#James Bond x you

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I'd like to request kiss #27 with James Bond. Please & thank you.

27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap

"Try to look like you're enjoying this."

The order was murmured against the curve of your bare shoulder, and chased by a gentle kiss. You glanced toward James subtly as he dipped his head, dragging the tip of his nose just over the same spot.

"How do you know I'm not?" You murmured.

"I can see the looks others are giving me."

"Oh? What looks?"

"Like they're planning finding a way to free you."

You huffed a soft laugh, lips twitching with a smile.

"They'd have to speak to M to do that."

"Indeed."

James' palm smoothed along your thigh as you shifted subtly against him. It was hard not to feel self-conscious. The lounge was busy, crowded with people. James had corralled you into to sit sideways on his lap the moment he'd sat down, insisting that you'd be able to get a better vantage point. He hadn't been entirely wrong...But you weren't sure that he was entirely right, either.

What you were absolutely certain of was the fact that you were more than a little hot and bothered, curled in the man's arms.

"You're doing it again."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Precisely...Don't roll your eyes," He added, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh.

"I wasn't going to roll my eyes," You fibbed.

"Hmm." You saw James shift in your periphery, your stomach flipping as his hand splayed warmly across your thigh. "Look at me."

"I'm meant to be looking for—"

"I know who you're meant to be looking for. Look at me instead."

You let your eyes wander around the room before you turned your head fully, looking down at Bond. His gaze swept over your face, lingering on your lips for a nerve-wracking moment before meeting your eye again.

"You're meant to be in love with me," He reminded.

"I haven't acted to the contrary."

"I'm feeling very ignored."

"You poor thing."

Bond's lips quirked with a smile before he tipped his chin up just a touch.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You must be joking."

"Go ahead, make fun. But when our cover is blown because we haven't been believable, you can explain it to M."

You fought to keep your expression controlled, fingers flexing in the fabric of his jacket.

"Fine," You mumbled.

"I'm waiting."

"Impatient."

"Terribly."

You hardly let Bond get it out before you pressed your lips to his. Quick, you figured. You could give him something just beyond a peck and lean away. But as Bond's lips shifted beneath yours, you knew that you'd have no such luck. His tongue swept gently across your lower lip before dipping tenderly into your mouth. You tipped your head to the side, letting out a soft hum as his hand crept higher up your thigh. You drew away just a touch, resting your forehead against his, smiling as he Bond tipped his head up a touch more, chasing another kiss.

"Another," He insisted.

"In time." You nuzzled your nose against his. "It won't do for us to go at it like teenagers. We'll draw too much attention to ourselves." You teased your tongue across his lips before sitting up, combing your nails gently across his scalp. "Patience, pet."

Bond's smile widened a touch.

"I don't like to be kept waiting."

"I gathered. You'll live."

"Will I?"

"Almost certainly."

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Close Shave

[A/N: What up homies, it’s me, ya girl, steadily adding to my Honorable Men-tions while my husbands watch me like 👀 bitch?

This fic is inspired by the scene & song from Skyfall- I hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated, as well as requests for fics or new characters to explore!]

007 glides silently through the doorway, a jungle cat on the prowl for his next meal. He eases the door shut with a soft click, then moves stealthily down the hall in search of his target. A single lamp illuminates the modest London flat casting wicked shadows on the walls surrounding a small feminine figure. He creeps forward, ready to pounce, the next phase of his plan already formulating in his brain.

“Hello, James,” you murmur, not even sparing him a glance as you casually flip to the next page of your novel.

His warm chuckle caresses your skin like a lover’s gentle touch, his honeyed voice stoking the fire in your belly spurred to life by his mere presence. “How is it that I can sneak up on assassins but not a museum curator?”

Your mouth turns up in a smile and you offer your cheek in greeting, scrunching your nose at the feeling of coarse stubble against your skin. “I can smell the cologne I bought you for Christmas from a mile away.“

“Hm.”

“And I may have pestered Q into telling me when you’d be home.”

“Pestered?”

Folding your legs under your body, you swivel to meet his steely blue gaze with a grin. “Bullied,” you concede. “Only so I didn’t almost accidentally kill you with a fireplace poker.”

“Again.”

You wag your book in his face with a raised eyebrow. “That’s what you get for breaking and entering at four in the bloody morning with no prior warning!”

He grunts in concession before easily lifting you off the couch, only to take your seat and tuck you against his body. You hum in delight at the prospect of having him home, however short lived his visit may be, placing your book aside before nuzzling into his chest and pressing kisses to the underside of his strong jaw. Scraping your nails along his cheek, you muse, “You need to shave.”

He gives you an indignant look, carding his fingers through your hair. “Some women happen to like a beard, you know.”

“Then go break into one of their homes,” you fire back, letting your teeth graze along the path forged previously by your lips.

He lets out a throaty laugh that dissolves into a soft moan as you work your way over his jaw to press your lips to his. You share a few innocent pecks before your longing takes over, and you shift to straddle his lap as James’ tongue slips past your willfully parted lips. His fingers work their way under your shirt, trailing along your ribcage before settling on your hips with a gentle squeeze. You release a contented sigh into his mouth, all of the tension leaving your body and allowing you to relax against him.

Running your nose over the sharp planes of his jaw, you murmur, “Let me. Please?”

“Let you what?” He nibbles at the spot just south of your ear and you gasp, rocking against him and feeling him growing hard beneath you in response. Static fills your mind as your senses are overwhelmed by everything that is James, but you press on valiantly. “Help you shave.”

Calloused digits knead the soft skin of your thighs as he hums, contemplating. “Is this another attempt on my life? Replacing the poker with a razor?”

“James!” you admonish, laughing before growing serious as your fingers dance across his handsome features. “You know that my expertise lies in handling art delicately. What kind of curator would I be if I allowed any harm to come to my favorite exhibit?”

He turns his head to press a kiss to each of your palms, then meets your gaze with a cheeky grin. “That’s all I am to you, hm? A specimen to be ogled?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. Climbing off his lap and taking his hand to lead him to the master bathroom, you tack on, “You conveniently double as a bodyguard.”

You slide the cushioned seat from your vanity over to the sink and tap it twice with a coy smile. James settles into his spot obediently while you hunt through the cabinets for his straight razor and shaving cream, placing them on the counter before moving to stand behind him. You study your reflections in the mirror as you run your fingers through his hair, your body growing warm at the sight of him subtly shifting his hips when you tug on the short strands. You walk your fingers down his neck and over his broad shoulders, kneading the taut muscles along the way to the apex of his dress shirt. “May I?”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, ocean blue eclipsed by a sea of inky black. “Always, my love.” His voice has dropped to a low growl that sends a thrum through you. Deft fingers hastily unbutton his shirt with the promise of exploring his body after too many days and nights spent apart. You tug the fabric off and toss it aside, kissing his neck while your hands glide along his muscular chest. “Darling,” he rumbles out through a laugh to get your attention, and you look up to find several marks blooming across his previously unadulterated skin. With a bashful smile, you respond, “I just can’t help myself around you.”

Rounding the chair to squeeze yourself into the space between his legs and the counter, you lower yourself to your knees. He watches your every move with rapt fascination, his breathing picking up ever so subtly when you reach forward to release him from the confines of his fitted slacks. You tug his pants and underwear off before delicately trailing your fingers over his length, marveling at the weight in your hand and how responsive he is to your touch. Peeking up at him from beneath your lashes, you lean in and swipe your tongue over the head, a needy whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. “Darling,” he calls out again, now with an edge to his voice, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with forced restraint. He threads his fingers through your hair and gives a gentle tug, guiding you forward once more. You wrap your lips around him in earnest, gliding down his length while one hand comes up to massage his balls, the other resting on his lower abdomen. With each swirl of your tongue and pull of your lips, the toned muscle beneath your fingertips ripples and liquid heat pools between your aching thighs.

Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up at James with nothing short of utter devotion in your misty eyes. “I missed you so much, my love,” you rasp out, an involuntary shudder racing down your spine when his fingertips brush over the apple of your cheek.

Tucking his hand under your chin, he directs you to stand and pulls you close for a tender kiss. You continue twisting your wrist along his length as his tongue slides against yours, a sharp gasp punching out of you when he unceremoniously rips your underwear off and runs his middle finger along your slit, the useless lace now pooled on the floor.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he rumbles lowly, slipping his finger inside you and groaning in appreciation at how greedily you clench around him, “you really did miss me, hm?”

“More-” You whimper into his mouth when he adds a second finger, and then a third, lovingly preparing you for his thick cock. “More than I can even describe.”

He draws his fingers out, caressing your sensitive walls as he does so, before replacing your hand with his own at the base of his cock. The obscene sound of your spit and slick gliding along his length as he draws his hand over himself has you clenching around nothing, a desperate whine of “James,” falling past your pouting lips. He soothes you with sweet words, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth while his free hand comes up to your hip to guide you down onto him. You cry out at the exquisite stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as you circle your hips to sheathe him inside of you as deeply as possible.

Tucking your face into his neck to pepper his glistening skin with kisses, you beg, “Don’t move. Just let me feel you.”

He hums in concession, gently tugging your oversized sleep shirt off before running his fingers along the column of your spine. The tingling sensation has you rolling your hips against him, moaning when the movement presses the head of his cock against just the right spot.

“Now, darling,” he mumbles against your hair, his large hand possessively cradling the back of your neck, “I do believe we came in here to accomplish something.”

“Can’t remember,” you sigh out. “Too full.”

His ensuing chuckle warms you from the inside out, and you gasp when he leans forward to reach the countertop, shifting his position inside you. He presses something cold into your hand, and you blearily open your eyes to find his razor glinting at you in the muted bathroom light.

With a sigh, you relent, “Fine,” but his firm grip on your hips stops you from rising. “But then how will I-” Your line of questioning comes to an abrupt halt when you spot the smirk playing on his sinful lips. “Oh.”

“Go ahead, love,” he croons, inclining his head toward the shaving cream while his hands come to settle on the globes of your ass. You gather some of the foam between your fingertips, then trace two delicate lines on his cheek in the shape of a heart. Glancing at your work in the mirror, he questions, “How can you be so damn adorable while full of my cock?”

You answer him with only a wink, then get to work coating his stubble with the shaving foam. Once he’s sufficiently lathered up, you ease the blade out and plant your non-dominant hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t move, James,” you instruct softly.

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way your tongue peeks out between your lips in concentration, and murmurs, “I won’t.”

You run the blade down James’ face in precise, delicate strokes, mewling in delight every time you stretch to rinse the razor off and he pulses inside of you. Several minutes into your ministrations, he arches his hips against yours with a ragged sigh, moving impossibly deeper as he cranes his neck to look in the mirror. “Halfway there. Doing well, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you attempt a laugh, but it morphs into a strangled moan.

“That would certainly be less than optimal.” He runs his index finger down the side of your neck as you take your next swipe of the blade, your breath hitching when he wraps his hand around your throat and adds the smallest bit of pressure.

The razor stills on his cheek, momentarily forgotten, and you shiver in delight. “What are you doing?”

“Focus on the task at hand,” he chides softly, and you obediently return your attention to the remainder of his beard even as his other hand comes up to massage one of your breasts. You clench around him reflexively, and the hand on your throat squeezes in kind.

“James,” you growl out, this time purposefully flexing your walls around his throbbing cock. He answers your show of defiance with one of his own, both hands tightening their grip and eliciting a whine from you.

“Tit for tat, darling,” he mutters softly, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a wicked smile.

With every movement, every precise flick of your wrist, every droplet of water running down your arm and dripping onto your thigh, your walls squeeze around James’ cock and his fingers press deeper into your skin, and your vision starts going blurry around the edges with need. Finally, mercifully, your lover sits before you clean shaven once again, and you smile proudly at your work.

Nuzzling your nose against his, you sigh at the idea of having to separate yourself from him. “I forgot a towel.”

“Top cabinet?”

“Mhm.”

Tucking his hands underneath your thighs, James stands and settles you on the counter, still sheathed in your warmth. He pulls back to open the cabinet and collect a towel, and you keen at the loss of the fullness until he slots himself back between your thighs.

“Christ,” you hiss, digging your nails into his biceps and arching your back.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs smoothly in response, hiding his smirk behind the cloth as he pats his face dry. You lock your ankles together behind his back, shifting closer and trying to entice him to move. “This is turning downright torturous.”

Dropping the towel on the counter, he shifts his attention back to you and lovingly squeezes the pillow of your thigh. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferred in this instance, Bond,” you sass back.

“Patience is a virtue,” he hums with an infuriating calmness to his voice even as he draws his hips back and drags his cock along your sensitive walls.

“I wouldn’t- oh god- consider what we’re doing to be entirely virtuous,” you answer through a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the noises spilling out of your mouth.

“Darling girl,” he tuts softly when he recognizes you’re trying to muffle your cries, fingers ghosting over your cheek before he grips your face and his hips pick up speed. The pressure has you releasing your lip from beneath your teeth, your mouth falling open and allowing wanton moans to escape. James tucks his other hand behind your knee, tugging you closer and letting him sink deeper with each stroke. He smiles down at you when you call out his name and rake your nails down his back, cooing, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”

Ever obedient, you moan unabashedly, your cries competing with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the marble bathroom. “James! Oh god, James,” you keen, clawing at his shoulders for purchase as your consciousness threatens to leave you, “I can’t- I’m going to-”

He hungrily mouths at your skin, soft pants falling past his lips between kisses as he makes his way up the curve of your throat. Moving his hand to grip the back of your neck, he draws you close to his body and grits out, “Cum for me, my darling.”

You feel your body shudder with the force of your orgasm washing over you, every nerve alight and buzzing as the sound of James’ beautiful moans fill your ears. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out, your eyes rolling back when you feel the warmth of his release painting your walls. Holding your waist firmly, he presses his hips against yours as his cock twitches inside you, claiming your body completely.

“Good girl,” he pants in your ear, and you whimper at the praise.

“Yours,” you sigh out, completely spent. You turn your head to dot lazy kisses along his cheek, your lips curling upward at the feeling of his freshly smooth skin.

He notes your self-satisfied smile and chuckles warmly against the shell of your ear. “Pleased?”

“Mhm,” you respond sleepily, nuzzling his face and emitting a sound dangerously close to that of a purr.

“I’m glad,” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Shower?”

“Can’t,” you mumble. Swinging your legs, you clarify, “Jelly.”

“Bath, then.”

James guides your arms around his neck and you latch on obediently as he lifts your sore body off the countertop. He slips out of you when he hitches you higher up in his arms, and you mumble out a protest despite the aching between your legs.

“What, darling, haven’t had enough?”

Fighting sleep, you tighten your hold on him and nip at his ear. “Never.”

“Naughty thing,” he chides playfully, landing a light pat on your ass before setting you on the edge of the tub.

“You know,” you begin, trailing your fingers along his back while he adjusts the water temperature, “it’s your fault for being so utterly irresistible.”

He grumbles out an undoubtedly unamused response under his breath before climbing into the tub and beckoning you to join him. Carefully maneuvering your shaky legs, you settle back against James, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing as the warm water caresses your sore muscles.

“Wet your hair for me.” You stifle a yawn, barely opening your eyes to fix James with a quizzical look. Always a man on a mission, he holds your gaze, unrelenting. “Humor me, darling, will you?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you grip the sides of the tub and scoot your body forward until you can lower your hair below the waterline. After a thorough soak, you sit up and nestle yourself back between his legs, closing your eyes once more.

You hear the telltale snap of a bottle being uncapped, and then James’ expert fingers are massaging your scalp as the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle pervades your senses. You let out a hum of pure content, thoroughly enjoying being pampered by your love.

“I can’t explain,” he peppers your shoulders with delicate kisses between words as he works his fingers through your hair, “just how much I missed you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you sigh, responding to the pressure of his fingertips by tilting your head to grant him better access.

His silky smooth voice settles like a warm blanket on your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, and you shiver in delight. “You are absolutely exquisite.” He splays one hand possessively across your belly, the other dancing over the curve of your hip. “Divine.” Moving to grip your chin, he turns your face towards him and you feel his warm breath mingling with your own. “My own personal masterpiece.”

Drawing a trail of water down the column of your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and lower still to the apex of your thighs, he eases your folds apart once more and sheathes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open wordlessly and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“You took such good care of me, my love,” he murmurs, delicately threading his fingers through the soapy strands of your hair as his hips press up against yours. “Now let me take care of you.”

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Exposed

Summary: Bond has to make a decision about someone he loves. 

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Oh my dear lovelies, oh sweethearts. I AM SO SORRY for going dark.

As some of you may have read from my last announcement, things got a bit hectic when my mom was in the hospital. It was a scary and crazy experience, she basically became paralyzed from her chest down. I’m talking about an extremely active woman who was on her feet working 10-12 hour days to not being able to move at all. 

We had to rush her to emerge and find out she had contracted some rare bacteria that affected her spine. Needless to say she was in the hospital for a month, and finally was discharged about three weeks ago and is now staying at my brothers. Which is great for her since he has a bungalow and makes it easier for her to move around as she’s learning to walk again. However, that does mean we have to travel a bit to visit her and take care of her when my brother and his family can’t. 

Anyway ... long story short, too late. I am back, I am going to try to catch up on some of our lovely stories. I also have a special surprise for you guys, which I’ll upload sometime this week. I’m currently working on Crosshair’s section of the Gym Membership and then SOTF, the Reunion and Upside Down, and I’m also going to be working on a one-off request that I received. Keep your eyes peeled for those. 

Thank you all for sticking around, for sending me love, and for checking up on me, you have all been super amazing and wonderful. 

A special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles​ and @ulchabhangorm​ for being my beta readers. Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, blindfolded, smoking, prisoners, cages, feelings of mistrust, bleeding, injury, I think that’s it, if I miss anything please let me know. 

AO3 Link   |   DC Characters Master List   |   Main Master List

The blindfold covering Bond’s eyes finally started to slip down after hours of the corrosive material rubbing against his eyelids, but if this little irritant put him off from his mission, he shouldn’t’ve been able to call himself a double O. 

It been more than three hours, closing on four, since he’d gotten into the first vehicle and the fabric was placed on his eyes. Since then, he’d been moved to two subsequent vehicles, each more uncomfortable then the one previous.

They were travelling across increasingly bumpier roads, from the cobble stones they started out on, to the rural roads he deduced they were currently on. With each bump he felt the rough material scrape across his skin, there was no doubt his eyelids would be rubbed raw by the end of the journey. 

Despite the increasing discomfort, he focused his attention on what was happening around him. 

As the car began to slow down, he expected a gentle stop, of course that was before his whole body shifted forward violently. He would’ve hit the seat in front of him, if he hadn’t engaged his core muscles doing his best to remain upright as the driver slammed on the brakes. He shifted himself back against the seat, as another vehicle slowly approached them.

The car that had been stifling since he’d been shifted into it, finally received a breath of fresh air, as he felt a rush of wind blow across his face and hair when the door flung open. 

Someone grabbed his arm with force, shifting him forcibly from his seat. This wasn’t his first clandestine meeting he attended, yet every time they always decided to yank the blindfolded person from a vehicle; come to think of it, he was guilty of that as well. There was an inherent expectation that the one blindfolded wouldn’t fall, and would be able to follow the silent instructions. 

Maybe just for fun, the next time he was going to fall to the ground just to throw them off, and chuckle at hearing them become all flustered. 

There was an eerie silence that seemed to hang in the air as he got out of the car, it wasn’t necessarily threatening or dangerous per se, but a seemingly tense atmosphere between the two drivers themselves, maybe an affair of the heart, or simply rivals for one thing or other. He concluded he was being transferred to yet another vehicle, as his guide pushed him forward, hopefully this would be the last vehicle transfer before arriving at his destination. 

His guide kicked his left foot, trying to push it up onto a ledge, he didn’t need much prodding as he stepped up doing his best to gain some form of balance, when he was shoved into the seat. There was no doubt it was an older truck, the cracked leather seats felt as though thousands of tiny pins were poking his butt as he shifted to find a somewhat comfortable spot. 

It didn’t take long to get them on the road again, the further they drove on, the more he was able to determine their heading. The bumps in the road had started to appear less and less, instead it became increasingly dusty from what he could gather as he breathed in more dust from the air vents. The noise from the city vanished completely and replaced by the sound of trees rustling in the breeze and birds squawking from above. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t passed another vehicle in the past thirty minutes, which could only mean they were in an even more isolated area then they had been previously.

The truck shifted gears as it began to slow down, the driver turning ever so gently before he decided to slam on the brakes, lurching him forward once again. He was seriously thinking about talking to whoever taught these guys how to drive. He was trying to brace himself before hitting the dash, only to be pushed back this time into his seat by his guide’s forearm; he wasn’t sure but there was a high probability he would have a bruise on his chest later. At least he could say there was some concern about his safety, relatively speaking.

The relative peace that had surrounded him was now replaced by the sound of various footsteps rushing towards the truck, when the door flung open.

“Get out!” The voice demanded without any further explanation or care. Either from the person’s lack of English or simply they didn’t wish to expand more than the two words because of the unbearable heat beating down against them, the breeze that he had enjoyed was now a distant memory. It hadn’t been so bad in the truck as they drove on their way, but now that it was idle, the lack of breeze, the humidity, and the sun bearing down on them started to feel stifling.  

Though he still couldn’t see much as he moved out of the truck, he was able to see something through the fabric covering his eyes, from the small opening provided by the shift of the blindfold. It was mostly outlines of objects, shapes that provided a hint as to what he was seeing against the bright sun and bluish-grey sky. 

He took in a deep breath, there was a hint of salt in the air brushing against his tongue as he licked his lips; so they’d been travelling closer to the sea. Possibly the Pacific Ocean side as the air wasn’t as salty compared to the Atlantic. The thickness from the rustling of the trees was no mistake they were somewhere dense, either near the border of the forest, or just on the edges of an abandoned village. 

The humidity surrounding him, simply reaffirmed his suspicions, it was thick and suffocating. They had driven closer to the coastline.

Someone grabbed his arm pushing him foward, he could hear sounds of people moving around him, out of his and his guide’s way. Not completely disappearing simply moving off to the side, as they whispered among themselves. He could feel eyes analyzing and scrutinizing his every move, waiting for an opportunity to strike, despite his hands still being restrained. 

As he walked along, his foot bounced off the corner of a box he estimated as best he could from the sound and movement of what he hit. His theory was confirmed as his guide shoved him down onto the seat. He adjusted himself as best he could, as someone cut the zip-ties binding his hands, seconds after his wrists felt sweet relief, his blindfold was yanked off without any concern. 

It took him a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, probably could’ve been worse if his blindfold hadn’t slipped, allowing his eyes to adjust even just a little.

“Bienvenido Señor Bond” the thick Spanish accent coming from the heavyset woman sitting in front of him. The structure in front of him, if he could call it that, provided enough shade for her and her table, leaving the rest of her people and Bond to experience the full heat of the sun. The air was filled with the smell of the cheap cigars she was smoking, the smell flowing over and encapsulating him, making him want to eliminate whoever invented those foul-smelling cheap cigars as he held back the bile that was rising.

He left off a light cough, doing his best to be his most charming self possible, “I’m grateful for the meeting Señora, it’s truly a pleasure to be in front of so much beauty ”

“A great pleasure as well, Señor Bond, I understand you are looking for information” she took a long drag from her cigar, the ashes flicking off in the breeze and creating more of the nasty smell. 

Bond nodded “As a gratitude for giving me the opportunity for this meeting” he motioned to the man beside him who had been carrying his bag, the same man he met in the city before they started off on the long voyage to the middle of nowhere, he must have been in the vehicles with him each time he transferred or travelled ahead of him, “a small fee to show my appreciation for the inconvenience this has caused you.” 

The man, loomed over them as he stepped closer, as tall and broad as he was, the man barely made a sound as he gently placed the bag in front of her. 

She eyed Bond, not saying anything as she took an even longer drag of her cigar, she motioned to one of her subordinates to open the case revealing it full of money.

“American?” She asked as the smoke exhaled through her mouth and nose.

“Of course”

She took another puff “What is the information?”

“Several days ago, a man travelled through the area with a backpack”

“There are many men who travel through this area with backpacks, Señor”

“Of course, however, I believe he is a guest of your wonderful facilities, currently” he motioned towards the rundown prisons, well what appeared to be prisons. They were mere barriers out in the open, simply branches tied together with rope, to form cages to keep the unwanted contained. 

She simply shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She motioned with her cigar towards Bond, “Do you have a picture of this man?”

Without a word he pulled out a 4 x 6 picture of the man from his pocket. One of the requirements of meeting her was no technology was allowed. No cell phone. No laptop. No tablet. Nothing that could connect him to the outside world. 

Despite the oddity, it didn’t really matter to him why she was being extremely cautious, all he cared about was the reason he was there. He passed the picture to her aide who was waiting to receive the image, she leaned over taking a long look at the picture, taking another drag nodding slowly in agreement.

“You are correct, Señor Bond, this man is indeed one of our guests of our, as you say, wonderful facilities.”

Bond couldn’t help smirk at this fool’s misfortune, frankly he could care less about the predicament he found himself in, “I hope he’s enjoying his stay then, what I’m more interested in, is the backpack this man had with him.”

She hummed as she took another drag, the smoke flaring out of her nostrils, “Was there something special in this backpack?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the man sitting in front of her, “If there was something my men overlooked…” her eyes narrowing on two men who were standing off to the side, as her anger flared along with her nostrils towards her men, “I would be very disappointed.”

James knew better than to show his hand, after all it wasn’t anything that was obvious to the untrained eye, “Not in the least, the backpack is in fact mine. The man stole it from me, and I simply wish to reclaim it back.”

Another hum from the woman followed his statement, as she took a final drag of her cigar, putting it out on an overfilled ashtray.

“Why so much money to simply retrieve what was stolen?”

“There is a copy of a book that was given to me by my late wife, it was the last gift she gave me before she passed away; it means the world if I was able to get it back.”

She called over one of her men, whispering to him, careful to not let her conversation be overheard. Within seconds the man brought the dull beige backpack, still intact, at least from what Bond could tell.

“Would you mind if I confirm it’s contents, I would hate for anything to be missing or for the book to have been lost”

She motioned for him to stand, as her men surrounded Bond from all areas, their eyes watching his every move. He opened it fully, the clothes neatly stacked on top, a dog eared book of ‘How to Kill a Mockingbird’ sitting there, along with a toiletry bag, he opened it seeing a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and shaving cream. 

“As you can see there is nothing special in this bag, except for the book. This was the book she left me before …” his hand caressed the book tenderly, before he zipped up the bag, looking as undisturbed as before, retaking his seat on the crate. 

“It appears so” her voice was weary.

“Thank you for retrieving my belongings, I would like to compensate you of course, for your troubles.” He put his hands inside his pockets, pulling out two stacks of a hundred American dollars placing them on the table in front of her, “There’s about $20,000 here, as a personal thank you.”

“Señor Bond you are quite good at making friends” she smirked as she slowly picked up the bundles, “Ernesto will take you back to the village. If you ever need my services again, I am more than happy to help.”

“Señora” Bond bowed, giving her his whimsical smile, as he followed Ernesto back to the truck, he sat down the backpack in between his legs, as he was blindfolded once again for the long journey back. 

- - - - - - - - - - - 

The book lay beside Q’s laptop as it’s front pastedown was peeled back, leaving only the indent of a microchip in its wake.

“Q, is the information compromised or not?” Mallory was annoyed as the youngish technician appeared to be taking his time with providing answers that he desperately needed.

“Don’t worry” Bond intervened, “Q’s probably confirming for the third time before he gives us any answers. You know how annoyingly diligent he can be.”

Q focused his attention back on the computer screen doing his best to ignore the comments; however he knew no amount of rechecking would change the answer that laid before him. He leaned back after reading the information for the third time, “Only one identity was compromised”

“Why aren’t you more concerned!” Mallory’s patience was at an end.

“Because it was compromised two weeks ago”

Silence filled the room, as the weight of what was discovered sunk in; the identity of their undercover agent was already revealed, the chances they were still alive were remote if even possible. 

Mallory leaned against the desk, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’d prided himself on doing all he could for his agents, there would always be deaths in this field that was inevitable, but he always wanted to make sure they knew they weren’t alone. They had support, backup, as much as he was able to offer. 

“Who was it?” Mallory mumbled out as his eyes closed tightly, trying his best to squeeze out the shame and guilt he felt. No one realized there'd been a breach, until it was too late, and then finding out who breached their network, how it was breached took even more time. He failed them, and nearly had others killed. 

Q glanced from Mallory to Bond, a heaviness rested in his chest, the next words he was about to utter would change his friend’s life forever. He focused back on the computer, maybe he was wrong, maybe it was a different person with a similar name and same date of birth, who just happened to have taken over the same undercover name. After all he’s made mistakes before, this could just be one of those unfortunate blunders, it would be better to keep this between Mallory and himself, “Maybe we should …” Q was about to say ‘discuss this in private,’ when Bond cleared his throat.

“Q … say it” James wanted to be wrong, he wanted the name that popped into his head, the moment Q said an identity had been leaked, to be different from the name Q was getting ready to say. 

“007 …”

“Q. Say. It.” James’ voice was tense, his eyes focused on Q’s, taking notice of every twitch, the number of blinks, even every bead of sweat on Q’s face, it all told him a story. Told him to expect the worse. 

Q took the time to focus on Bond’s demeanour, there was no way around it. He wanted to know and no amount of coaxing or trying to pull the old ‘need to know’ routine would stop him. If he didn’t provide him with the information, he’d just break into his computer later and look for it himself, and the last thing Bond needed was a charge of treason. He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes trying to calm the unpleasant dreary sensation in his heart. He nibbled on his bottom lip, hoping the numbing sensation would make it easier to say what he needed to, “It’s J, 007.”

“When did J …”

“J was recalled to active duty a year ago, specifically for this assignment.”

James could feel his heart racing, his blood pumping faster, he could feel beads of sweat being to form and climbing its way down his spine. 

The sun was breaking in through the window as James watched you sleep, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, as you scrunched your nose, trying to remove whatever irritated you, mumbling in your sleep. He’d been up for almost an hour, after he had the same nightmare yet again. He knew he should’ve woken you up, whenever he had the dream of your death, it was only you that could ease the pain in his heart; however this time just watching you sleep, peacefully, calmed his heart. It was a sense of peace and tranquility that filled him just lying there beside you. He did his best to memorize every millimetre of your face, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a single freckle or blemish on your face. In that moment, as he lay beside you, he knew. Truthfully, he had known since the moment you walked into his life, but in that moment he knew he wasn’t going to run away from what he felt, he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the issue anymore. You were the one. You were the missing piece of his life. In that moment, he wanted to wake you up, and ask you to marry him. 

He felt Mallory’s eyes on him pulling him back to the present, as M looked between Q and himself. He was trying to quell the coldness enveloping him completely, James’ fists clenched by his side as a thousand different scenarios ran through his head. This wasn’t the first time you were in a crunch, but at least then he was by your side. 

You pressed into your side, praying and hoping to stop the bleeding as James provided cover. Things were looking bleak for the both of you, you were down to maybe five rounds, your extra magazine used and spent. Bond had taken one of your pursuers guns but even then, he was running low. 

“Okay, I bought us a few minutes” he rushed out, controlling his breathing as best he could. His eyes glanced over doing his best to assess your situation. “What do you say? Ready to make a run for it?”

You could only chuckle and offer a weak smile as he grabbed your arm, but you knew the chances of both of you making it out were slim, especially with your wound that didn’t want to close. The bullet was still in there, and pressing against your ribs. You grabbed his shirt with all the strength you had left, pulling him towards you, kissing him deeply one last time. 

James was shocked at first but didn’t hesitate as he deepened the kiss, you didn’t have to tell him, he already knew what you were thinking. This was your goodbye kiss, you were going to tell him to run and to leave you there to cover his escape; but there was no way he was going to do that, his hand shifted from the side of your face, he slowly flexed his wrist, popping out the the tiny dart Q had mounted into his watch before the mission,  and pressed it against your neck. 

As you felt the prick in your neck, you pulled back and pressed your hand against your neck, “Wha… wha… whhh…”

James watched as your eyes slowly closed and your head fell against his shoulder, “Sorry love” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t lose you.” He picked you up, and carried you to the extraction point, doing his best to stay ahead of the assailants.

Now wasn’t the time to panic, he needed as much information as he could gather, “Is it possible to contact J? Confirm in some way that J’s still alive?”

“J’s locator is no longer active. Even the communicator I gave is turned off. All the designated escape rendezvous arranged previously haven’t been used. There is one possibility, give me a minute, I’ll check …” Q’s words trailed off into nothingness as he focused his attention back on his computer.

Mallory stood from his position, it was not the time to be wallowing in self-deprecation. 007 looked as though someone punched him in the gut, or ripped out his heart. Not to mention, there was the possibility of an agent out there on their own for the past two weeks, that could very well need his help.

“You know this … J … personally?” Mallory asked keeping his voice low, as he subtly moved 007 away from Q allowing the genius to do his job.

“More or less” Bond responded, although he heard his voice answer Mallory, it didn’t feel like it was him that was actually talking.

“Meaning?”

“She’s my fiancé …” Mallory looked shocked for a second, before he was able to control his features once again; Bond didn’t draw attention to it, nor did he appear to really be paying attention to what he was saying at that moment. 

James looked around the room, making sure everything was perfect. The candles were lit, your favourite meal was on the dining room table, along with your favourite flowers. He was wearing the navy blue suit you loved, it was the one he wore when you first met, you always told him that image always lived in your memory. He felt for the ring box in his breast pocket. The nerves building as the thought of what he was about to do started to sink in. He always swore he’d never get involved with anyone again after Vespa, but you slowly broke down his walls, and pushed your way into his heart, and before he knew it here he was getting ready to propose to you. Now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

Something pulled James back from where his mind went, maybe it was the fact Q had stopped typing, or just having faith that J’d be okay, and there was no need to be lost in what-ifs. He cleared his throat, straightening and adjusting his tie, “Former. My former fiancé from years past.”

You stood on the street, as the rain pelted down soaking your and James’ clothes straight through. Your tears were welling up as your throat ached from the fight the both of you just had, James was doing his best to hold it together, seeing how much in pain you were from something he did. 

“I’m sorry! But you know this job … this life …”

Your fingers clenched around your engagement ring, “You promised me we would leave. We would both walk away from this job, from everything!”

James ran his hands over his face, “You know how difficult it can be …”

“Oh shut up! You claim to love me, you claim to I’m the one you want to be with, but if that was true you wouldn’t hesitate. Just admit James, you simply don’t want to be with me!”

“How can you say that? I’m here fighting to be with you!”

“Then leave! Leave with me!”

“You know I can’t. Not right now.”

“If you don’t leave now, you’ll lose me”

James closed the distance between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

You didn’t want to walk away, not from him; but if he wasn’t ready to make the commitment you weren’t sure you could wait around until he was ready. You had already waited five years just to be with him, and now just when you thought everything was finally coming together, it was all falling apart. 

Your hand slowly stroke his cheek, you brushed your lips against his pulling him closer. He didn’t wait or hesitate, he reciprocated making sure the kiss was as passionate and intimate, James didn’t want to think this was the final kiss he could ever give you. 

You pulled away, taking his hands in yours, you pulled off the ring and placed it in his hand. “I can’t do this when you’re not ready. I’m sorry.”

That was all you said as you left him standing there, James just watched you walk away, not sure of how to fix this.

Mallory didn’t say much, simply nodding his head. He knew the affairs of the heart all to well, he wasn’t going to pry into Bond’s past no matter how sorely he was tempted, “Are you able to handle this?”

James turned his head and locked eyes with Mallory, “Are you?”

“Very well, 007.”

Both regained their focus and steadied their nerves, Q looked up as he felt their gazes on him, he adjusted his glasses as he reviewed the information, “I triple checked all morgues, hospitals, law enforcement announcements, even underworld bounties, and I can neither confirm nor deny J’s alive … or dead.”

“Pardon me?” Mallory stated as his hand hitched on his waist, his anger needing an outlet. Not only had they been breached, but it appears it was a targeted breach against one particular agent that didn’t seem to have raised any red flags in their assignment. 

Q adjusted his glasses, not bothering to look at the very annoyed and confused expressions that no doubt rested on both of their faces, “If J were dead there would be a report of either an unidentified body, J’s undercover name or J’s real name, and if that wasn’t going to happen, then there would be a police report about a body found or a … piece found. However there’s nothing. There’s still a pretty large bounty on J, 750,000 euros. Which tells me two things, one - J escaped before the identity was revealed. Now how J knew the cover was blown, I couldn’t possibly guess. However, that brings me to number two, as of right now J’s escaped the clutches of whoever put the bounty. Otherwise, it would’ve been removed, not to mention there would be some form of notice on the dark web.”

“Okay that means J’s likely alive, but you said you weren’t sure about J’s death?”

“Well they could have found J and kept the bounty up to keep us thinking J’s alive when that isn’t the case. They could also be torturing J for information …”

Bond held up his hand, “Okay we get.”

“If J’s captured, then there’s nothing we can do.”

The air in the room went frigid, as Bond slowly turned his head to look at Mallory, “There’s always something we can do” his voice was terse as he addressed Mallory.

“I’m sorry 007, but you know the rules better than anyone. Captured and you’re on your own; MI6 will disavow all knowledge regarding your existence and activity. If J’s caught, there’s simply nothing I can do.”

The tension between the two seasoned men started to grow, one due to the power and position he held, limiting his ability to help an agent in need, the second due to his own feelings and sense of duty to the one who had held his heart far longer than anyone else since Vespa. 

Q held up his hand, “Before you two get into a testosterone filled match to decide which of you is bigger, I found something”

“Surprised you didn’t just wait till after” Bond smirked, appreciating the fact he could always tease Q no matter what the situation called for.

“I was tempted, but this is more pressing. I found a … as best I can describe it, some sort of distress code, on a back channel that hasn’t been used for a while.”

“What does it say?” Mallory was beginning to have doubts about this agent; first, why was only J’s identity that was revealed? Secondly, how did J survive? 

“Need extraction. No response in two weeks. Will go dark. Heima. J out.”

“When was this posted?” James hand clenched by his side, something wasn’t right. Heima referred to their home they were planning on building in Milford Sound, the remotest area of New Zealand.

“Sixteen days ago”

“J already went dark.”

“Question” Mallory couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “If she was able to escape why didn’t she come back in? Why wait to get an extraction? Why wait to hear back? And why was J’s identity the only one that was leaked?”

Bond turned to look at Mallory, “Are you questioning J’s loyalty?”

“It does raise some concerns” Q offered reluctantly.

“I know J!”

“It bears some consideration, 007” Bond didn’t need to hear this anymore, he grabbed the equipment Q had laid out for his next mission; ignoring Q’s comment.

“Where do you think you’re going, 007?” Mallory was about to stop him but thought better of it.

“Heima” was all James said as he walked out.

Mallory looked at Q waiting for an answer, he simply shrugged, adjusting his glasses, “Did you expect anything less? I mean …” Q motioned with his hand to the door Bond exited, “Really?”

Mallory smirked, running his hand down his face, “Let me know when he finds J.”

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[mlmxreader]

Be Sweet | James Bond x gn!reader

anonymous asked: "Comfortable?" Could you please do a fic where James Bond is being cheeky with the reader when they are on a mission. I read all of your James Bond fics!

summary: Bond can be an asshole sometimes with all his teasing.

tws: swearing

The streets of Bastogne were quiet, now that the hours had dwindled and were getting closer to morning; street lamps were dimly lit and looked like champagne stars that glittered beneath the security of the hotel room.

The sky was black, an almost charcoal colour thanks to the silver speckles hidden behind thick clouds; it seemed like everything had given up for the night, and everything had embrace the sweet caress of sleep at last. But in that hotel room, the bedside table lamp was on, and was encasing the room with a sweet golden colour; buried amongst the soft silver blankets, you were hardly awake as you glared at your partner.

Bond wasn't wearing a shirt, his thick black chest and stomach hair on show, and where he was hunched over, it was easy to see the rolls of flesh on his stomach that were absolutely gorgeous; his usually slicked back black hair was a mess, and he was furiously scribbling away in a notepad.

He never stopped working, even when you had been told in the mission brief that you would need plenty of rest, he didn't stop; you were tempted to distract him and try to get him to sleep, but his devilish good looks pulled you in too much, and you bit your tongue on the matter.

But it didn't take him long to notice the burning glare, and he smiled as he looked at you, running a hand through that messy black hair that was oh so tuggable. Bond could be a teasing, cheeky prick at the best of times, and although you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing, it always got to you; at your lowest and on your worst days, you often thought of the times when he had teased you, and it never failed to make you smile.

He cleared his throat, and sat back in his chair, exposing that soft and easily grabbed stomach, and that nice black hair that coated him so well.

"Comfortable?" Bond asked, tilting his head to the side so that the lamp hit his eyes. The sweet blue becoming speckles and kissed by the sweetest of gold.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you huffed, and grumbled as you fought the urge to go over and sit on his lap; it was a natural instinct at this point, you had done it so many times that you nearly couldn't stop yourself from doing it whenever he was sat like that. Legs spread and an arm hanging over the back of the chair, your breath got caught in your throat for a split second.

"It's cold," you mumbled. "And your incessant scribbling is getting on my wick."

"Well, forgive me," Bond hummed. "But some of us do have a job, you know."

You rolled your eyes, mostly to avoid that precious smirk that had settled on his features for fear that you would completely lose your composure and leave the nice and comfortable hotel bed in favour of sitting on his lap to distract him. "Some of us need to sleep, James."

"You could always come here and convince me to take a break," he purred.

You had to resist his charms, you knew that much, but... but the way that he was looking at you, and the soft purr in his voice, paired with the fact that his soft body was on show and he was gesturing for you to go to him - it was all too much. You couldn't stop yourself from tugging the blanket around your shoulders and going over to him, plopping yourself down on his lap and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he held onto your middle so carefully. He smiled, knowing and cunning.

"So, convince me."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you ran your hands down his chest, shivering at how the fine black hairs prickled and tickled your skin, trying not to laugh softly at the sensation. But oh, you were so sweet on him that you simply couldn't resist, melting against him when he started to pepper your neck and jaw in soft and honeyed kisses; he knew just the right spots to turn you into putty in his hands.

Maybe staying up so late wouldn't be so bad after all.

Maybe you could afford to lose a little bit of sleep.

"Come to bed with me," you murmured. "Please."

"We're supposed to be working," he pointed out, grabbing the back of your neck and revelling in how you so eagerly leaned into him and whispered for just one kiss. "Or did you forget?"

"James," you grumbled, not quite low enough to be threatening, not quite soft enough to show just exactly how sweet on him you were.

"Yes?" Bond hummed, gently tracing your jaw. "That's my name, don't wear it out."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you did your best not to roll your eyes and shut him up by kissing him harshly; you just wanted to go to bed, you just wanted to get some rest like they had told you in the mission brief - but Bond, as always, had other ideas and plans when it came to things like that.

"Come to bed," you pleased quietly. "Please."

"You'll have to do better than that, agent," he chuckled, and the closeness between your body and his ensured that the vibrations hit your skin and forced out a breath from the back of your throat.

"I swear, if you don't come to bed and get some sleep, I'm gonna throw you out the window," you grumbled. "How's that?"

"Far from good enough," he ran a hand up your back, feather light touches just to draw out little shivers and soft breaths. "Try again."

"If you come to bed right now," you started, "then I'll make it more than worth your while."

He hummed, but the desperate look in your eyes drew out the sweet spot that he had for you, and he nodded as he smiled. "That's more like it."

[strawwritesfic]

Asexual!Q x Female!Reader: Logical Fallacy [Ch. 21]

Summary: Q’s got one hundred and two problems. His girlfriend is, technically speaking, every single one.

Challenge:  “102 Things A Guy Should Know About Girls” challenge by Miss Chocobo on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; asexual!Q; sexual!reader; a running gag about sexual harassment; double standard: sexual harassment, female on male; sexual harassment played for comedy; James Bond & Reader friendship; civilian!reader; artist!reader; complicated family relationships; reader has a really big family; miscommunications; MI6 would not behave this way in reality; set post-Skyfall; joking references made to Bond/Q)

Pairings: Q/Female!Reader; James Bond/Eve Moneypenny

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @rory-cakes​

Master List

Rule #21: Size does matter–but only to hos, not to girls that want relationships.

If Q thought seeing Bond in various locations across London was stressful, it was nothing compared to seeing Bond in his own home. Even then, sitting at the table, Q could not help but feel immensely uncomfortable. Relatively large though the flat may have been, it still didn’t seem roomy enough to contain Bond, Q, and the latter's excitable girlfriend.

“There you go! Tea is up.” 

You flashed Bond a smile as you set one mug down in front of him, then Q. Bond smiled back, Q nodded, but you didn’t leave. Instead, you pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and settled in beside them.

“Mr. Bond, I know you’re here for super-secret work purposes and all–”

“Yes,” Q interjected. “He is.”

“–but could I ask you a question really quick?”

“[Name], now is really not the time. Mr. Bond needs to catch a flight to Beijing in the next five hours, and he really cannot afford to waste time with idle chitchat.”

“Oh, give the lady a break, Q.” Bond smirked at the look Q shot him over the top of his glasses. Really, it was bad enough that he had to invite Bond over to do this trade, and now Bond was purposely going to make Q look the bad guy. “I’m sure the professional matters can wait for a few minutes. Unless my ticket is going to blow up if I don’t leave quickly enough?”

Q answered with stony silence that you reacted to not at all.

Bond’s grin widened as he turned back to you. “Go ahead, [Name].”

For a moment, Q thought you might just do as he had asked and leave. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. These actions were unfortunately not in preparation for exiting the room. They were instead preparation to ask the following question:

“Mr. Bond, how big is your penis?”

Tea spurted from Q’s mouth. Both you and Bond turned to give him quizzical looks as he continued to cough.

“[Name]!” he protested around his coughing fit. “Why would you–You just can’t–Why do you even–” Q could not finish his sentences.

You shrugged your shoulders in an almost offensively casual manner. “What? It’s not like I’m taking out a tape measure and asking him to whip it out on the table.”

Q’s cheeks grew as hot as the teapot sitting on the stove. Next to him, Bond’s shoulders silently shook, as if he were trying desperately not to laugh openly at Q’s predicament. When Q could not find it in himself to speak, Bond ran a finger around the lip of his mug and asked:

“Why the sudden interest?”

“Well.” You frowned at the table. “Q says everyone wants to sleep with you. I guess I was just curious if that had anything to do with it, because as far as I know, no one has offered to sleep with Q other than me. Maybe it's a size issue?”

Now Bond was definitely suppressing a smile. “How big is Q’s?”

“That’s none of your business!” Q burst out at last. Bond chuckled. You cocked your head to one side and blinked. “Can we please just get back to what we came here to do?”

“You didn’t come here to do anything. You live here.”

“You know what I mean!” Of course, it was unprofessional to snap, not to mention that Q probably wouldn’t hear the end of this particular embarrassment for a long time to come–from Bond or you. He sighed and tried to contain himself before speaking again. “[Name], please relocate to the living room. This does require the exchange of some confidential information.”

“But I didn’t get my answer,” you said, sticking your lower lip out.

Q glowered at you. Sometimes it seemed as if you got some sort of kick out of mortifying him. 

From the corner of his eye, Q saw Bond wink. “I’m afraid that’s confidential information as well, [Name].” 

Q turned his head slightly to stare at Bond. What was going on? Was he really trying to salvage the situation? Or was he about to speak some new terror into it?

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

Bond nodded gravely. “I might have to kill you if I told you. M would definitely find out about it, and then where would we be?”

“Dead,” you said breathlessly. “Or arrested.”

“That’s right. Now, why don’t you run along to the living room before Q here’s head explodes?”

“Okay!” You got to your feet, beaming, and headed toward the hallway. “You two have fun!”

Q waited until he heard the television turn on, then heaved a relieved sigh as Bond took a deep swig of tea.

“Thanks,” said Q.

“Don’t mention it.”

[callsign-scully]

𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝘫𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧, 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

·.·´¯`·.·★·.·´¯`·.·

𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿. 𝖨𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖺, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾.

𝖴𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿. 𝖮𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖸𝖾𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗋��𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 ��𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒’𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝖾: 𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌.

𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒’𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌, 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁��, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇.

𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿.

𝖸𝖾𝗍, 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽. 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐. 𝖠𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋.

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝖮𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ���𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗅.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗂𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄, 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾.

𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖠 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒. 𝖲𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗓𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗍, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖥𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽. 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝖠 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

𝖲𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾. 𝖠 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖻 𝗐𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌.

𝖠 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽, 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖰 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖰, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇— 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁— 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖰’𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾.

𝖮𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄, 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒.

𝖰 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖮𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽.

𝖸𝖾𝗍, 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝖨𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾.

𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌.

𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖰 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖰 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌���� 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽.

𝖲𝗈, 𝖰 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝖨𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖻𝗈𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖽 ‘𝟢𝟢𝟫’.

𝖳𝗐𝗈 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗍𝗈-𝗀𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋. 𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖻 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 (𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽), 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗃𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 ��𝗈𝗎.

𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗄𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽’𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄.

𝖢𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌. 𝖠 𝗌𝗈𝖻 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽.

𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗎𝗇. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾.

𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖭𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾.

𝖠𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗑. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽. 𝖲𝗈, 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝖺.

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖰 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗀𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌. 𝖲𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝗌��𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾.

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍-𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽.

𝖠 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖧𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖺 (𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾), 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗍.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍.

𝖠𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗌 𝗈𝗇. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝖨𝟨 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖲𝖼𝗈𝗍𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾.

𝖲𝗈, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 ��𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 ���𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗑𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝖠𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗑. 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗍-𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖳𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍. 𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖠 𝗆𝗎𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 ‘𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾’ 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖡𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾. 𝖲𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗏𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗄. 𝖤𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗑. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗑. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽.

𝖠 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗈 ��𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌.

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾. 𝖤𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁.

𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒.

[miercoooles]

I’m back to my Daniel Craig phase and I’m itching to write a fluff where the reader forces either Benoit Blanc or James Bond to unwind and go on a picnic date under a tree while viewing the sunset then just watch the stars like the hopeless romantic I am.

[adisasworld19]

can someone plssss make a james bond x reder fanfic....... i just watched the 2021 film and omfgg hes so mf hot

[veryberryjelly]

fidget

felix catton x fem!reader

cw : none, no mention of y/n.

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

saltburn was your favourite place to be.

you had been spending your summers there since you were 14 and you met felix at school.

at 16 felix decided to kiss you by the lake and you had been inseparable since then.

even at oxford, it was very rare that you'd spend a night alone, either sleeping in felix's dorm or having him over at yours.

your summers at the house were always enjoyable, unless god forbid you fell unwell over the time you stayed there.

and unfortunately, that had happened this year.

you were curled up in your bed, curtains drawn as the burning sun heated up the entire room.

even with the warmth from the sun, the hot water bottle on your stomach and the duvet over your body, you were still shivering.

of course your period had to come on the hottest day of the year, when you would be constantly taking off your covers and putting them back on moments later.

your eyes were clenched shut as you willed yourself to fall asleep so you could wake up and be rid of your devilish cramps.

but of course, that was not what god had in store for you as your boyfriend burst into your room.

" mornin' sweetheart " he said, making his way over to your bed where he sat down , his hand lifting to brush some hair from your face. " what're you doing sleeping in here? i was waiting for you last night "

while you would normally relish in the feeling of felix playing with your hair, right now everything was sensitive and you couldnt take it.

" you were asleep when i came in, didnt want to wake you " you muttered, clearly lying through your teeth as you lifted your hand to move his off of your face, instead choosing to loop your little finger through his.

that was about much touch as you could handle at the moment.

felix was not having that as the reason. you knew he didnt care if you woke him up, as long as he woke up to you in his arms. it was then that he noticed the furrow in your brow and the lick of sweat over your forehead.

" what's up, sweetness? you dont look so good " he said, shifting a little closer to you, his leg lifting up onto the bed so you couldnt avoid this conversation.

you were hesitant, never having discussed this with felix before as there wasnt ever a need to, but the soft movement of him sliding his hand into your practically made you melt.

" i got my period last night, didnt want to stain your sheets or keep you up with my fidgeting " whenever you got cramps it was impossible to get comfortable. no position was good enough to ease the storm in your uterus.

" so you deprived me of your cuddles last night because you didnt want to ruin my sheets? " he asked, his brow raising incredulously.

" didn't think you'd want to deal with my fidgeting either. " you admitted, clutching your hot water bottle a little tighter.

" oh, baby, i don't care. i want to be there for you when you're not feeling good. " he explained, shifting on the bed again so he was sat up agains the headboard. " now because you robbed me of your company last night, you have no choice in letting me take care of you now. " he said with a soft smile.

" you don't have to do that, lex- "

you were swiftly cut off by felix " i dont have to, but i want to. i'm going to get you something to drink, then how would you feel about a bath ?"

you had to admit that sounded amazing, being engulfed in warm water for a little while.

" that sounds really nice " you agreed, lifting your head slightly to rest against his leg, still clad in his pyjama pants. " but dont leave yet "

your final word caused a soft laugh to come from his lips, his hand lifting to rest on your back, the other still clutched in yours.

" okay, we can stay here a while "

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic September 15 - prompt 15: DADA Class [word count 508]

“Hurry up and get in pairs, one boy and one girl please!”

Marlene sighed as she dropped the two volumes on Kappas on the desk and sat down. By her side, Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t we just be with the same gender,” he grumbled, taking a fresh roll of parchment out. “No offense, McKinnon.”

“None taken, Black. As long as you get us both a good grade on this essay.”

“Please,” Sirius smirked. “You know I live at the top of the class.”

“Yeah, along with Lupin, Potter and Lily.”

“I love switching places.”

“Come on ladies and gentlemen, get to work,” the Professor clapped her hands. “You have two hours starting now.”

They were barely through their introduction, Sirius putting the calligraphy that had been drilled into him since he had started writing to good use when a whacking sound made them both raise their heads from their books. To their right, James was looking down, a red bruise blooming already on his cheek while Lily was putting a heavy book back on the desk, her green eyes blazing with anger.

“Of the dangers of mixing sexes,” Marlene rolled her eyes, wondering what new obnoxious thing Lily would later on tell her and Mary James had said.

“Leave us with our peers and no one gets hurt,” Sirius sighed.

But when she turned to look at him, he wasn’t looking at James and Lily. His gaze was focused one desk over, to where Mary was pointing at a page while Remus nodded. To be more precise, Marlene mused, Sirius’s gaze was fixed on Remus, as if he didn’t want to miss any movement the other boy made, be it a bare flutter of eyelashes. And there was something, there in Sirius’s eyes, something so tender and so sad at the same time. Something Marlene recognised instantly, something she had seen quite often while looking at herself in the mirror. Marlene hadn’t told anyone, despite the number of times either Lily or Mary had had to nudge her back to reality when she got lost looking at Dorcas Meadowes across the Great Hall. She had a hunch her friends knew but she still hadn’t said the words out loud. She didn’t know if she was ready for that. She didn’t know if she would ever be. But this, this was different. This was a pull she couldn’t ignore, and didn’t want to, like finding a long-lost brother again when you didn’t have any hope left.

Sirius finally looked away from Remus and back at her desk and at her, catching her looking at him. He blushed slightly, his hand already moving in a dismissing manner. Marlene didn’t stop to think, the words coming out of her mind as the easiest thing on Earth.

“You too?” she whispered.

Sirius stared at her, then slowly nodded. They smiled to each other, a new form of relief washing over their faces.

They didn’t get a good grade on their essay. They didn’t care, not really. They weren’t alone anymore.

[shegatsby]

Hi, how are you? Please don't judge or kill me! Please, I don't condone this kind of behaviour. So, I have a request about Mads Mikkelsen's character Le Chiffre from Casino Royale.

So Female!Reader's father won against Le Chiffre his money at the casino.

To take revenge, Le Chiffre kidnaps Reader to get revenge on her father. Warning:Kidnapping, Non-con.

Please don't kill me, I don't condone this behaviour.!!! <3<3<3

A/N; Thank you for this request I sure had fun writing it ;) It got longer than i expected but hey, who cares. love you all.

Warnings; Kidnapping, smut, minors get the fuck out or else!

The only reason why you followed your father to Montenegro was to unwind from stressful year at the university. He said he had some business to attend to and he offered you a most generous holiday which you didn’t hesitate to indulge in. First few days were relaxing, you joined a yoga class, got several massages, swam in the sea and also at the pool, however, tonight would be the night to switch things up.

Your father said he was going to gamble at a casino, the hotel you stayed in was infamous for its illegal businesses such as gambling. Your father said it could be fun to have you there with him, he liked to show off his intelligent and siren looking daughter and to distract the gamblers.

Your dress was long and red, the fabric was satin, so smooth on your skin, the dress had a slash on your left side, up to your thigh. Hair let loose, red nails and red lips.. you were the walking femme fatal that night.

You entered the room with your dad, a soft 20s music was playing at the casino, yellow lights and dark green chairs, couches made the place look vintage, there were bodyguards at each door.

As you walked together you saw him

He was among his ‘’friends’’ or people he did business with. He was covered in black, which made him look manly and dangerous. His silver watch was shining under the yellow lights, you noticed that he had no ring, could be single. He was laughing at one of their jokes when he lifted his gaze and he saw you entering. His expression changed in a second, the way he looked at you up and down didn’t go unnoticed. His left eye twitched and he looked away, from afar you could see there was something in his left eye, looked like a nasty scar. It made you curious about him, because the way he dressed and held himself showed you that he had men to do the dirty work but maybe, time to time he liked to get his hands dirty… why were you so interested in a man who seemed older than you all of a sudden? You were here to enjoy your holiday and do a trick with our dad. Ever since you hit the age 18 your dad started to take you to casinos when he wanted to gamble, and you came up with this thing where you flirt with other gamblers to distract them, it worked usually because of weak nature of men.

Your father guided you to the bar to get drinks, there was still 20 minutes till the game started so he ordered you something and you gracefully took your place to observe the environment. ‘’Excuse me love, I have to use the restroom.’’ Your father announced and left, you were enjoying your drink and listening to the soft tunes when you felt a presence next to you. You looked up to see your father but you were surprised. That man with the scar was sitting next to you, ‘’Hello.’’ He said looking at you, he wasn’t shy showing his scar, it was infact nasty but you didn’t shy away, you directly looked into his eyes, you innocently smiled, for some strange reason you liked the scar, it suited him perfectly. His plump lips formed into a dangerous smile, ‘’Allow me to accompany you while you wait for your partner.’’ His tone was questioning, he ordered two drinks, ‘’He is my father. Not so smooth are you Mister?’’ he chuckled at your boldness, he extended his hand, ‘’Le Chiffre. And you are?’’

You accepted his hand, he had a strong grip, ‘’Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.’’ he gave a small peck on your hand, predator disguised as a gentleman. ‘’I assume you are here to accompany your father?’’ you took a sip from your cocktail, ‘’Correct. I didn’t want to leave him alone, plus, I’m his lucky charm.’’

‘’Good girl.’’ His eyes never left yours, you wondered if he could see from his scarred eye, of course you didn’t ask. With his comment you could feel heat rising up to your cheeks, thankfully your father came.

‘’Le Chiffre?’’ your father asked in a not so kind matter, ‘’Mr. Y/L/N,’’ he greeted your father with the same icy cold courtesy. ‘’Long time no see.’’ Your father said, ‘’Looking forward to see you at the game with your,’’ he looked at you, ‘’lucky charm.’’ His hand went to his pocket to get his silver inhaler and bid you goodbye. You didn’t understand the tension that they had, maybe it was because of the competitive business life.

Soon the game started, your father’s instructions were simple, wait for Le Chiffre to make a bold move and distract him, it was an old game of yours.

You were like a hawk watching the table from afar, your fingertips circling around the cocktail glass, you saw that it was his turn to make a move and you bolted to your feet. Your heels were making powerful sounds on the marble floor and you saw him looking up as he was shaking the dice in his big palm, your eyes never left his dangerous ones, he wasn’t ready the dice unintentionally fell from his palm, you saw the pure anger written on his perfectly shaped face as you got on the elevator you could hear your father’s victorious laugh.

You didn’t join your father, who was celebrating the big cash he just won. You were in your hotel room, just out of the shower and moisturized. You couldn’t help but think of Le Chiffre, was that money important to him? Did your father and he had a history? You needed a spa night. Since it was late you didn’t mind leaving your hotel room only in a long robe and nothing else, the halls were quiet, no workers around which was strange. You didn’t mind, the spa was at the top floor so you pressed the button and waited, after few floors two men who were dressed in black joined. When you reached the top floor something felt fishy with the situation but you couldn’t turn back to your room now so you decided to stick with the plan. Your steps were quick on the marble floors, you finally saw someone who was attending the spa area and you informed them, they smiled and showed you to one of the cabins. You were alone, thankfully. You just sat and closed your eyes to relax, the steam helped you calm your mind, well, it was too calming and soon you were asleep.

You slowly started to feel your body again, your eyelids felt so heavy but a sudden panic made you open your eyes, you weren’t at the spa, you were at a bedroom.. that wasn’t yours.

As you lifted your body with the help of your shaky hands you heard a voice which was familiar, ‘’Slow down, you are still recovering.’’ Someone, a man, sat on the edge of the bed and you could feel his hand on your small back. You looked up to see him and it was Le Chiffre, but why was he here?

‘’Wh-‘’ your throat was dry, ‘’Here.’’ He offered you a glass of water, you were hesitant but thirst clenched your being so you drank with his help. ‘’Good girl.’’ He said when you drank the whole glass.

You were coming to your senses so you pushed yourself away from him, your back resting on the headboard of the bed, ‘’You might be wondering why you’re here-‘’

‘’Might?!’’ you replied. Cleary not amused, ‘’As you can remember your father won a significant amount of money, thanks to your help, I want that money back.’’

‘’So you kidnapped me?!’’ you could feel anger boiling, ‘’Smart one aren’t you. Until that money is returned you are my-‘’

‘’Hostage.’’ You sarcastically said, ‘’guest.’’ He answered, ‘’It had been 5 hours since you were taken You must be hungry. Come.’’ He extended his hand but you refused, as you quickly stood up you got dizzy so he grabbed your waist, his scent filled your nostrils. He smelled good.

You couldn’t protest because it was hard for you to walk so with his help you left the room. You weren’t at the hotel anymore, it was a mansion. Was this his house? You walked down the stairs, all you could see was an astonishing house with large paintings and furniture. He took you to the dining room where breakfast waiting for you both. Your stomach growled, he chuckled and helped you to your chair. ‘’Why can’t you just win the money back? There is another game tonight.’’ You asked, looking at the breakfast. You had to keep your calm in order to survive because you didn’t know what was he capable of. ‘’I don’t have for another game and I don’t like taking chances.’’

You laughed sarcastically, ‘’Says the man who was gambling last night.’’ You drank the orange juice, it was tasty. ‘’I was going to win. Until I got distracted by a certain beauty.’’ His comment made you blush so you didn’t look at him, ‘’Is it scary to look at me love?’’ he sounded hurt, ‘’I understand if it is the case.’’ You didn’t care about the scar so you looked straight at him, ‘’There we go.’’ He smiled, ‘’Now, finish your breakfast, I have plans for us.’’

You didn’t know his plan but you had to play along, you finished your breakfast as he commanded so, it was delicious anyways and you were almost sure there was no poison. He looked at your finished plate, you could see a small smile forming on his plump lips, they distracted you, ‘’Well done.’’ You noticed that he kept giving you praises, which was your weak spot but he didn’t know.. or did he?

He stood up, extended his big hand, ‘’Shall we?’’

You thought he was going to torture you, lock in his basement, feed you to his dogs but instead he took you on a stream in the mountains, he said he liked to come here, swim and make plans for his business, he said the water calms his nerves and keeps him connected to mother nature. Before you left his mansion a maid came to give you a bag with everything you need, a bathing suit, towels, sunglasses, sunscreen, you name it. Le Chiffre didn’t need changing, he just took off his shirt and jumped into the stream, you thought he wanted to give you privacy so you quickly changed into your bathing suit, it was red, a color he choose but you had no idea. Once you changed you placed one of the towels on the grass and sat, started to put sunscreen on your legs, arms, ‘’Need a hand?’’ you heard his serpent voice, tempting and you looked up to see him, on the edge, his broad arms supporting his body by leaning into the ground, ‘’Yes, thank you.’’ Two can play the games, you thought. The way he jumped up to the shore, his arms and legs flexing did something to your core. You had to exhale the breath you were holding, without a word he sat behind you, put some sunscreen in his palm and started to rub your back. You literally held onto grass under your hands, his calloused hands trying to be gentle but you could sense the certain urge to go deep, and rough.

‘’When I first saw you at the casino,’’ he began, ‘’I thought to myself, I must have this girl somehow.’’ He wasn’t shy at all, ‘’I guess Universe finally decided to give me a break and let me have one good thing.’’ It was obvious that his life was difficult, and seeing you as something good  made you blush.

You turned to face him, his eyes were hoping for something, something tangible and you decided.

You leaned in to give him a kiss which he gladly took, his lips were so full and soft, his big hands went to caress your face, as the kiss got heated you followed his movements, he made you lay on your back, your legs invited him by opening. When he bit your neck you moaned, he pulled away, ‘’Did I hurt you?’’ he was out of breath, the genuine curiosity could be seen in his eyes and you almost cried.  ‘’No, keep going.’’

He kissed you again, you could feel his hard member between your legs, there was no going back.

His hand went to dip into your wetness and he moaned into your mouth, he pulled away to give kisses to your face and neck, ‘’just how I imagined.’’ He said as he started to rub your clit, your arched your back, his sweet torture was driving you mad. ‘’Do you want this?’’ he looked to see any sort of discomfort on your face but all he found was flushed cheeks, lust written in your eyes, mouth slightly parted. ‘’Yes,’’ you said, ‘’please’’ he grinned.

His fingers pushed the fabric away, he quickly got rid of his short and gave himself few pumps, you couldn’t help but notice how big he was.

He rubbed his tip into your folds, making you whimper, ‘’pleasee’’ you said whining, ‘’Please what, lucky charm?’’ you couldn’t help but moan deeply, ‘’Please fuck me, ever since I saw you last night I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me raw.’’ Well, it wasn’t a lie, he had a strange aura to him.

Your confession startled him at first, Le Chiffre, even though he didn’t want to admit, he had insecurities thanks to the scar on his face, ladies usually went for his colleges, not him. Hearing you openly admit to want him turned him on, he was planning on to be gentle with you but after what you said, that wasn’t an option anymore, he had to have you and keep you all to himself.

Your legs wrapped around him and he inserted himself with one thrust, you screamed in pain at first because it had been a while, ‘’Look at me.’’ He was deep inside you, you could feel his pubic hair tickling your skin. You meet his eyes and he started to move, you knew after this session you would have sore thighs, but you didn’t want him to stop. He stretched you out perfectly, ‘’Open your mouth.’’ And you did, he spit in your mouth, bit your lower lip, gave you multiple hickies.

Your fingers locking in his hair, you’ve never heard a man moan like him before, it made you clench around him again and again. You wetness and the sounds you make was heaven for him, of course he had multiple partners before but they all seemed fake, artificial, on the other hand you were screaming, tears in the corner of your eyes, you looked perfect. He sucked on your clothed nipples, gave them slaps, you were close and each sucking and slapping made you see stars, you liked his roughness. ‘’Come on my cock princess, let me feel it, come on.’’ He knew you were close and his praises pushed you over the edge, he followed behind.

His head fell to the crook of your neck, both of you were breathing heavily, ‘’I can’t let you go, not after this.’’

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Worrywart

Notes: Okay not all of my prompt replies are going to be ANYWHERE near this long probably BUT this has been sitting in my drafts for a while AND will technically contain the ask from this anon for kiss prompts:

I hope you enjoy, nonnie

Warnings: Fluff! Domestic Bond and Pup from the Old Dog ‘Verse

Summary: Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. He has no clothing at his flat; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes. 

"Are we getting up?"

"...Not yet," Comes James grumbling answer. It's mumbled against the nape of your neck as his arm tightens around your middle.

"We'll have to at some point," You glance back, "Holly and Bernard need to be walked."

"They're still asleep."

"How do you know that?"

"They'd be scratching at the door if they weren't. They're as impatient as you are."

"Really?" You smile, "I think they take after their father in that respect." You squirm as James pokes your middle.

"It's too early to bicker, Pup."

"I don't think it's ever too early for that."

James hushes you, snuggling closer.

"I've just gotten back, love. I'm not in the mood."

Your teasing goes soft with the endearment. You hesitate before you shift, rolling over to face him. Once he realizes that you're not rushing to get up, James loosens his grip just enough to allow you to adjust. He smooths his hand up under your shirt as you settle back down. His eyes are still closed; his blonde head is dimly haloed by the sunlight pushing in through the curtains behind him. You raise a hand to cup his roughening cheek, careful to avoid touching the small cut on his cheekbone.

"...You didn't tell me how it went," You murmur.

"It's not important.”

"It is to me."

"...It was fine."

"James."

“Don’t be such a worrywart.”

He turns his head, brushing his lips along your palm. You push a soft sigh out through your nose, closing your eyes. The two of you lay there in the early morning quiet, settling back into sleepiness for a little while. When you hear the scratching at the door, you lift your head, glancing back toward it. You grin as James groans, turning his head and pressing his face into the pillow.

"I've got them,"You offer.

"Hang on,"James uses his grip on you to tug you closer. His eyes are still closed, and you smile as his lips blindly seek out yours. He brushes a kiss to your chin, your cheek.

"You've almost got it—you've almost—" You giggle, grinning when his lips finally smooth over yours. You curl your fingers under his jaw, kissing James warmly. The touches linger, lips slipping tenderly along one another's—until you hear Holly whine.

"Okay," You murmur, drawing back from James, "I can't hear that, it breaks my heart."

"You're such a soft-touch these days," James sighs, flopping back in bed. You reach down, tweaking his nose before you stand, heading for the dresser. You get changed into joggers and a comfy sweater before you sit on the edge of the bed to pull on socks. You have to fight the urge to giggle as James' foot nudges along your thigh.

"Having fun back there?"You ask.

"Get back quickly."

"So bossy. We'll see what the babies want to do."

"Must I bat my eyelashes and say please?"

You roll your eyes, turning to look at James, and grinning when you find him gazing at you sleepily.

"I'll put the coffee on before I go out," You reach down, patting his calf before standing.

--

When the puppies (they're not really puppies anymore, but they'll always be puppies to you) charge back into the apartment, you hear the scratching and scrambling of paws charging for the kitchen.

"You're lucky it wasn't raining out," You call out as you shrug out of your coat. 

"Oh?"

"Mm. I'd've had to wipe down their paws. I'd be making you mop up the floor right now."

"I checked before I put their food out."

"Good boy, old dog," You tease as you stroll into the kitchen. James shakes his head a little bit, a smile adorning his lips as you lean in for a gentle peck. James' arm snakes around your middle, tugging you closer before you can pull away. He groans softly as the kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping between your lips. You loop your arms around his shoulders, gently pressing them into his skin before drawing away. You smile, sliding a hand up into his sleep-mussed hair.

"Love that you've neglected a shirt this morning," You tease.

"The apartment's warm enough."

"Mm. Giving the neighbors an eyeful."

James chuckles, nudging your nose with his.

"Don’t be jealous. Coffee?"

"Please."

James lets go of you just long enough to push a mug closer to you on the counter.

"You're a saint," You mutter, stepping back.

"Innumerable sources would disagree with you," James comments, heading for the fridge. You push yourself back to sit on the counter, glancing over to where Holly and Bernard are chowing down.

"I'm surprised you're up," You admit.

"Of course I'm up. I was told there would be coffee."

You smile, watching James putter around the kitchen. He still has his own flat, but it’s simply to keep up appearances at HQ. It's all for show; Mallory is more than aware of your entanglement with the double oh these days. He hasn't acknowledged it openly, but in your time working as a handler, you've come to recognize his displeasure or disapproval with a look. You'd had one such a look when you'd returned from your brief excursion helping Breanna. Of course, that disapproval may've been related to your undertaking a non MI6-related mission and potentially endangering a relationship with a foreign government by acting alone...Or it would've be interpreted as such, if Mallory's eyes hadn't darted from the back of Bond's head, then to you, narrowing slightly in the process.

Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. All of his clothing is in your dresser and closet; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.

"How hungry are you?" He asks.

"Slightly...Don't forget, we're going to Eve’s tonight for dinner."

Bond grunts, and you can't help but grin in turn.

"C'mon, you love it, really," You tease, "It's good for you to socialize, old dog."

James shoots you a sidelong glance as he rifles through the fridge before he turns back, taking out the eggs, bread, milk, and setting them on the counter.

"What are you making, then?" You press.

"French toast."

"You're too good to me."

--

“There you are—Christ, hurry in,” Eve insists. “You look half-drowned.”

“I couldn’t get away from the office,” You sigh, “And then once I did, I couldn’t get an uber. They kept cancelling.” You shrug out of your coat, glancing down at your damp top. Maybe Moneypenny has one that you could borrow.

“About time,” Bond drawls from down the hall. You cast him an irritate glance, grumbling, “Don’t you start.”

His amused smile drops away as he gets a proper look at you, and he straightened up, sliding past Eve. You watch as he pulls his jumper off, his undershirt untucking slightly and revealing a thin strip of his belly.

“Bond,” You sigh softly as he steps closer, gesturing for you to remove your damp top. You glance toward an amused Eve, her grin wide as James shields your body with his. You hurriedly remove your shirt, hanging it up beside your coat before you let Bond pull the warm jumper down over your head. You catch on the scent of his cologne as he does, reveling in the warmth of him as you push your arms through the sleeves.

“You’re such a worrywart.”

“I should’ve brought you a spare,” Bond grumbles to himself as he draws the thick fabric down over your sides.

“You couldn’t have known I’d need one.” You gaze him with a warm, chastising smile before you reach up, cupping his cheek. “Thank you.”

James leans in, giving you a warm, gentle kiss before drawing away, his warm nose nudging your chilled one.

“My god, Bond,” Moneypenny sighs, leading the way into her living room. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

A Man After Midnight

[A/N: Uh… I’m just gonna leave this one here 🧍🏽‍♀️ ok thx bye 🏃🏽‍♀️]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Pairing: James Bond x female reader (gun play)

Shooting up in bed in your nearly pitch black room, you grab the closest item on your bedside table and hurl it at the doorway leading to the hall. You’re rewarded with a familiar low chuckle, one that sends your nerves alight and blood rushing through your veins.

“Attempted death by-” Bond pauses, and you hear him inhale deeply before concluding, “-vibrator. What would M have to say about that?”

“She’d thank me for getting you out of her rapidly graying hair,” you retort easily. “Now are you going to turn the lights on, or do you prefer to skulk about in the dark?”

“I most certainly do not skulk, darling,” he responds, voice sounding closer now and somewhat miffed. You track the way the shadows dance along the wall from the street lamp filtering in through the curtains on your window before hooking your ankle around what you presume to be Bond’s knee and giving a harsh tug. Your aim proves true, his weight falling onto the mattress by the foot of your bed with a quiet grunt.

Taking advantage of the position, you toss the covers aside and move to straddle his lap, suddenly grateful that you elected to wear only a short silk sleeping gown to bed tonight. The grin is evident in your voice when you ask, “Is that your weapon, 007, or are you just that excited to see me?”

“Yes and yes,” he responds smoothly, and you can’t help the shiver that races down your spine. “Why,” he intuits in that infuriating manner of his, “does that excite you?”

“It most certainly does not, darling.”

“Clever,” he murmurs. Then, in a flash, he’s above you, and you can feel the cold bite of metal pressed to your cheek. You suppress another shiver, and Bond lets out an appreciative laugh. “A clever lie, it seems.” He nuzzles the spot where your pulse thrums just below your ear and you moan a weak and whiny, “James.”

“No clip, no bullet in the chamber, just like we talked about,” he assures you quietly, and you hum your approval. “Now, where were we?”

Reaching up in the dark, your fingers find the sharp plane of his jaw and you run your nails lightly over the stubble growing there. “I believe you had me at your mercy? In the dark with a gun, no less?” The playful bite to your words morphs into a sharp intake of breath through your nose when the muzzle of the Walther presses into the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh.

“That’s more like it,” Bond hums, clearly pleased with himself as the metal leaves a cold trail in its wake, creeping higher and higher along your thigh until reaching its intended target. “Mouth closed, legs open. You’ll cooperate for me, won’t you?”

Obeying his mouth closed edict, you simply nod in response, and Bond takes the slight rustling of the sheets as your confirmation.

“It’s so much better for both of us when you listen to me,” he continues softly, the Walther just barely sliding back and forth against the growing wet spot in your panties. You can’t help the choked moan that escapes the back of your throat, and Bond tuts before covering your mouth with his free hand. The intoxicating scent of worn leather floods your senses and your eyes nearly roll back in your head- he’s literally dressed to kill.

“You really must stay quiet,” he says, a hint of disapproval twisting around his words. The barrel of the gun presses more forcefully against your clothed pussy and you grind down in search of friction, your desperate whimpers muffled by his gloved fingers clamping harshly over your mouth. Biting back a grin, Bond leans down by your ear and teases your aching core with the gun before whispering, “I wouldn’t want to have to use this on you, love.”

[tazuransi]

new addition to the family 👶

[mlmxreader]

Just That Close | James Bond x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "Been a while since you slept so well" bond/m!reader

summary: Bond doesn’t often let people get close, he doesn’t often actually let them in, but you just might be the exception.

tws: n/a

The light in the bedroom was dim, just shy of getting dark as the television played quietly, the quietness of evening approaching slowly as you snuggled down against the soft pillows; wrapped up in two blankets and a duvet, you could feel Bond sleeping soundly beside you, cuddled into your side as he clung onto you so desperately. He didn’t often allow people to get so close to allow them into his house, maybe with the exception of M and Q, but nobody else; he allowed you, though, after years of building up a tightly knit bond, he had only just started to allow you to get close.

You supposed that it did help that you had been in the SAS for years before even meeting him, and he knew that through your work with E Squadron, you could definitely be trusted; so he didn’t mind falling asleep beside you, he didn’t mind not having his gun under his pillow. It was across the room now, tucked away in the holster that was hung up on the edge of the cupboard.

Slowly, he started to stir when he felt you shift around a bit to get more comfortable, a soft grumble coming from the back of his throat as he pressed himself further into you and sighed heavily, his voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five past five,” you replied quietly, “you can go back to sleep if you want, Jimmy, I’ll still be here.”

Bond shook his head, daring to sit upright as he yawned and stretched, the hair on his chest starting to go a little grey here and there, just as his black hair was starting to become streaked and speckled with fine grey hairs, too. He looked amazing, his hair messy and scruffy; he looked so much different to how he usually did. No suit, no neatly styled and combed hair, far from prim and proper, far from a gentleman. He even forgot to shave, and had started to get quite thick scruff along his jaw, which you traced so gently with your fingertip when he looked at you so fondly. 

“Been a while since you slept so well, hasn’t it?”

Bond nodded, gently kissing your shoulder as he grumbled. “More than a while…”

You couldn’t help but to smile, moving to straddle his waist so that you could gently rake your hand through his hair, humming softly to yourself before you let your hand drift down to his chest, able to feel his breath hitch when you gently and deftly traced an old scar, but he made no move to stop you until you dared to look at him; with a small smile, Bond dared to steal a lazy kiss. It was a little sloppy, a little slow and a little soft, and you couldn’t help but to smile at how his scruff tickled your skin so wonderfully. You were head over heels for him, and he knew it, he knew it all too well; you broke the kiss, rubbing the tip of your nose against his just to see him smile. 

“Well, Mister Bond, it looks like I have you wrapped around my finger,” you teased, keeping your hands on his chest, able to feel the hairs tickle your palms as you tried not to laugh at the sensation.

“It appears you do, Mister (y/l/n),” he hummed, laying his hand at the back of your neck and humming softly. “What do you plan to do with me now I’m at your mercy?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your chin with your finger as you dared to purse your lips, furrowing your brows like you were deep in thought. “Y’know, I’m not quite sure.”

“I’m sure you can think of something,” he mused. “You are a rather clever man, after all.”

“I’m sure I can think of something,” you agreed, licking your lips as your gaze dropped to his mouth for a moment. “But I suppose thinking can wait, don’t you?”

Moving so that he could pin you beneath him, his arms digging into the mattress either side of your head as he pressed his body against yours, Bond gently kissed along your jaw as he smiled, able to tell that his scruff was tickling you. “I suppose it can, Lieutenant - that is, if you don’t want me to see if I can give you a few ideas.”

“I would adore that,” you admitted, raking your hand through his hair and gently tugging it. “You always have the best ideas… you’re probably cleverer than me.”

“Only probably?” He asked, trailing his kisses down to your shoulder. 

“That’s the best you’re getting,” you told him with a laugh. “You might be intelligent, James, but I still kicked your backside at cards.”

“That you did,” he admitted with a nod. “But that was only beginner’s luck.”

“After seven rounds?” You asked, keeping a slightly teasing tone in your voice as you chuckled softly. “Or was it eight?”

Gently biting down on your shoulder, Bond grumbled against your skin. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Promise me something,” you said seriously, the three words causing Bond to pull back so that he could look into your eyes. “Don’t die before I do.”

Bond smiled, shaking his head as he dared to steal a quick kiss. “Of course not. If I did, who else would make sure you don’t go running head first into danger?”

“I…” you swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath as you prepared to actually say the words at last. “James, I think I love you.”

Bond froze, staring at you blankly for a moment, wondering if he should really let you get just that close; he trusted you, without a doubt he would put his life and the entire country in his hands without even hesitating, and he did care for you deeply. But he knew what often happened when he allowed people to get too close, and he wasn’t sure if he could stomach it happening to you, as well.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you told him, shaking your head. “I just wanted to tell you.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don’t wanna reblog, then you’ll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

[strawwritesfic]

Asexual!Q x Female!Reader: Logical Fallacy [Ch. 19]

Summary: Q’s got one hundred and two problems. His girlfriend is, technically speaking, every single one.

Challenge:  “102 Things A Guy Should Know About Girls” challenge by Miss Chocobo on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; asexual!Q; sexual!reader; a running gag about sexual harassment; double standard: sexual harassment, female on male; sexual harassment played for comedy; James Bond & Reader friendship; civilian!reader; artist!reader; complicated family relationships; reader has a really big family; miscommunications; MI6 would not behave this way in reality; set post-Skyfall; joking references made to Bond/Q)

Pairings: Q/Female!Reader; James Bond/Eve Moneypenny

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @rory-cakes​

Master List

Rule #19: Remember: Girls are pretty, but yours is the prettiest!

Two days later, Bond killed the cause of the security breach, and you were released. Not without any sort of ado, of course; MI6 wanted a full debriefing. That wasn't even getting into your not-so-little breakdown, which in M’s opinion warranted a complete psychological exam before he could feel safe in releasing you into the general public. Needless to say, this hadn’t exactly put you in the best state of confidence for your first meeting with head of the entire program.

Q couldn’t help much with that. All he could do was walk you to M’s office door, then give your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked inside. He could feel your pulse pounding as he did so, but he couldn’t even offer you a smile before the door snapped shut and the light above it flashed on.

“You’ll be fine,” he muttered to no one. 

Even Miss Moneypenny was away at the moment. Q was left all alone, with nothing but the painting behind her desk to distract him from his nerves. In a fit of anxiousness, he paced over to the corner water cooler and poured himself a cup. It wasn't tea, but in this case it would have to do.

“Knock knock.”

Q very nearly jumped out of his skin. Given the impossibility of such a situation, though, he only managed to spill water down his front. Of course, there was Bond, sidling into the room, looking bruised but cocky–and, as usual, pleased to be present to see Q embarrass himself.

“007,” Q spluttered as he attempted in vain to dry himself off with nothing but the bottom of his jumper. “What are you doing back already?”

“I caught an early flight back into London,” Bond answered. He placed his hands in his pockets and nodded his head once toward M’s door. “Is [Name] in there? Eve said she wasn’t looking too well earlier.”

The water wasn’t coming out. Q dropped his jumper and gave a shaky nod, his own eyes too jittery to focus for long on any one thing inside the office himself. He swiped an arm across his chin to get the dripping to stop. “M wanted to debrief her. Not that she really knows anything, I don’t think. But for procedure's sake, I suppose.”

Bond seemed to sense Q’s own trepidation, which had only been worsened by all those recent sleepless nights. He clapped Q once on the back–with a little too much force, but Q didn’t have it in him to glower this time. 

“M will treat her fine. He knows she’s not an employee, or a threat,” said Bond.

“I assumed as much.” Q took off his glasses and rubbed his fists into his eyelids. “It’s just the exhaustion talking. He’ll let her go in a bit and she’ll head home.” 

A ragged thought drifted through Q’s head: And then, this time, you might even break up with him. Normally he would have voiced such a thought aloud; it helped his snarky demeanor considerably. But this time it was true, and he was surprised by the ache in his chest at the thought.

The man next to him nodded slowly, then leaned one shoulder on the wall. “She’s a pretty woman, your girlfriend.”

The ache grew deeper; Q felt his blood run slightly cold. When he looked up at Bond’s face, he had to work his tongue several times to unstick it enough for speech. Even then, he was quite sure the horror in his voice was plain. “Did you sleep with her?”

Why the thought bothered him so much, Q couldn’t say, except that in this case he couldn’t blame the exhaustion. He’d worried about it before dropping you off, after all. But he knew that Bond had slept with damn near every woman in the office, and that didn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him that Bond and Miss Moneypenny certainly acted as though they slept together all the time, whether or not they actually had. But with you, it was different. And he couldn’t put his finger on why.

The casual smirk Bond threw Q didn’t help matters. “Are you jealous, Q?”

Q broke eye contact and cleared his throat. “No. I–Of course not. I just wondered if that should be mentioned to the psychologist. I wouldn’t want [Name] failing because there were facts deliberately left out of the background details.”

He heard Bond shift away from the wall then walk over to Miss Moneypenny's desk, probably to look at the pictures she had set up there. Q didn’t look behind him to see for sure. But maybe Bond wasn’t doing that, as he said, “As I was saying, your girlfriend is pretty. And she made it quite plain she wasn’t going to sleep with me as soon as she set foot inside my flat.” There was a laugh in Bond’s voice, barely concealed. 

For once, Q couldn’t even be bothered that Bond was making fun of him. He turned. “Really?”

Bond grinned. “I think she’s a little in love with you.”

A smile flitted across Q’s face, but it couldn’t stay for long. The next moment, he was serious again, and his tired eyes found the light above M’s door. “I hope it stays that way,” he said quietly. 

Bond nodded. “For your sake, I hope so, too.”