#You are not understanding the state of politics in the breed right now

[doberbutts]

Sent to me by a fellow natural dobe liker, all I can say is translation: fart noises

[little-diable]

The Test of Time - Tommy Shelby (smut)

This is an idea I have been playing with for a while. It is very dear to me, so I hope it'll also be to you! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: When Professor Shelby meets his new student, he's instantly fascinated by her, not understanding why he feels this connected to her. But the second their hands touch, both feel themselves thrown back in time, meeting centuries ago. It seems like love will always stand the test of time.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, lots of fluff, mentions some war time stuff and blood, small breeding kink, professor x reader relationship, age gap

Pairing: Soldier!Tommy x nurse!fem!reader / Professor!Tommy x student!fem!reader (3.7k words)

4th of August 1916, Northern France

The air was sticky, his hands were muddy, dry, and heavy. He had to blink more often than his eyes liked, worsening the headache he had been plagued by for months. A shaky exhale left him, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut to try and keep calm. There was no way out, he was stuck, below the ground, and if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was panicking – at least not if he wanted to stay alive. He couldn’t risk being shot for going against a command, for being frightened like a boy.

Voices echoed through the tunnel, ringing in his ears like another bomb going off in the distance. They had to work fast. They had to work precisely, otherwise they’d eventually be buried by the dark soil, swallowing them whole as the enemy won the battle. 

“Shelby!” A raspy voice ripped him out of his panicked state, he was shoved, forced to move faster, to keep on digging even though his hands were bleeding and the blisters kept growing. He had to keep digging, had to keep digging, had to keep digging. Before the darkness would swallow him whole. 

February 2024, Birmingham 

The sound of his shoes meeting the ground echoed through the empty hallway, eyes set on his black iPhone. It was too fucking early for his liking, silently cursing his faculty for forcing him to hold these early morning classes. Not once had he met a motivated student who wanted to talk about the First World War with him at 8 am, and as much as Tommy disliked the students he found himself surrounded by, he couldn’t blame them for being tired.

If he could, he’d occupy all afternoon classes, wanting to discuss his research topics with those who were actually interested in modern warfare, strategies, politics, and so on. And yet he knew the chance was slim, forced to back down and make room for those who taught the mandatory classes. 

With a sigh leaving him, Tommy stepped into the room he taught in every Tuesday morning, putting down his bag and shrugging out of his coat before he lifted his gaze. He was still on his own, wondering when the handful of students would pour into the room, probably seconds before class started. 

Tommy plopped down on the uncomfortable chair, he placed his laptop down – hoping that he could at least catch up with the morning news while still being engulfed in silence. He tried to focus on the words, tried to cling to the information he was fed, though without any luck, interrupted by the sickly sweet “Morning!” echoing through the room. 

His eyes found an unfamiliar pair, not used to being greeted this enthusiastically in the morning. It took him a second to reply, eyebrows furrowed as he studied the woman. She must have been young, and yet he instantly found himself drawn to her gorgeous features, the soft hair he wanted to feel beneath his fingertips. 

“(Y/n), right?” She had emailed him about a month ago, warning the professor that she’d have to miss the first two weeks of his course due to some family trouble. Back then he hadn’t cared about her missing out on it, it was on her to catch up with his teaching anyways, but now he couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed to miss out on having her around for even just a second. 

“That’s me! Sorry again for my absence, Professor Shelby.” He shot her a small smile, not daring to speak up as his throat grew tighter. What the fuck was going on with him? Tommy felt as if he was drowning, as if the cold ocean was soaking through his black clothes, sticking to him to add more weight to his frame. He didn’t know her, knew only her name, and yet he felt strangely connected to her. 

He needed to get a grip, needed to redirect his focus before he’d forget his surroundings and the information he was supposed to pass on to his students.

……

“Professor Shelby?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through his office, making a small smile tug on his lips as his eyes found hers. She stepped into the room, carefully closing the door behind herself before she walked up to him. Wordlessly he pointed towards the chair placed close to his table, piercing blue eyes watching her sit down.

“I have to say, I’m impressed, (y/n). You’re the first to ever score 100 on this essay.” The smile that grew on her lips left Tommy choking on his air, forcing his eyes away from her face. It had been a selfish move to invite all students to his office hour, telling them that he’d like to give them each some verbal feedback. But deep down Tommy didn’t give a single fuck about his students, at least not about the others, having eyes only for her. 

“I wanted to leave a good impression, especially after missing out on so much.” He was forced to look at her again, shooting her another smile as he reached the essay out for her to take. His heart started racing the second her fingers touched his, vision growing blurry, unable to notice that she was going through the same confusing sensations. 

“Help! We need help!” The screams echoed through the tent, ringing in her ears as she watched the soldiers move closer. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the soldier whose face was covered in blood and mud, forcing her to run towards them. 

“Place him down over there, quick!” Panic was flushing through her. No matter how many soldiers she had helped before, no matter how many lives she had saved, (y/n) couldn’t help but fear these moments when she held their lives in her hands. She needed to work quickly, and couldn’t wait for the other nurses to return from their visitations, there was no time to lose. “I need you to hold him down.” 

Her eyes met a pair of piercing blue ones, momentarily robbing her of any air left in her lungs. She had to redirect her focus, bloody fingers trying to clean the soldier’s cheeks as the handsome man held him down. No words were spoken between them, she needed to concentrate, needed to stop the soldier’s bleeding. Feeling the other man near did something to her, something unfamiliar she hadn’t ever felt before. 

“Here, I need you to bite down on this.” She pushed a wooden piece between the guy’s teeth as she reached for her tweezers. A deep inhale of air was sucked into her lungs. Even though it wasn’t the first time she was about to pull a bullet from somebody’s skin, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel nervous. Before she could even try to move, she felt the handsome man’s hand on her knee, softly squeezing the flesh to try and wordlessly support her. She could do it, and could help the hurt soldier, especially with the support of the man who was sitting close to her. 

“Alright, this will hurt.”

“Uhm,” Tommy had to clear his throat, blinking a few times before his vision began to clear up. (Y/n) was still sitting close to him, wearing the same confused expression as Tommy. Both stared at one another for a few moments, wordlessly, before she grasped the essay. Her eyes flickered down to the paper, trying to recollect her thoughts. 

“Thank you again for this, I think it’s best if I leave now.” He didn’t get a chance to reply, could only watch her disappear before he could even try to speak up. Tommy’s heart was still racing, mind not understanding what had just happened.

Had this been some trick of his brain, something he had read about in a book or seen in a movie? And yet it didn’t explain to him why the woman had looked just like (y/n), and why (y/n) had been just as dazed as he had been. 

It took Tommy a while to move, shaking his head as he drowned the last sips of his now cold coffee. He needed to get out of his office, needed to grab a few pints with some friends, anything to distract himself from what had just happened, and from (y/n). 

……

“Here, let me.” She watched him light his match, stepping closer to help her light her cigarette. Both blew out the blue smoke, watching it dance in the warm August breeze. Tommy was covered in soil, hands and face dirty, just like his hair, and yet neither of them seemed to care, wanting to feel one another close.

It had been days since she had helped his fellow soldier, making it through the night and all the following ones, left to survive with a big scar gracing his cheek. Ever since that day, Tommy and (y/n) had searched for one another, needing to learn more about the one they couldn’t stop thinking of. 

“Do you miss home, Tommy?” (Y/n)’s whispers rang in his ears, loud enough to distract him from his surroundings, the shots going off in the distance, the calls, and cries. He was sure that no matter where he’d be, no matter who he’d be surrounded by, if (y/n) was close, he’d always find himself focused on her. 

“Always do.” A hum left her at his reply, unconsciously moving closer to him, breath getting stuck in her lungs as his arm found its way around her waist. Their eyes met, his piercingly blue and full of pain and sorrow, hers filled with questions, longings, and confusion. She watched his gaze flicker down to her lips, taking another drag of his cigarette before he dipped his head down. 

(Y/n) didn’t dare move, silently praying that he’d kiss her, that he wouldn’t pull away, wrapped in darkness’s comforting veil. But before he could move, they heard the calls growing louder, forcing all soldiers to return to their positions. Their eyes met once again as he stubbed his cigarette out, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and disappeared.

(Y/n) woke with a gasp, hands pressed to the warm mattress she had been sleeping on for the past hours. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing, still focused on the dream she had just been forced through. Ever since she had experienced that strange moment in Professor Shelby’s office, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him, of what her mind had pushed her through – what had felt like a memory but couldn’t be one. And now she was dreaming of him, her professor, and yet he wasn’t a professor, at least not in her dream.

She needed to talk to him, or at least touch him again to figure out of it had been a trick of her brain or something that would happen again. He had looked just as confused, dazed even, unsure what had happened the second their hands had touched. Perhaps she could speak to him after class, or show up at his office, whatever it took to be close to him again. 

……

“Professor? Do you have a moment for me?” He had disappeared too quickly after class for (y/n) to even try to catch up with him, forcing her to wait a few hours before she could turn up at his office. She watched him take off his round glasses, leaning back in his chair as a soft “Of Course” left him. 

For a few moments, they were engulfed in silence, eyes wandering over one another’s features, wondering how to express what they were plagued by. But even though (y/n) tried her hardest to speak up, she couldn’t, throat too tight, mouth too dry. Professor Shelby broke their silence as he cleared his throat, rising to his feet to slowly move towards (y/n). 

He kept his distance and leaned back against his desk, and yet she felt him close. Though not close enough, feeling herself pulled towards him like a puzzle searching for its last missing piece. With a sigh breaking through him, he reached his hand out for (y/n) to take, watching the hesitation tugging on her features. 

“It’s alright, I don’t understand it myself, but I guess it’s on us to figure this out. Whatever it is.” Her teeth ran along her lower lip as (y/n) stepped towards him, letting go of one last exhale before she carefully grasped his hand. 

“Look at me, (y/n). I’ve got you, I’m alive.” His voice rang in her ears, watching the tears drip down her cheeks as she stared up at him. She clung to his hand, cursing this very war for pushing these unfamiliar emotions through her. God, she had counted the hours, had lost hope, sure that Tommy was no longer alive. And yet here he was, alive, breathing, not even bleeding. 

She hastily took a step away, eyes wide, lips parted. He had his eyes focused on his hand, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Neither of them dared to speak up, not understanding what was happening, why these things that felt like memories were pushed through their brains. Only slowly did the professor dare to lift his gaze, studying her panicked features.

“What is happening? What is that?” (Y/n) choked on her words, torn between confusion and the pain she felt deep inside of her. It felt as if she was grieving something or rather someone. A pain she was so unfamiliar with, she couldn’t even understand what it was trying to tell her, what she was plagued by. 

“I don’t know, (y/n).” He spoke her name all too softly, sounding just like it had in her head moments ago. With wide eyes she kept studying him, needing to feel what had happened again, still not believing that this was something but a trick of her brain. All he did was watch her, eyes following her every move, even as she came to a halt in front of him, standing far closer than moments ago, he didn’t dare move. If there was one thing Tommy wanted to avoid, it was scaring her. 

“Can I try something?” Their eyes held contact as (y/n) murmured the words, waiting for his spoken consent before she moved. A quiet “Yes” left the professor, wondering what she was about to do, not expecting to feel her soft lips meeting his.

“You have to be quiet, love.” His raspy voice left her buzzing with excitement. Tommy had her pressed against a car, swallowed by darkness. Their lips met carefully at first, with her arms slung around his neck, and his hands placed on her waist. Neither of them could hold back, deepening the kiss within seconds as they hoped that no other soldiers, nurses, or commanders would find them. 

“Don’t stop, please.” He had taken over the kiss, forcing her down on his desk to stand between her thighs. Both were torn between the pictures their minds were painting and the feeling of one another’s hands exploring their bodies. Whatever it was that had pushed them together, they didn’t want to break the spell, needed to keep close. 

“Will you let me have a taste? Ever since I saw you for the first time I wanted to get my mouth between those pretty thighs of yours.” Her eyes were wide, lips parted to try and suck some air into her aching lungs. (Y/n) could only nod her head, forgetting how to speak, how to express the emotions she so desperately wanted to explain to him.

With their eyes holding contact, Tommy undid her trousers, pulling them down her legs before he pushed her damp panties to the side. The groan that clawed through him at the sight of her bare cunt left her walls clenching around nothing, needing to feel his fingers, his mouth on her. But the second he brushed two fingers through her slit, collecting drops of arousal, she found herself stuck in another memory. 

“Oh god, oh god. Right there.” Her eyes rolled back into her head, pressed against the mattress of the bed she hadn’t been lying on for years. It had been hours since they had returned from France, not daring to leave one another’s side once, hours they had spent hiding away from those who had waited on them for years, only focused on exploring their bodies without needing to worry about curious bystanders. His tongue brushed along her folds, moaning at her taste as his arms tightened their grip on her thighs. 

“I guess you’ve always tasted this sweet.” His words drew tears to her eyes, overcome by a wave of unfamiliar emotions, set on drowning her. Tommy kept moving his fingers as his tongue explored the spots she needed him to touch, choking on his name. She needed to hold onto him, needed to bury her fingers in his skin, but her fingers couldn’t move, could only cling to the edge of his table. “My pretty girl, fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” 

“What a sight for sore eyes, I’m a fucking lucky bastard.” Tommy’s raspy voice filled their shared bedroom. He leaned back in his chair, chest bare, legs stretched out. Smoke left his nostrils, eyes set on her naked frame. She walked closer with a smirk on her lips, enjoying the way he marvelled at her, how he watched her every move. “I don’t deserve you, my pretty wife.”

His wife? Them, Married? Fuck, if these flashes were truly memories of their past life, she couldn’t help but thank whoever had pushed them together once again. Another shot at this life with Tommy by her side, another shot at this life with a man she had loved in other centuries. Love that would always stand the test of time. 

“I need to be inside of you, will you let me fuck you?” (Y/n) pulled Tommy in for a kiss, groaning into his mouth as she felt his covered bulge rubbing against her sensitive cunt. Their kiss was all tongue and teeth, growing more heated by the second, while Tommy’s impatient fingers freed his cock. He parted from her to roll a condom down his cock, and yet their eyes never broke eye contact. “Last chance to stop this, I need you to tell me you want this too.” 

“Oh fuck, of course I want this, Tommy. Fuck me, fuck me like you’ve always fucked me.” Her glassy eyes met his, both were clearly overcome by the emotions they still needed to adjust to. He pushed into her slowly, fingers interlaced with hers to hold her close. There was no need to adjust, it seemed like their bodies remembered one another the same way their minds did. 

“Forever mine, I will never let you go.” Tommy rasped his words into the darkness as he fucked her into their mattress. He couldn’t help but admire her, needing to take in every inch of (y/n), silently hoping that tonight he’d get to fuck another baby into her. Her moans left him smirking, fingers rubbing her pulsing bundle in sync with his thrusts, needing to push her over the edge any moment now. 

She didn’t allow herself to wonder what their life together had been like, and how many children they have had together – at least not at that very moment. All (y/n) could concentrate on was the feeling of Tommy fucking her ruthlessly, cock forcing her walls apart with every thrust. 

With her forehead pushed against his shoulder, (y/n) moaned his name, already close to letting go. Both were shaken up by what kept on happening to them whenever they touched one another in another place, bringing up memories that felt like they were straight out of a movie. It was unfamiliar and confusing, and yet it was anything but scary, no, it left them filled with excitement, needing to learn more about one another and the life they had once shared. 

“It’s alright, love, cum for me, cum on my cock.” Tommy’s gritty voice left her choking on her gasps, letting go with a moan. He kept on snapping his hips, enjoying the way she clenched around him, how she trembled from her intense orgasm. All because of him. With his thoughts set on (y/n), he came, letting go with a groan. 

For a few moments, neither of them parted from one another, holding on before he slowly pulled away. Neither of them spoke as they redressed, caught in their thoughts. Only as Tommy pulled her in for another kiss did (y/n) allow another smile to tug on her lips. 

“If you’ll allow it, I want to love you in this lifetime too, hold you close like we were destined to be.” With tears once again welling up in her eyes, (y/n) pulled him in for a breathless kiss. 

Tommy had his eyes set on her sleeping figure, hand stroking her hair. His thoughts were torn between the memories of the tunnel, of the darkness he hadn’t been able to escape from for long. But it had all been worth it, because of her, because of the woman he had married, the woman who was the mother of his children. And if there was one thing Tommy was wishing for, it was getting the chance to love her in all upcoming lifetimes too.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"These calls for “getting tough” also generated debate and bitter exchanges between different groups claiming to represent African Americans. Some critics insisted that “law and order” operated as a euphemism for anti-black and anti–civil rights sentiments. Leonard De Champs, chairman of the Harlem Chapter of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), excoriated the NAACP, calling it “oppressive and Nazi-like for its Fascist proposals regarding law and order in the streets of Harlem and New York City’s other Black communities.” He charged that

Vincent Baker’s love for mandated jail sentences and tightened-up parole procedures conclusively proves that the NAACP is an effective enemy of the 1.2 million Black people in this city.

Floyd McKissick, a longtime civil rights activist and another leader of CORE, claimed that the NAACP’s punitive recommendations reflected the interests of the black middle class. He wrote that

the arguments used in the report of the NAACP smack suspiciously of the Ronald Reagan-George Wallace school of repressive ‘law and order,’ at any cost. They appeal to the fears and prejudices of citizens who have even a little bit worth protecting.

He pointed to “a gap of understanding between middle class and poor Blacks along economic lines” and explained that

we should know by now that the addition of more white cops in the ghetto solves nothing. The ones who suffer more from such measures are the poor blacks; not necessarily the guilty ones.

Instead of harsher punishment, McKissick called for community control:

The ghetto must be safe for its citizens, but it cannot be made so by police state tactics. All efforts must be directed toward the ending of conditions which breed crime and chaos; all efforts much be directed toward the development of a Black-orientated, Black controlled law enforcement agency—an agency dedicated to the aid and protection of Black people, not to their suppression.

During this period, a host of community groups and organizations set up treatment programs, many of which received New York City and state funds, intended to be more directly accountable to thecommunities in which they were embedded. Some grew out of churches and established community groups, while others were connected to more radical political organizing. For example, in March 1969, eighty volunteers and twenty-two drug addicts took over a three-story building in Harlem and set up a drug-treatment program. They hoped to bring attention to “the inadequacy of the state’s narcotic program and the entire health program for the black people.” The addicts involved told the New York Times that they had faced a maze of waiting lists and applications in their efforts to secure treatment. One had never heard back from a program he had applied to three years earlier in 1966. The journalist reported that all of the patients interviewed complained that the state’s drug addiction programs were “more punishment than rehabilitation.” One addict asked if “I should turn myself in to the state and be locked up for rehabilitation.” They contrasted the civic degradation of the state treatment programs with guerrilla programs, claiming that in the latter, they “talk to you like a man, not a statistic—the people really want to help you and it makes you want to help yourself.” After a police eviction order, the center was closed and the patients transferred to an “underground hospital.” In subsequent years, other groups also established treatment programs. The Young Lords, a radical group dedicated to Puerto Ricans’ self-determination, were integral to establishing a detox program at Lincoln Hospital.

Drastic fluctuations in policing further intensified frustration within urban communities. In 1969, the city initiated a major intensification in street-level enforcement of drug markets. At a press conference in September, Mayor Lindsay announced that the police department intended to shift the narcotics division’s 500-person force to the pursuit of upper-level drug arrests and direct the entire remaining patrols to prioritize narcotic arrests at the street level. This sweep produced a considerable uptick in narcotics arrests in New York City: they jumped from 7,199 in 1967 to 26,378 in 1970. Then, in 1971, at a high point in the surge of heroin use, the NYPD abandoned their campaign of intensive street-level drug policing. Police officials claimed that the policy was ineffective and expensive and resulted in low conviction rates because the court system did not have the capacity to process the arrests. The result was a dramatic fall-off in arrests. New York City police conducted over 24,025 felony drug arrests in 1970, 18,694 in 1971, 10,370 in 1972, and 7,041 in 1973."

- Julilly Kohler-Hausmann, Getting Tough: Welfare and Imprisonment in 1970s America. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2017. p. 57-59.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Top 10 Politicians 2024

DISCLAIMER: This list is for 'politicians I'd like to fuck' and is purely based on appearance, not politics. If you don't agree with my selection, either scroll onwards, post your own idea of a PILF, or try another blog. People are tired of hearing weak minded, mentally broken people wine about reality.

#10. Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC)

An American politician serving as the senior United States senator from South Carolina, a seat he has held since 2003. Of course I’ve got my senate bottom bitch, Sen. Graham here. I kinda understand all the political hate, but I think he’s a mature southern gentleman from my state and I’d love to beat his ass like he stole something from me. And when I’m done with him, I’ll send him over to the next guy as I know I’m not the only one who’d fuck him.

#9. Rick Pate (R-AL)

An American politician serving as the 30th Commissioner of Agriculture and Industries in Alabama. He just looks like a guy I could spend a weekend with… fucking like rabbits.

#8. Sen. Ted Cruz (R-TX)

An American politician and attorney serving as the junior United States Senator for Texas since 2013. Honestly, Ted’s here and this high only to piss off liberal, super political fuckers who can’t separate looks from politics. Now that doesn’t mean I don’t want him naked in my bed with my jizz all over his face.

#7. Rep. Glenn Thompson (R-PA 15th District) 

An American politician serving as the U.S. representative for Pennsylvania’s 15th congressional district since 2019. Nice and manly, he looks like he would be a champion in bed.

#6. Gov. J. B. Pritzker (D-IL)

An American businessman, philanthropist, attorney, venture capitalist, and politician serving as the 43rd governor of Illinois since 2019. J. B. seems like the type that could be had. Nothing to base that on other than he has a look of a guy that if you get him in the right situation, cock will be in that mouth and ass. Plus, he’s rich. I’m not saying that’s a reason to date him. Just a nice side benefit.

#5. Rep. Don Bacon (R-NE 2nd District) 

An American politician and retired military officer serving as the U.S. representative for Nebraska’s 2nd congressional district since 2017. Handsome, nice tits and body. This man is husband material. Better yet, trophy husband material. The type of guy you can walk into a room with him on your arm, telling everyone “Yeah… I’m fucking this.”

#4. Michael G. Strain (R-LA)

Mike is a short chub with nice tits and a body that was made for bottoming. How could I not be in lust.

#3. Lt. Gov. Mike Kehoe (R-MO)

An American politician serving as the 48th lieutenant governor of Missouri, having been in office since June 18, 2018. Mike embodies all-American masculinity and has many male fans here on tumblr who'd happily follow the Lt Gov. into any seedy roadside motel for oral service and a nice tight ass to breed.

#2. Rep. Michael (R-IL 12th District) 

An American politician. This man is almost perfect. The only thing wrong with him is that he isn’t in my bed. Nice build, nice dresser and a very handsome face.

#1. Sen. Jon Tester (D-MT)

An American politician serving as the senior United States Senator from Montana, in office since 2007. If you didn’t know that Jon would be my #1, you must be a new follower.

[vibratingskull]

I HAVE TO SHARE THIS BCS THRAWN

also hellurr hope you’re alright 👀

So I’m a bit of a history nerd and the Empire in the Ahsoka series is giving me strong Roman Empire vibes. Bear with me image Thrawn as the Emperor and you’re his Empress, you’re aware of him having some private time in the evening watching some girls making out and doing more sometimes. A bit like Jabba on Tatooine, however Thrawn is always loyal to you and would never engage in serious activities with the girls.

However he isn’t the only one who enjoys these activities, you enjoy them as well and tend to join him during these nights like some Emperors did in ancient Rome. He wouldn’t even necessarily tell the other girls to leave he’d simply have you in his “fun” room not caring about anything else as he’d have his way with you. Istg Thrawn is doing things to me. 🫠

Emperor Thrawn you say... 🤔 🤭

ThrawnxF!reader

Tags: Smut, p in v, creampie, bulge, dacryphilia, pet names (good girl, Empress,...), light breeding kink

You lazily yawn.

You’re so sleepy right now… Ulertepi’s hands are doing wonders on your body.

“Do I please you, Mistress?” She asks.

You moan, nodding. She’s the best at giving massages, you could fall asleep right now. The young Twi’leks caresses your body with oil and perfume, applying pressure and grazing your sweet spots on your back.

“You have the hands of a fairy…” You let out in a daze.

You sigh, today again Thrawn is away on campaigns, leaving you alone to rule the Empire. You had enough of your solitude and got down to the Bath House of the Palace to enjoy some company. On another chaise lounge a Togruta and a Twi’lek are embracing each other in an intimate dance of caress and touches, on the couch a human girl and a Mirialan are beyond the caress stage and are engaging in a passionate coitus, two or three other groups of slaves are around the Bath House, in pools or chairs, enjoying each other for the pleasure of their Empress. 

With the snap of a finger your glass is refilled with an expensive wine. You savor it, listening to the couple's moans like music.

“When do you think he will come back?” You lament.

“I don’t know, Mistress.” Ulertepi responds.

“He’s always away on campaigns, he’s never at the Palace for more than one week. It’s like I married a ghost.” you complain.

“I am sorry, Mistress.” 

“I am the saddest woman in the universe…”

“Your cross is the heaviest of them all.” She has the presence of mind to agree with you. 

She knows better than to upset and contradict you.

“My Empress?” a voice call to you.

“Mmmmmmmh?”

“Heads of the Council want to see you.” Rivihk informs you.

You snarl, can’t you be alone for five minutes?

“What do they want?” You grouch.

“They want to discuss with you about an heir and succession.”

Thrawn’s not good at politics. So it falls on you to rule the court and the State while he’s out conquering new worlds. He sometimes chimes in when something goes against his morals, but you’re pretty free to rule as it pleases you. You still had to circle yourself with a Council to manage everything, but they are also real pains in the ass.

“They will understand I cannot do much about it without my husband around.” You growl.

“They ask you to discuss it with him when he comes back.”

“What do they think I’m doing exactly? I know what the state needs, of course I’m asking him for an heir. But he hasn’t complied until now.“

“The Council may have a solution for this… problem.” He announces, by his tone you can say he isn’t on board with the solution in question.

You turn your head towards him, annoyed. Who they think they are to tell you what to do and order you around. Next to Rivihk stands a young male slave Pantoran of the exact same shade of blue as Thrawn but with your eyes and hair color. You look at them black, waiting to see if he will have the balls to expose their very clear plan.

“This is Acyyr Ju, they…” He gulps, weighing his words “They think he would be a good progenitor.”

The scream you hit them with will be recorded in the archives.

“Out! Out! I should have you all beheaded! Disappear from my sight!”

They both flee without further ado as you throw anything you can grab at them. If you had decent attire under that thin towel you would have pursued them with a blade for the insult. You scream at the top of your lungs. Rats! Vermin! You conducting orgies doesn’t mean you’re ready to cheat on your husband!

Across the room all the couples have stopped their caresses, to stun to do otherwise.

“Resume!” You order them, enraged “Ulertepi, I never told you to stop massaging me, girl!”

Bunch of idiots! If you knew you would have to compose with them you wouldn’t have asked Thrawn for the crown that much. The assumption of power was really a you thing, he did it for you. When Emperor Palpatine finally died he came back from nowhere, slayed the young New Republic in its infancy and brought the crown to you. Like he promised you long ago, well before his exile.

He’s a man true to his words.

Unless when it comes to spending time with you, he’s always on the move with his fleets.

That is one of the downsides of power.

You feel deliciously large warm hands on your body.

Those are delectable but they are not Ulertepi’s hands. You look over your shoulder ready to shout again only to meet a burning red gaze.

“Thrawn!” You exclaim full of joy.

“How is my Empress doing?” He asks with a light smile.

He’s in full emperor gears, uniform and fur cape in this steamy atmosphere. You wonder how he can even stand in the room without passing out. But he wears it so, so well… You can’t help but lick your lips.

One day you will have him fuck you in this gear.

“Annoyed, she is surrounded by idiots.”

“As I saw.” 

“You’ve been here a long time?” You ask, surprised.

“Enough to witness the scene, I was observing you from the other doorway.”

His hand travels to your tummy, caressing it tenderly.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“It is okay.” He nuzzles your noses, “But Rivihk was not at fault here. A messenger cannot be punished for the message it delivers.”

You can’t believe he just witnessed someone proposing you to cheat on him and he worries about the servant. 

“I missed you!” You coo, feeling yourself melt under his touch. “You’re always away for so long!”

He finally leans forwards to kiss you. You moan against his lips just like you know he loves.

“I see you have found a use for my personnel while I was away.” He parts with you gesturing to the orgy of slaves in the room.

“Yes… I am so alone when you’re away, I wanted some warmth.”

“Did you…” He lowers his tone darkly, hypnotizing eyes in yours “See one of them in my absence?”

You remain mute in surprise, but you relax seeing his amused smile. He’s playing with you.

“No.” You chuckle “Of course I didn’t.”

“You can, you know.” He puts his forehead to yours “As long as you invite me to watch.”

“I know you love to watch.” You peck his cheek.

He does love to watch people having sex, especially girls. He never joins any of them, remaining on his armchair with a glass of alcohol slouching like a lazy king.

But he’s more than a king.

He’s an Emperor.

Your Emperor.

“I think I would like that. Seeing you getting railed by others, that must be a sight to watch.”

You never considered joining the orgy either. You prefer to sit on his laps, sharing the glass and peppering him with kisses and little attentions.

“I will think about it. Maybe for your starday…” You promise with a sultry voice.

He starts purring as you kiss the corner of his lips. He captures your lips again, his hand traveling your back to the strap of your bikini that he unclips with practiced ease. 

“Thrawn! How dare!” You gasp with surprise and false modesty.

“Is it not you who complain about being married to a ghost?” He bites back.

Oops, he was already here?

“I’m sorry.” You pout.

“Do not be. I am here finally, let us make the most of it.” 

He lets his cape fall to the ground with a sweeping shoulders move before pushing you back on the chair with his hot body, pulling on your bikini top to get rid of it. He kisses you with a deep purring, your tongues meeting to dance and hug. You undulate your body under him, entangling your legs, digging your nails in the fabric of his uniform, growling. He chuckles in the kiss.

“So… About the heir.” He starts, “I figure it is time we get up to it?”

“You don’t have to listen to those jackasses if you’re not ready.” You reassure him.

“No, it has been some time since I thought about putting a baby in this womb. This is as good a time as any.” He leans in to sneak in your ear, “I cannot take the risk of you getting behind my back, now can I?”

“Thrawn!” You exclaim, indignant.

Why is everyone alluding to you being a cheater today?

But he just smiles, he’s just having his fun picking on you, getting you flustered. 

That man, you swear…

“I cannot have the council of my wife think I am impotent. What kind of an Emperor would I be?” He continues, lowering himself between your legs.

“Thrawn, they are just idiots. Don’t listen to them. I will have them punished first hour of the day tomorrow for what they insinuated about you, I-Ah!” You’re cut off by the flat of his tongue against your clothed cunt.

He hooked your pantie to the side and kisses your inner thighs with love.

“You are always protecting my honor, my love. My Cha’cah. I could not have dreamed of a better Empress.” He blows on your exposed pussy, sending shiver to your spine “Now, what do you say we give them a little spectacle? Show them how it is properly done?”

“Is it not their whole job to fuck for us?” You ask, trembling under his touch as he parts your pussylips with two fingers.

“Yes but I must show them how to fuck you good. I want a good show for my starday.” He grins carnivorously and dive between your legs.

He takes a big sloppy lap at your cunny, sucking and licking across your clit like a lollipop, prompting you to throw your head back in pure ecstasy. You yelp, helpless under his assault. Like everything about him, he is meticulous and precise, leaving no area of your pussy untouched, probing your entrance with the tip of his tongue, massaging your thighs with his large hands, keeping them wide apart to lick you better. You wave your body against his mouth. He always makes you see stars when he eats you out like that.

“Oh Maker, Thrawn…” You mewl.

He growls approvingly in responses, he loves hearing your pleasure out loud so you give him a performance. You hold his head between your legs, running your fingers in his hair as you feel your pussy and abdominals contract under the pleasurable assaults. He always loved to eat you out, that’s his selfish pleasure to have you come undone for him with only his tongue.

It makes him feel powerful.

Your pussy is leaking and he drinks it up like wine, making all the most obscenes noises to turn you on and it works.

A bit too well.

You feel yourself trembling, shaking and your sex convulsing until you suddenly squirt in his mouth. You let you fall down on the pillows with a “oof.”

“I love it so much when you squirt in my mouth like that.” He lets you know, licking his lips clean, your essence dripping off his chin.

He wastes no drops.

“I know.” You giggle, a bit tired by your orgasm “I just wished I had more control over it to give it to you each time.”

“Now, now, you would be spoiling me too much, cha’cah.”

He stands on his knees to get rid of his uniform, opening his jacket. You raise up to free his erection of its painful prison. He throws his shirt somewhere in the room before taking your hands off his cock.

“Will you let me taste it one day?” You ask a bit annoyed to get deprived of it each time.

“Of course, my love.” He purrs deeply, peppering kisses on your face. “But not today, we cannot waste any drops while trying for a little one.” 

You pout, unresponsive to his advances.

“You promise?” You want to see him come undone with your mouth alone too, it’s not fair he only gets to do it.

“I promise, cha’cah.” He smiles mischievously.

He’s on you immediately, pressing your hots and bothered bodies together. You feel his dick poking your side and you slide your hand to pump it a bit. He lets a satisfied gasp at your cooler hand on his very warm shaft.

“Open your legs for me.” He lowly growls.

You open them wide for your lovely husband. He aligns his well endowed cock with your entrance. He’s gonna stretch you out so much, he always does…

He enters you gently, talking you through it.

“There, take all of me.” He coos

You open your mouth round as he does stretch you out as predicted.

“You are so good for me, always taking what I offer.” He nibbles your ear.

Once he is buried to the hilt he remains unmoving, letting you time to adjust to his size. You feel each muscle working to welcome his huge dimension inside your poor little pussy.

“That is it, relax my cha’cah. You always manage to take me whole, it is gonna be okay.”

You just nod with a gasped sob.

He’s so massive…

You train your pussy with toys but none feels like him. Only he can make you feel like that.

You look up at the bulge in your tummy. It turns you on so much.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You moan.

He starts rocking his hips, very gently at first but soon installs a rapid, merciless pace of deep thrust reaching the most profound parts of your being. You feel his tip hitting your cervix with such ease and the only thing you can do is take it. He could break you in half without so much as thinking about it!

He uses your poor pussy like a fleshlight, a toy for his amusement, but damn if it isn’t pleasurable to you. You shout mute cries and choked gasp letting him abuse your body, his massive stature shielding you completely.

You always liked your men bigs, but Thrawn immediately hitted differently. You became obsessed with only one night. He’s just made like that…

“Good girl. My Empress. My cha’cah…” He punctuates each pet name with a devastating thrust, sending you overboard.

“Ah! Thrawn!” You whine for him, enticing him, turning him insane.

“I know, cha’cah, I know. Do not fight it. Come for me.”

You spasm and shake violently before coming in a spectacle of fireworks and white lights, your toes curling deliciously.

“Oh my, you came really hard this time.” He sounds so pleased with himself.

You weakly nod, taking back your breath.

“Roll on your tummy for me, my love.” He purrs in your ear.

You tiredly oblige with a satisfied sigh.

“Hips in the air.” He orders.

You frown. He wants another round? But you’re so sore already…

”Thrawn, I don’t think I can…”

“Of course you can. You are a big girl, I know you can take everything.”

You groan, your face buried in the pillows and you raise your butt as he asked. He kneads it before giving it a slap.

You gasp, indignant. He just chuckles.

He enters you again, it’s easier with your former release and he quickly picks up the pace. He holds your arms in your back with only one hand, holding your hip with the other. You moan at each rock of his hips, letting you do anything it pleases him to your tired body.

“I must make sure you are satisfied.” He explains, “What if a younger man catches your eyes during your little show and you left me for him? I must prove to you I am still worth it.”

What’s this nonsense? 

“Would you, my love? Leave me for a younger lover and leave your old man behind?”

“No!” You broke down crying, “No, I would never!”

Why does everyone assume things about you? What did you do to make them think that at all?

He fucks you through your tears, giving you so much pleasure you cry as much because you’re upset and because he gives you too much.

“I know you would never, my cha’cah. I know it.” He leans to lick one tear off your cheek, “You are mine alone.”

“Yes I am!” You almost shout, as much at him as to reassure yourself.

You are a lot of things, but not an unfaithful wife.

“You are the only one for me too. No other woman could compare to my Empress.” He purrs the title. “You deserve to be taken care off, to be loved and fucked properly. Only I can give you all of that.”

You shake by your sobs and the waves of pleasures.

“And I will give you a little one, like you always wanted.” He continues, barely breathless “Not because of those fools, but because you want a family. I cannot deny you any longer, my love. You will have the family you always desired.”

“Really?” You sob.

“Yes, my love. I will give you a little girl like we talked so much about, and I will give her so many siblings to play with.”

It’s a real mess on your face, so much tears and drool, your makeup ruined, as your spasming pussy. You exhale painfully, air knocked out of your lungs with the rutting his mighty hips, wondering how long you can still hold on without breaking even more.

“Thrawn, please come quick! I-I cant’...”

“Yes, cha’cah. Your desires are my commands.”

He violently pounds into you like a jackhammer bringing you over the edge, pushing you in the sea of pleasure, drowning you in sensations, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, the moans of the other couples and his groans, the scent of sex, so strong, making you dizzy and his mighty hips slamming yours making your leaking pussy clench on his hard cock, trying to keep him inside desperately. 

“Give it to me, good girl.” He simply orders in your ear like a secret.

You come hard again, feeling all your blood flowing down your puffy cunny spasmming painfully around him. You let out a cry, a shout of his name that resonates in the whole Bath House.

“Your tight pussy is strangling my cock.” He groans.

His hips action finally slows down to become erratic until he freezes down completely and cum inside you. Your pussy milk him for all his worth, til the very last drop and he remains inside you, kissing your back tenderly as he hunches over your form, folded in half.

You let out deep breaths, trying to calm down with a pounding heart. He purrs loudly behind you, inviting you to raise your bust and cuddle with him. You let him manipule your body with a weak yelp. He embraces your body and hugs you tight, peppering your face with kisses like a young lover entranced by his fiance. He holds your shoulders, caressing your side with his warm, large hand.

“Was that enough of a show?” You ask, exhausted.

“It was grandiose, my Empress.” He kisses your cheek fondly 

He doesn’t slip out of you, keeping himself deep inside you as you straddle his laps, panting. You feel him hard still, does nothing tire him? You caress your bulged tummy dreamily.

“Do you think we did it?” you ask, full of wonders.

“If we did not, we will just keep trying. I can play that game all day long.”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

[lunarsilkscreen]

Why are Humans having less kids.

No it's not a "Cultural" issue, but if it is; it's the same issue around the world.

Today many dumsdums blame "middle-easterners" for their own sexual pertard.

"of course they want to immigrate!" They say! Blaming them having more kids than they can take of.

Completely ignoring the effects of war that *destroys* wealth and prosperity they may have been held by these people.

Even a first-class-country denizen such as yourself dear reader.

No; when people slow down breeding; And animals do this too--Its because of the availability of resources.

A family-line, a working family line requires resources to sustain; these resources are obviously Time and Money right now..or; the economy.

Most parents don't want to leave their children in a worse off world than they came into. It's part of the reason for the change from "Manifest Destiny" to "Fuck Immigrants".

*cough*DonaldTrump-isonbothsidesofthisinnuendo*cough*

Because most people are worried about the economy and how they *still* haven't found their place in the American Dream, despite seeing immigrant after immigrant after immigrant seemingly coming here to make it big.

They see the establishment as enslaving them and trading the country's prosperity to other countries for favors. Now, a lot of people on the right try to point the blame to the political left. But that's not the whole truth is it?

Many conservatives are upset about a great number of things; cities being designed for tourism benefit the *owners* of those cities instead of the residents who live there. Foreign investment means homes and Business Zones become out of reach for your average citizen. And that's all *without* immigration.

And all that gets mixed up with state and city lines. People might see native born citizen transients looking for work as "Illegal Immigrants" instead of the citizens they are. They then might blame them for "messing up their cities" and coming to "mess up ours in the same way."

Despite *also* being conservative. And leaving those cities *because* they're conservative and got outvoted.

Not only are foreign *internal conflicts* getting mixed in with local *internal conflicts* thanks to "the algorithm" combining keywords; concepts such as "transient" workers are being conflated with "the trans agenda" and immigration.

Back to the issue at hand; less children.

Many *would be* parents want children. Not just trans women, but cis women. They rationally understand; they can't afford children.

And so what it looks like, from a certain world view; is rich people forcing out poor women to either "marry rich" or "leave the gene pool".

Despite some not having kids because of a fear of passing down perceived genetic anomalies (which most people have. That's why we're racist) and many of them being caused by factors out of their control, at the control of the rich (most obvious example; Agent Orange: a chemical agent that made many American soldiers infertile..at much higher rates than Spirinolactone; given to people 30+ for high blood pressure, and trans women.)

In this world; because overabundance lead to wasting resources and a continually over-inflated economy and fake economic growth; many people find themselves below certain level of comfort necessary in which to raise children.

Children are a Luxury in this world; and despite trying to save up for it; many families find themselves unable to.

Especially; since there's already plenty of children that the country has deemed "unaffordable".

So if children are "unaffordable". Is it any surprise the population is quote; "Stagnating"?

And if we maintain annual average birth rate of 2.5 children per couple; doesn't that make up for "ALL THESE QUEER PEOPLE MAKING ALL THE CHILDREN GAY?"

Some of y'all need to do the math, but you decided to stop learning it in 3rd grade.

A.I. can't save you if you don't know what the numbers mean.

[extremely-moderate]

Pawsitively Moderate: A Founding Father's Guide to Woof Politics

My dearest readers, join me on a historical journey through the hallowed halls of political moderation, as we delve into the fascinating world of woof! As a Founding Father of the United States, I have always endeavored to approach matters of great importance with utmost reason and balance. And what could be more important than woof? Now, my fellow citizens, let me enlighten you on the art of being extremely politically moderate about woof. Take note, for this wisdom transcends time and applies to every mutt-loving soul! 1. First, and most importantly, let us remember that dogs have been loyal companions to mankind since time immemorial. From their playful antics to their unwavering loyalty, they have endeared themselves to our hearts. Let us cherish this indisputable fact, regardless of our political leanings. 2. Find common ground. Regardless of whether you lean left or right on the political spectrum, it is undeniable that dogs bring joy and emotional support to so many lives. Embrace this shared appreciation and use it as a foundation for respectful dialogue. 3. Seek compromise. In politics, as in life, finding middle ground often yields the best outcomes. Be open to different perspectives on woof-related policies and consider compromise as a viable solution. Perhaps an equal allocation of treats, or a national belly-rub day? 4. Embrace the diversity of dog breeds. Just like our nation thrives on its multicultural fabric, so does the world of woof. Celebrate the unique qualities and characteristics that each dog breed brings, and recognize that their diversity is a testament to the beauty of nature. 5. Practice empathy. Put yourself in a dog's paws and try to understand their viewpoints. What issues matter most to them? Is it access to green spaces? Or perhaps ensuring an ample supply of tennis balls? By empathizing with dogs, we can gain a deeper understanding of what truly matters to them. In conclusion, my dear readers, let us aspire to be the voice of reason and moderation when it comes to woof politics. Remember the profound wisdom of our Founding Fathers, who sought to establish a nation that values the principles of unity and compromise. By adopting their spirit, we can create a society where dogs are cherished, regardless of their breed or political affiliation. With that, I bid you adieu and offer a heartfelt woof of appreciation for joining me on this whimsical journey. May your woof be forever moderate, and your political debates remain civil and filled with doggy treats!

[zooterchet]

Push it to the Limit (Scarface)

Robert the Bruce (Morded Tales): Writing a political dynasty, as a hero king knight, with you as an evil force, to make his line your sex slaves for hundreds of years.

Tanacharison (Jumonville Affair): Creating a squad of spies, with cigarettes, then putting one of them in prison, for being a cop; charges, what you did to him, but as what he, did to you.

Puc Lascerdes (Thespian Assassin): A civil rights affair of crime, to determine deed of father's working class job, to teach the trade to those viewing theater, for all descendents of future groundlings to cherish.

Longinus (Pre-Law): A private detective's role, where the higher classes of orators and senators, may be attempted, through crime, expanding reform.

Troit (Forensics Testimony): The prohibition on such mischief in court as pranks and guiltless report of own evil, to reform undercovers of information.

Avicenna (Internal Medicine): The understanding of basic medicine, without autopsy after death; hence death, can be preempted, with longevity.

Golden (Daemonologie): All such costumes are banned from this court, as wizardry; some manner of werewolf, seeking two days of rest, when otherwise required on fluid schedule of needs to pauper and poor alike.

Sanchez (Malleus Malificarum): A claim of witchcraft upon review of book or theater released, to place all such subjects wishing villainy in meteorological track; hence, they specialize at their own police mandate, for centuries, in family. Monastics, reclaim studies, of "God", the manners of new police trade upon breeding, for orphans.

Polk (Strip Club Indictement): The bosom is to be cancerous if viewed, hence glasses and buttocks are required; unless marrying through prostitutes, a castration required, to be declared, "a pederast", for younger women to feel sound when sensually pleasured by Our American Cousin, these women we call Jews.

Booth (Resource Economics): A system whereupon any resource of labor can be reformed under free contract of removal of service. Bundy (Gold Watch): If you want to fuck someone up the ass, you get to, until later, when you will be the same guy, but behind you. These are reforms to police, execution, and jurist's bench.

Muhammad (Lift With the Back): All such exercise advice is illegal, to convert you to Islam, a spy; unless Jewish, a Lutheran, these problems to be handled later, through surmises of armies gathered, but in place unknown (the civilians, but of course).

Killer Kowalski (Kayfabe Combat): Killing someone in sporting event, is only appropriate, if their family is assisting them in fan, coach, scam, fraud, bookie, lawsuit, nepotism, or fraternity.

Kane (Heels Night): The Undertaker, is now illegal.

King Charles Tetcher II (Lethal Fencing): The step to the right, from the left, is a lethal blow, to be removed from sports, hence in battle, any athletic champion may be considered crippling or lethal (for reform of safe driving).

"Moran" Cunin (Reefer Madness): Parents just don't understand. That's why teachers, think DARE, prevents drug use. No more spying on schools, they'll think your kid is retarded. Like me, Bugs.

Malcolm X (The Rhino): A comic book character for all ages, to destroy a politician, if attempting to kill someone over honor; kept hostage, if refusing to prosecute, incarcerate, and king the assailants, as "crowns", money on the street, for "ballinn' hoes", that Ballinhoe; studying their brains.

Bartleby (The Bible): Canon, is argument of term and letter, therefore gay; to be devoured, in common view, as treacherous and gentle, a sweet pig, to be butchered and devoured, by common refusal of kosher, as villain, of courts and states, for being sexually avaricious; any woman siding, a traitor, a Wytch.

Khan (Bank Tellers): Female pedophiles, those women produced by brothers torment, can now work in finance; through games being played in rings and derbies, to lose, hence more say, over financial policy, among common reputation.

al-Nizar (Religion as Riddle): Any form of religion can kill; those to be taught to deny, through religion, be homosexual, suicide warriors, jihadis.

Skorzeny (Straussberg Method): A form of act can be taught, of own gene, to artist, therefore making everyone but your technique of family history, gay, against you, heterosexual; violent, too.

Honshu Klaimen (Katana Forging): The only legal weapon, is in a duel; any illegal weapon, to be defeated, upon katana forged, with those thieves claiming credit, as killing themselves, unless a hermaphrodite by birth; a middle phased child, produced by a triad, a samurai, an assassin.

Kim Jong-il (Take Out Assassin): If refusing to care for yourself, since youth, in cooking, allowance, and personal discipline, you are a murderer, and you are born to kill; hence, you must eat on the law, from restaurant, "take out", not "delivery", to murder those refusing own care; a selfish lover.

Pierre d'Outrement (Ruined Tactic): A double maneuver, being the first using your rival's tactic to mark their own troops for demise, then altering the weapon in question, to give it to your own side, to defect them to the enemy. Hence, both will serve your master.

Robin of Lockesley (Sheriff as Prince): A coward cop, is to be given a false term of military service, to marry a princess of wealth, while you, marry his temporary lover, your lass, also a princess, but a pauper; a laborer transitioned to badge.

Eva Braun (Jewish Witchcraft): A banking abnormality is caused by those sneaking and thieving and hypnotizing, acts of sexual assault; therefore, calculus must be modified, to pogrom both populaces responsible, worldwide, as a mutual betrayal, along class lines.

Yeo-Thomas (Frank Sinatra): A restrictive program, can be spread to sex offenders, the forward agents, in a writing exercise, to perform the act you've been incarcerated for, as slaves.

Elon Musk (Insured Premiums): The premium is the ideal return to company offering, hence any adjustment, on the profit margin, what you are offered, will raise the premium by raising your profit margin; therefore, all suits can be handled, per company, the protection of corporate license. By conquest, of course.

Madison (3/5ths Compromise): A bigot assumes they get it both ways, which is however they want, but one way; therefore offer an impossible advantage, to your desired funding to defeat them.

McCullem (1/16th Iroquois): The proper method of a murder, has to be renamed to the murderer's crime.

Whisker (Morton Salt): Africans are the best labor, and wives, for any with a fascist township demanding education align with rites of passage. Therefore, one can observe how an African works with you, and create a simple patent, for a new industry, to murder the home populace of criminal; selectively, of course, in a famine.

Joi-Louis Charlebois (Ares Comics): The criminal, and the aggrieved, must be reversed, along myth separate from common cop knowledge, therefore worker's furlough is given to the victim of a crime, to repeat the trick, while the foes, humiliate themselves, spreading another aspect. The method of murdering National Socialists, the German Femdom movement.

Ernest Charlebois (Lucky Charlie): A manual of policing, is always best hidden as criminal.

Steve Charlebois (ZODIAC): Any proper serial killer, uses absolution rules, therefore when approaching the target, the frame into murder for criminal conspiracy of government, the suicides produced will reflect on you, the spy, however the murders, will reflect the target.

Dave "Chet" Charlebois (Casino Fraud): Any financial system can be modified, by directing the research assignment, to be performed by the investor.

[collymore]

Gary Lineker laudably lancing the toxic boil of insidious and perverse racism!

By Stanley Collymore Gary Lineker is just as entitled to a political view and equally so post it onto social media, as any or all of you who’re criticizing him for actually doing so. Therefore should you now by your own stupid and markedly asinine contention in voicing your discernibly, effectively and evidently also rather ludicrous opinions about him, and simply as the very veritable lowlife, basically dim-witted, vile white morons and the toxically verminous scum that   you undeniably are, and moreover who incessantly, bleat about your own precious right to freedom of thought, no unrestrained speech, or the curtailment of expression, be generally made to leave your jobs assuming, of course that is that you actually bother to work or simply have one that is, and aren’t vilely sumptuously living off the dole - just because you repeatedly, spout your vitriolic and unsound bile on the Daily Mail and also other right-wing Nazi media? Honestly there’s a concept, for what you really sick, intellectually challenged morons are readily and quite fatuously proselytizing and it is aptly, very understandably rightly called evil Hypocrisy! (C) Stanley V. Collymore 9 March 2023. Author's Remarks: Those criticizing the BBC for not sacking Gary Lineker should bear in mind that the current Director General of the BBC is a Tory Party donor, who got his job because he essentially financially helped Boris Kemal, aka Johnson.  And likewise on the topic of public office malfeasance the said Boris – who immoral and other dodgy antics we all know about – has just nominated his father for a knighthood having already given his younger brother a peerage. So don’t let’s delude ourselves that these critics of Gary Lineker are doing so from any moral perspective. Since they’re all simply right-wing bigots and entrenched hypocrites. Boiling with anger at what Gary Lineker has done, screams the Daily Mail! Really? From an origination whose pseudo journalists love using hyperboles which frankly as a longstanding University Academic whose discipline is English I doubt whether these clowns have any notion of what a hyperbole is. Reality for them is  that the right-wing in Britain, attendant with the same attitudes of its kin ruling the genocidally acquired and even delusionally perceived as Terra nullius overseas countries – yet wanting an all-white Britain and Europe – simply love to play the victim when they’re rightly being skewed. And to have a Stockholm syndrome indoctrinated Asian Coconut the offspring of Asian immigrants leading this white assemblage is really pathetic. But when you belong like these Nigerians to a brainwashed group of pillocks who spend billions annually bleaching your skin to look white as well as specifically acquiring white spouses or lovers so you can breed your ethnicity out, then it’s not in supposed serious offices of state, not that the British Home office is such, that one should be in but rather a secure criminal and psychiatric institution like Broadmoor. Assuming that there are any places there, as the Tories under Maggie Thatcher closed down for profit for themselves and sold off these psychiatric hospital assets to their friends claiming that these undoubted psychopaths and other mentally deranged prats could be cared for in the wider community. Well, we all know how wonderfully well (NOT) that has worked out. And personally I shan’t even bother to defend Gary Lineker, as there’s nothing that he needs defending from. It’ll be like defending goodness, integrity and the best characteristics of humanity; for if you have to essay to do so then you self-evidently haven’t a clue what these commendable attributes really are and stand for. So all I’ll say to Gary Lineker is this: Carry on being just who you are, mate. And much respect to you!

[tteokdoroki]

dick destroyer december | i. midoriya

♡ pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.2K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: college!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: with no nut november over,  finals complete and christmas right around the corner, your number one boy returns to you with only one thing on his mind.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to twenties ), drinking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of poly!kiribaku, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it y’all ) wall sex, fingering ( female recieving ), light!pet play, spitting, cum play, mentions of sex toys, exhibitionism, oral sex ( male + female recieving ),  light!praise, heavy!breeding kink.

♡ author’s note(s):  merry christmas everyone! i hope despite the circumstances that you’re all able to enjoy the holidays and are staying safe, if you’re not celebrating i wish you a wonderful day as well!! anyways here’s a little festive fic to satisfy you guys and tysm for 2K+ followers <33 find the corresponding kiribaku fic here!

♡ masterlist | requests

ever since you’d started college, your roomate, katsuki had always said that november was his favourite month of the year; it took you a while to figure out why.

having known the blonde since you were a child, you were aware that he despised the cold weather that nipped at his nose and made his quirk slow down. he hated wearing extra sweaters and begrudgingly asking your mother to make him some hot chocolate whenever he came over to play; in fact he hated asking you for it now as adults in your early twenties but as his good college roommate from freshmen year, you made sure he always had a mug waiting. nonetheless,  katsuki’s sudden love for the winter months  and festive weeks following honestly confused you to your wits end— especially with the impending doom of finals sneaking up on you.

however, you quickly found out the reason behind your best friend’s change in attitude towards the month of november, six months into your freshman year relationship with  izuku midoriya.

“no nut november,” katsuki had purred into the neck of his beer bottle, rolling the cool glass against his bottom lip as he laughed at you from across the room. you had recalled the conversation to have occurred exactly half way through october, before the aforementioned month, you and your roommate had decided to host a small gathering with your classmates— purely fulled by thirty boxes of pepperoni pizza and beer, only two of the boxes had been vegetarian for your friends mina ashido and denki kaminari ( he was challenged by mina to go green for an entire month. “that’s why i love this month s’fuckin’ much.” 

bakugou ended his sentence with a swig of his beer, setting the now empty bottle onto the coffee table that had been a house warming gift from his own mom. the sound causes todoroki and sero to jump from their place playing cards against humanity with your girl friend momo on the floor, and kirishima ( bakugou’s crush at the time, who’s drunk and passed out in the blonde’s lap ) to flinch awake. katuski pets his red hair once, making kirishima blink up at him affectionally.

your boyfriend, izuku, fidgets under the intimating stare of your roomie and you can tell he’s fighting the blush that spreads rapidly across his freckled cheeks.  “n-no nut november?” your baby squeaks out, large palm settling on your lower waist as you shuffle to get comfortable in his lap. it’s clear he hasn’t taken part before, so you know exactly what your best friend is doing. trying to tease him in front of all your friends and pull him into something that you’re going to hate. nonetheless, deku downs the rest of his own alcoholic drink as bakugou prepares a response— the rest of your friendship group now pulled into the conversation.

“katsuki bakugou, don’t be mean.” you scold with a bite into your grease laced pizza and offer up the rest to izuku, who politely passes. you pout.

“‘m not, just sayin’— that damn month will be the only time of the year that i don’t get to hear you and the goddamn nerd fuckin’ like rabbits all the time.”

this time, its you who fights an embarrassed look on your face while your green haired lover simply swipes todoroki’s shot from the coffee table and swallows it all at once. the dual haired boy only groans before rising to get another from the kitchen and the rest of your friends hide their giggles in their own drinks, cards and half eaten pizza slices. “you…you can hear us?”  you squeal incredulously, causing your friends to snort out loud again. izuku still says nothing.

“baby, we damn near almost see you whenever we drop by!” kirishima mumbles with sleep curling in his tone, he stretches like a cat on bakugou’s lap and grins at you— sharpened teeth dazzling under the LED lights in your living room. they flicker to a deep green, but you barely notice it.

abandoning your pizza as a whole, you huff and push up the sleeves of izuku’s hoodie that you wear— just about ready to pummel your best friend into the ground for having people over while you…ahem…get some, but shoto returns from the kitchen quicker than you anticipate and cuts right through the chatter with ease, giving you little time to feel flustered by the sudden turn in conversation. “you guys are more sexually active than my parents and they had four kids, messed up with raising us from touya, though,” he says in his iconic monotonous voice, causing you to splutter and katsuki to kick his feet out in victory. “seriously, i doubt midoriya would be able to beat any of us at this no nut  november thing ‘cause of it.”

this time, deku ( as so affectionally nicknamed by your childhood best friend ), pouts, his frustrated voice bleeding into the conversation. “c’mon, don’t you have a little faith in me, shoto?”

“no.” is todoroki’s simple answer. you flinch, did you guys really have sex that often? to the point where no one believed your boyfriend could go a month without getting his dick wet?

“i second that,” kaminari pipes in, picking a mushroom off of his pizza and leaning over to plop it into sero’s mouth.

“third it!” the latter adds.

your roomie takes that and runs with it. “he wouldn’t last a day even if he tried.”

“leave it alone, katsuki.” you find the courage to defend yourself through your flustered state without realising the buzz of beer and vodka shooting through zuku’s veins.

it takes quite a bit to get your boyfriend drunk, he was a big boy after all and played for your college football team but once the drink was through his system he often broke out of his shy demeanour and into one of confidence and challenging your beloved best friend. izuku’s grip on your waist tightens as he leans forward to point accusingly at the blonde before speaking. “wanna fucking bet on it, kacchan?” he says with sparkling emerald eyes and a honeyed voice that makes you twitch in place in his lap. of course you would get horny right in the middle of your two best boys having a drunk argument.

“what’chu say nerd?” bakugou slurs, pushing poor kirishima off of his lap and to the floor in order to stand up and cross the room towards your boyfriend, pointing a finger in his face.

izuku pushes the digit away, smirking up at the blonde drunkenly and everyone’s gaze in the room suddenly falls on them. “i bet that i can last longer in no nut november than you.”

you whimper from your lover’s lap, knowing that as soon as everyone clears out you’re going to pounce on him before this stupid bet takes place. this doesn’t go unnoticed by the girls, momo and mina, who tease you for having such a high libido but you don’t think they’ll understand how much you’re going to suffer without your broccoli haired boyfriend’s dick every other night. 

you love izuku and katsuki, you really do— but its times like this, for the sake of your sex drive and love life, that you really wish they’d got along more. maybe it was their little battle for your affection that caused the rift between the two, after all katsuki had been the only boy in your life up until college and izuku, you were pretty sure was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with…either way, their rivalry was getting in your way and was about to be a major cockblock for the next thirty days. “hold up you guys, don’t i get a say in this?” your voice comes out in a slight whine as you tug on midoriya’s fitted shirt, but he’s too busy having a stare off with your roommate to notice. “what about me and my needs?”

“it’s not about’cha, shitty girl.”

“stay out of this, yn.”

you huff, pushing yourself off of your boyfriend izuku’s lap to stand and smack the pair of losers upside their heads before joining your girls on the floor. mina pulls you into a comforting hug, trying to distract your mind from the fact that it’ll be deku dick-less for a month while momo serves you out a set of cards to join her in a game of cards against humanity with the other boys lounging on the floor— kirihsima is invited into the game too. “sounds like i’ll be getting you a dildo as an early christmas present!” ashido comments, swiping her deck off of your hand me down rug before anyone can see them.

momo grins at you while you take your cards and take another shot from poor, unsuspecting shoto. “better make it extra thick, we know he’s got a nice one on him, yn.”

“fuck you guys.”

“gladly, we’re not taking part of no nut november like those two idiots.” the black haired girl hums, shuffling in her seat to start the next round. you roll your eyes and turn your gaze to watch the green and blonde haired boys you adore so much fight over this trivial guys only event.

their cheeks are flushed from all the beer they’ve drunk and they’re leaning on each other for support, but that doesn’t stop them from going at each other. “you couldn’t beat me, even if you tried, shitty deku.” katsuki mumbles, arm around midoriya’s head— forcing the poor boy into bakugou’s large pecs. “haha...shitku…”

“oh try me, bitch.” your boyfriend counters, voice so husky it sends shivers down your spine, although it contrasts deeply with the sight of his adorable cheeks pressed against katsuki’s tits.

they’re too drunk to brawl it out and quite frankly you’re too tired to bother to stop them, mind only wondering how you plan to survive the next thirty days.

three years, three novembers and a few weeks into december later; you’re still wondering how the hell you’ve survived.

ever since that night in your freshman year; izuku, bakugou and the other boys have competed vigorously to last throughout the entirety of no nut november; your boyfriend having won the last three years in a row. katsuki hated it, losing to your izuku but he hated the victory sex you gave him even more. 

you’d think he’d be used to it by now, with everyone in their final year of college but bakugou had manage to luck out this year on not hearing you and midoriya go round after round on november thirtieth. finals had hit you guys hard in terms of wrapping up the semester before christmas; they were important to pass too, considering you’d all be graduating within a few months, so you’d barely seen izuku since november ended and december rolled around.

now, being a couple weeks into the festive month and with finals drawing to a close— you had yet to make plans to see your boyfriend. there was little time between the online classes and preparation from the holidays, yet you could feel yourself growing more sexually frustrated by the second. rubbing one out wasn’t doing it for you anymore and listening katsuki’s bragging about his peaceful nights of sleep while you decorated your apartment with mistletoe and tinsel was really starting to tick you off.

the very decoration slips from between your fingers as bakugou walks in, yanking bits of tape from his fingers from where you had him lining the ceiling rails with gold, green and red tinsel. the blonde had only gone and slammed the door to your living room against the wall, grumbling about the stupid mess of clear tape across his clumsy fingers— the action scaring you half to death before you huff, facing him. “what, katsuki? what could you possibly need right now?”

his vermillion gaze picks up from his smoking palms,  a last resort to getting rid of the tape. “came to tell ya that ‘m headin’ out with kirishima— going to pick up our girlfriend from the airport.” a sweet blush lays loosely against your best friend’s cheeks at his admission, not long after you guys’ drunken night in freshman year, bakugou had confessed to your red headed companion; only to find out he had a girlfriend waiting for him in his hometown. 

kirishima wasn’t a cheater, but he also couldn’t help the flutter in his heart around bakugou— so had the two meet straight away and after a lot of tears and large dramatics, the three settled into a cute little relationship. you’d only met the girl once when she visited both boys for spring break— but you’d loved her and knew how much she made your best friend happy.

you smile nonetheless, picking the mistletoe up from the floor. “tell her i said hi, yeah?” you mention to your friend while he shrugs on a jacket and checks himself in the mirror. katsuki was in love, and it was insanely adorable to see. “do i need to set up the guest bedroom for her ’n kiri?”

“nah, shitty red head kicked out kami, he’s staying with sero and mina while my girl’s up.” katsuki shakes his head, letting you fix the collar of his jacket after you bound over to him. “we’ll be back after lunch to pick up some of my stuff though. so don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid and i’ll see you later, yeah?”

you cross a finger over your heart but the mischievous smile on your face gives you away. “no promises katsu, stay safe out there!”

your smile drops however, as soon as your roommate closes the door behind him, knowing him and kirishima, they’ll probably fuck their girl across all the surfaces in eijirou’s free apartment, which only makes your stomach churn with hot jealously and a hint of arousal. 

selfish of you as it were, you wish your boyfriend hadn’t chosen such an intense subject with so many finals and intense studying— but izuku loved engineering almost as much as he loved you, so its not like you would ask him to give up his passion.

besides, you figured he’d look pretty hot in his mechanics classes—sleeves rolled up to his elbows, scared hands on display while sweat drips down his furrowed brow and—

and fuck me, now you were as horny as a mother fucker.

a familiar ache appears between your thighs while you attempt to busy yourself with the rest of the festive decorations; you hang a wreathe at the door both inside and out, tape the remaining tinsel around counters in your kitchen and finally attempt to fix the christmas tree katsuki insisted wasn’t lopsided ( even though it was ). but no matter how hard you worked om christmas-ing the apartment, you couldn’t shake the fantasy of midoriya railing you against his work bench. it wouldn’t go away.

patting your cheeks to calm your hot flush; you decide that you’re done bedazzling and fix some christmas lights above your doorways to go with your LED ones, and get ready to take a cold shower and hoping that the wetness between your legs will go away. you make a  b-line for the bathroom, not bothering to bring a spare change of clothes since katsuki isn’t home. it’s not like he hasn’t seen you naked before.

you’re half way through your commute, wearing nothing but one of zuku’s old shirts when the front door jingles and busts open from the other side of your home. foot steps pound against your hardwood floor, letting you know someone is approaching.

“fucking hell katsuki, stop slamming the door against the wall before you make another—“ your words die in the back of your throat when your sweet little boyfriend comes into view. albeit a bit dishevelled, deku’s green hair falls prettily over his excited eyes while sweat rolls in tiny droplets from his forehead to his chin and his backpack hanging half off of his shoulder…in all honesty he looks a mess, but a good looking one at that. “zuku? what are you doing here?”

your lover looks bewildered, but a smile that fills you with warmth crosses his face. “i ran across campus to see you; i finished my finals…” he pants, the engineering building is pretty far from here so no wonder he looks the way he does.

despite knowing this, you quirk a brow. “still doesn’t answer my question babe.”

“november is over,” izuku sighs, dropping his backpack and crossing the room towards you in three short strides. When he reaches you, scarred hands curl around your waist while soft lips tickle the shell of your ear with deku’s next words. “it’s christmas…don’t make me wait. i want to fuck you.”

you don’t miss the way bight green eyes darken and drag up your hand naked body, your boyfriend’s shirt ending just above your knees and exposing the meat of your thighs to him. the wetness pools between them, making your skin glisten under familiar flashing LED lights and tinsel. izuku is waiting for a. sign...anything for you to give him consent to take his prize between your legs, electricity crackles in the air and you instinctively reach up to curl your fingers in his curls. “fuck me, izuku.” you say breathlessly, unleashing a month and a half’s worth of hormones out onto each other. “fuck me like you mean it, big boy.”

the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a spank to the ass as deku lifts you up into his arms and over his muscular shoulder. you squeal in delight at the harsh sting, leaning down to pat his ass too. he’s got a particularly nice one and you’re sure it was carved by the fucking gods. 

the green haired boy hauls you over to the kitchen counter, setting you down atop it before his lips find yours in passionate and hurried movements. its been so long since you’ve kissed him, felt his muscles ripple under your touch while your hand roams his chest underneath the varsity jacket he wears.

you push the offending material off while izuku trails a hand between your thighs, chuckling into the kiss at the slick that adds a glimmer to your skin. his pink tongue darts out to lick a stripe across your bottom lip, begging for permission to enter your hot mouth. you grant him access, swirling your own pink muscle around is and suck it down. your breath hitches as thick fingers finally come into contact with the burn of your heat, gently prodding at your puffy, sticky clit. “you’re…doll, you’re so fucking wet already. did you miss me?” your boy moans breathlessly in between your sloppy kisses, pulling away to show you the string of your slick that coats his fingers. you nod in agreement.

izuku taps your lips once and you obediently take the digits into your mouth, humming at your sweetness that invades your tongue, all the while, his other wandering hand shoves two digits into your wet cunt with no warning— making you shiver on the counter while the tinsel you’d taped there scratches at your calves. both sets of fingers thrust into your openings at the same time, giving you a friction you so awfully desire.

“such a good girl, dollface— fuck, i f-forgot how good you looked sucking on my fingers like that.” midoriya whines out and you’re not sure which of your holes he’s referring to, but you couldn’t care less, not when those that stuff your tight pussy are curling against the walls in a way that has you leaking sweet nectar all over your marble surfaces. you gush at his praise however, bucking your hips into his hand while the heel of his palm grinds into your swollen clit— sending shockwaves through your body.

the fingers that plug your mouth are pulled out so the darling sounds of your moans mingle with that of your dripping heat, walls clenching around izuku every once on a while. your lover grinds against the table, watching you with close eyes as your face contorts into expressions that he’s missed so dearly. one thrust into your spongy g-spot makes your body jump and thighs close around your boyfriend’s hand— head falling forward against his shoulder. “mnn, zuzu... haven’t felt this good in s’long, gonna cum, gonna mess up your hand.”

to your dismay, deku pulls from your cunt faster than you would have liked and you whine at the empty feeling in your stretched out hole. your heat makes an awful dripping sound when you’re fully empty, and you grunt knowing that its a mess you’ll have to clean up later. 

however, you’re easily distracted by the lips at your collar bones, painting bruises into your sweat licked skin while slick hands paw at your breasts. “cum on my face first, please?” its cute how desperate izuku is, but you can’t say that you aren’t either— especially when you haven’t fucked in so long.

“yes, god yes…” you accept too quickly while your shirt is pulled off completely; for midoriya’s mouth as moved from pressing hot kisses to your neck onto biting at your breast and rolling the hardened nipple of your other with his free hand. “but, wanna suck you off too ‘zuku…”

your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate with his next movements, kicking off his pants and boxers ( in one go, mind you ) before  picking you up once again and sinking to the floor with you in his arms. he makes quick work of flipping you onto your tummy, pulsing cunny shoved so close into his face that you can feel deku’s nose bump your clit when he breathes and then;  your face rests so easily on the swell of his thigh— right next to his hardened cock that you’ve missed so much.

izuku midoriya is a god and you swear by it.

your friend’s were right, he is packing. he’s thick and girthy, tip angry and red as it leaks heavily with a clear precum that has you drooling. “missed your dick, zu,“ you sigh, mostly to yourself and before you know it, your lips enclose around the head of his cock.

the way you suck on it, as if you’ve been starved of your last meal makes izuku shiver with pleasure and his nails dig into your peachy ass. you roll his balls between your fingers, loving the delicious whimpers you manage to lure from between your boy’s lips and the sound makes your pussy spasm around nothing.

a weighted palm moves to the back of your head in order to push you further down on his cock, deku’s own hips bucking up so you swallow more of him down. the taste of him is dangerously addictive, saltiness dancing across your tongue. “suck my dick sweetheart, yeah? suck on it just like that, good girl.” the hot breath from each of his choked laments brushes against your eager cunt, dampening your skin even more. he dives right in, tongue slithering between your puffy folds while he slurps at you with at  insatiable place. 

izuku craves to make you feel nothing but ecstasy, working his pink muscle hard against your walls that clamp down on his tongue while yours runs laps between the dribbling tip of his iron hot length. inhaling sharply, you force yourself to take more of deku down your throat, listening out for the tears that sting in his emerald eyes wen you swallow around him. You hum with sweet victory when his breathing stutters and hips jump up with excitement.

you’re both close, sensitive from the time you’ve spent away from one another, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. the room rises with temperature at every step you take towards orgasm, deku taking your cheeks in large, calloused palms and spreading you apart to spit directly into your hole. you swear on your life you’d never known pleasure until you’d met izuku, as no matter how much time you’d been apart, he still knew all the little tips and tricks to get you going. where to hold you, how to touch you, what to say. he was always so focused on making you feel good.

your head bobs up and down with an inconsistent pace, each time, your tongue mapping out the veins on his girth that you’d come to know so well, hand’s fisting at balls and the rest of his cock that you can’t reach.

“i’m gonna…doll—puppy, i’m gonna cream in that mouth of yours… please,” a strangled cry. “i-is that okay?”

you tap his thigh once, your own little signal to let your boyfriend know it’s okay before continuing your work— letting drool pool in your mouth before spewing it onto his cock. deku pulls his tongue from inside of you, flicking it rapidly at your clit to bring you closer and closer to the edge, not wanting to cum without you. and he doesn’t, the cord that’s built up in your stomach finally snapping.

white flashes behind your eyes as you gush all over izuku’s face, drenching his freckled cheeks and painting his innocence with a layer of your honeyed sin. Your lover follows shortly after, filling your mouth to the brim with a heavy load that tastes of him and only him. a taste that you could fall in love with every single day. “baby,”  you giggle after letting go of his cock with a satisfying ‘pop’, heat spreading beneath your skin as you take note of the slight shine to the green haired student’s face. “think you made me squirt!”

“guess i did! you’re always so cute when you squirt for me, yn,” and like the messy boy he is, midoriya wipes his mouth on the back of his hand ( always a poor eater, couldn’t keep his meal in one peace ) before peeking at you from over your quivering and arched back. izuku smiles proudly at his handy-work of your messy cunt, radiating a billion rays of sunshine and your heart clenches in your chest. you hate how cute he looks when you’re in such a lewd and compromising position, like he hadn’t just fucked you dumb under the mistletoe. “should’ve been on my dick ’n not m-my tongue though...”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to another round, if you aren’t.”

“like hell i could say no to being inside you after a whole month of waiting, doll.”

you roll your eyes, but wiggle your hips back into your boyfriend’s face nonetheless. “then dick me down deku, destroy me.”

with your boyfriend’s help, you manage to crawl off of his lap and wait patiently on your knees as he stands. izuku beams down at you, a hundred and one words of love written in his eyes that glow warmly under christmas lights before he pets your head and reaches for your hands to help you stand on shaky legs.

the first kiss you share after this is gentle and sweet, even while your tangled fingers are set free and deku’s large hands are once again on your waist, rubbing small circles into the skin of your hips as he backs you into the nearest wall. you simper at the taste of yourself on his tongue and allow him to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs— locking your ankles at the centre of his back and just above bis bum— all the while keeping you pressed against the wall.

the outline of izuku’s length presses hotly against your weeping slit, his lips still slotted against yours in a slow liplock while his tip smears the remains of his seed across your clit and between your folds. you feel your boyfriend’s arms quiver around you as he slowly begins to sheath himself within your spamming pussy— jolting away from his lips, your mouth falls open in a weak moan and the green eyed boy quickly follows you, copying the movement of your lips as his sweaty forehead meets your own and your gazes align sweetly. “doll…” he mumbles brokenly, letting you adjust to the push of his cock against your walls. “been so long since i felt you like this…”

your fingertips reach out and graze his shoulders, hot breath fanning out between your bodies as izuku’s cock reaches the hilt inside of you. he stills. “move baby, can’t wait anymore— “

izuku midoriya doesn’t need to be told twice when it comes to fucking you; finally making the move to bottom out inside of your pussy. heat blossoms in your heart and your glistening mound as your lover gently rolls his hips against yours and the way he feels reminds you that your mind, body and soul belong to him and him only.

although you are finally together, moving as one against the wall in your shitty college apartment, you crave for izuku to fill you to the brim and reach up to tug at mossy locks in order to bring him impossibly closer.

you don’t dare close your eyes as deku sets the pace, not even as your gaze on him flutters, you want the image of his blushed and blissed out face imprinted to into the back of your mind forever, you want the sounds of struggled whimpers and skin slapping against skin to become the tune of your memories. you want your senses to be filled with him always and forever as make love against tinselled ceiling rails and mistletoe above your heads. all you can think is more, more, more. more of him, more of izuku.

“focus on me, puppy,” izuku reminds you, grinding his pelvis against you every time his hips canter into you. his cock grazes the entrance of your womb, leaking into you like a cocktail of your arousals. but the neediness behind his words makes you blink away the glassiness in your eyes, locking your arms and legs around him tighter and grinding your hips down to meet the drive of his cock into your spongy g-spot. “your cute lil hole’s still so tight, nice ’n moulded into the shape of my cock— made to take me, right?” your boy babbles, tripping over his sentences through the saliva on his tongue.

the feeling has you stirring against your boyfriend’s length, his now rapid pace sending your teary eyes rolling and you mewling. “made for you ’n only you ‘zu, please don’ stop…” is all you can say, mind breaking as midoriya’s hands drop between your joined bodies to draw lazy shapes into your puffy nub, the movements silky due to the mild mix of juices coating your sexes.

each thrust from your lover sends you a little bit up the wall, head of his cock catching tastefully along the ridges of your velvety walls— the way your pussy feels inside drives izuku to the brink of insanity, you’ve always been able to take him so well and he missed the way your cute face curled into expressions of desire all for him. you’re so pretty, so intoxicating and he’s so happy to have you back in his arms.

“s-such a good girl for me, yn…fucking hell puppy,” izuku punctuates each of his toe curling thrusts with stuttered cries of your name, angling his hips upwards to hit your g-spot over and over. everything feels so sloppy, tainted with signs of your love but as the knot in your stomach begins to unravel, you couldn’t care less. “gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up and make you my fucking puppy.”

“’m already yours, always will be zuku,” you manage to speak, clenching down on him and letting out an almost pornographic moan as deku drills into you with the last of his strength.

he nods against your foreheads that remain pressed together, staring at you with adoration written across his seafood eyes. “love you, doll…love you s’much, you did so well baby…cum for me now…” izuku mumbles out, hissing slightly as your grip on his hair tightens to yank him down for one final searing kiss.

tears of heavenly pleasure roll down your cheeks as he swallows your final moan, his words pushing you right over the edge and into an earth shattering orgasm. “c-cumming!” you squeal so loud that you’re sure the neighbours can hear, while you lose control and pulse around midoriya’s scalding cock. the world of colour flashes behind your eyes— release splattering out against your boyfriend’s pelvis and the floor. “mnnn, izuku! i love you, please…”

you’re begging now, your sloppy pussy coaxing him along to his own release while deku relentlessly fucks into you. his chest rumbles with every one of his whimpers and groans, cock pushing you into overstimulation while he snaps his hips into you.

“ohh i love you…gonna cum, gonna cum— fuck, puppy—!” he sobs pathetically, dropping his head to your neck as his teeth clamp down on your bare skin to silence himsel. your tired body is forced up the wall while izuku tumbles into his own orgasm, sweltering seed splashing up inside your abused cunt. he slows to a grind, creaming inside you and painting your insides white as snow— panting with you until your breathing calms down.

the pair of you sink to the floor again, still in one another’s embrace as exhaustion sweeps over your limbs. before you know it, izuku is giggling sweetly against your lips, pressing grateful kisses along your neck and jaw while you fiddle with his baby hairs on the nape of his neck— still trying to catch your breath.

“t-that,” he sighs, nothing but love and adoration cushioning his gaze on you as you settle in his lap. you squirm at feeling so full, his cum dripping out of your fluttering hole but find yourself getting comfortable soon after. “that was so good, i missed you, yn, really.”

you cup the boy’s freckled cheeks and hum, heart swelling at his slight confession. “i missed you more zuku, all of you, not just your dick.” you clarify your words, making light of the mess you’ve made.

izuku rolls his eyes but leans into your gentle touch nonetheless, faking a pout in order to get a kiss on the lips. “glad to know that my girlfriend still loves me, even when she’s been deprived of my godly cock for a month and a half.”

“i’ll always love you.” you say, leaning in to give him a slight peck on the lips.

“as will i.”

you both tilt your heads to complete the vow with a simple kiss when a cough cuts through the love filled atmosphere, making you and izuku jump right out of your skin. Immediately, your gaze scopes out the room, only to land on your child hood best friend— accompanied by both his girlfriend and boyfriend. fuck, you completely forgot about that.

“are you two done now?” katsuki drawls, still tucked into his winter jacket, while krishima covers his girlfriend’s eyes with a free hand, the other occupied by her luggage from her flight. she still offers you an awkward smile and a wave.

“k-kacchan! haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” deku squeaks, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his chest and at least protect some of your decency. it’s nothing bakugou nor kirishima haven’t sen before ( it’s not the first time you’ve been caught like this ) but you allow yourself to fall into izuku’s protective embrace anyways— heated embarrassment prickling underneath your skin.

your blonde roommate, however, is livid— staring you down with bloody eyes that speak tales of murder. “knock? knock? i fucking live here, you shitty nerd!” bakugou scolds, making you flinch and offer him a weak smile. eijirou by now has the decency to escort his girlfriend into his other partner’s room to gather some of his belongings, effectively leaving you and your boyfriend to face the wrath of your favourite angry pomeranian. the blonde turns to you. “and i thought i told you not to do anythin’ fuckin’ stupid while i was gone?”

“don’t yell at me! i didn’t know izuku was coming… literally and figuratively!” both boys groan at this, making you scowl. what? it was a good joke! “besides, i was just congratulating my boyfriend for winning no nut november, again. you should be used to it by now, suki.”

katuski looks between you both, annoyance sweeping his face before he pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs. “couldn’t you congratulate him somewhere else? somewhere, where i didn’t have to be blinded and traumatised for the rest of my shitty life.”

this time, it’s your boyfriend who speaks up, standing with you in his arms. deku smirks evilly, pointing to the little green plant above your heads. “no can do kacchan, it’s dick destroyer december and there was no better way to start it, than under the mistletoe.”

izuku turns swiftly on his heel and makes a dash towards your bedroom before your best friend can threaten to blow you up, presumably to fuck you in your bed for this next round.

“fuck you guys!” he curses you out, watching you go.

“we’re already on it, have a great christmas, katsuki!” you sing back, just a deku slams your door shut and drops you onto your bed—  already crawling on top of you.

you’d have to thank katsuki someday for challenging izuku back in freshman year, because without his newfound love for november— you wouldn’t have discovered your guilty pleasure for dick destroyer december.

[ly0nstea]

More Tabletop Questions

Hello, thank for answering my earlier questions but unfortunately I have some more that I would like answered if that is ok with you? Thanks!

"The game does mention the fire warriors, it says they are “at [Azula’s] disposal” implying they’re nothing more than pawns and she doesnt care for them, other than that it just says they have reduced numbers, azula isnt necessarily standing with them anymore, and theyre reckless."

So if I am following what you said, basically the Fire Warriors that where downed during the climax of Smoke and Shadow where arrested and presumably sent back to the asylum (or jailed). Meanwhile, the Fire Warrior remnants escaped with Azula, however, they are not on good terms with Azula because of their "recklessness" and so Azula is keeping them at an arms length distance. Not that she ever let come any closer since they were always disposable pawns to her because they were already thrown away by society while she only ended up in the asylum because she was a political prisoner (in her mind). This despite the Fire Warriors following Azula's plans to a tee despite at least one of them voicing concerns (Zirin), Azula being the one to spill the beans that they are humans, not sprits, by kicking Aang during their kidnapping of Kiyi, and the Fire Warriors risking their lives, bending, and/or worse imprisonment conditions if recaptured just by associating with her.

Well, assuming the assumptions in the above paragraph are correct it doesn't make that much sense or make the Gaang look that good. Because for starters, out of the six non-Azula Fire Warriors, five of them where knocked out (I counted the panels in S&S) and yet there was at least two of them by Azula's side during Zuko's ending speech in S&S. So that means either (1) she broke at least a couple of them out or (2) got more people to join her cause. But in regards to (1), the corebook, as far as I can tell, did not explain why she didn't break them all out considering she needs all the help she can get considering her fugitive status/lack of funds. And in regards to (2), the corebook, as far as I know, does not say how Azula recruited more people to her terrorist cell. Like did she go back to the asylum, or a different one, and got other desperate inmates to join her?

In fact (2), ties into my next question: did the Gaang ever find out about the abusive conditions of the asylum and how it enabled Azula to woo the Fire Warriors to her side? And on a related note, does the corebook explain how she was able to break them out without anyone finding out? Because as of right now, there is a credible argument that Fire Nation asylums, or at least Azula's asylum, are terrorist breeding grounds. And even if they think that Azula deserved to be abused in there (which would OOC and against Zuko's previously stated reason for putting her in there), at least Zuko would have reason to make sure the asylum(s) changed their practices so at least more terrorists won't be created.

"Meanwhile irohs 600 day long siege is just an offhand mention, and he's shown as wise and with a keen mind. Wtf."

So despite having having an opportunity to flesh out what General/Crown Prince Iroh, and by proxy what Prince Lu Ten, was like, they just gloss over Iroh's past just like they did in Legacy of the Fire Nation?

You know, one of my biggest issues with post-TV show Avatar is Bryke's unwillingness to go into detail in regards to Iroh's past or have us see him deal with the fallout. Because while I understand that if they don't write pre-Lu Ten's death Iroh well, they will face massive backlash (especially considering how fandom worships him), I think continuing to avoid directly portraying Iroh's past, or the fallout from it will only lead to bad writing.

For example, in LoFTN, Iroh, despite having full-owned his past, just makes off-handed references in passive voice to the fact that he was a leading general in a genocidal, imperialist army (ex. "I was a general who took life.") despite his past characterization all but saying he would fully acknowledge his past and give a full throated condemnation of it whenever he had the opportunity to do so.

And in Matcha Makers, despite having an opportunity to have one of the EK refugees and/or veterans recognize Iroh in his tea shop and start a dialogue about the limits of redemption and, among other things, why Iroh decided to live the rest of his life in the city he violently besieged for 600 days, the comic instead just has the sprits (Iroh is so spiritually inclined that he has little sprits, that he can only see, live with him) in shop set him up on a date with an older woman who has a crush on him, but one Iroh's doesn't (initially) reciprocate.

Also, on a related note, is it possible if you could provide scans and/or links showing where they talk about the Fire Warriors and pre-Lu Ten's death Iroh? Or if it is not possible to do both, at least you could provide scans and/or links showing where they talk about the Fire Warriors?

Anyway, I think have rambled on long enough and so I want to say thank you, again, for answering my questions as well taking the time to read this and posting those helpful scans. 

It doesnt mention anything about her recruiting anyone new, so i would just chock that up to a continuity error on behalf of the comics, it certainly wouldnt be their worst error.

Secondly, i honestly dont think the gaang would give a shit about how they treated at this point, not because of how the gaang feels, but because the authors refuse to have anyone feel sympathetic for azula, so id say they never will find out, and if they do theyll brush it off or even say she deserved it for everything she has done.

Iroh's past is entirely glossed over, most that mentioned is that he found the dragons and sieged ba sing se for 600 days, and it isnt even shown in an overtly negative light, as said, its an offhand mention, they much prefer to say how wise he is instead.

and yea, irohs giving no weight to his past actions only confirms to me he only really tackled the fire nation on a surface level and never once actually thought over the impact of his actions, or realised them, or even atoned for them. His son dying wasnt punishment or retribution, neither was zukos betrayal.

- Fire Warriors bio

- pre war iroh (notice it never even explicitly states he led the siege, just his son died, it does mention it in the bio for the siege, but i do think its odd they omitted it here, seen as its so, so important to his whole character.

- post war iroh

[azureflight]

So, I have just binged the first season of The Remarried Empress

And I have some thoughts:

First of all, I am really curious as to how Navier will react when she learns that her new husband has been preparing for a war of conquest against the country empire of her ex-husband, which also happens to be her home country. That war, is gonna be doozy.

Beyond that, however, their reputation is at an all time low and their have their work cut out for them in the Western Kingdom.

There was some merit to the argument that marrying an experienced, well respected lady who knows state craft would help with Heinrey’s image to become more serious, however, the circumstances of their affair did the exact opposite.

For now, it looks like their playboy king went and involved himself with an international scandal, having an illicit affair with the empress of the neighboring kingdom and getting himself in trouble.

Far from looking mature, he looks like a fool who almost got himself killed and a war started over his dick.

Navier, on the hand, looks like a cold and calculating seductress. It looks like as soon as her husband brought a mistress she immediately began to work on an out, seduced the obviously foolish prince and then jumped ship. It makes her look greedy, power hungry and potentially vindictive.

Not to mention, I won’t be surprised if people start to assume the real reason for the divorce was partially the affair between Navier and Heinrey and that Sovieshu didn’t like being cheated on.

Being a foreigner with an image of too reserved and “shrewd” was enough for the people of Western Kingdom to demonize Naiver, but with all the surrounding scandals, it is almost a given. This is some Helen of Troy level shit show, The Diplomatic Edition. 

And I don’t think her simply being a good queen will be enough. Yes, Navier is pretty great in the affairs of the state, understands how actual ruling works and is a highly qualified bureaucrat. Unfortunately, none of that matter to common folk, they don’t see it. They can tell when their own life gets better/worse, but it takes time for those effects to cascade, and the credit can easily be stolen, blame easily shfited, her normal queenly work, along with charities won’t be enough.

Not to mention, any future tensions with Eastern Empire will be blamed on her. People will either think she is the one doing it as revenge, or it is happening because of her. Either way, future war can easily be blamed on her, which would rapidly erode whatever goodwill or sway the crown has over their subjects.

They need to find a way to quickly ingratiate both of them with the public.

Looking at the way the relations were perceived in the Eastern Empire before the whole divorce shit show, it doesn’t look like actual politics of war has been initiated by the Western Kingdom. Heinrey and his crew were getting prepared, yes. But it doesn’t look like they had started to sell the idea of a war to the public. Before any action can be taken, the population and the army, nobility, merchant class and various other key holders need to be convinced that the war is righteous, just and necessary.

On that regard, I think Heinrey’s plant o declare himself emperor and rename his realm an empire can work, if done right.

People like bold young kings who try to grow the power of the realm. His declaration is sure to take over the news and scandals of his marriage, as that would be a major diplomatic shift involving all other realms. 

Symbolic as it may seem, titles and names actually hold a lot of weight. A peer suddenly starting to call themselves with a higher and more prestigious title, is sure to not only irk potential rivals, but also make them feel agitated and threatened. After all, why would you start calling yourself emperor, if you aren’t gonna try to exert dominion over fellow kings, or try to directly challenge the other emperor?

This move has the potential to be seen arrogant and foolish, but done right, it could be a moment of national pride for Western Kingdom’s folk. I might be reading too much into this, however, from Heinrey’s inner dialogue as well as his brief conversations with comrades, it looks like the people (or at least some people) in the Western Kingdom feel like they are being looked down upon by the East, and have immense pride in their own military might.

So this declaration could be their moment of standing up for themselves and their own worth, refusing to be content with a lesser position. If done right, if sold right, this could immensely chance the current dynamic. Then Navier being a well known and skillful empress would actually come into play.

People may not care about it by default, but once conversation shifts to whether Western Kingdom deserves to be an empire or not, having a “real” empress, a highly regarded lady with exceptional breeding, would actually work to legitimize them. While Eastern Empire will have a lowborn, tactless, potentially fugitive slave, as their empress.

This could help rebrand any tensions between Western Kingdom and Eastern Empire. Instead of being about or caused by Navier, it would be about the west calling themselves an empire and the east trying to stop them. That could galvanize the public, the army, and would work well with the pride and ambitions of the nobility.

Another thing that could work, is a trade deal with Luipt to expand reach to another continent. It certainly fits the image of wanting to elevate the status and power of the Western Kingdom. In this case, Navier and Kaufman already being familiar, having a relatively close relationship and having already done the bureaucratic aspect of it once, helps. They could quickly arrange the deal and it would be a move that helps them not only domestically, but internationally.

The empress of the east gets divorced and the diplomat of the Luipt immediately goes to her new kingdom and gets a deal there? That makes it look like the actual power and potential of the east was the empress. It sends the signal that Western Kingdom’s imperial ambitions have merit and international support. That would shift the other kingdoms from hostile to adaptable, willing to change to whom they give more regard.

Another kingdom so readily and swiftly accepting their deal would also makes westerners feel validated. And again, an ambitious trade project to another continent would quickly make the whole imperial deal legitimate act of national growth, instead of it seeming like a foolish playboy’s attempt to appease his manipulative lover.

There shouldn’t bee too much of a time gap between those two however, and it shouldn’t take too long to declare the whole empire thing either. Otherwise their impact on correcting the images of Navier and Heinrey as well as justifying their new titles would be lessened to the point of being irrelevant.

Beyond those, I wonder how the dynamic between east and west will playout. Sovieshu is a fool who is way in over his head. Can Heinrey use it?

We have seen both courtiers and loyal aides, as well as other nobles make loud and quite indignant objections to the whole divorce. They won’t all just change their loyalty, obviously. However, this could be a sticking point for many years to come, a wedge that can be exploited.

If Sovieshu antagonizes Navier’s family, that could greatly alarm and upset the other high ranking nobles. Surely, there will be those who will enjoy it as they would be rivals with Trovis, however, no noble, especially no duke, will like how quickly the emperor discarded and sabotaged such an elevated family. It goes against all of their senses of safety and specialty.

In these type of societies, most of the loyalty is owned to individuals, not to “people” or to the land. There are exceptions, obviously, however, it is entirely within the realm of possibility that with Navier’s marriage to Heinrey, several nobles who may be displeased with Sovieshu could start looking to the Western Kingdom as a better patron. If the west can start stripping nobles from the eastern empire, that whole war would not only be an easier sell, but way easier to win. Remember, all those nobles have their own armies.

Overall, I am quite excited for the second season, let’s see how it all goes. Maybe all of my guesses and prediction are wrong, maybe the story will go in an entirely irrelevant direction. I’m just here for the right and speculating is fun while waiting :D

[5lazarus]

The Domestics

Alistair runs into an older elven woman on the battlements, watching the children play in the Skyhold courtyard below. They get to talking: isn't it nice that the mages get to keep their children now? Then, in the course of the conversation, Alistair figures it out. Alistair says, “I always wondered. What my life would’ve been like, if she could’ve kept me. I always kinda knew she didn’t have a choice. King’s bastards are the king’s, not whoever carried them. If she were a servant and if I’d end up in the kitchens or, better yet, the dairy. I really like cheese. But if she were a mage, I guess we never had any of that. Unless she ran away.” Read on Archive of Our Own here.

It’s snowing at Skyhold, which delays Alistair’s plans by a day. Anora cuts him loose, locking herself in the ambassador’s heated room with her furs, and he wishes he could change into less fine clothes and join the children in their snowball fight, or wander into the kitchens and see if he can sweet-talk the cook into giving him something hot and sweet to drink. He’s king, so he could ask for all the chocolate in Seheron, and doubtless the Inquisition would try to give it to him.

He walks the battlements so less people will see him and watches the battle in the courtyard below. The Inquisitor’s children seem to have made common cause with the servants’ kids against the visiting nobility; honestly it’s just a relief to see that it isn’t human against elf. Alistair, a tad self-conscious, touches his right ear. An older elf is watching them, smiling. Alistair wonders if she’s the mother of one of them below.

“Which one’s yours?” Alistair asks.

The woman says, “I’m only watching them for the Inquisitor. I’m their guard.” She’s got short black hair, threaded with silver, but her eyes are lively enough. She’s wearing green robes with a bit of Dalish-looking embroidery at the ends of her sleeves. She’s got an Orlesian accent, too. He didn’t know the Inquisition was working with elves from Orlais, didn’t Anora tell him to keep an eye out for Ambassador Briala’s livery?

“Oh.” He shouldn’t feel awkward, but he blushes anyway. He stares at the woman’s feet, toes poking out of those foot wraps, and wonders how on earth she’s not freezing. Alistair’s got a coat of heavy wool, trimmed in fur.

The woman notices he’s staring and says, matter-of-fact, “My circulatory system is different than yours. We conserve heat more efficiently than your people. Besides, I’m a mage. It’s easy to keep warm.”

That has him a bit miffed. Of course he knows elves are biologically different than humans; they can still breed, though. He’s evidence of that. He doesn’t feel the cold as intensely as the others at court, and he knows why. The servants at the palace can tell, even if he passes, for the most part. Eamon and Tegan talk all the time about how much he looks like his father, how much he looks like Cailan, but he’s seen enough portraits of them both to know how he differs.

Alistair says, again, “Oh. Cool. I’m half, you know.” It’s not that he’s discouraged from talking about it, but it’s never been something to advertise. Those with eyes to see it don’t need to be told, but right Alistair feels like he needs to justify himself, with the way she’s looking at him. Skyhold has had him wrong-footed; Leliana has been distant and he is finding it harder and harder to slip away from the King. Anora tells him that’s part of adulthood. He’s not so sure.

The woman says, “I know.”

Alistair folds his arms. “Really? Because I didn’t. What’s your name, by the way?”

The elf smiles sadly. “Fiona. I used to travel with the Grey Wardens, when I was young.”

Alistair says, “Really? The Grey Wardens don’t really let people leave. Unless, you know, you point out that yet another civil war is going to break out if they don’t let you put your ass back on the throne. What was your excuse?”

Fiona says, “I had a baby. It’s hard to keep a nursery going in the Deep Roads. The darkspawn get jealous.”

“Oh. Can’t be having that, they’re crabby enough as it is. Though I heard of a Warden who brought his cat into the Deep Roads too, scratched out the eyes of a hurlock apparently. You’re lucky, most of us can’t have kids. I can’t. Probably.” He thinks about his own natural daughter with Tabris and blushes at the lie, rubbing at the back of his head. It’s for her own good and the good of the realm he hasn’t brought her to court. It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason, and Morrigan has the spare heir anyway, if Anora can’t figure something out.

Fiona says, “I suppose it’s luck. The Circle took him away from me, and gave him back to his father.” She sounds wistful. “But under the Inquisition, the mages keep their children. It’s a different world now. There’s no going back.”

He thinks to himself, I’m not so sure—the disastrous plans for the Hinterlands, the riots in Denerim, the failure of the embassy in the Brecilian forest. He thought after the Blight, with this new alliance between elves, dwarves, and men, there would be no going back. Anora tells him it’s a struggle for the future and that reform doesn’t come in a day, perhaps not even their lifetime: sometimes they need to settle for establishing the groundwork for the next person to rule, like Maric did for them. But of course, Anora’s never had her cousin kidnapped and brutalized, or her father sold into slavery. That sort of perspective changes things.

Alistair says, “Really?” He scratches his head. “I look at things in Ferelden and wonder how things can stay so stagnant, and then you look at Orlais and how they’re eating themselves alive. And Orzammar, of course, which is basically a living fossil. People don’t like change. They’d prefer for things to stay the same, or even go back to how they were a generation ago.” He is surprised at the bitterness in his voice.

Fiona cocks her head and looks at him curiously. She says, “You’re too young to be talking like that. You must understand it comes in seasons—we flourish in spring and reap our harvest in summer, and then prepare for and suffer through the conservative reaction in winter. Sometimes it’s a harsh winter, and many do not survive. But then there is always the spring. You lived in Ferelden, you should know—from the Night Elves who freed your people from the Orlesian occupation to Clan Alerion securing the boundaries of the Hinterlands now, things have changed. You just need to…riot every so often, to make sure no one gets complacent.” She grins.

It’s nice to talk politics with someone who doesn’t know who he is, who thinks he’s just another wealthy Ferelden currying favor with the Inquisition, not a king staring down the religious cult that just carved itself a city-state at the border of his realm. Below the children are yelling. A couple of them are using magic to freeze the snowballs, and they’re having a fierce debate, interspersed with throwing said ice balls, on whether that’s fair.

Alistair says, “Then I hope you’re right. I hope the mages and the Inquisition’s made enough of a, er, spring, to shake things up. It’s good for these kids to stay with their families, I hated what the Circle did. I didn’t know my mother, growing up. Would’ve avoided a lot of angst if I’d gotten to meet her.” He thinks about Morrigan and her awful mom, and then Goldanna flashes through his mind. Ashamed, he pushes the thought away. “Or maybe it would’ve made it worse! Hard to say, I certainly don’t know!” He smiles at the woman brightly.

Fiona says, “It might have made it worse, since she was an elf. Your life would’ve looked very different, even in Ferelden.”

His heart stops. Surely she doesn’t know who he is. That could be awkward, considering what he’s been saying. Anora will be furious that he’s gone off and talked politics with another random person again. He can’t help it, he gets bored easily, and the courtiers and advisors only tell him what they think he should want to hear.

“How do you know I’m Ferelden?” Alistair asks suspiciously.

“You’re wearing the badge on your fur coat. And, of course, your accent. Unless I am mistaken?”

“No, no,” Alistair says. “But yeah. Sorry. I don’t know much about her. Don’t know if she’s still alive. Just that she was an elf. Always assumed she was a serving woman or something, if my father was anything like C-Caleb.”

Fiona says, “Sometimes it’s better not to think about it, how we came into the world. I never met my parents either.” She leans against the balustrade and shakes her head at the kids fighting in the courtyard below. They’ve devolved into outright brawling, but that weird Warden the Inquisitor keeps around her has waded into the fray, bellowing orders. “It’s good to see them playing again. They never had enough time to play.”

“When were you a Warden?” Alistair asks. “You know, my dad travelled with the Wardens too. But they didn’t make him join up—guess that’s why I’m here, ha-ha.” He wants to ask her if she ever met him, because they might have overlapped. It’s hard to tell with elves sometimes though, they age more slowly, but she looks like she’s in her late forties, a bit careworn. Then he decides he really doesn’t want the conversation to get weird, because he is a king and his father was a king, and it’s rare that someone speaks to him normally now—treats him like the lovable idiot he knows he is, not the history-breaking king.

Fiona says, “Oh, give or take thirty years or so. I try not to count the years, at my age. My people live a long time if left unmolested, but I have a knack for running into trouble.”

Alistair laughs. “Oh, me too! I don’t even mean to do it, I’ve just never learned to keep my mouth shut.” To Teagan and Anora’s chagrin, he thinks ruefully. “I was given to the Templars as a boy, before I managed to get the Wardens to take me, and Maker! The Mother despaired of me. Called me most the accidental heretic she’d ever known. Really the Wardens taking me saved my life, Maker knows what they would’ve done to me if I kept poking at them like I was.”

Fiona pauses, trying to suppress a laugh, and then says, “At least you’ve never started a war.”

Alistair laughs heartily at that. Then he realizes what she’s said. “Wait, what? You started a war?”

Fiona says, “You…you didn’t know?”

Alistair says, “Is there something I should know?”

Fiona steps away, smoothing her expression away. “Many things.” Anxiously she peers down into the courtyard, smoothing her sleeves over her hands. The two factions of Skyhold children have joined forces and are attacking Blackwall with snow, but another one of the Inquisitor’s companions has joined the fray—a cackling elvhen girl, and then Alistair sees that from the balcony of the inn there’s a mustachioed mage swatting snowballs away from his friend.

Alistair says, “You never asked me my name.”

Fiona glances at him and then turns away. “I didn’t need to. You look very much like your father. Though I suppose you must know that.”

Alistair opens his mouth and then closes it. He says, voice hoarse, “Did you ever—“ He stumbles over his words, and clears his throat. “Did you ever find out what happened to your baby? When the Circle took him away.”

Fiona hesitates. The silence between them is filled with the children laughing below, the mage grandiosely chanting what are clearly made-up words, and the old Warden dramatically pretending to be overwhelmed by the volley of snow. The elven girl is swearing revenge, right now. It looks the children are trying to steal the “body” and make a pyre out of snow.

Alistair says, “I always wondered. What my life would’ve been like, if she could’ve kept me. I always kinda knew she didn’t have a choice. King’s bastards are the king’s, not whoever carried them. If she were a servant and if I’d end up in the kitchens or, better yet, the dairy. I really like cheese. But if she were a mage, I guess we never had any of that. Unless she ran away.”

Fiona covers her face with her hands.

Alistair continues, “Then, yeah, being apostates suck. Believe me. I met a girl who lived in a swamp. But I think we could’ve made it work. Like since I pass, and I’m not magic—at least I don’t think so, but I think I’d know by now? I’m like, thirty-five. Or something. I could’ve gone to the villages and traded for food. And I would’ve known more about who I am. Than just Maric’s bastard. Who’s just a story, anyway. That’s how kings like that end up. Just stories.”

His mother is weeping now.

He says, “I have no idea how you started that war you said you did. But I think I know what I’m supposed to know.” He takes a step closer, and she doesn’t move. He says, helplessly now, “I think I have your eyes.”

Fiona leans against the balustrade, back to the courtyard below. She’s not crying now, but she’s not making any sound. Alistair is afraid to go closer. Her hands press into her face like a mask, restraining a scream. He thinks if he touches her, all that tension will explode. He gets overwhelmed like that too. Can you inherit that sort of thing? He has to wonder, does the way one expresses pain get passed down in the blood?

He waits for her to speak. A door behind them creaks open, footsteps scuffle to a stop, then retreat. The door shuts. The mage has come down into the courtyard now and is chanting what appears to be Nevarran over the pile of snow that is Blackwall’s pyre. The elven girl is leading the children in mourning—but then the mage flourishes, and the snow glows purple, then scarlet, then green as he sparks. Blackwall throws the snow off and roars. The children cheer.

Fiona breathes heavily, drawing herself out of wherever she retreated. She swipes at her face with her sleeves. She says, “Forgive me. It was better that you didn’t know. You couldn’t have become—you deserved—Maric needed—what are you going to do, I told the Divine to go fuck herself, you can’t have a mother who told the Divine—“

Alistair says, impressed, “You told the Divine to go fuck herself? I am your son, I knew it had to come from somewhere! This is your fault!” He gestures at himself, and Fiona manages a laugh.

“An exaggeration,” she says. “I merely said the Divine should fuck herself, right before we voted to dissolve the Circles and separate from the Chantry. I’d hoped to tell her that at the Conclave, which is why they sent Orsino rather than myself.” Her mouth twists into a rueful smile. “Perhaps the only time running off my mouth and losing my temper has saved my life.”

Alistair says, “Well, the Divine was kind of an ass. Somebody had to say it.” He laughs. “Oh, this is wonderful. My mother, the rebel mage.” He’s genuinely delighted, this is much cooler than anything he came up with as a boy. “This is so cool. Anora’s going to be so annoyed when I tell her. Not like she can complain, her dad betrayed the realm and got all the Wardens killed, so really on the scale of shitty in-laws, I win.” He pauses: he isn’t sure he conveyed what he wanted to by that. Fiona is just staring at him. “But seriously, I don’t know who you are. Besides, obviously, my mother.”

Fiona says, disbelief in her voice, “I’m the Grand Enchanter."

Alistair says, “Oh Maker, I should’ve recognized the belt, shouldn’t I?”

[novelconcepts]

I’ve always wanted a first real date after bly scene. Light and right.

Where Dani is thirsty AF bc Jamie wore a dress

Where Jamie feels like she’s in an oven under Dani’s 👀.

Where Jamie wants to remark on Dani maybe using that weapon *👀👄* sparingly, but remembers her complete lack of autonomy in the past and is just like ~yes love, look. It’s for you.

Does it count as a date, Jamie wonders, when we’ve not been apart in four months? Hard to imagine, but it’s true--the time has very much gotten away from her in Dani’s company. Not that she’s complaining. Not that she can find much at all to complain about, with Dani at her side.

Nervous, Dani may be. Uneasy about planning for the future. Sometimes, she turns her head and finds Dani gazing back with a chillingly blank expression, and thinks, She’s going. She’s going already. 

And then Dani will blink, and she’ll smile, and Jamie can’t fathom how she’d ever thought the worst. Even for a second. There is so much life to Dani--different now than the woman who had pulled her close in a hallway, maybe, but full of life all the same. Dani’s eyes are different these days, beyond her newfound heterochromia, and her dreams are darker, but she is in all other ways the most alive person Jamie’s ever known. 

Particularly the way she tends to stare.

“What?” Jamie asks, grinning. There’s a certain steady pleasure to this moment, how Dani’s eyes snap to her the second she enters a room. “Why are you looking at me like...”

She hesitates. Like you want to take a bite. She doubts Dani would respond well to that phrasing. Four months in, Dani still tends to dart away from her when caught staring, her posture tightening up. Blatantly pointing out exactly what her face is doing just now is sure to send her into a mild tailspin.

And yet--hard to deny the truth of it. Dani, perched on the edge of the couch they’ve only recently hauled up the stairs to this very-new apartment, is gaping at her like she didn’t expect Jamie to even be home, much less stepping out of the bathroom. The surprise is etched into every angle of her, partnered with something Jamie is inclined to call naked desire. 

Bit much, she thinks, heartbeat increasing tempo, but if it walks like a fuckin’ duck...

“Like what?” Dani is shaking her head, smoothing out her skirt, fingers tightening around the fabric like she doesn’t entirely trust her own hands. “I’m not lookin’ at you any special way.”

She’s right about that much--if only because Dani has a tendency to look at her this way always. Doesn’t matter where they are, or who’s around, or how Jamie’s dressed. Turtleneck, battered jeans, or this, her eyes always darken the exact same way. Her jaw tenses, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips, and every single time, Jamie thinks, No one. No one has ever looked at me like...

Like it’s second nature. Like she’s been doing it all her life. Like Dani has forgotten how to even begin to tame her own expression, so long as Jamie is standing in front of her.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it.

“I didn’t even know you kept a dress,” Dani says. She’s still staring just over Jamie’s shoulder, as though the only thing holding her in check is the blank wall.

“Didn’t,” Jamie says. “Recent acquisition.”

To see what would happen, she doesn’t add. To see if it would make a difference to the way Dani looks at her like she can’t get enough. A part of her can’t forget how Dani had lit up the day of the funeral, as though the sight of dress and lipstick and flirtatious little grin had been powerful enough to keep the monsters at bay.

Truer than Jamie could have realized, then. Still true now, she thinks, as Dani slowly rises and allows her gaze to take in the full picture once more. Dani is, she can tell, being as careful as she can. Dani is trying not to be too much. Like they haven’t been spending endless hours together, strolling through states, watching the seasons change. Like they haven’t spent all these weeks learning one another in motel rooms, and--as of very recently, in this flat. Like Dani is still, somehow, embarrassed by her own inclinations. 

It’s okay, she wants to say. You can look. You can do anything you like. Dani believes it, in the dark. Dani believes it when it’s Jamie at the wheel, guiding her hands. She believes Jamie wants her then--naked and pressed into a mattress, under the pulse of a hot shower, even in the backseat of a car. There are places, Dani seems to think, where she is allowed to want and be wanted.

But Jamie has to start it. Jamie has to expressly grant permission. Somehow, Dani still hasn’t quite realized it is her want--wherever it comes, whenever it comes--Jamie most prizes. 

Look, she thinks. Touch. Do what you want. No one’s ever told Dani that before. No one’s ever been able to make her believe it. Understandable; some things can’t be resolved a few months in. Some trunks have been locked too long.

She offers her arm, pleased when Dani hooks a hand through the bend of her elbow. “Shall we?”

Dani glances at her, glances away again, swallows. For a moment, Jamie wonders if she might tilt them back against the front door, taking the date off the table entirely. Wouldn’t be so bad. Would, in fact, be a glorious way to spend an evening with this woman.

But date was the plan, and date Dani seems committed to. Even as her fingers trace the soft skin of Jamie’s wrist. Even as her hip presses lightly to Jamie’s own. Even as they make their way to the restaurant, to a table near the back, and order. 

“This feels strange,” Dani says quietly. “Being out like this.”

“We go out all the time,” Jamie points out, knowing what she means. Knowing there’s a difference between lounging in a booth for dinner and going out like this--hair up, makeup done, Dani trying so hard not to take her in with hungry eyes. Is it really a date if you’re always together anyway? It would appear the answer is very much yes.

And it would appear Dani is just as out of practice with the whole idea as she is. Her hands are twining on the tablecloth, her head bent. Every so often, her eyes flick up to Jamie’s face, and it’s like having a campfire turned directly against her skin.

“You can do that,” Jamie says after the third or fourth time. She can feel herself grinning--the old flirtatious good humor, which has grown to encompass so many private moments. She may not be able to resist Dani’s big doe eyes, but Dani’s never been good at turning away from this particular breed of smile, either. Well-matched. And fucking lucky. 

 “Do what?” Dani isn’t feigning innocence, she’s sure. Dani is genuinely trying not to do this very thing. Dani is trying to be polite, and proper, and in public, and Jamie’s heart clenches a little to think of how often she’s done the exact same thing with any number of women she’d felt she couldn’t even glance at.

“Look at me,” she says. Dani’s eyes rise, her lip pulling between her teeth. “You can do that. However long you like.”

“We’re in--”

“It’s just looking.” Jamie smiles. “No one can stop you.”

Dani shifts in her seat, fingers knotting together. Jamie would bet her life she’s gripping her own hands that tightly to keep from reaching across the table.

“I don’t mean to.” Dani pauses. Smiles a little. “I don’t mean to look at you like--like I--”

“Want me?”

Dani makes a small noise under her breath, something Jamie suspects might be a groan. She laughs. 

“Poppins, you do know the idea of a date.”

“Yes.” Dani has this predictable way of huffing words out in irritation when she’s embarrassed. It’s entirely distracting in its own right. “But you’re--I’m not--”

Jamie waits. Things like this take time, she reminds herself. Things like this are not instantaneous. What Dani is comfortable doing--being--in private might never quite look the same out in the world. That’s all right. What matters is that Dani gets to choose. That Dani knows she’s allowed to.

“I don’t own you,” Dani says in a low voice at last. She’s looking Jamie in the eye now, and there’s so much happening on her face--an embarrassed pull of her mouth coming up hard against the heat of her gaze. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m always ten seconds from...from...”

“Tearing my clothes off?” She can’t keep the amusement out of her voice, and suspects it’s the only thing holding Dani here. That, if she were to say the same sentence with no humor at all, Dani might actually burst into flames right over the nearly-full wine glasses. “Can’t see a problem with that.”

“Jamie.” It’s nearly a whisper. She sounds so ashamed, even as her eyes flick from painted mouth to the low cut of the dress’ neckline. 

“It’s not ownership, wanting the person you’re with,” Jamie says, as gently as she can. “It’s...welcome. Very.”

“We’re in public,” Dani repeats in a strangled sort of voice. “And you’re wearing that, and I...”

“Do you like it?” 

Dani nods, very quickly. Jamie glances around, and, finding the waiter absent, slides a hand beneath the table to cover her knee. 

“I like that you like it. Might surprise you, but I did put it on because I hoped you’d like it.”

Dani swallows. Her leg is rising and falling in an unsteady tattoo under Jamie’s palm, the skirt riding precariously up her thigh. Jamie smiles. 

“You are allowed,” she says, “to look. And to tell me what you think. And, shocking though it might be, to respond according to what you want. I like that you want me.”

“I know,” Dani says, in the kind of voice that says she doesn’t entirely believe it, even now. Jamie shakes her head. 

“No, don’t think you get it. It is the best goddamn part of my day, watching you watch me. Knowing you’re thinking what I’m thinking. It’s...” She hesitates, her thumb stroking along Dani’s kneecap. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Or you.”

Dani is breathing a little less sharply with every pass of her thumb, her cheeks pink. She closes her eyes--and then, with the air of a woman turning a particularly stubborn key, opens them again. It is the memory of the funeral dress turned up to eleven. It is the moment she’d stepped out of the bathroom doubled, tripled, almost too much to stand in the middle of a populated restaurant. 

It is perfect. 

“See,” Jamie says, taking her hand back and settling it beside her fork. “That. With me, you never have to tone that down.”

“I do,” Dani mumbles. “I really do.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Dani says, leaning across the table, her voice pitched dangerously low, “we haven’t even been served yet, and I want to drag you home already.”

Jamie grins. “Going that poorly, would you say?”

She’s a little surprised Dani doesn’t kick her under the table.

She’s not surprised at all when Dani’s hand appears on her own thigh, intentionally driving her dress up. Dani is, she’s pleased to find, grinning. 

“Ah,” she says breathlessly, “now you’ve got the idea.”

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Hey 👋

I’m a Nesta stan, but recently I’ve had some thoughts about acotar-nesta

Like why did she call Feyre ugly names, I can’t remember exactly but she said some things to Feyre that made her think that she wasn’t pretty or smth. And I totally understand that Nesta was angry at the situation, at their father for not helping, at their mother for dying and all that, but why put someone down? Your own sister, too. I could never grasp the reason why she did this, and I hope you can make me understand if there was a reason behind it, or if this was a flaw in nestas character- cuz in my opinion all characters should have flaws so that they don’t seem like a Mary sure

And also, I never understood this eiether, but why Elain? Why did she only protect elain? I don’t understand why nesta would protect her when elain was the one who was favored most by their father. If I was her I would’ve teamed up with Feyre, ig that’s what I would have done.

I do understand that both Feyre and Nesta were cruel to each other, but canonically, I think, there were more instances when Nesta said hurtful things to Feyre than Feyre to Nesta. And I can’t ever remember Feyre putting Nesta down about her body or appearance

I’m not trying to hate or anything, not do I think that Feyre is a saint- and neither is Nesta- I just don’t totally understand this. Like, is this one of nestas flaws, or is sjm just a shitty writer?

What do I think is the real answer? Laziness. SJM never planned to have Nesta be more than a “stereotypical fairytale evil sister.” Until she wrote the scene when Feyre comes back in ACOTAR. And then she had written this evil sister as an intrinsic part of Feyre’s character and instead of going back and changing it to say, things her mother said (which would check out with what we now know of the mom), she just kept those one dimensional snipes and was like Nesta lashes out.

If I was to analyze, however, I think this would be a great opportunity to discuss the time period, which is vague as hell but in terms of the feudal system and general societal expectations I’m guessing it’s loosely the regency era. I say this as opposed to Victorian or Edwardian because women seem to have a *bit* more agency around marriage and speaking out and such, but court politics are still firmly at play. Also because half these books read like a mediocre regency romance novel.

So in this world, Feyre is essentially spitting on everything Nesta was raised for. It was very common in the regency period, especially right before the industrial revolution when the Lords and Ladies system was starting to fall, that if wealthy families lost money they would essentially starve rather than work “labour” jobs because once they started working they were common but before that point their breeding and status might still be able to win them an advantageous marriage. I know Mr. Archeron was a merchant, but a wealthy merchant to the upper classes is very different than a common labourer in that time. Now, Nesta had clearly given up on the marriage angle by ACOTAR since she was considering marrying Tomas, but I think the general principal stands. Nesta would have rather starved with dignity than gone out and laboured. That was how she was raised.

I think this is really succinctly stated in one of my all time favorite fics, Sympathy for the Devil by @saphie3243 where the intro is just Nesta hearing her mother’s voice saying “Ladies don’t run, Ladies don’t raise their voice, Ladies don’t get dirty” etc. That idea of being a “Lady” was so ingrained in Nesta as her only value from essentially birth that she didn’t know what to do when the prospect was lost and honestly probably would have rather starved.

She was angry at Feyre for getting dirty and doing all the things she was taught not to do, and because she wanted to see if her father would do something. So she took her anger out on Feyre. All of Nesta’s comments to Feyre are in that same vain- that she looks dirty or smells unclean or has callouses “like a peasant”. In Nesta’s mind that is worse than starving to death and she probably thought she might convince Feyre to stop by insulting her. It wasn’t right. But that’s the best explanation I’ve got.

I always say this dynamic is interesting because of they’d stayed wealthy then Feyre would be the problem. She’s be wild and untamed and putting her sisters futures at risk. The things that make her flourish as a Fae would have crushed her as a human. So it makes sense that the things that make Nesta flourish as a wealthy woman crushed her in poverty and in the first bits of being Fae.

As to why Elain and not Feyre, I think Feyre says it best when she thinks in ACOTAR that she wasn’t sure which of her or Nesta was more wretched and bitter. Elain wasn’t. She was still sweet and kind and planting flowers and Nesta had a desire to protect that innocence whereas Feyre had no innocence left to protect and no need for Nesta in any way.

Also the events and timelines of these books are so fucking messed up that like even in typing this I’ve put more thought into it than the author so that’s part of it too.

[creepingsharia]

Joe Biden’s Biggest Fundraisers are Tied to Islamic Terrorists

The Iran Lobby, the Pakistan Lobby, and the Muslim Brotherhood are funding Biden.

by Daniel Greenfield

Joe Biden had spent the entire election hiding the names of his bundlers, the big money fundraisers who fueled his campaign, until releasing them right before Election Day.

What did he have to hide?

The list of bundlers who managed to raise at least $100,000 for Biden includes some of the usual Democrat politicians and big party donors, along with some other names.

Like that of Jamal Abdi.

Abdi is the executive director of NIAC Action and the former policy director of the National Iranian American Council, often referred to as the Iran Lobby.

NIAC Action is the lobbying arm of NIAC and despite claiming to represent the Persian diaspora in America, Iranian-Americans have accused it of echoing the talking points of Iran’s regime. Members of the democratic opposition to the Islamist regime have even helped spread the #niaclobbies4mullahs hashtag across Twitter which was tweeted as much as 300,000 times.

“The NIAC pretends to support the interests of Iranians who reside in the US but, in practice, it aims to protect the interests of the Islamic Republic,” Shervan Fashandi, a member of the opposition to the regime, has said.

Earlier this year, Senator Ted Cruz and Senator Tom Cotton had sent a letter to the Justice Department urging an investigation of NIAC and NIAC Action for violating FARA by lobbying for a foreign country without officially registering as foreign agents. The letter noted that "NIAC's relationship with the Iranian regime and its role amplifying regime propaganda in the United States have been the subject of discussion in Washington D.C. for years."

Iran is an Islamic terror state responsible for the murder of Americans around the world.

Joe Biden is no stranger to the Iran Lobby. He had celebrated the Islamic takeover of Iran. During the Iran Hostage Crisis, opposed the rescue of American hostages, and called for an end to pro-democracy broadcasts into Iran and for admitting the terror state into the WTO.

Early in the century, he had also raised sizable amounts of money and headlined an event for the American Iranian Council whose founder had run for the presidency of Iran.

After September 11, Biden suggested, “this would be a good time to send, no strings attached, a check for $200 million to Iran.”

In 2007, Biden warned that if President Bush took action to stop Iran, he would impeach him.

A year later, he told Israelis that they would have to accept Iran’s nuclear program.

A spokesman for the Student Movement Coordination Committee for Democracy in Iran warned that Biden's campaigns "have been financed by Islamic charities of the Iranian regime based in California."

Now, as America struggled with the pandemic, Biden hurried to propose a plan, not to help Americans, but to help Iran, to “streamline channels for banking” and weaken US sanctions.

NIAC Action endorsed Biden and appears to have raised a lot of money for him. What does NIAC expect in return? In its official endorsement, NIAC claimed that Biden had made an "ironclad commitment" to return to the Iran Deal. That would allow Iran to continue developing its nuclear program and provide it with an ongoing cash flow for international terrorism.

An article co-written by Abdi, one of Biden's biggest fundraisers, warned that "the U.S. has less leverage to secure concessions from Tehran given its own diminished credibility and Iran’s increasing nuclear leverage".

All of this comes as the FBI noted that Iranian hackers were targeting government websites in “an intentional effort to influence and interfere with the 2020 U.S. presidential election.”

Its hackers also sent threatening fake "Pro-Trump" emails to voters in Florida, among other states, warning, "You will vote for Trump on Election Day or we will come after you."

The move was transparently meant by the Iranians to aid the Biden-Harris campaign.

Had President Trump been the beneficiary of $100,000 or more in cash, a turnout operation, hacking attacks, and other forms of election interference from the networks around an enemy state, we would be hearing about it. Since all this is benefiting Biden, the story is being buried.

But Abdi isn’t the only troubling name on the list of Biden’s biggest bundlers.

One of them is Ijaz Ahmad.

Ahmad is the head of the American-Pakistani Political Action Committee (APPAC) who had boasted of being recognized by Pakistan's foreign ministry as the "true face of Pakistan".

APPAC is militantly opposed to India's attempts to stop Pakistani terrorism and Biden has been happy to pander to it, attacking India and expressing support for Islamic claims to Kashmir.

“We warmly welcome Mr. Biden’s policy declaration in support of people in occupied Kashmir,” Ahmad declared.

“Never before we have had so many Muslims in a position of influence in a presidential campaign,” Biden said, and quoted a Hadith.

APPAC noted that it had raised $320,000 for Biden, including $120,000 from Ahmad.

Tahir Javed, a candidate endorsed by APPAC, is also listed as a Biden bundler. As is Asif Mahmood, who ran for lieutenant governor in California, raising $1 million for the race, then for state insurance commissioner, before being appointed by Newsom to the Medical Board.

Pakistan is an Islamic terror state and an enemy of the United States, which harbored Osama bin Laden. The Bin Laden raid that Biden opposed targeted a Pakistani military town.

It’s deeply troubling that Biden doesn’t seem to have learned anything from that experience.

Another Islamic lobby member in the six figure Biden fundraiser club is Wa’el Alzayat, the head of Emgage. It’s been noted that Emgage is part of a network of Muslim Brotherhood organizations, and various figures in Emgage have connections to Islamic terrorist groups.

Another Biden bundler is Amed Khan, a member of an advisory council for the International Crisis Group founded by George Soros. In an editorial for the Quincy Institute, an anti-war group funded by Soros, Khan blamed the refugee problem on America's attacks on the Taliban and Al Qaeda in Afghanistan, and on sanctions on the narcosocialist Maduro regime in Venezuela.

Another of the bundlers on the list is Hady Amr, Obama's Deputy Special Envoy for Israeli-Palestinian Negotiations, who has co-authored articles calling for a Hamas deal.

Amr had been the founding director of the Brookings Doha Center in Qatar. The Islamic terror state of Qatar has dominated Brookings and is a major backer of the Brotherhood and Hamas.

But the most striking bundler on the six figure list may be Mohamed Soltan.

Soltan is the son of Muslim Brotherhood cleric Salah Soltan. Salah had claimed in television appearances that people from all over the world “thirst for the blood of the Jews, and predicted, “One of these days, the U.S. will suffer more deaths than all those killed in this third Gaza holocaust. This will happen soon.”

Mohammed Soltan claimed that he was tortured by Egypt’s new government which had removed the brutal Muslim Brotherhood regime from power. While it's not certain that the Mohammed Soltan on the Biden bundler list is the same man, Soltan lives in Fairfax, Virginia.

While Soltan has denied that he’s affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood, he served as president of the Muslim Student Association at Ohio State. The MSA was set up by Muslim Brotherhood members. He was also a speaker at an American Muslims for Palestine (AMP) conference. The AMP has been linked to the Muslim Brotherhood and Hamas, a terror arm of the Brotherhood.

Soltan has posted messages praising the Brotherhood and Hamas, describing the "Ikhwan" or Brotherhood as the "school that breeds amazing freedom fighters" like a Hamas leader.

In a tweet to the IDF spokesperson, Soltan declared that the terrorists were lions that would "annihilate u Zionist pigs".

A video shows him leading the "Khaybar" chant calling for the murder of Jews.

Joe Biden had tweeted support for Soltan by name and the Islamist supporter had thanked him personally after the Obama administration helped him escape Egyptian justice.

It’s understandable why the Biden campaign didn’t want Americans seeing a list of its top bundlers until now. The list contains disturbing names, lobbyists, and figures linked to Islamic terrorist organizations and regimes from Iran to Pakistan to the Muslim Brotherhood.

The presence of so many Islamist bundlers testifies not only to their determination to buy influence in a Biden administration, but Biden’s eagerness to sell out America. These donations are the culmination of decades of Biden’s pandering to Iran, to Pakistan, and to the Muslim Brotherhood. These are the numbers in cold hard cash for which Biden is betraying America.

The bundler list shows that Biden will aid Iran, Pakistan, and the Muslim Brotherhood. Islamic terrorists will thrive and Americans, and free people around the world, will die at their hands.

The Biden campaign is funded by supporters of Islamic terrorism because it supports terror.