role to have the Commonwealth flowers on her veil, there is a documentary about the Queen and the Commonwealth where Meghan is highlighted (K&W are absent) and they were sent almost immediately to Australia and New Zealand. They may also have been told that the Duchy of Cornwall would fund them on these tours. This is my theory about what happened next.

As we now know that tour was a disaster behind the scenes due to Meghan's attitude. My take is that they were soundly chastised and given one last chance to prove themselves with the South Africa tour. This was also a bit of a disaster, culminating in Meghan's tearful interview. I believe they were then told they were a diplomatic disaster and not ready to take on the Commonwealth. It's about this time that there was a lot of Press about them moving to Africa or elsewhere in the Commonwealth for a long stint and to focus on their young family. I believe this was the BRF's plan to give Meghan a chance to ease into royalling and keep the Commonwealth connection before coming back at a later date. It was at this time that Megxit was planned. Meghan had been told in no uncertain terms that she wasn't as good as Kate (who had stepped perfectly into the royal role almost immediately). I think Harry tried initially to stick to the script with the move to Canada but Meghan was having none of it and made the move to LA. I think it's significant that their final planned engagements included the Commonwealth Day service (this was probably why they got so stroppy about their diminished roles there). After it became obvious after Megxit that they wouldn't be getting their roles back, M&H went scorched earth and wanted to destroy any possible Commonwealth roles for the rest of the family. That's why they went all out to scupper the Caribbean tour, wove all their vague racist allegations about the entire family, followed by more substantive subsequent allegations about Kate and Charles (who could be expected to take on the bulk of Commonwealth roles going forward) and dissed the C'wealth in 'Spare'. TL:DR this whole sorry saga is Meghan's revenge for being told she and Harry weren't good enough for the Commonwealth roles planned for them.

Allegedly the Sussexes were sent on vacation after Remembrance Day 2019 because “it” wasn’t going well and upsetting a lot of people.

(Speculation for “it”: the South Africa tour being a PR disaster and the “no one asked me if I’m ok” interview, both of which overshadowed Charles’ trips and the Cambridges’ Pakistan trip; general bullying/rude behaviors; BP finding out about negotiations with Quibi, Netflix, and Oprah; complaints from Frogmore neighbors; issues with The SussexRoyal Foundation relating to financials and/or how it was set up (Bower talks a bit about this in Revenge); and having cameras for their event at the Field of Remembrance in Nov 2019 (Camilla was supposed to join them but she bowed out at the last second and Meghan was overly glam with her makeup for the event).)

So allegedly after the Remembrance Day 2019 events concluded, the Sussexes were sent to Canada on holiday for a punishment and then the Sussexes, furious about being sidelined, devised their Megxit plans.

And also allegedly, Harry and Meghan didn’t expect the hard “no” they got from The Queen. They thought they’d be able to present it at fait accompli since they were both so fully delusional over the strength of Meghan’s race card and Harry’s “status” as The Favorite.

Regarding the Queen of the World documentary that highlighted Meghan, allegedly she completely took it over. She wasn’t supposed to feature as much as she did. And allegedly, Meghan bailed on an artsy engagement with Charles that she had already committed to to film and “direct” the documentary.

[tozettastone]

I didn't explain this earlier when I was enthusing about taking some of my long service leave. I think it is just Australia and Aotearoa NZ that has it? But there might be other Commonwealth countries, too, I'm not aware of all of them. The basic idea is that if you work at a single place of employment for 10 years, you get 3 months of extra leave to take. It is my understanding that the historical basis was more or less implicitly colonial: here, it was first done in the 1860s so people could get on a ship and go back to Europe, from whence it was presumed they came and had family remaining.

Nowadays in my state you can access LSL on a pro-rata basis after you've worked somewhere for 7 years instead of 10 years. And unlike sick leave or annual leave or whatever, you accrue it regardless of if you're a casual employee. And if you've been working there long enough to have access to it, your employers have to pay it out at the end of your tenure!

I really like this concept and I'm glad it's been in federal legislation here for ages because... can you imagine trying to get that passed today? The brains trust at the Australian Financial Review would be carrying on like pork chops.

Australia usually loses out compared to European countries when we compare leave entitlements for employees. But I'm glad that at least there's, like, this idea embedded that if you give some company seven years of your life, they HAVE to give you this valuable thing, y'know? And sure, they could fire you at 6 years and 11 months... but if they've needed your work for the last six years, they'll probably need it again.

[celticcrossanon]

I found this interesting

I ran across article linked below today. It is about the Annual Report of the Royal Household, and it raises a few point that I found significant, noted below as quotes from the article

NEW VALUES

The Royal Household has published a new set of written values, designed to guide the institution in the years to come.

Recording them in its annual report, it said: "The new reign has given the royal household the opportunity to define a new expression of purpose underpinned by a refreshed set of values."

Those five values are: "Act with Care"; "Make an Impact"; "Succeed Together"; "Stay Curious"; and "Lead by Example".

The stated purpose of the Royal Household is now to "support the sovereign in serving the UK and Commonwealth to help shape a better world".

EDIT: I am getting controlling vibes from this, i.e. 'do what I say or else', and I have no idea why that is. I have to look up what the old values were so I can compare them.

NO MORE ACCOUNTABILITY IN HOW PUBLIC FUNDS ARE USED

It [the report] retains a pledge to place "strong emphasis on value for money" but removes a clause from last year's report which promised "accountability in the use of public funds and resources".

EDIT: This is a large red flag to me. I see no reason for going from being accountable for the use of public funds to not being accountable for the use of public funds unless said public funds are going somewhere that they should not be going.

REMOVAL OF EMPHASIS ON DIFFERENT GENERATIONS

In a section about the Royal family's role in supporting the King, the 2023-4 report has also deleted a line from 2022-3 which said that: "The different generations of the Royal family help to make the work of the monarchy relevant and accessible to people at every stage of life."

EDIT: This is a minor point. I am simply wondering why this line was deleted.

RETAINS THE REMOVAL OF DUTIES FOR THE MONARCH, DONE IN THE LAST YEAR OF QUEEN ELIZABETH II'S REIGN

In 2022, the same section of the Sovereign Grant report, which introduces the role of the monarch, was rewritten to remove duties the then Queen "must fulfil".

The edit, the first of its kind in at least a decade, took out a 13-point list of specific events that were previously said to be necessary by "constitutional convention", including the State Opening of Parliament.

This year's report retains most of those changes.

EDIT: This is interesting to me because of the implications for The King's health. The duties were removed in the last year of the Late Queen's life, and many people speculated that it was because she was physically unable to perform all those duties anymore. When The King leaves those duties out, instead of putting them back in, it makes me wonder if he is physically unable to do them all as well.

I will have to take the 13 points from old financial reports to see if I should be concerned.

Edited to add in my opinion. :)

ARTICLE

For Reference - link to financial reports 2023-2024

I shall have to read and compare the reports for the last few years before I come to any conclusions. This is my reference and reminder post so I don't forget.

[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in March 2024

01/03 In Dubai Princess Anne; 🇦🇪

As President of the Mission to Seafarers, visited Dubai Ports World in Port of Jebel Ali. 🚢

As President of the Mission to Seafarers, attended a Women in Shipping and Trading Conference Panel Discussion at Dubai Ports World Pavilion. 👩‍💼🛳️

Opened Donnelly Lines British Forces Headquarters at Al Minhad Airbase. 🛫

Called upon HH Sheikha Hind bint Maktoum bin Juma Al Maktoum (wife of the Vice President and PM of the UAE and Ruler of Dubai). 👑

Attended a Royal British Legion Reception on board the QUEEN ELIZABETH II floating hotel. 🍾

As President of the Royal Yachting Association, visited Dubai Offshore Sailing Club. 🛥️

As President of the Mission to Seafarers, this attended a Dinner at the One and Only Royal Mirage Hotel. 🍽️

02/03 Departed Dubai International Airport and returned to Heathrow Airport 🇦🇪✈️🇬🇧

04/03 As Guardian of the Chaffinch Trust, held a Management Team Meeting at Gatcombe Park. 🤝

As Guardian of Give Them A Sporting Chance, held a Management Team Meeting at Gatcombe Park. ⚽️

unofficial Along with the Duke of Kent (President of the RNLI), Sir Tim (Vice President of the RNLI) attended a Service of Thanksgiving to commemorate the 200th Anniversary of the RNLI at Westminster Abbey. 🛟

05/03 As Patron of Livability, visited New Court Place, to mark its 180th Anniversary. 🦼

Opened First Garden Cities Homes' Sheltered Housing Scheme at John Coxall Court in Letchworth Garden City. 🏡

As Patron of the Butler Trust, visited HMP/Young Offenders Institute Aylesbury. 🔗👮

06/03 On behalf of the King, held two investiture ceremonies at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

07/03 As President, attended the 32nd National Equine Forum at the Institution of Mechanical Engineers. 🐴

As Grand Master of the Royal Victorian Order, attended Evensong and a Reception at The King’s Chapel of the Savoy. ⛪️🎖️

08/03 As Chancellor of the University of London, visited King’s College London’s Portable MRI Project at the Denmark Hill Campus. 🩻

As Patron of Save the Children UK, attended the International Women’s Day Luncheon at Bluebird on Kings Road. 👭💪

10/03 Attended the Global Fraud Summit at the Guildhall in London. 💻👾

11/03 Attended the Commonwealth Day Service at Westminster Abbey alongside The Queen, The Prince of Wales, The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, The Princess Royal, The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester and The Duke of Kent. 🌎🌍🌏

Attended a Commonwealth Day Reception at Westminster Abbey. 🌍🥂

With Sir Tim As Past Master of the Worshipful Company of Butchers, attended the Annual City Food and Drink Lecture at Guildhall. 🍽️🍾

12/03 With Sir Tim Attended a luncheon on board Hebridean Princess to mark its 60th Anniversary in Greenock. 🥪

With Sir Tim Visited Peel Ports Group Limited Greenock Ocean Terminal. 🛳️

13/03 unofficial Attended Style Wednesday at Cheltenham Festival. 👒

14/03 unofficial Attended St. Patrick’s Thursday at Cheltenham Festival. ☘️

15/03 With Sir Tim Attended Gold Cup Friday at Cheltenham Festival. 🏆

16/03 With Sir Tim As Patron of the Scottish Rugby Union, attended the Six Nations Rugby Match between Scotland and Ireland at Aviva Stadium in Dublin. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🇮🇪🏉

18/03 As Patron of Save the Children UK, attended the International Financial Review Annual Awards Dinner at the Grosvenor House Hotel in London.🏅

19/03 As Patron of Sense, opened Sense Hub Loughborough.🦻👨‍🦯

On behalf of The King, with the Duchess of Edinburgh, held a Reception for Korean War Veterans at Buckingham Palace. 🪖

As Patron of the Butler Trust, held the Annual Awards Ceremony at St James’s Palace. 🏆

With Sir Tim As President of the Royal Commission for the Exhibition of 1851, attended a Presidential Dinner at Fishmongers’ Hall. 🐟🍽️

20/03 Held a morning and an afternoon investiture ceremony at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

21/03 As President of the Benenden Society and Founders’ Patron of Benenden School, attended the Centenary Service in Canterbury Cathedral. ⛪️👩‍🦰

Attended the Commonwealth Youth Orchestra and Choir Presentation Concert at Spencer House. 🎻���

22/03 Opened the new North Atlantic Treaty Organisation Allied Rapid Reaction Corps Headquarters Accommodation at the Officers’ Mess in Imjin Barracks. 🌊

Visited the Joint Casualty and Compassionate Centre and Ministry of Defence Medal Office at Innsworth House in Imjin Barracks. ⛑️🎖️

As Patron of Stroud Hospital League of Friends, visited Stroud Maternity Unit. 🏥👶

25/03 Visited MacRebur Limited. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🛣️

Visited the Lockerbie Air Disaster Memorial at Lockerbie Garden of Remembrance. 🌹👼🏻

As President of the Scotch Chef’s Club, opened Browns Food Group’s new facilities at Kelloholm Industrial Estate. 🐄

As Royal Patron of Friends of TS Queen Mary, attended a Reception at the Hilton Glasgow. ⛴️🥂

26/03 Opened the Rural and Veterinary Innovation Centre at Scotland's Rural College in Inverness. 🩺🐑

As Chancellor of the University of the Highlands and Islands, attended the Integrated Land Use Conference. 🚜🧑‍🌾

As Royal Patron of the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland, visited the Saving Wildcats Project at Highland Wildlife Park in Kincraig. 🐯🦁

As Patron and Honorary Member of the Grand Antiquity Society of Glasgow, attended a Dinner at the Trades Hall of Glasgow. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿📜

Unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of Trustees, attended the opening of the Adani Green Energy Gallery at the Science Museum 🌍🍃💚

31/03 unofficial With Sir Tim Attended the Easter Mattins service held at St George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle ⛪️🐣

Total official engagements for Anne in March: 49

2024 total so far: 134

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in March: 6

2024 total so far: 29

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

[stoat-party]

From a narrative perspective I really prefer to believe that everything Deacon tells you in his final affinity talk is true, because 1. Even though he cares about the rest of the Railroad, it’s clear you’re the only person he’s gotten close to in a long time, and 2. It’s as real as he ever gets with you in-game, showing an unprecedented amount of trust (and causing you to question just how much of an act he’s putting on before and henceforth). But I’m newly charmed by the idea that every part of his story was true… except his wife just isn’t dead.

Yeah she’s totally fine. They found out she was a synth 20-something years ago, and it was pretty traumatic but they’re all good now. He took out the UP Deathclaws, not out of vengeance, but just because they were too much of a threat to leave alone. The Railroad got the wrong idea and Deacon just went with it. Even if someone’s trustworthy, the Institute has ways of getting information from people, so it’s just better to act like she doesn’t exist, y’know? They miss each other, but she knows his work is important, she runs a small farm or business and financially supports him.

Deacon does make a comment about having people to protect after you use his “recall code.” And I think it puts a funny spin on why he’s not romanceable — he’s just Actively In Holy Matrimony.

Maybe just south of the Commonwealth, there’s a nice farmgirl with suspiciously lasting youth, whose neighbors gossip about how often she swaps out her lovers (who, come to think of it, all share the same height, build, and penchant for shades…). And I don’t know her name, but I can tell you it probably isn’t Barbara.

[allthegeopolitics]

The three candidates to be the next secretary general of the Commonwealth have called for reparations for countries that were affected by slavery and colonisation. The candidates from the Gambia, Ghana and Lesotho expressed their support for either financial reparations or “reparative justice”, as they made their pitches to lead the 56-country organisation at a debate hosted by the Chatham House thinktank in London on Wednesday. Calls for reparations for the harms caused by slavery and colonialism have grown since the murder of George Floyd by police in 2020 sparked Black Lives Matter protests globally and led many governments, institutions and individuals to examine how they had historically benefited from the slave trade. African and Caribbean countries formed an alliance last year to pressure former slave-owning states to pay for “historical mass crimes”.

Continue Reading.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Security was the main essence of their plan from the very beginning. Hence the extreme nature of their war against the govt &amp; RAVEC &amp; they will act with increasing extremism and grifting and hoaxing in desperation now. The Royal Grift's brilliant video. by u/ElectricalAd9212

Security was the main essence of their plan from the very beginning. Hence the extreme nature of their war against the govt & RAVEC & they will act with increasing extremism and grifting and hoaxing in desperation now. The Royal Grift's brilliant video. The brilliant YouTuber The Royal Grift's latest video really gets to the nub of the matter.In essence, Markle and Harry's whole plan depended on having permanent tax payer funded security and this can be seen in their statement when they announced their plans.But most arrogantly and psychopathically, the statement was a typical Markle attempt to bounce the Queen and Palace into giving them everything they wanted.She thought that doing this would manifest it to happen, or force the hand by making the media and everyone else assume it was the case, and if they didn't agree, they could play the hate card of abuse and incitement, that the Palace was racist etc.Essentially, they tried to bully the Queen and Palace in the same way that Markle bullied her staff.from their website:Why do they carry out official overseas visits and who pays for it?The Duke and Duchess proudly carry out official overseas visits in support of Her Majesty The Queen at the request of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO), as is the case for all members of the Royal Family. The length and location of these tours are determined by the FCO and the Royal Visits Committee. All Official overseas visits are in support of Her Majesty’s Government’s objectives and paid for by The Sovereign Grant as well as contributions from the host country, when appropriate.Does their future financial autonomy extend to covering the costs of security?The provision of armed security by The Metropolitan Police is mandated by the Home Office, a ministerial department of Her Majesty’s Government, responsible for security and law & order. As stated on gov.uk, “No breakdown of security costs is available as disclosure of such information could compromise the integrity of these arrangements and affect the security of the individuals protected. It is long established policy not to comment upon the protective security arrangements and their related costs for members of the Royal Family or their residences.”​+++++++++​Why are they so desperate, to the extent of waging judicial and legal war on the govt and RAVEC?Because everything about their plans to make money and set up a rival Royal House in America with the sole purpose of making money from the royal name whilst pretending to be philanthropists depended on two things:(1) The British government and Foreign Office asking them to represent the UK overseas(2) The permanent funds from the British taxpayer to fund their lifestyle and allow them to travel as if they were Monarchs or the President of the USA and gain access to money making merchandising and commercial opportunities therein.The Royal Grift rightly points out a couple of things:(a) The New York car chase hoax and everything else -- including the Taliban comment -- was an attempt to force the govt to resume taxpayer funding for them and(b) They will not give up and will become even more desperate and extreme and commit more hoaxes and wage wars of deception and hoaxing in order to try and regain their fundingI agree with the Royal Grift. I expect to see strategic genius Markle and her husband indulge in ever more extreme and desperate attempts to regain working royal status, and funding. In short, they are going to become ever more extreme, lying, deceitful, hoaxing and fraudulent as they become more desperate.We ain't seen nothing yet from this pair of lying psycho grifters ​​ post link: https://ift.tt/QSidF16 author: ElectricalAd9212 submitted: March 02, 2024 at 04:54PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[mysteriouslytransparentwitch]

mini reading tarot & oracle king charles 3, 25 april 2024

King Charles 3 is doing much better, we are asking him for a little more patience to regain all his vitality. He is really eager to turn the page. And to return to the British and the members of the commonwealth. He has observed the storms from afar and is ready to reconnect. He opened his eyes to these relational links. He does not like the current wars and their consequences in his country and elsewhere. His mind is focused on the financial shortcomings of associations, individuals but also the BRF.

he insists on something, he really wants to go or move forward (maybe the doctors tell him certain things)

there is an energy of a queen of epein who has the idea of something linked to abundance or child or success???!!!! we feel satisfied like a wish that came true??? we want to inform or come back with this news as self-promotion??? (Meghan??)

we have memories that mix joy and disappointment in us?? problems return with force.

We hope for a new chapter?! someone announces this celebration

it's not really clear, sorry

[shannendoherty-fans]

Shannen Doherty’s Untimely Death Sparks Important Conversations About Healthcare Access And Equity

By Janice Gassam Asare

Shannen Doherty, the actress best known for her roles in Beverly Hills, 90210 and Charmed has died after a long battle with cancer, at the age of 53. In a 2015 statement to People magazine, the actress revealed her breast cancer diagnosis, stating that she was “undergoing treatment” and that she was suing a firm and its former business manager for causing her to lose her health insurance due to a failure to pay the insurance premiums. According to reports, in a lawsuit Doherty shared that she hired a firm for tax, accounting, and investment services, among other things, and that part of their role was to make her health insurance premium payments to the Screen Actors Guild; Doherty claimed that their failure to make the premium payments in 2014 caused her health insurance to lapse until the re-enrollment period in 2015. When Doherty went in for a checkup in March of 2015, the cancer was discovered, at which time it had spread. In the lawsuit, Doherty indicated that if she had insurance, she would have been able to get the checkup sooner—the cancer would have been discovered, and she could have avoided chemotherapy and a mastectomy.

Under the IRS, actors are often classified as independent contractors, which comes with its own set of challenges. Although it is unclear what Doherty’s situation was, for many independent contractors, obtaining health insurance can be difficult. Trying to get health insurance as an independent contractor can be a costly and convoluted process. A 2020 Actors’ Equity Association survey indicated that “more than 80% of nonunion actors and stage managers in California have been misclassified as independent contractors.” A 2021 research study revealed that self-employment (which is what independent contractors are considered to be) was associated with a higher likelihood of being uninsured.

Doherty’s tragic situation invites a larger conversation about healthcare access and equity in the United States. According to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, the Affordable Care Act (ACA), also known as “Obamacare,” was signed into law in 2010 and revolutionized healthcare access in two distinct ways: “creating health insurance marketplaces with federal financial assistance that reduces premiums and deductibles and by allowing states to expand Medicaid to adults with household incomes up to 138 percent of the federal poverty level.” The ACA helped reduce the number of uninsured Americans and expanded healthcare access to those most in need. It also helped close gaps in coverage for different populations, including those with pre-existing health conditions, lower-income individuals, part-time workers, and those from historically excluded and marginalized populations.

Despite strides made through the ACA, healthcare access and equity are still persistent issues, especially within marginalized communities. Research from the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) examining 2010-2022 data indicated that in 2022, non-elderly American Indian and Alaska Natives (AIAN) and Hispanic people had the greatest uninsured rates (19.1% and 18% respectively). When compared with their white counterparts, Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islanders (NHOPI) and Black people also had higher uninsured rates at 12.7% and 10%, respectively. The Commonwealth Fund reported that between 2013 and 2021, “states that expanded Medicaid eligibility had higher rates of insurance coverage and health care access, with smaller disparities between racial/ethnic groups and larger improvements, than states that didn’t expand Medicaid.” It’s important to note that if a Republican president is elected, Project 2025, the far-right policy proposal document, seeks to upend Medicaid as we know it by introducing limits on the amount of time that a person can receive Medicaid.

When peeling back the layers to examine these racial and ethnic differences in more detail, the Brookings Institute noted in 2020 that the refusal of several states to expand Medicaid could be one contributing factor. One 2017 research study found that some underrepresented racial groups were more likely to experience insurance loss than their white counterparts. The study indicated that for Black and Hispanic populations, specific trigger events were more likely, as well as “socioeconomic characteristics” that were linked to more insurance loss and slower insurance gain. The study also noted that in the U.S., health insurance access was associated with employment and and marriage and that Black and Hispanic populations were “disadvantaged in both areas.”

Equity in and access to healthcare is fundamental, but bias is omnipresent. Age bias, for example, is a pervasive issue in breast cancer treatment. Research also indicates that racial bias is a prevalent issue—because the current guidelines in breast cancer screenings are based on white populations, this can lead to a delayed diagnosis for women from non-white communities. Our health is one of our greatest assets and healthcare should be a basic human right, no matter what state or country you live in. As a society, we must ensure that healthcare is available, affordable and accessible to all citizens. After all, how can a country call itself great if so many of its citizens, especially those most marginalized and vulnerable, don’t have access to healthcare?

[therealvinelle]

How does Norway view it’s royal family I’m from Canada and lets just say that we are not big monarchy fans. But I wonder about other countries because commonwealth countries are kind of in a unique situation where their royalty is actually royalty of another country (Britain) and we just pay for it. (no seriously, we pay more for the monarchy in canada than the uk does)

I can't speak for everyone, but I personally am in favor of having a royal family and would find it disappointing and a change for the worse if we became a republic.

The monarchy in Norway came about the right way, when the country became independent in 1905 the people voted with an overwhelming majority in favor of getting the Danish prince Carl to become our king. It was in order words not something imposed upon us by a thousand years of feudalism, but a newly independent people's choice to have a king of our own.

King Haakon proceeded to, when Norway was occupied by the Germans, refuse to accept our government's formal request to disband (as they had been driven into exile and could no longer govern), as well as refuse to surrender. Did this lead to war, yes, but it also meant that through the war we remained an occupied country with a legitimate government overseas broadcasting to every citizen by radio that we could look towards in place of the occupying government imposed upon us.

After King Haakon there was King Olav, who took the bus during the 1973 energy crisis so as to lead by example, and went skiing in the woods like everybody else, he was an immensely popular king. Now there is King Harald, who married a commoner in Queen Sonja and whose children have made even more scandalous marriages (Princess Märtha married an artist and author, Ari Behn, while the crown prince Haakon married a single mother of a child out of wedlock who was and in certain circles remains viewed as very low class), but both Harald and Sonja are very loved. Harald famously is very witty, and more importantly he is a very inclusive and kind-hearted person who made it explicitly clear he is as much the king of immigrants and LGBT people as he is everybody else. He has also competed in the Olympics seveal times, we love an athlete.

The big eyesore is Princess Märtha, whose sins and scandals are money but in a nutshell, she made the choice to be financially independent (good!) only to then do so in the worst ways she could manage. There was the angel school, where you would go learn how to speak with angels (I once went to a party where we read her book and followed her instructions on finding your aura, great fun and I recommend this for a party game), which had everyone laughing at her, to the much less funny adventure she is now on, where she has... gone full Gwyneth Paltrow. As in, she is engaged to a shaman who says children with cancer must have wished the cancer upon themselves and he will also cleanse women's vaginas of evil if they've had too much sex, and she has toured the country with this man using her princess title (The tour was called "The princess and the shaman") which... yes. When they are criticized, they say it's racism because he is black, this has not endeared them to many either.

She can live her life how she wishes, the fact that what she wishes is to give a platform to a man who talks about being a lizard who contains ancient spirits and also the 5G net is bad is what makes people upset and lose respect for the monarchy as a whole.

Personally, I remain in favor of the monarchy because she'll never be on the throne, she is already irrelevant in every way that matters. The relevant royals we do have do their jobs well and responsibly, which is where my wanting to have a monarchy in the first place comes in: I believe in the constitutional monarchy as we practice it in Norway.

The people who make the decisions will be elected by the people, but the person representing the country, whose job is only to represent and better the country through charities and strengthened diplomatic ties, has an advantage if he isn't political and gains a continuity from not being replaced every time he loses the election cycle. In these times of rising populism I think the advantage to having an apolitical head of state and military is even greater. We could in theory vote a populist party into power but we wouldn't have a populist president, the way certain countries experienced not too long ago and stand to do now. As for how one should go about finding such a non-political, continuous leader of the country, I think inheriting the position is as good a way as any to keep the transferrance of power from one sovereign to the next from getting political. In other words, monarchy but keep it constitutional.

(I'm also colored by how King Haakon handled the occupation, as well as how the King of Spain as recently as in 1981 prevented a military coup in Spain by denouncing the military's actions. How relevant these events are to the present day can be debated, but I think the past couple of years have proven that we should not take the status quo for granted and our democracies can come under threat. When they do, I prefer to have every safeguard imaginable in place for them. If that safeguard spend their time promoting art and charity that's just a big bonus.)

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

He left because he lost his election and he doesn't need them anymore.

I'm sorry, what election?

Johnny Mercer, the MP who has been the #1 supporter for Birmingham 2027 Invictus Games, lost his seat on July 4th in the UK general election. I haven't seen any continued support from him re the 2027 IG bid (granted, I also haven't been looking for his support).

I've been informed anon was talking about a different person - Dominic Reid, who has been CEO of Invictus Games since 2014.

That doesn't give me warm and fuzzies about Invictus's financial status or Harry's role as patron, as I discussed here three months ago in April:

And y'all know what I think? I think that the CEO sees the writing on the wall that this is a sinking ship and rather than to reign Harry in or cut him loose for a patron that will actually work, support, and promote Invictus Games's work, the CEO is bailing. This comment from the Forces article linked above is very telling:

Mr Reid said the Invictus organisation is in a "great place", with the announcement for the 2027 games coming soon and a pipeline prepared for 2029. "If you were to talk to other major sporting events, Olympics, Commonwealth Games, they would be envious of that pipeline." He added: "I think now it requires energy and a fresh look to engage it and take it to the next level. I think it's a good time for all of us."

Because #1 - the Olympics actually do have a pipeline, it's 10-12 years long, and they're a much bigger corporation than Invictus Games is. In fact, the IOC probably thinks Invictus Games is that Morgan Freeman/Matt Damon movie about rugby. They aren't envious one bit. This is 100% flattery to soothe somebody's fragile ego.

And #2 - if that's not a "I can't fix this so I'm quitting and making it someone else's problem" statement, I don't know what is.

[world-of-wales]

─ •✧ CATHERINE'S YEAR IN REVIEW : MARCH ✧• ─

1 MARCH - Catherine accompanied William in presenting Leeks to the Welsh Guards during the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards St. David's Day Parade at Combermere Barracks. 2 MARCH - Catherine and William received The Crown Prince and Princess of Norway at Windsor Castle. They later held a Meeting with Norwegian business delegates accompanied by the Crown Prince Couple. 7 MARCH - Catherine held an Early Years Meeting. 8 MARCH - She visited 1st Battalion Irish Guards at Salisbury Plain Training Area in Wiltshire. 9 MARCH - Catherine and William were received by Ms. Manju Malhi (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London) at the Hayes Muslim Centre in Middlesex. 13 MARCH - Catherine and William attended the Commonwealth Service in Westminster Abbey. 14 MARCH - She received Professor Eamon McCrory (Board Member, the Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood Advisory Group) at Windsor Castle. 15 MARCH - Catherine held an Early Years Meeting. 17 MARCH - Catherine and William attended the 1st Battalion Irish Guards' St. Patrick's Day Parade in Aldershot. 19 MARCH - Catherine, George, Charlotte and Louis appeared in a new photograph for Mother's Day. 21 MARCH - Catherine held a Meeting to launch a Business Taskforce for Early Childhood at NatWest Head Office. 24 MARCH - Catherine authored an article - "Investing in early childhood is a down payment on all our futures" for the Financial Times. 25 MARCH - Catherine appeared in a video with Richard Walker (CEO, Iceland Foods) for the Shaping Us Campaign.

[princesscatherinemiddleton]

The Princess of Wales’ Year in Review: March

March 1st - The Prince and Princess of Wales presented Leeks to the Welsh Guards at Combermere Barracks for St David’s Day March 2nd - The Prince and Princess of Wales welcomed Crown Prince Haakon and Crown Princess Mette Marit of Norway to Windsor Castle. The four royals then held a meeting with Norwegian Business Delegates March 7th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation of The Prince and Princess of Wales, held an Early Years Meeting March 8th - The Princess of Wales, Colonel of the Irish Guards, visited 1st Battalion Irish Guards at Salisbury Plain Training Area March 9th - The Prince and Princess of Wales visited Hayes Muslim Centre March 13th - The Prince and Princess of Wales joined the King and Queen, the Princess Royal and Vice Adm Sir Tim, and the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh at the Commonwealth Service at Westminster Abbey March 14th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation of The Prince and Princess of Wales, received Professor Eamon McCrory (Board Member of the Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood Advisory Group) at Windsor Castle March 15th - The Princess of Wales, Joint Patron of the Royal Foundation of The Prince and Princess of Wales, held an Early Years Meeting March 17th - The Prince and Princess of Wales, Colonel of the Irish Guards, presented shamrocks to the Irish Guards at Mons Barracks for St. Patrick's Day March 19th - Kensington Palace released two photographs of Catherine with her children for Mother's Day March 21st - The Princess of Wales, Patron of the Royal Foundation, held a meeting to launch a Business Taskforce for Early Childhood March 24th - The Princess of Wales wrote an opinion piece in the Financial Times, entitled "Investing in early childhood is a down payment on all our futures," about how business leaders need to invest now in the importance of early childhood, as a down payment for our collective future March 25th - A video of the Princess of Wales and Iceland (the shop) speaking about the crucial impact early years was released

[sassyfrassboss]

In the Dutch translation of Scobie's book, the hitherto unnamed royal who put this offensive line of questioning was not, in fact, one person but two: the King and the Princess of Wales. Of course, we do not know if this is true. If — a very big if — Charles or Kate, or both, mused aloud on Archie's future appearance, we do not know whether there was a smidgen of racism going through their head. But, in the Dutch edition, they were named nonetheless. As a result, the entire print-run of the Dutch edition had to be pulped.Difficult to know what was implied here.

Was it all a carefully organised stunt? As someone who has had his work translated into many languages, I can tell you that the Dutch print-run is always the smallest, since so few people speak Dutch and most Dutch people speak better English than we do. So, if it was a hoax, they were not running much of a financial risk. They probably had to pulp only a few thousand copies, if that. And it makes a good story that someone mysteriously 'leaked' the true names of the alleged royal racists.

It's interesting, isn't it, that the two names, Charles and Kate, are also the two royals who are doing the most to preserve and strengthen the monarchy as a serious constitutional entity.

Charles has had a really successful and popular first year; Kate shows an apparently inexhaustible willingness to be on parade on an almost daily basis — taking part in rugby practice, visiting hospitals and schools and smiling with natural radiance wherever she goes.

This is what I’ve been thinking, like it or not Chuck has a good PR nowadays with his visits overseas has caused sensation, his PR is full about strengthening the monarchy, commonwealth and stability.

Then we have Kate, which has been very popular with everything she does, as the article said: from rugby to this to that. Some have talked about her as the future of the monarchy and how that future rests on her shoulders.

I don’t know if they indeed were the accused or not, but I honestly think it’s time for Charles to grow a pair and come an clean their names, because while some aren’t taking this seriously, this definitely will stained their reputation for the rest of their lives.

It is definitely something that will follow them around the rest of their lives, especially if they are ever in the same place as the Sussexes.

I think Charles and Kate were targeted because 1) Meghan hates Kate and 2) Meghan is furious that Charles never gave into her demands over the past three years.