#Romanian market entry

[alienpossession]

Another take from my end on the continuation of this much-beloved story, this time solely focusing on Andrei & Mike as they meet the ill-fated Steven from the original series by @apushforfolly

Bodybuilding is a rather tight-knit global community. The people you competed back in Las Vegas would be your competitor again in Dubai, in London, yeah, you get the gist of it. So while the Prince is busy consolidating domestic power, what the Prince directed the rest of us to do is to basically get our grip within the bodybuilding community and the ever-growing and increasingly cocky finance bros as stealthy as possible. Sander handled the finance and all those podcast bros flocking to Dubai. Meanwhile, me and Mike are quite influential within the UK bodybuilding circles, and with us based in Dubai, we did leverage that to our benefit as we lured some of the aspiring talent and even several of our old friends for a free Dubai trip which would lead to the end of their life as freedom human entity. Take Rory over here, quite a rather close friend of Andrei before the Prince and then I took this British-Romanian hunk for a spin

Rory eagerly took the offer to rekindle the friendship that just severed out of a sudden as he based himself in Bali while Andrei got his mind fucked by me as I hyper-focused myself to serve the Master and enlarge his influence. I didn't like to waste my time so within the first day he landed, right after I showed him and his girlfriend around their apartment I said to be free of charge as it was still in the market anyway, I simply bitchslapped him until he passed out and then proceeded to infect his girl first, taking the delight of Andrei's fucked up mind that held grudges to Rory for stealing his first crush, her. She cried, obviously, and even harder when she could feel that something terrible is coming with my cock that somehow enlarged beyond her comprehension, because it almost doubled in length and clearly that's not normal and she knows that. As my contained sludgebros released like a damn broken faucet into her throat, her eyes rolled to the back as black sludge overflown her mouth. But she's quick to regain her consciousness and with her mind set to infect her passed out boyfriend, I simply put my sweatpants back on and left the two lovebirds to settle their business.

That's basically one example of our MO, but it's the most effective because these bodybuilders really trust each other, especially when they came from the same country. And when we reached more bodies, it means we have more field operatives to take care off potential puppets. For example, Nico, like Andrei, is Romanian, and he's been out from the spotlight for a while. But, his physique is still great and he's considered a legend among the younger bodybuilders. So, of course I utilized his eagerness to learn a thing or two to become relevant from Andrei as my entry into his tight straight cunt and basically turned him into a puppet.

The legend status he holds gives him easier access to reach the coaches and the more senior bodybuilders, not even a week and he's already turning Jerome Weeks into a puppet too, just look at that wide, slightly off-putting smile the two of them did, if people paid attention a bit more, clearly they can tell that something is a bit not right there

There's also this easily leveraged dynamic of leeching off each other or trying to be in the more influential person's good light, and Mike really milked the shit out of it. He's charismatic, he's also probably the most well-off among the others and you just don't want to mess with him as he can legitimately messed with your influencer career if you crossed him.

Olly and his older stepbrother Craig bumped to Rory and Mike in the middle of a gym, and of course they asked Mike and Rory for a quick pic. The two brothers already planned to utilize the picture for some clout but they are also legitimately looked up to Mike especially, hence the slightly tense pictures despite multiple takes.

What the two humans failed to realize was the fact that both Rory and Mike licked their lips as they watched the siblings walked giddily to the locker room after the pic sesh. They grinned to each other and decided to join the two brothers in the locker room to have some "pep talk". While Rory handled Craig, Mike sauntered the impressionable 20 years old blondie. At first excited to see his idol and tried to respectfully stand up, Olly found himself taken aback as Mike instead pressed Olly back to the seat and then smirked

"I see the potential from you, dude. You can be a jacked piece of shit in no time and fucking popular too. All you neeed to do is open up that mouth, I know you blondie want a piece of this meat,"

Bewildered, Olly tried to fight back but Mike asserted his dominance in a split second as Olly found himself unable to even stand up as Mike held his shoulder and forced him to stay seated

"Don't force me to use my strength, noob. Now, as I said before, you have the potential, just open up that pretty mouth and let me show you how to get big," Mike said with a shit-eating grin so uncharacteristic of him. His crotch just inches away from Olly's quivering lips, and from Olly's POV, he meant every single words he said. Olly still resisted, he tried to scream for help but Mike's hand quickly muffled his mouth, blocking him to even let out a sound. He simply wished that anyone will walk in and caught Mike red-handed, but it seems like it's not goint to happen anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, as his eyes wandered looking for any good samaritan that can help him out of this predicament, his eyes caught a bizarre sight as his married stepbrother bobbed his head up and down Rory's dick like a cum whore! Mike gleefuly said with sinister undertone

"Yeah, even your older brother knows it's the right thing to do. Heck, it's the only way to get big nowadays. It's time for you to also start accepting that as the truth. Now, I won't repeat myself again, open,"

Seeing the tight-lipped Olly, Mike then take the liberty to simply fish out his cock out from his workout shorts, revealing a mean-looking 7.5 incher semi-hard uncut meat throbbing with excitement. He's been going commando since this morning, and the tough workout regiment clearly caused him to accumulate quite some sweat in his crotch. Mike just grazed the tip of his meat right to Olly's pink lips before the young sophomore jock relented to the pressure. His throat felt sticky and sore from all the thrusting, but he found out that he got no gag reflex whatsoever which caused Mike to grin in the first few seconds after the entirety of his cock lodged into Olly's throat

"Ohhh fffuuuckkk you really meant to be a cocksucker bro!"

The whole facefucking lasted for about 6 minutes before Mike started to get tight and exasperated. When Rory and Craig circled around Olly, that's when Olly realized that something is not right when his stepbrother's eyes looking a bit empty and glazed. But not long from both Rory and Craig sauntered the both of them, Mike shot his copious load into the trembling Olly, his body went on a full seizure as the slug takes over his bodily system. Olly eventually regained his consciousness and the first thing he do is to cough out the sticky mess that filled his mouth when he passed out and replaced by an alien slug. He then smiled a very wicked smile

"Now, can I infect other human on my own?"

"Hahahahahah, love the spirit, but not so quick bro, not so quick,"

----

So when Steven Barnett, a bodybuilder with Mining Engineering degree, arrived in Dubai for an all-inclusive honeymoon after marrying his girlfriend for 3 years which also happened to be the daughter of a US Army General, the gym junkie decided to squeeze in several workout session since he knows some of his favorite bodybuilders are based in Dubai. Unfortunately for him, the Prince intel already put a target behind his back the moment he booked a flight to Dubai with his now-wife.

The penthouse arranged by Andrei, the tour around town with Rory, the workout sesh with Mike and Olly, everything is simply part of the plan to ensure that Steven is well-monitored 24/7 throughout his stay. The Prince believed that it's time for him to make another move after consolidating the power in Dubai, and America sounded like a solid plan. So, when Steven walked into one of the last gym that has been recommended by a lot of his online followers, it's already a trap ready to capture him to become yet another puppet in the growing collection of the Master. He's just simply oblivious to the fact that he posed with puppets controlled by mere black slug that looked like a pitch black oil he found in his day job.

[lightningarmour]

Last Voyage of the Demeter(spoilers)

This was a movie I was really excited about because I really love the premise for it. Like many people on tumblr I experienced Dracula by Bram Stoker for the first time through the viral phenomenon of "Dracula Daily" so I don't have any kind of long love of the book or any particularly deep, personal feelings towards it or anything, but when I first heard about Last Voyage of the Demeter I thought it was a tremendous idea for a movie, and a pretty interesting and novel approach to a vampire story, generally and a very neat idea to take such a zoomed in look at the events of Dracula.

The way the Log of the Demeter is told in the book is obviously a classic example of a horror story. It's like how in every survival horror game you find some journal entry or email or whatever of someone saying "Has anyone else heard the strange noises coming from the vents? oh well, hope it's nothing!" in a room where there's a streak of blood running down the wall from a torn open air duct. You are being given piece by piece the terror and dread of a crew of sailors you already know are doomed to a horrendous death, seeing little by little how the horrors unfold, knowing they can't stop it, and it's all made the more tragic that they (or at least the captain) never know what it is that is doing this to them.

It's prime territory for a slow burn kind of psychological horror movie, where the mystery slowly unfolds and as more and more of the crew go missing, the tensions amongst those remaining grows and they start to turn on each other and yadda yadda.

While overall, The Last Voyage of the Demeter is a fine movie, it's certainly not the movie I went in expecting. I understand, of course, that adapting a single chapter, written basically in point-form, into a feature length film would require not an insignificant amount of padding. I think, though that this movie ended up a bit overstuffed.

It's an aggressively average film, ultimately. I have no real complaints about the technical aspects. It's shot well, all of the sets and costumes and such look good, the soundtrack really pops, and frankly I think almost all of the performances were really quite good. The problem, broadly is the very banal kind of Hollywoodification of the story. The movie I envisioned this being is definitely in the script somewhere, but the edges get sanded off in rewrites, they want the movie to be more marketable, and gradually it becomes a middling action thriller. Still competently made, but not scary enough to really be a horror movie, or suspenseful enough to really keep you engaged with what's left.

It exists, in my mind, in a similar space as the 2017 adaptation of Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express. Both period piece movies about mysterious deaths, but neither really feel confident enough in themselves to just be a mystery or a horror movie, so they try and punch it up a bit and throw in some action and spend a lot of time getting to know a colourful cast of characters who ultimately don't matter that much, and it all results in a kind of genre mush where the stakes never feel particularly important and I find myself nitpicking details rather than enjoying the story.

Much of the bloat this movie suffers from comes in the form of 3 characters. The protagonist of the film, Mr. Clemens, Anna the exposition machine, and Toby the precious baby boy who exists solely to inject an emotional hook into the story. I don't want to sound like a reactionary and complain about "wokeness" in movies because that's not a real thing, but it's probably going to sound like I am. From a marketing perspective, a film studio does not feel confident in having a non-franchise, niche-interest kind of movie with a cast of solely white men. Not that this particular movie would even necessarily have to be full of white people. The Demeter is specified as being a russian ship, and there was mention of russian and romanian crewmen but boats were crewed by all kinds of men so it's a simple liberty to take in making the crew multi-ethnic. It could have worked quite well if it were more of an ensemble cast, rather than having a specific protagonist. So much time is spent on Clemens that it makes the rest of the crew feel incredibly dull and one dimensional.

One reason I think in similar ways about this and Murder on the Orient Express is that both suffer from a very modern Hollywood trend of inserting a lot of very liberal values into movies set in the past in a way that does nothing to try and like, sincerely address the issues of sex, race, class, etc. discrimination and prejudice that existed in the time periods they are set in, but honestly as a way to kind of coddle the audience and assure them that while people may have been racist in the past, we, the studio and filmmakers, and whoever do not agree with such prejudices, and everyone can rest easy after seeing the film and not have to feel uncomfortable about any of that.

So Clemens is presented to us as a Doctor who is eager to return to England, and as we find out later, he was the second black man to ever graduate Oxford or wherever with a medical degree, but he couldn't find work anywhere because he's black. This information serves no real purpose to the story, nor to really understanding who he is as a person or anything. He plays the Agent Scully of the movie. It's sort of like he's there to dispel any mystery or suspense the movie might otherwise have. instead of a bunch of superstitious sailors succumbing to fear, Clemens is there to smartly tell them that their instincts are irrational and whatever. The result is that the movie follows all the same tropes and trappings of it's genre but in a way that is deflated by a guy constantly pointing out said tropes while not being genre savvy enough to prevent all of it from occurring.

Anna is in the movie explicitly to explain to the audience who the character of Dracula is, for those who might have missed the last 150 years of vampire fiction. She's introduced as having been stuffed in one of Dracula's boxes of dirt as a little snack for him on his boat ride. She' unconscious for a third of the movie but once she wakes up she just very directly tells everyone that there's an evil demon on board named Dracula and he's going to eat us all. I really hate her inclusion in the film because similar to Clemens, she exists to drain any suspense or mystery out of the story. There's no longer any fear of the unknown because she tells them exactly what's happening. Yet despite this, it still takes them like 3 days to finally get the bright idea to open up the crates in the cargo hold to see if maybe that's where Dracula is hiding. Again it's doing this almost meta narrative thing where now the characters realize what story they're in, but because that story already has a predetermined end, they can't actually use this knowledge to their advantage, the tropes still play out the same anyway.

I don't want to use the term mary sue to describe her but her and Clemens both have Protagonist power. They're seemingly the only ones on this boat who are smart and capable enough to get anything done, and they do quite explicitly just give Anna super powers. She's been fed on by Dracula so she has a special connection that lets her sense his presence and blah blah whatever. It's all very gimmicky, especially for a character we know is not going to survive and has no greater impact on the story of Dracula.

Toby is the grandson of the Demeter's Captain. He's like an eight year old boy or something and I kind of hate him. He's an utterly nothing character who serves no narrative purpose. At some point when going over the script they realized that there's no reason to really give a shit about any of the characters in the movie because pretty much none of them have any depth, and they figured the audience wouldn't be engaged. So they put a kid in it so that people would feel sad at least once during the movie.

There's honestly nothing to the kid. He's like unbelievably plucky and happy-go-lucky, to the point where I think the actor's performance is undermined by how exaggerated his boyishness is played up, but aside from just being happy and cute or whatever there's nothing to him. Again you're supposed to instinctively feel protective for him because he's a child, and then inevitably when he gets his shit sucked by Dracula, it's supposed to be the like, one tragic part of the whole movie, but it's just hollow. And whats more is that any sense of sadness or loss you get from precious little Toby's death is wrung out because they have a fucking scene where they're going to dump his corpse in the ocean but the Captain is like "No wait, he's still alive!" and you get a really shitty jump scare moment where the kid opens his eyes but now he's a vampire and then he immediately goes up in flames in the sunlight and I laughed out loud in the theatre because it was so fucking stupid.

The new characters are just too out of place because they all feel like hollywood blockbuster protagonists haphazardly tacked onto an otherwise kind of low-key horror story, and I think that the movie would have worked much better if you kept the Captain as the focal character. In the movie he's present but kind of as a side character which feels odd. It also really robs him of his agency. The final log entry in the book has him resolutely sacrificing himself for the sake of his ship and his diligent commitment to his duty as the Captain, so he ties his hands to the wheel, ensuring that he will never be derelict even if it means his death, whereas in the movie it's fucking Dracula who ties him to the wheel as a weird flex, but he's dead before the climax so that the characters invented for the movie can have an epic action movie showdown with Dracula.

And given that the whole dang thing roots itself so adamantly as being part of the greater story of Dracula, it then kind of results as this very silly contrivance where all the stuff about a man eating creature, a dude literally bursting into flames, a woman who explicitly told them about Count Dracula being a horrible demon, just gets conveniently left out of the Captain's log.

I feel like there were some more nitpicks and quibbles I had about the movie but none of it is particularly important. Again, as much as I've just spent like 2000 words whining about it, overall I didn't really hate the movie. It's fine! It was a decent enough movie to go see, even if I left feeling a bit disappointed. I'm having strong feelings towards it because it's one of those movies that is worse than just being shitty. A just awful bad movie can be dismissed outright and I could just say yeah it sucks ass. But this one is so close to being good. There's a lot I did like about it, but it's off by such a small margin that all the things keeping it from being really great feel much more pronounced.

Also I kind of love that Clemens just survives and I guess becomes a Dracula hunter? They should have done a post-credits scene where he shows up 5 minutes after the main characters from the book have slain Dracula and been like "god damn it"

[unilifeabroadcareersolution]

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[forexsignals32]

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[cartograffiti]

Thank you Claire from Schuler Books: some data for Queen's Thief fans

The tl;dr of this post is that QT is having an unprecedented surge of interest right now, and I used GoodReads to deliver some facts and figures to the Discord (The Geninsula), and now to Tumblr!

Under the cut: sources of the uptick, beautiful numbers, and a couple fun excerpts from recent reviews.

Part 1: selling out is good

We can actually track the start of the surge back to 2020's publication of Return of the Thief, because the series being complete got it a lot of positive press, but the activity of the past couple months (especially February-now, I'm writing on May 31 2022), has been another thing entirely.

RotT, and Disney+ optioning The Thief, has meant we're getting a lot of new international editions. The UK is getting a beautiful release of new editions in paperback and audiobook. The series is being translated into Spanish and Italian for the first time, and we know in The Geninsula of translations underway into Hebrew and Bangla. (Parts of the series have previously been released in at least 15 languages, but until now only Romanian had kept up with the whole set.) MWT is currently on a tour of Italy and the UK to promote these new editions, and a number of giveaways and influencer spotlights were arranged by publishers to get The Thief | Il ladro in readers' hands.

In March, the independent bookstore Schuler Books (not, as it has often been misreported, a library or Barnes & Noble) *posted a TikTok* of some of their staff showing off books they wish they could read for the first time, again. (It's adorable, click the link if you haven't seen it.) This TikTok went viral, now with 17.5 million views, and it opens with Claire talking about The Thief.

Only two weeks later, The Thief was sold out in US paperback. I'm talking gone. Even Amazon cannot get you a new copy of either the 2017 (Joel Tippie) or 2005 (Vince Natale) covers anymore, previously readily available, let alone older ones. They have to reprint it! In the meantime, the Steve West audiobook seems to be doing very well, and the hardcover unremarkably. Several Geninsula members who are members of large library systems have reported long waitlists typical of bestsellers. I wholly attribute this attention to Claire. Claire is the best, our hero!

Lots of recent reviews (see below) also said Laini Taylor suggested it, but if there's a specific recent source for that (she's a known fan of long standing), I can't find it. Let me know if you know!

Part 2: GoodReads is useful sometimes

So GoodReads *has this nice feature* where they rank the top 200 books from each publishing year, with #1 being the one their users have most interacted with, and refresh it monthly [Edit: this was a mistype, it’s weekly]--so you can see which books of the same age have remained or become popular as of this month [Edit: week]. This does not mean it only accounts for what was interacted with within that month [Edit: week], just that it's that up to date.

Right now, The Thief is number 14 out of all of 1996. The books that beat it are all truly famous things like Bridget Jones's Diary, Angela's Ashes, Fight Club, and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. (The only book ranked above it that hasn't been adapted for film is Neverwhere, which has received a radio play with a high-profile cast. [Edit: ...And is itself a novelization of a TV series.] [Edit: Infinite Jest has been a play, but not filmed.] I am making direct eye contact with Mickey Mouse.) Some of the other series marketed as fantasy it beats out include entries from Tortall, Discworld, The Witcher, and Redwall.

The Queen of Attolia is the only other one that is currently on the top 200 list for its year, but it's 77, above more Tamora Pierce, a boxset of A Song of Ice and Fire, and buzzy authors like Julia Quinn and Junji Ito.

The fact that a second book is ranking this high tells us people are currently working their way through the series in honestly what has to be large numbers. I won't be surprised if later books start ranking in the coming months.

It also tells us people really are actively reading them, not just marking the first one as possibly interesting--lots of users don't mark sequels as to-read until they've read the first, or the preceding one, etc.

Now, with the books ranked this high, how much interaction does that represent? Well, The Thief has 77,921 ratings, and 236,000+ shelvings, and considering that finishing without rating is somewhat uncommon…that's about 150,000 users who are planning to read, or currently reading, this book. The same math for QoA is less dramatic--about 20k people have it on the agenda--but when 20k is 50% of its all-time ratings, that's...still an explosion.

This of course only represents the people who a) use GoodReads and b) keep up with their to-be-read list there, so this is only a fraction of readers in general who are likely to read it in the near future.

Part 3: The reviews are in

Giveaways of advance reader copies in the UK led to a burst of reviews in February, which were a bit puzzling to read through, as a number of them seemed to me to have come from people who did not know the genre or even the age market for the book when they entered for it, and hadn't actually been drawn to the story therefore.

A much more striking wave of reviews came later, as the UK, Spanish, and Italian readers began to interact with it organically, and a large burst of people who specifically said they'd picked it up because of Claire from Schuler Books. (Or, more often, "A TikTok with a cute librarian [sic].") These reviews have the usual range of reactions, but an overall level of enthusiasm I feel is high.

Laini Taylor was the second-most successful recommender. Many people compared The Thief favorably to Rick Riordan, Leigh Bardugo, GRR Martin, and Sarah J. Maas. (This was the first time I'd seen the series pitched to SJM's fans! I haven't read her work, but hadn't thought it was in a similar niche.) I was delighted to see several people calling it the best fantasy of travel and landscape they've read since JRR Tolkien!

The apparent age range of reviewers is quite wide, which reflects my experience of the fandom, where I've regularly chatted with people from 13 to their 60s, and likely older. There were some very cute reactions from reviewing tweens and teenagers who said that they were surprised such an OLD book from the nineties held up.

Some other book trend remarks I found interesting: lots of surprise there was no romance, including some people who, looking for a potential romance among the traveling party, proposed both Gen/Sophos (fine) and Gen/the magus (insane, thank you so much, I have questions.) A number of people who remarked that they were pleased to find a fantasy that wasn't "too fantastical," lots of positivity about feeling it had a "timeless" style, and one person who said they have found it difficult to find engaging recent YA books with boy protagonists.

Delightful excerpts from reviews of TT:

a novel that is a credit to the English language.

I loved the world MWT created, had it been an artwork it would perhaps have been more Claude Monet than Michelangelo

[Original review in Spanish, from Argentina] Gen is the best thing that has ever happened to me

The Thief also pairs very nicely with cheese and dried fruit.

The importance of narrators:

I'm giving this a 5 star rating because I listened to it as an audiobook and the narrator sounds like Henry Cavill and I have a crush on him. So, 5 stars.

And my favorite reaction to The Queen of Attolia:

This is shockingly...kinky???

Okay, thanks for reading! I'm really excited, since it looks like the fandom is in the process of...tripling? Something like that. If you have news about how the book is being promoted, or new translations/re-releases, I'd love to hear!

[barnesandco]

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (1/14)

Story Masterlist

The plum seller at the farmer’s market saves Bucky from being captured for the attack at Vienna that he didn’t commit, but is she really all that she appears to be, or are ulterior motives involved?

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 1191. Square filled: “Amnesia”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, memory-loss, sad, lonely Bucky. Mentions of cigarettes, smoking and smoking addiction. Mentions of torture, hunger, and pain.

A/N: I know I said I would post this on Monday, but I’ve decided to move it back a day because I can lol. I’ll post and update weekly on Sundays from here on out, and if you want to be notified when I post a chapter, please follow @ayeshaupdates​ and turn on notifications. I’m so excited about this story, and I’m really looking forward to sharing it with you guys. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments - your support and encouragement is so so helpful and much needed. 

He doesn’t trust her. The woman who sells plums at the farmer’s market - he doesn’t trust her at all. She smiles too bright, and seems to be making a point of acknowledging him by his name, week after week. “James” is as foreign to him as this country, as much of a stranger as these scavenged clothes he wears, but there’s something about the inflection of her voice that makes it sound like a gospel truth. It’s also why he approaches her stall with an appropriate modicum of caution.

“Good morning. How can I help you, James?” She asks in Romanian that is flawless but for the small pause between clauses, as she translates what she wants to say from her native tongue in her head. He watches her bite her lip while bagging the number of plums he has requested, his own voice smaller than it ought to be.

After paying for the fruit, he heads to the corner shop for cigarettes. A costly habit, one that he doesn’t strictly feel the addiction to maintain, it is only a reminder. One that he took up after seeing a picture of someone he used to look like standing alongside grinning comrades in a French forest, cigarette poking out of a younger mouth. A reminder that he used to be more than this, and, on the good days when he dares to hope, that image printed in smoky gray-scale is a reassurance, too. That he can be more than this, again.

Today is one of those days. A good one, that is. The kind that has him worrying about something as superficial as whether he’ll make it back to his apartment before the clouds overhead start pouring. He does. Makes it back followed by the ghost of the plum-seller’s smile, right up to the point where he steps across the threshold of the place he is trying to call home. 

He has had many hiding places over the course of the last couple of years, but this is the first that he has truly tried to make his own. Sparse furnishings and a pitiful lack of decor though it may have, it is sacred to him. Not clean in appearance, but at least his hands are. At least this place and everything in it - the secondhand dining table, the bare, mouldy mattress, the cheap journal he now picks up off the fridge and holds in his hands like it is made of sapphires the color of Captain America’s suit - weren’t earned by bloodshed and terror, but by a graveyard janitorial shift at a nearby hospital. Six nights a week.

Flipping past the images of the man museums tell him is his friend, he finds an empty page, and grabs a ballpoint from the table he sits down at. The grocery bags are blocking the already dim, cloudy light that permeates grimy windows to make his living space look even gloomier, but he squints and starts writing. Manages to put seven words on the paper, the same seven he was greeted with by a smiling face that morning, before he stops, blanks at the vast expanse of yellowing, water-damaged white, and wracks his brain thinking about how to describe the way his name in her mouth makes him feel. But he can’t. 

Eight consecutive weeks, almost two months in Bucharest - the longest he has stayed anywhere besides the childhood home he doesn’t remember and the frosty depths of Siberia that he distinctly does - and every time he attempts to put her into words, his hand cramps. Not because she is indescribable, but because he does not allow himself even this right to her, not even to expel her from his mind by means of ink.

And that frustrates him. Because that’s how he’s been exorcizing the rest of his demons, with varying degrees of failure, and isn’t she just another one, more unassuming than most? A schoolboy crush for someone who no longer as any claim to his childhood, he responds with the wary, jumpy attitude that a soldier does a tree-branch that moves too suddenly in wind behind enemy lines.

Now there’s an analogy he abhors, and scolds his mind for conjuring, while he gets up, closing the journal - it’s presently a lost cause - to start taking out the groceries. 

Mechanically, he starts with the items to be refrigerated; milk, eggs; vegetables, not great in number nor variety, but just as much of a luxury as he can get away with on minimum wage in a city centre. Putting the last of the greens in the fridge, he thinks a prayer of thanks. To whom, he isn’t certain, but he thinks it. Because whatever this is, it isn’t the Depression. Sensations of pain and ache seem to prevail in the chaos of his amnesiac memory, so his most vivid recollections, his primary ones if he’s being truthful, are of cryostasis and torture, mind-wipes and cruel scientists scrambling his brain. However, there are also a few images of a time before, and the feeling of an empty stomach, the sound of a small sister crying in hurt, is another.

It’s a red memory, that one. As red as the lone apple he pulls out next, followed by those plums. Seven of them, one for each day of the week. Small graces, that he’s thankful for. Gratitude is directly proportional to happiness, or so a one of the cheery, laminated quotes adorning the entrance of the local library would have him believe. The same library in which he located books about memory loss, with one telling him that plums can aid in reversing it, and that book, in turn, led him to her.

The fruit saleswoman with a smile as knowing as the Mona Lisa, but far too loud to fit in a portrait. Who sells plums with hands too soft for a farmer, who looks so out of place and yet eerily, perfectly in it at the same time. 

Leaving one plum on the counter, he hurries to put away the remaining groceries, and then washes the plum before going to eat it.

This routine of a plum a day is a sacred one, now, and he takes his place at the table with the round, red-purple fruit in his hand. A lifeline nobody is holding on the other end. A miracle he has ceased to have faith in, but repeats the ritual motions of regardless. 

The first bite washes over him like a summer rain, the taste of cool sunshine, sweet and syrupy, exploding on his tastebuds. Consumed in a matter of moments, this afternoon treat, this brief reprieve leaves him a touch softer, and a tad calmer. More sated. Never one to waste a drop of good, he licks the sugary, tangy juice off his sticky fingers, and resolves to try the journal again.

Perhaps he’s approaching it the wrong way. Perhaps she’s a guardian angel, albeit with a haunting presence. Perhaps she’s the one holding this lifeline at the other end. But then, when have the odds ever been so good to him?

[illiberalwalachia]

Drugs from Iran

On Thursday, Romanian anti-mafia prosecutors announced the capture of 1.4 tons of heroin at the port of Constanta, in the Black Sea. Law enforcement agencies from nine other EU countries took part in the operation. Europol and DEA officers posted at the US embassy in Bucharest were also involved. The ship was bound to Western Europe, which is hardly news. As prosecutor Oana Patu said at a briefing, Romania is not a big market for drugs. Large shipments of narcotics only reach Romania as a point of entry to Europe. More interestingly, the ship -which transported construction material amidst which the traffickers concealed the heroin- had as origin Iran. For some reason, that I suspect is connected to the traditional sympathy of our press for thugs, my editor removed this detail from my original headline. I’m convinced the story would have read much better.

[startexpertinternational]

Company opening Service in Romania

Start a business in Romania, company registration, business setup, legal requirements, Romanian market entry, professional guidance, corporate formation services.

[scenetail78]

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[iwantutobehapppier]

Safe Place

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You were Romanian native when you two met. something in him drew you in. You were safe with him and he felt a since of peace he’d not known since before the wars. Feelings develop and boundaries blur in your need to help him heal.

Warnings: Oral (for you), unprotected sex, PTSD episode-ish and I think cursing. 18 an older only, do not read if under the age of 18. This isn’t for everyone, if any of these situations bother you please read no further.

Word Count: 3.938

A/N: This was made at the request of my bestie @judiakino. She wanted fluffy Bucky smut so I tried my very best to deliver. Hope you all enjoy!

Chiming of the clock in the entry hallway of your humble walk up pulled you out of your book. You frowned looking out the window, the darkening sky telling sign you had gotten lost in your latest romance novel and the need for starting dinner imminent. Setting the book down on the coffee table across from your love worn couch, you made your way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you began preparing dinner, he would be here soon and the anticipation of his arrival made you bounce on your feet as you moved between tasks in gleeful anticipation. Once you had the soup cooking on the stove top you pulled the open living room blinds and curtains shut, your visitor had an issue with open window views; you chalked it up to his soldier training he sparsely spoke of.

Returning to your soup you took a small taste and wrinkled your nose, it needed more spice. Reaching up towards your spice rack to your left a cool metal hand wrapped around yours as you grabbed the desired spice, a warm arm wrapping around your stomach pulling you into muscular chest. The heat of his breath fanned neck as brown hair brushing against your shoulder, you sighed in content at his touch. You knew this greeting very well, he was always so silent even the whirling of his metal arm barely above a whisper. His left arm remained glued to yours as you seasoned the soup, he pressed his face into your neck a content sigh falling from his lips at your smell invading his senses.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, you pushed your body further into his at the sensation.

“Oh? More than you do any other day?” You smiled turning your head to face him, he always looked at you with such warmth that you couldn’t stop smiling when he was around.

“There was this elderly woman down at the market going on about the best ingredients for Sarmale.” You turned your attention back to the soup stirring in the spices slowly a you became embarrassed knowing what he would say next. “It reminded me of when you gave me a good verbal thrashing for bringing you lamb instead of beef.” Your checks bright red recalling just how indigent you became with him over his faux-pa he didn’t even understand.

“In my defense,” you began with a sigh, burrowing his face in your neck under your hair you felt him softly chuckle as you became wound up, “I was not aware you knew nothing about Romanian dishes. You have no accent.” He hmed pulling his head back up, just as your sat your stirring spoon down he  twirled you around to face him. He kept his arm around your waist, his metal arm gently holding your chin up turned to him as his warm cerulean eyes searched all over your face.

“Do I have something on my face?” you asked, lifting a hand to your cheek looking into his eyes. He shook his head, “No, you’re just so gorgeous I can’t help but want to memorize this face.” Your cheeks turned a deep crimson at his words, breaking eye contact his honesty and admiration overwhelming. After 3 months of you spending such intimate time together he had yet to kiss you, but he certainly imprinted himself against your skin, always touching you in small or not so small intimate ways that made your heart stop and warmth pool in your stomach.

The both of you ate in comfortable silence at your kitchen table; he looked so large in the basic metal lined kitchen chair. You had to stifle a giggled, his size always seemed comical in your tiny place. His warm hand entwined his fingers with your hand resting palm up on the table. He would look at you randomly smiling only when you looked back. Once finished he took both your bowls to wash them while you put away the left over soup.

Before long the two of you were cuddle up on your love worn couch T.V. playing some American sitcom re-run. His arms locking you in his lap, as if you’d ever leave his embrace. You rested one arm on top of his, your other reaching behind you playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He bent his head down and nuzzled his face into your hair breathing in deeply. You could feel yourself dozing off in his arms when the T.V. became louder talking about breaking news, causing you to open your eyes wide.

“This just in: Avengers spotted in Sokovia confronting what appears to be some type of Robot Invasion”

The news caster was reading from the prompter on one side while shaky cellphone footage played, Hulk slamming on the ground tearing apart robots and arrows from Hawkeye flying by causing explosions.

You could feel Bucky tensing behind you, his grip around you tightening each second the footage aired the whirling of his arm increasing in noise as it constricted. It wasn’t until Captain America appeared that you felt his grip become uncomfortable.

“Punk,” he whispered out, your hand had stilled against his head and you tried to call out his name as the grip reached level of pain. Hearing you struggle seemed to break whatever trance he was in as he instantly let go of you and stood up shoving you down onto the floor at the unexpected movement.

“Oof” you grunted as your butt made impacted with hardwood floor.  You went to pull yourself up off the ground when the T.V. cut to images of people screaming out. Bucky bent at the waist covering his ears, you stopped trying to get up instead grabbing the remote and quickly turning the T.V. off. Once the noise was gone you began standing up, you brushed his hair back holding it behind his neck and other hand pulling his arm to try and get him to stand up straight.

Quickly, almost smacking your heads together, he stood up looking at you with cloudy fearful eyes chest heaving panic clearly setting in. You gripped both sides of his face lifting up onto your toes and pulling his head down you put your forehead against his keeping eye contact with his faraway gaze.

“Listen to my voice,” your voice calm while you pet the sides of his face, his chest still heaving. “You’re here in Romania,” you slowly trailed your hands down to his neck stopping at his shoulders, your touch soft and caressing. “You’re safe with me,” his breathing began to slow down, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes as you kept staring into them. “No one is controlling you,” His eyes began to focus on you, an anguished whimper came from his lips as he pulled you into his embrace, your arms curling under his arms and clinging to his shoulders as he rubbed his face into your hair. “You’re safe,” you repeated few times you voice trailing off as his breathing finally evened out, the whirl of his metal arm returning its normal white noise level.

When you felt his metal hand pet your hair you knew he was returning to himself. You wrapped your arms around his back, gently rubbing and whispering softly words only he could hear the same words you’d use late night during his night terrors the few times he had stayed over sleeping on your couch. There was never a question of if the relationship would move further; you were content with his visits whether just for the evening or the night. He confessed once that every time you touched him he could feel the demons recede. You never minded comforting the demons he was always trying to keep at bay, the demons you dared not ask the names of.

Quietly you guided him back to the couch; you sat down first laying your back against the arm rest, Bucky cautiously laid between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. You smiled at his trepidation to lay directly on you; he was always concerned in how he handled you. Rarely would he become rough only times getting close when he’d have a flashback. Gently combing your fingers through his hair he burrowed his face into your stomach arms looping underneath your back, the desperate way he clung you giving away his current thoughts.

“You’re safe, we’re safe.” You repeated, nodding your head as you spoke to reaffirm the truth.

He sighed and nodded his head, “Yes we’re safe, you’re safe.” He stressed the last part, expressing the utter importance you held to him with a simple inflection.

“I’m always safe with you around,” your bright smile beaming at him when he upturned his face, his gorgeous pools of blue gazing in awe. The corner of his lips twitched but the smile never really formed, his mind still trying to switch off unsuccessfully as adrenaline still running rampant. He turned his head down, clouds swirling in his eyes once more. He was silent for a moment. “No one is safe around me.”

You chortled at his words; he looked back at you in confusion and mild shock. You shook your head baffled at his inability to see who he was.

“Who saved that little child we saw last week getting bullied? The elder woman who always wears purple down the street, when people were ransacking her house who intervened?” you pressed him to sit up on his knees as you sat up straight looking him in the eyes to make sure he was focused on you and not listening to whatever self-doubt rang in his head. “When I was alone, and those men started following me,” his hands balled into fists, you both recalling a less than pleasant memory. “Remember when they held me in that alleyway. Who was it that saved me?” He looked down to his chest unwilling to answer you, adverse to let him fold into himself again gripping both sides of his face forcing him to look at you repeating yourself slowly. “Who was it?”

“Me,” his voice was barely above a whisper if the T.V. had still been on you would have missed it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear that?” His eyes narrowed, he knew you could hear that.

“Me,” Bucky’s voice raised this time enough to satisfy you. “I’m safe with you, Bucky.” He pulled your hands from his now pensive face.

“What I have done, what I did-” you cut him off before he could start his familiar self-loathing rhetoric.

“I don’t care what you did, it only matters what you do.” Your arms sliding up his chest you fought the shiver at the feel of his firm sculpted muscles under your hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck you sat up on your knees as well. Given his height your eye level was still his neck but it was less of an ache to turn your head up only slightly with this position. He appeared to be mulling over your words, determining their worth and truth.

“But I-” you gently pressed your lips to his, capturing his bottom lip. At first he stiffened at the boundary being crossed, his hands finally unclenched resting at his sides, eyes wide peering into yours. You gradually closed your eyes applying more pressure to his lips, his arms shot around you pulling you flush against him. He was tilting his head ever so slightly when his tongue trailed between his lips testing the waters of whatever this new dynamic was.

Gladly you accepted, your lips parting more and both of your tongues gently touching he inhaled deeply closing his eyes, his flesh hand reaching up to grip the back of your head, cradling it as his fingers gently caressed your neck. He had never pushed this line with you, content and believing he only deserved the touches and heartwarming cuddling that had remained but now that he had his first taste of you, he could not find any good reason why he waited so long.

The intensity of his touch ramped up but it still remained gently, caressing, malleable and almost haunting. His metal arm whirling as he caressed your side, moving to rub your back, then back to your side, the metal fingers trailing so cautiously along the underneath and side of you breast but never directly touching. Your head began to swim at his touches. His hand began to play with the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling his lips from yours.

“May I?” he bobbed his head downward, without a word you leaned back his arms moving back to his sides and you pulled your shirt off, making quick work of your bra. When you tossed your bra behind the couch he stared at you, his fingers twitching at his side the gentle whirling of his arm and both of your raggedy breaths the only noises in the small home.

“Please say something,” you muttered becoming increasingly uncomfortable at his silence, “you’re making me worried something doesn’t look right,” he breath hitched at you words, eyes narrowing at recognition of your insecurities.

“Baby,” he whispered out, his metal arm wrapping around your waist pulling you back to him as his flesh hand trailed up your stomach, gently cupping a breast, lifting it up slowly and rolling your nipple gently between his thumb and pointer you felt your breathing shallow at the sensation. “You’re breath taking,” he paused his metal hand molding your side, caressing, grabbing but never too tight, never too aggressive.

He guided you onto your back, your knees falling open; he placed himself right between them. Not before pulling his own shirt off followed by pressing his hardening cock against you to provide much needed friction. Your hands shot up tracing the line of his muscles that felt like carved marble, so smooth but so hard underneath. When your feather like touches trailed his Adonis belt he couldn’t take anymore. He leaned down his hands braced against the arm rest, pressing your chests together you both let out a soft moan. The skin contact feeling like heaven after waiting so long, he kissed you once more, both your breathing labored.

It wasn’t long before he started exploring your body, his kisses trailing down you jaw, lingering at your neck for a gently bite that made you buck your hips up with a gasp. He responded in kind by baring his hips down onto you, the feel of his hard cock turning your gasp into a moan. His right hand began to trail down your body, paving the way for his lips. Just as he gently caressed your breast, rolling the nipple between pointer and thumb without applying pressure his mouth trailed to the adjacent breast, kissing along the nipple, then flicking his tongue gently across your nipple. You arched your back up whimpering at the sensation pooling between your legs. His right hand began to pull your pants down your legs. Reluctantly to get the pants off Bucky had to pull him from your breasts. You almost laughed at his down turned lips, clearly unhappy about having to pause.

“Is this okay?” he pulled at your pants again, you gave a vigorous nod. Before you knew what was happening he had your legs up in the air, almost bent in half pulling your pants and underwear off. He nestled himself back between your legs, returning his attention to your beasts as his right hand gently cupped your mound and nothing else. He continued his lavish attention and adoration of your breasts, his lower hand applying the slightest pressure to your mound, his middle finger trailing along the slit. He groaned against your beast in his mouth when he felt your wetness.

Suddenly his attention shifted, placing soft kisses between your breasts he began to kiss his way down, stopping at your navel to roll his tongue along it as his middle finger gently tapped your already over sensitive clit, you moaned out louder than before at the intensity. He smirked against your navel and returned to descending to his prize, your hands grabbed his shoulders when he kissed your mons.  

“Buck you don’t”

“Sssh, baby let me do this, let me love you” You nodded your head slowly, the grip on his shoulders slacking. You watched him spread your lower lips apart, his eyes trailing up and down letting out a soft groan. “Beautiful,” he whispered out before his flat tongue swiped from your weeping opening to your clit were his lips wrapped around, flicking his tongue leisurely along the engorged nub, slowly moving his pointer and middle finger into your warmth. Your body was shaking by this time, one hand had trailed to his head, gripping his long hair and pulling him into you as you pressed your hips up in offering.

He gladly took all you gave, desiring to only worship upon your alter; show you how much he cared for you, how much he needed you. Bucky had something he’d never thought he’d get when he was with you, a quite mind, there were no replays of missions, no recounting of torture, no war, just you. It wasn’t long with his gentle touches and determination that you were falling apart beneath him.

His eyes were trained on you, watching your flush face tighten then release, lips forming a perfect ‘o’ letting out the most stunning noises he had ever heard. He rested his head on your thigh watching you, his metal hand twirling patterns along your stomach as you kept your eyes shut riding the waves he moved within you. When you finally opened your eyes and looked down at him you smiled sheepishly at the moister along his mouth, he returned your smile.

“Hey there,” you spoke awkwardly not sure what to say to a man who gave you one of the best orgasms of your life. His eyes twinkled knowingly at you, a since of pride and accomplishment taking him over. “Hey yourself.” He stood up his fingers trailing across your skin as he brought himself completely up right.

Lifting you up with both arms he cradled you to his chest making his way to your bedroom. Gently he set you down on the duvet and stood up admiring your body as he undid his belt buckle and pants with his one hand, his metal hand trailed down from the curve of your breast to the widening of your hip. Gently gripping your hip, instinctively you lifted your knees up and spread your legs out, without missing a beat Bucky pulled both his pants and briefs down, climbing to his new haven between your legs.

“It’s been a long time so – and not since they – I just mean,” pressing your fingers to his lips you silenced his jumbled words. Your eyes trailed to his cock, a small whimper falling from your mouth at the sight. He was flawless and truly chiseled from marble head to toe. The venous shaft and glistening head made you weak, your eyes were transfixed as he gripped the base, trailing it up and down your slit, the tip starting to shine more with your combined desire. His eyes were jumping from your face to his actions below and back to your face but your eyes never stopped watching him trail along your slit.

Your eyes widened watching him gently press the head against your opening, his arms shook lightly as he pushed his head all the way in, rolling his head back groaning. You looked up, his neck muscles taunt as he bowed his head back. You couldn’t help yourself, an arm wrapping around his neck lifting your upper half up and pulling him down to kiss. He placed both of hands flat on the bed enjoying the kiss you offered him, tongues gently lapping at each other.

He slowly rocked his hips back and forth panting louder with each movement, working himself into your tight heat slowly to ensure he wouldn’t needlessly hurt you. You were the first to break the kiss; quietly crying out you fell back on to the bed, arching your chest up. Your fingers wrapped around his forearms, your short nails slightly digging in as you mewled and whimpered at the sensation of him slowly filling you.

When he was finally at the hilt, he dropped to his elbows, stilling for a moment inside you, eyes closed he tried to catch his breath. You pushed his hair out of his face with both your hands; he opened his eyes to stare directly into yours. Bucky’s eyes searching along your face, checking for any signs of pain, any signs of discomfort or regret of where you currently were. You grazed the back of your hand along his check then cupping you gave him a soft smile that easily slid into a naughty smirk as you tightened yourself around him. Groaning he pulled back his hips slowly then unhurried he pressed back in. You cried out his name, the sensation setting your whole body on fire, wrapping your legs around him.

“Don’t stop,” you barely got out between your heavy breaths as he continued to move inside you. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he began to pick up his tempo, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, encasing him entirely. He cherished the feeling of your entire being coating his, his pace stuttered for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. He lifted his head up, his brown hair curtaining around the two of you, your eyes looking up at him in lustful daze.  Not wanting to leave you behind as you were the only thing he could focus on his hand reaching down he began to rub slow circles around your clit watching the sinful faces you made.

He knew he didn’t deserve you, or any of this. The way you always cared for him, caressing his rough edges, never afraid of him, so trusting and he didn’t deserve any of it. Yet here you were, open to him, your embrace so inviting and tender. Watching your face as you came undone he vowed he would love you with every piece of himself to prove to himself he deserved this. He would earn your affection, no matter how challenging it would be.

When you began to spasm around him at your release he couldn’t hold back, his hips jerking hastily wanting so badly to feel this euphoria together. Groaning out your name he felt the pressure finally release, baring his hips down onto you riding out the sensation. When he felt his shoulders start to wobble he wrapped his arms around your waist, rolling over on to his back and pulling you with him. A whimper escaped your lips, feeling his softening cock move inside you at the shift in position.

He kissed the top of your head as you lay on his chest, you turned your head up and he was there waiting for your gaze, those stunning blue eyes shimmering. His arms tightened around you and with the blood no longer rushing through your body loudly you could hear the whirling of his metal arm, a welcomed noise that you often missed nights he didn’t visit.

Your eyes began to feel heavy, the satisfaction of his attention wearing you out.

[littlemarvelfics]

Simple

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: about 1,600

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello hello! This is my entry for @sweetboybucky ’s 1K challenge! My prompt was “It’s not that simple”. Thanks for letting me participate! The Romanian is from google translate/the internet in general and I’m so sorry if I messed it up. As always y’all can send in requests (for tags or fics) here and you can find my masterlist here. (GIF is mine and recycled from another story)

You took a deep breath and ran your fingers over the delicate lace bodice of your dress. You took another look in the mirror and smiled. Even you had to admit you looked beautiful. Your hair and makeup were done naturally to complement the simple nature of the wedding dress you had chosen. You could hear the people chatting as they filled the aisles of the wedding venue. Your best friend Melissa handed you a glass of champagne.

“How ya holding up kiddo?” she asked.

“I’m holding,” you replied with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

“There’s still time to back out you know. Especially if your mind is wandering to a certain blue-eyed beauty…”

“Stop Mel. Eric is a good guy and he wants to marry me. He’s sweet and stable. Thinking about you know who won’t do me any good.”

“In that whole shpeal I didn’t hear you deny it,” she replied, smirking.

“I thought it would go without saying that I love the man I’m about to marry,” you hissed.

“Mmhmm. Well, I’m gonna go check on things. Are you going to be okay here all by your lonesome?”

“Of course I am. I’ll see you in a bit.”

As soon as Melissa left, you were alone with your thoughts once again. The truth was, ever since Eric had proposed, you couldn't stop thinking about James. Throughout the months of cake tasting, venue research, invitation mailing and everything else that went into wedding planning, your thoughts had drifted to James. Even when Eric proposed you thought of James and how he had been the one to propose first. Now your mind was drifting to when you and James had met.

Before parking yourself behind a desk for the next part of your life, you decided to travel. You landed on Romania as a destination, at least for a while. You were fully ready to go wherever the next year took you. The day after you arrived in Romania, you were at a street market when you and a man reached for the same plumb.

“Poți avea asta,” (You can have that one) he said with a chuckle.

“Nu, e al tău,” (No, it’s yours) you replied, stumbling over your Romanian.

“Ești nou aici?” (Are you new here?) he asked.

“Da, este evident?” (Yes, is it obvious?)

“Puțin, dar nu ești atât de rău,” (A little, but you’re not that bad.) he said with a smile.

“Mulțumesc,” (Thank you.) you said, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment.

“Ar fi mai ușor acest lucru în limba engleză?” (Would this be easier in English?)

“Much,” you replied in English.

“I’m James,” he said, sticking out his right hand for you to shake.”

“I’m Y/N.”

After that morning, the two of you spent practically all of your time together. You extended your time in Romania, not moving onto somewhere else as you had originally planned in favor of staying with James. You found yourself falling for him a little more each day. It took some time, but you eventually found out why he had always worn long sleeves even in the sweltering heat. He explained he was in an accident and this was his prosthetic. James told you mostly everything, or at least everything that you needed to know. He was from the States and had come to Romania to find himself. Things continued like this, days and night spent together in a shitty apartment sharing each other and falling in love. Until you had to go back to the states to start your job. To your surprise, James wanted to come with you. You were laying in bed on a rainy night when he made his confession.

“You mean the world to me Y/N. I came to Romania to find myself and figure out what I was doing. And then I met you and everything started falling into place. I love you Y/N. And I know this is soon, and people would call me crazy, but will you marry me Y/N?”

You gasped as he leaned over and opened the bedside drawer and produced a small velvet box, he opened it and showed you the ring inside. It was a simple ring with a thin gold band and a small gem in the center.

“I know it’s not much but one day I’ll be able to get you something-”

You cut him off with a kiss and a whispered promise.

“Of course I’ll marry you, James.”

The next morning when you woke up James was gone. You assumed he had gone for a run so you decided to pop down to the market and pick up a few things to make breakfast for the two of you.

When you returned a little bit later, you were shocked by what you found. Your apartment was in shambles. Furniture was destroyed, windows shattered- even the wood floor had a chunk of it missing. And James was still missing. He hadn’t ever told you everything about his past but now it seemed you had found a clue to who he was. You were due to leave Romania the next day- so you did. With hopes that James was okay and that he might come back to you someday. But he never did. That’s how you found yourself in a white dress two years later with the wrong ring on your finger, moments away from marrying a man that would never make you feel the way James did.

A voice from behind you pulled you from your thoughts.

“You look breathtaking doll.”

You spun around to face him gasping when you met his eye.  He looked more or less the same wearing a simple black button-down paired with black pants and black leather boots. His hair was pulled away from his face and you ached to run your fingers over the stubble coating his jaw.

“James, what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you. I couldn’t let you get married before talking to you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“Please just hear me out. And if you don’t like what I have to say, you never have to hear from me again.”

You nodded for him to continue.

“By now I’m sure you’ve figured out everything. Winter Soldier, metal arm, all of it. I should have told you all of that back in Romania but I couldn’t. All I wanted from the moment I met you was to keep you safe and loved. I thought I had to hide the truth to keep you safe Y/N. But I know that was wrong now. But what I still want is to keep you safe and loved. And if you love this guy, then I’ll walk out that door and never come back. If we’re being honest with each other, this guy is probably better for you than I am but that’s not gonna stop me from asking you for a chance. And if you give me that I promise you with everything I am that I will work every day to make sure you feel loved and safe with me. Please Y/N, run away with me.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

“It is,” James said, crossing the room to take your hands. “It is that simple draga mea.” (my darling)

“I can’t James. I’m so sorry but I can’t.”

James dropped your hands.

“Well at least I tried iubi,” (love) he said with a sad smile. “I hope you’re happy Y/N. You deserve to be happy.”

And with that, James was gone.

Melissa slipped back into the room moments after James left.

“Tell me everything,” she said without preamble.

“He wanted me to leave Eric and run away with him.”

“And you’re still here because?”

“Because Eric is standing out there, waiting for me to marry him! I can’t just bail on him.”

“Okay, hold on a second. Are you marrying Eric because you love him or because everyone else is expecting you to?”

And for some reason, that simple question made everything click into place.

“Oh my god, oh my god. I need to get out of here. I need to find James.”

“Yes!” Melissa squealed. “Let’s get you out of this dress and into my car. You go talk to James. I’ll break the news here.”

“Are you sure-”

Melissa cut you off.

“No arguments. Go, go!”

The second you were changed into a hoodie and sweatpants, you made a beeline for Melissa’s car.

As you drove to the Avenger’s tower where you had heard James had been staying, your eyes wandered to the engagement ring Eric had given you that was still on your finger. It was certainly bigger and more expensive than the one James had given you but it always felt wrong. You slid the ring off your finger and put it in the cupholder of the car. You would deal with the fallout tomorrow. Right now, all you could think about was being back in James’s arms.

When you approached the tower, you parked quickly and ran inside the lobby. You told the woman at the front desk who you were there to see. She gave you a skeptical look but called him down anyway. You paced around the lobby until you heard the elevator doors open. Your head snapped up and met James’s blue eyes. Before you could lose your nerve, you quickly walked up to James. You ran your fingers along his jaw and then pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. You went to pull away but James moved his hand to the back of your head and brought you back to him. A few moments later, you separated and James looked at you, a questioning look in his eyes.

“You were right, James. It is that simple.”

TAGS

EVERYTHING: @sea040561 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @quotemeow @janeyboo @randomparanoid

BUCKY: Nada (yet) 

[lifeishardbutnotmedick]

It's about selling

"It's about selling your brain, not your body," she says. "I see it like a performance, like a show. But this is not a job for everybody - a lot of girls quit after a few weeks or even days, because they have this mindset that they're selling their body. Your mindset is what matters in this job. I have my limits, and I truly do not feel exploited.Streamate sells its models through a variety of repackaged and re-skinned websites, like PornHubLive — using the site's well-known brand as an easy in with porn consumers. In reality, it's the same old site in new clothes. Streamate itself is hard to pin down. Trying to find who actually owns it is dizzying: The domain belongs to Flying Crocodile Incorporated, which has a PO box in Seattle. Job openings point to a nebulous firm called NaiadDev, also based in Seattle (and hosted by FlyingCroc). But the company's custodian of records is one Rena Erotocritou, employed by "Ariel Secretaries Limited", a ghost of a company based out of Cyprus.Sites do virtually nothing to curb or discourage this kind of treatment.So who are these tireless women (or girls), these internet sex pioneers? Where do they live? Where did they come from? How did they wind up these poorly furnished, fluorescent-lit rooms in this oversaturated, low-res corner of the web? We wondered the same thing. So I talked to them.

It is true that when I am up on stage I feel powerful. In my 7-inch heels and latex leotards and frilly skirts, my body feels beautiful in a way that I dont see it in everyday life, and I feel confident and empowered. When the music comes on, I go with it, when I dance it is natural and its fun. The money is ultimately what I am here for, but this isnt just something I do just to pay the rent. This is my art, and whilst I am making myself sexually desirable, nobody can objectify me, as I hold that power. I am in control, because I objectify myself, if you like.The basic premise of the cam girl game is a simple one: You pay a girl for her time, and in exchange, she'll take off her clothes, talk to you, play with herself (and others), or any combination thereof. When your money is up, so's your time — the two of you part ways until you've got the cash and willingness to go at it again. And when that time comes, you'll have thousands upon thousands of girls ready to swivel and smile for you in real time. It's a massive catalogue of preening women of every variety: big, skeletal, black, white, Asian, American, Greek, Czech, etc. To find them, look no further than the Big Three of cam girl delight: Streamate, LiveJasmine and MyFreeCams. These three mega-networks advertise across the mainstream porn tube sites of masturbating ubiquity — PornHub, ClipHunter, etc — but are shells and shadows themselves. So how do you get in?It was after a shift at the club in Kings Cross I was dancing at that I sat on my bedroom floor and googled feminism and stripping. I was naked underneath my pink robe, hair extensions falling out, one eyelash stubbornly stuck on. I had been speaking with a friend that night on the phone during my break who had said something that I couldnt get out of my head. She told me that my job was degrading and asked me how I could call myself a feminist when I turn guys on for money.But there's really nothing exotic about Anna. She's occasionally lazy and often messy, spending most of her days, as far as I can tell, puttering around her Bucharest apartment in pajamas, playing with her cats, drinking enormous plastic bottles of soda, working on coding an iOS game, and taking occasional trips out to pick up fried chicken and buy new underwear. She claims to have almost no "real" friends off of the internet, but is consistently cheery, and enormously talkative. While video chatting, she always asks if I mind before she smokes. Anna complains about having to take time away from Diablo 3 for her cam sessions, where she chats with regulars, masturbates, mouths along to pop songs, and waits, waits, waits for someone to send her money. And when it comes, it comes. Anna's a MyFreeCam loyalist, earning $US6 a minute via "tokens" — a clever way to obscure how much her customers actually spend. It's a lot easier to fork over 900 tokens than thinking about the $US75 you just spent in minutes. This is Anna's sole income, and what took her out of rural Romanian poverty and the whims of other men.

In a corner of the room there is a large computer screen, an expensive camera and behind them, professional photographers' lights. Dozens of pairs of eyes may view Lana in her room online in real time via dedicated adult websites. But she does not make any money until a member asks her to "go private" in a one-to-one webcam session.As with most sex work, webcamming doesn’t have the best reputation. It’s often seen as exploitation or a last-resort hustle to pay off debt, but Reed Amber, 26, explains how webcam models are just your average self-employed freelancers with the same amount of agency and independence as anyone else.Studio 20 is the largest studio webcam franchise in the world. It has nine branches in Romania, including one employing "cam-boys" who service the gay market. Its other branches are in the Colombian city of Cali, Budapest and Los Angeles. "There are advertisements on university campuses," says Ilisei. "Students get direct Facebook messages with offers of work. And the studios are very corporate - exactly like an entry-career job in other fields. The language is all about empowering young women, being independent, learning skills, even getting bonuses if you convince your friends to try it too. CONTINUED BELOW...

[cosobyarobs-blog]

CoSo by AROBS or how to become a part of something bigger

The beginning 

CoSo by AROBS is an IT company, located where else than in the beautiful land of the tulips and windmills? You guessed it. The Netherlands. CoSo was born 26 years ago with a thought for the future. And the future looked automatic. That’s why they chose as their main activity technical automation, more specifically, production automation.

 A lot of things changed during this period, but one thing is certain. They were right with the automation thing. CoSo expertise helped to automate the processes in more than 60 logistics companies, even the City of Antwerp and the City of Gent (very beautiful cities by the way 😊)

 Let’s be honest. What would an IT company be without software services? Of course, another important aspect of the company’s activity is related to software development. CoSo developers are highly specialized in software development and they don’t really believe in standard software. CoSo believes in customization. This means that they can deliver all kinds of innovative software designed to meet the requirements of any organization. Until this moment, CoSo managed to specialize in logistics, educational software or infrastructure.

 The CoSo headquarters is in Ulvenhout (Breda) with a subsidiary in Belgium.

 Work in progress

 Inspired by the special schools in the country, CoSo developed MiCS. This is an application for scholars with special needs and it ensures the communication between students, parents and teachers and the online connection with the integrated national education reporting system.

 Do you ever feel like you need some help in choosing an internship? We have an answer to your question. Its name is Stagezuil. This application matches students with companies, to find the perfect internship.

 The manipulation and conversion of the documents is now easier with TransMessage. This app allows easy conversion of the documents between formats, is fully hosted in clod and the information is always available.

 Take your logistical operation online with TransWeb. This the application allows the customers to sign up transport files online, to check the status of every transport entry and the documents are very customizable.

 The final touch

 These interesting things done by CoSo attracted the eye of the Romanian investor and CEO of AROBS Transilvania Software, Voicu Oprean, who decided that it would be great if the companies work together.

 With products similar to our own, the acquisition of CoSo completes our products in the fleet management area, process automation and even those related to educational software.

 For CoSo, being a part of the big AROBS family means entering in a new era. It means combining the knowledge and expertise in the area of software development and process automation and activate on a new and different market, in the Eastern part of Europe.

 On the other hand, AROBS gained on its side very talented and hardworking people, passionate about what they do and willing to learn more.

 By taking over CoSo, AROBS took over the challenges and the opportunities of the Benelux market, a dynamic but demanding market. The two companies are now working under the CoSo by AROBS flag as a common declaration of quality and innovation.

 In over 20 years of activity in software services, AROBS managed to gather more than 850 colleagues in 7 offices in Romania and 6 others abroad. All this time we were able to meet the demands of over 7000 clients.

[don-lichterman]

Great success in Romania for iSwiss: conquering Balkan finance

Great success in Romania for iSwiss: conquering Balkan finance

We owe special thanks to Eduard Irimia, entrepreneur and innovator, administrator of the SuperUniverse group, who supported iSwiss’ entry and growth in the Romanian financial market” — Christopher Aleo LUGANO, SWITZERLAND, September 12, 2022 /EINPresswire.com/ — The growth of iSwiss continues at an incredibly fast pace: and an important part of this growth process is the expansion of the…