#home office approved translators

[homeofficetranslationsuk]

What Happens If I Use Free Home Office Certified Translation Services in the UK?

Thinking of using free translation services for your important documents? Our blog explains why it can be risky. Free services might not be accepted by the Home Office and could cause problems. Find out why it’s better to use certified professionals for your translations.

Read more: What Happens If I Use Free Home Office Certified Translation Services in the UK?

[sailorvenusxoxo]

Full Celebration

Fandom: Rivals

Pairing: Tony Baddingham x Reader

Summary: The second part of "Half-Celebration". You threatened Tony with a good time, and a hint of a dominance streak. But now, in the intimacy of your place, the rest of the celebration for Corinium's success can take place...

Warnings: Smut, fem!reader (but no she/her pronouns), cunnilingus, fellatio, vaginal sex, grinding, mirror sex, slight femdom, switching

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey everyone! Due to some people asking it, I published a part 2, which is also on Ao3! If you have any requests, I'm willing to try, and obviously, any constructive criticism is welcomed! <3 Also, I apologise in advance, English is NOT my first language. Lots of love 🫶🏻

Were you excited? Antsy? Apprehensive? 

Hehe, of course you were.

Giving blue balls to Lord Tony Baddingham, your own boss, and also coincidentally your lover, was an enormous thrill, and a massive ego boost. You still remembered the way his face scrunched in pure frustration, as he had realised the intent of your visit to his office, and the sound of his growl, almost ready to pounce on you, and prolong the celebration on the carpet of his office.

As you looked at yourself in your fancy golden lined mirror, checking your appearance for the last time, you nodded your head in approval at your reflection.

You knew what was coming tonight. Perhaps a shitstorm, due to the little dominant streak that had taken over you earlier that day. Would there be a reverse, where he’d take back his usual dominant role, and… perhaps… punish you, for today’s boldness? Or maybe he simply loved your confidence and sudden dominance, and he’d reluctantly ask for more?

Either way, both scenarios seemed equally as enticing. You felt yourself already slightly flush at the idea, and you scrunch your face, trying to make it go away. You added some more blush to make it seem like you had just forced on it. It was simply horrendous, when Tony mocked you and infantilised you for your blush.

As you dusted your lounge outfit once more, the door opened. Tony never rang. “Why would I? My bloody name’s on it, and I pay the rent.”, he’d always retort, whenever you scoffed at him for it. Which you always did, because no matter the fact he payed it, or the fact his name was on the papers, you were the one living there. You loved your privacy, and your precious alone time in this fancy flat, after a long day of working and asserting yourself at Corinium. And, Tony almost felt like a jumpscare, when he barged at 10pm, grumbling about work and his home life, while you were all wrapped up for bed, with your homemade mask, hair rolled up, and nestled in your favourite jumper.

Though… Something that you tried not to acknowledge, to not give your affair too much of an emotional importance, but Tony usually never mentioned your attire. He’d just sit next to you on the couch, loosen his tie, and rant to you about everything that annoyed him, while he’d steal some of your snacks.

A part of you was annoyed by it, but another part could not help but find it… endearingly domestic.

Still, he came in, and saw you facing your reflection. Your eyes met in the mirror, and you tilted your head at him, face playfully stoic, as your hands went on your hips. He smirked to himself, rolling his eyes, as he snickered.

“Yes, yes, I know. ‘Knock before coming in’... You need to stop saying it like that, you make me sound like a nosy mum…”

You rolled your eyes, still facing the mirror, as he slowly walked to you, his expensive shoes echoing on the wooden floor. As you were about to open your mouth again, to notify him that, unlike him, you did not have a cleaning lady, and did the moping yourself (which translated to: ‘take off your shoes.’), he stood behind you, putting his large skinny hands on your hips, his eyes going from your actual face, to your eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

He smirked again, and whispered to your ear, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Admiring yourself, starlet? Hosting your own little show?”

You huffed softly, before pinching your lips, as his chapped lips started to pepper some kisses on your neck. Alright, you had gotten the vibe. You had your dominant streak earlier, but he was taking control back again. A part of you felt a bit disappointed, but not too much. You still enjoyed yourself very much, when he dominated you. Though… that spark you felt, with your heel on his forehead, his face stuck between your thighs, putty in your hands… That was something. But, oh well. It was nice enough while it lasted-

“You know… I have to admit, your little bit earlier was interesting.”

He suddenly murmured into your ear, his teeth nibbling on your lobe. Your pulse accelerated, and not just because of the sensual nibbling. He had enjoyed it? Because, that was basically what he meant. Clearing your throat, you decided to test the waters.

“...If you actually enjoyed it, you can just say it like that, instead of playing the cryptic card…”

You muttered, your voice a bit lower than usual. You heard him chuckle, before his grip on your hips tightened.

“...Maybe I did. Maybe it stirred something.”

He whispered back, pressing a kiss to the skin of your neck, below your ear.

“Seeing you like this… All dominant, confident… you looked gorgeous, starlet. Like a bloody goddess, sculpted out of my bare hands…”

He praised, his left hand slowly going from your hip to your chest, and cupping your left breast. You let out a soft gasp, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“...You know Tony… You paid for my flat, got me this job, believed in me… And I’m very grateful.”

You started, your voice a hushed murmur.

“But… No matter what, don’t forget that my bloody talent got me there. Got us there. You wouldn’t have believed in me, and lavished in such expenses, if I hadn’t been that fucking good back then, on the NBC. Corinium wouldn’t have such high rates, if it weren’t for me and all the work I pour into your company.”

His eyes looked to yours in the mirror, slightly taken aback, as you continued, your right hand reaching behind you, to take a hold of his crotch.

“The praise is nice to hear, Tony. But don’t forget who you also owe some of your success to.”

You murmur, staring right into his eyes, through the reflection. His eyes widened slightly. For a second, you got slightly apprehensive. Would he be turned off by this dirty talk turned quite personal? Would he ignore it, and get back to his dominant persona, or even worse, and just walk away? 

But to your surprise and relief, he kept on looking into your eyes, lust clouding his dark brown eyes. The hand that rested on your left breast suddenly twitched, as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, through your shirt. Your eyes widened, as you let out a soft moan, still looking at his reflection.

“Is that right? I should be more grateful, more thankful? Get on my knees, perhaps, to praise and thank the almighty producer?”

Tony growled, his voice betraying pure arousal. Gosh, this was your shot. Your chance.

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

You retorted, your face slightly more stoic, your back still pressed against his chest.

“Get on your knees. Thank me dutifully, and make me feel appreciated.”

You ordered, your voice low, pressing your hand harder on his crotch, as he let out a groan. You put both your hands on the furniture before you, still looking at the mirror, as you felt Tony slipping your pants down, getting on his knees.

He peppered harsh kisses on your backside, almost nibbling at the flesh his teeth could access, while playing with your underwear.

Tony’s enthusiasm was almost feverish, as his long fingers harshly slipped your underwear off you, and you gripped the furniture.

Tony Baddingham. On his knees. For you.

You had to see that.

You turned around, slightly startling him, before hooking a leg around his neck, colliding his face to your core. His dark eyes looked up to yours, as you simply murmured.

“Shut it. Eat me out, that’s it. Last time wasn’t long enough.”

His eyes squinted again, as he gripped the flesh of your thighs with his hands, completely devouring you.

His tongue, like it did earlier that day, lapped all around your sensitive area, before he decided to ignore your instruction to make it last, as he suckled on your clit, his tongue flicking on it, as he messily rubbed his mouth and chin all over.

He was ravenous, like a starved man, discovering his first drop of water.

Your back arched, and this time, you could gasp and cry out of pleasure as much as you wanted, with no fear of being heard. You looked back at him, flushed, panting, chest heaving.

“That’s right… keep going, you better not stop…”

You growled softly, hooking your right leg tighter, to nestle his face further into your most intimate place. In the corner of your eye, as he was busy working on you, you noticed the red kitten heels you had worn today.

As you looked to the powerful Corinium CEO on his knees for you, an idea came to your mind. You shifted slightly, to sit for support on the furniture, before slipping your left foot in your heel.

Discreetly, you sneaked your left foot along Tony’s thigh, caressing his inner thigh with the point of your heel. He gripped your skin harder, his mouth now almost suckling harder, as you groaned.

“Easy…”

You mumbled to him, before your left heel harshly pressed into his groin. He let out a startled gasp, as you pressed your heel even more. His eyes looked to yours, as he started to moan, his lips parting, as he licked them in a hurry, trying to talk.

“You fucking little-”

He started, before you interrupted.

“Shut your fucking mouth. Take what I give you, and get back to work.”

You snapped, gripping his hair with a hand, shoving his face back between your thighs, as he moaned loudly at your dominance, his hips now bucking into your foot, shamelessly mumbling words against your soaking core.

“So fucking gorgeous, look at you… All wet, for me to devour…”

He groaned, almost humping your foot, as you felt yourself slowly coming undone. The pressure was building up, and you just loved to see him like this.

Just like it happened earlier, you came against his mouth, as he shamelessly slurped everything.

Still shaking, you unhooked your right leg, and pulled your left foot away from his groin.

He looked up to you, still on his knees, as he weakly chuckled, licking his lips.

“...Are you gonna leave me all blue balls again?”

He murmured, as you shook your head, slowly.

“...No. You took good care of me. You deserve a….little reward.”

You murmured, before joining him on the floor.

There, you unbuckled his belt, looking into his eyes, who looked as eager and dark as earlier that day.

His erection sprung out, you made a gesture with your chin.

“Up on your feet.”

You ordered him, to which he executed himself. He stood up, taking the same furniture you did as support.

Then, with his crotch facing you, you decided it wasn't just going to be any blowjob. But simply a way to have him surrender even more.

You licked his leaking tip, teasingly, before pressing a chaste kiss on his tip.

He shivered, gripping the furniture harder.

“F-Fuck…”

He grumbled, as you peppered chaste kisses all over his hard length.

“Feels good, huh?”

You murmured.

“Torturous, almost… my lips on you, but not exactly like usual…”

He groaned again, looking down at you.

“For fucks sake, just hurry…”

You snicker, shaking your head, before your kisses moved to his sack.

“Oof… so full… Were you really that excited, earlier?”

You mocked him, before licking a stripe on it, as he let out a sharp gasp.

The stripe soon turned into a suckle, before it turned into a full blown slow sucking of his balls, as your hand worked on his length.

You pulled away for a bit, as he panted, already moaning and shaking his head, before you lubed your hand with your spit.

You got back to stroking his length, before wrapping your lips around his tip, fully putting it in your mouth. You softly sucked on it, before you tried to take more and more of him in your throat, trying your best to mix all the elements that made a blowjob acceptable.

Breath through your nose, press your thumb into your palm to not gag, and bobbing your head softly, deciding to continue in this teasing trajectory, to drive him insane.

And god, was it working.

He was moving his hips, thrusting into your mouth, loudly moaning.

“F-Fuck, starlet! Just like that, I swear t-to god… Fuck yeah, that’s right…”

He groaned. You kept on sucking him for a while, slowly, teasingly slow, as tears of pleasure and eagerness pooled in his eyes.

Seeing this, you pulled away, smirking, satisfied. You had brought Tony Baddingham to tears. Tears.

As you stood up, smug and proud, he grabbed your hips, to your surprise, and turned you back to the mirror.

Your eyes widened, before he looked to your reflection, looking like a mess, and murmured into your ear.

“That’s what I wanted… see you in all your glory, before making you come undone like a proper little mess, clenching around my cock…”

You blinked, and suddenly, his plan and intentions became clearer.

He wanted for you to dominate him again, a bit more, to rile him up to no end, so he could dominate you in return. An endless fight for dominance, that sounded simply divine.

“...Yeah? Think you can do that?”

You managed to say to his reflection, as he wrapped an arm around your waist, hoisting one of your knees on the furniture below the mirror.

Tony looked to your eyes in the reflection, and murmured.

“...Y’know I can. Don’t act coy.”

He grumbled, as he bit softly on his neck, leaving a soft mark. He continued by saying something that unfortunately always made your stomach churn in desire.

“You’re gonna look at that bloody mirror, while I wreck you, Starlet. You’re gonna make the hottest movie ever for me, aren't ya? Be my pretty little star for the night, while I thrust into you with no mercy? I want to see you… all putty in my hands, moaning, shaking, flushing… that clear, starlet?”

You shivered at his crude, harsh, but so exciting words. You nodded, pinching your lips.

“...Okay.”

You murmured.

Tony gripped your hips, before lining himself up with you, the tip of his cock finding your entrance. Finally doing so, he slowly entered you, letting your warmth wrap him and suck him into yourself, as your moans both echoed.

“Fuck…”

You murmured, enjoying the sensations of your two bodies connecting. Soon enough, after a minute of slow thrusting, to linger around and enjoy the feeling, his thrusts grew harsher, faster, as his grip on your hips grew harder.

“F-Fuck… that’s it, starlet… take it, do your pretty little moans for me, princess…”

Tony groaned, his mouth attacking your neck, as you looked at your messy reflection in the mirror.

Your breasts were out of the shirt, as Tony’s hand went to cup one, your eyes were pooling with tears, and your lips were parted, letting out the precious sounds Tony craved.

“A-Argh… just like that, damn it… just like that…”

You groaned, praising him, as you moved his hips too, one of your hand going to your clit, to play with it, and heighten the sensations.

“So fucking gorgeous… look at you, starlet, shining like a pretty little star…”

Tony murmured, with an amused smile, as you slightly chuckled as well. Indeed, you were shining, but due to sweat. Not for some other romantic or poetic reasons.

Minutes passed, with Tony’s endless thrustings, his lips on your neck, a hand cupping your breast, squeezing it, pinching the nipple… and all of those stimulation, added to the visual stimulation of seeing the whole spectacle as a front row spectator, was just euphoric.

Without any warning, you clenched around Tony, your back arching, your toes curling, as you let out a hoarse cry.

“A-Ah, Fuck!”

You cried out, as Tony joined you shortly after. In a post orgasmic bliss, his hips kept on slowly thrusting, to ride the waves of both your orgasms.

He peppered kisses on your neck, soft ones this time.

“...You were amazing.”

He mumbled, looking at your reflection.

“...You always were, and always will be, starlet.”

He added.

And as you looked at your reflection, wrecked but happy, and thought back of your professional and sexual accomplishments, you concluded that….

Yes, indeed. You were amazing, and always will be.

[moonsaver]

Sumeru roses, House of Daena, Sticky notes.

-------

Being an asisstant for the scribe isn't so bad. Just ignore the persistent overtimes, the scent of your perfume everywhere, and the new ink bottles that keep running out on his desk. You didn't anticipate red being his favorite ink to work with.

A/n: more than 2.5k words. I didnt bother counting. I hsed google translate for arabic whoops sorry not sorry <3 also its been a while since i wrote.

Warnings/tags: reader is g/n, yandere Alhaitham, Alhaitham x reader, stalking, paranoia, obsessive themes, very very subtle mentions of blood (if you squint), kind of drawn out? Horrible arabic google translate quote. Probably OOC but you can ignore that

------

You admit, being an asisstant isn't so bad.

Of course, at first when you broke the announcement to your parents you wanted to further your studies at the Akademiya, your parents werent approving. They wanted you to get a cushy job and earn as soon as possible; you don't blame them. Having that life sounds peaceful, however, you think delaying it a bit won't hurt. You haven't had the proper chance to really scour the library at your own leisure, at least, not as a student.

So, while job-hunting, (which was wonderfully disrupted by the huge Archon-Overthrow-play-god plan for a good few weeks,) you got an offer as the Asisstant of the Grand Sage; which was suspicious from how good of a title it was. The Akademiya was desperate to get back on it's feet, and who were you to deny the offer?

Of course, it didn't quite occur to you until the first day of your job you'd be working alongside Alhaitham, the scribe of the Akademiya (and perhaps his infamous title as the one who curated a plan to foil Azar's shenanigans).

Which was fine. He was generally alright,if not great to work with. Straightforward, clear, brief, analytical and most of all – he wasn't pushy. Which was a relief, of course. You managed to make small talk from time to time (if you could really call it that,) and came to a consensus with him on many things, mostly that both of you were not pleased with overtime. The moment the clock hit 5:00 PM, both of you were out of your offices and posts. You were mutually respectful, and generally tolerated each other well.

Of course, things at your job got shaken up when your schedule was thrown off balance. Your favorite drink always ran out, your mornings were crowded and somehow you started showing up later than usual, which meant you went home later aswell (much to your dismay).

Another strange series of events started taking place, if you could even call it that. You swear you haven't been watering the plants in front of your home, and the soil is dry enough, so how are they so.. vibrant? And recently, you swear one of the plants is growing a little too much, basically covering one of the windows, threatening to break it. Sticky notes scattered around the front of your house which you originally thought of as littering from those raucous kids your neighbours can't keep in control – you only realised they were for you when you caught a glimpse of your name on it, and you can only agree with the suspicious look on your friends’ faces when you show them the notes – bright Canary yellow and the striking red colour across the notes (although, you've only shown them the more milder ones. You can't imagine the panic you'll be forced to acknowledge if they see some of the other.. strange ones.)

And you suppose your paranoia has caught up to you. Your sleep-deprived mind swears that new red coloured bottle of ink on Alhaitham's desk wasn't there. You swear he never used that bright Canary Yellow colour of post-its. Did he really like that drink he always seemed to get for both of you? It conveniently ran out when you wanted it, and even more so, he conveniently just brought an extra since it was on discount? Of course it all just seems like a coincidence. You're a fool to even think otherwise.

And well, you're fine. Your life has always been a long series of fine, even with the occasional weird mishaps. That's how it's always been, and you don't intend to change it; rather, you really do find change almost repulsive (save for the panic you felt deep down in your stomach at all the things you couldn't control). And that “fine” comes to a halt when you find your door absolutely mauled with sticky notes. There's a bouquet of Sumeru Roses at the bottom, as if to try and apologise sheepishly for the terrifying collage on your door. The terrifying numbness in your fingers, face, your brows furrowed as you can't decide just how to react, the elevated heartbeat – you swear you can feel the blood threaten to burst through your chest. 

You opted to stay with a friend that night. You don't know what you were expecting when you came back in the morning, and all of those notes were gone, except a singular one in the middle, “الهوس والحب مترادفان، لكنهما لا يقارنان بارتباط روحي بروحك” (which you had to reread almost 30 times with your broken arabic, checked with someone from the Haravatat Darshan, to really confirm – obsession and love are synonyms, but they are nothing compared to the connection of my soul to yours – is what it said, and it's echoed in your head for weeks). You can't remember the last time you wore your rose perfume after that.

Scouring in the House Of Daena didn't seem to alleviate your troubles that well, either. The books you read one day, and opted to continue the next – vanished. Someone else always had the upper hand. And when they returned, they were scribbled and annotated with many pockets of information. Sometimes they overshadow the information on the page itself. And on the rare occasion you put your head on the books as a makeshift pillow for a power nap, you jolted up from just a sniff. Sumeru roses hit your nose.

And of course, when you find notes with all different handwritings on your desk in the office, you think someone's playing a cruel prank on you. But your office was locked. No one saw anyone enter your office. You did your usual check up before you locked it last night, and assorted everything in place. None of these notes were here. And of course, your only clue is the fact they're all Canary Yellow post-its, and that striking scarlet red ink on it. Hasn't the bottle on Alhaitham's desk been running out? He mentioned it off-handedly. You remember saying blue ink was cheaper. He didn't respond.

–

overtime was disdainful, for the lack of a better word. However, that implies only to the masses – it is no problem for him to come up with better synonyms to describe the situation at hand. “Distasteful”, “loathsome”, “detestable”, and so on. However, complaining will not solve the stacks of files on his desk that he wishes to do away with as soon as possible.

If anything pleases him more than his usual combination of abstruse books, isolation from the general public, and extreme individuality, it is that as the Grand Sage's assistant – you are expected to stay back for the extended hours as much as he is, if not more. For once, working overtime (or being forced to) has brought him progress. Will a few more hours of scribbling away and reviewing files change anything huge? He will return to his post again tomorrow as he has today, and the work will continue. Although, this time, it is you who stays working overtime. So for once, if it manages to quiet down the poking and prodding of other nosy scholars, reprimanding him for never working even a minute after the allocated time, he does so for the exchange of working with you.

And he doesn't intend to burden you, but he knows the desperation you work with, trying your best to cram in any minute, second into trying to get ahold of those books at the House Of Daena. So, if at least to make you stay for longer, he assigns you the more dragged out, tedious work. And to make it better – you just got locked out of your office. He has an extra pair, which he diligently uses for his own interest. As for you; perhaps being so frantic and scrambling to gather all books you might have read the day before may have caused you to drop your keys somewhere along the way. Would he know? Of course – he's diligently collected and added it to his inventory. Would he tell you? It would be like stepping on his own tail. The lack of certainty in a schedule makes for more freedom – he thinks. It's for your own good; he almost says. And to have you work in the same proximity as him? It's a bonus. 

Many consider him to be talented and extraordinarily intelligent, so just take his advice as literally as you can. Or maybe he just needs to tell you directly while making small talk between you two more frequent. To his dismay (and your absolute horror), the sticky notes seem to be working counterproductively. Perhaps he should just show up at your house with a bouquet of Sumeru roses and a small journal filled with his advice? He jests, it's only an entertaining idea. The bewildered look on your face makes him adore you – even if only imaginative.

The lift stops at the top floor. He sees your figure standing beside his desk, an expanse of books behind you. The sharp yellow lights contrast your figure to the dim blue light sphere in the middle. He feels the corners of his mouth perk up into a smile,and stops himself.

Another overtime shift for the both of you.

—

Overtime was not easy. You wouldn't have minded it – the job pays you well, and its quite comfortably tucked into the Akademiya, where no one bothers you, and you can easily access the House of Daena. However, the stress and paranoia has absolutely drained you. 

You've visited the matra recently. Frantically scraping together whatever evidence you can, everytime your “admirer” decided to gift you something new, leaving almost no time in your schedule. Daily visits to the library turned into constant visits to the matra, detailing your issues. You would have opted to stay silent, brushing it off as someone who was.. weirdly shy. But shy people don't stalk you, shy people don't leave obsessive notes for you, shy people don't visit your house at unholy hours of the night. And who knows what else this stalker of yours has been up to recently?

Revenge bedtime procrastination turned into sleepless nights, flinching at every sound, hiding under the covers until there was no oxygen and your entire face was covered in sweat. Workload seemed to increase, from how often you kept messing up, many things clouding your mind. Alhaitham's prickly eyes took notice, and he suggested drinking another beverage aside from coffee in the morning, and offered to get you something else – which you generously refused and turned down. (the last thing you would want to be is in someone else's debt at this time. Even if it's just a drink, who knows what else it could add up to in the future?)

So, here you were; irritated, on edge and in the dimly lit office which was viciously devoid of any natural light. You wonder why someone would want such a stuffy office, with books probably growing mold inside. Sure, it's spacious, but it's utter lack of life in it repulses you. It has the comfort level of a hospital waiting room, and it's just enough to add onto the little things that bother you, on top of everything else.

If that wasn't any better – Alhaitham seemed particularly chatty this evening. Perhaps his parasitic roommate (whom he has lovingly mentioned, multiple times,) has been ignoring him as of late? Maybe a commission in the desert, or a commission that requires a huge amount of unnecessary labour? And the (Acting) Grand Scribe has mentioned several times how the blonde architect works himself almost half to death just to get a smile out of his customers. You painstakingly understand him in silence, and don't comment on it.

The rest of the night continues – the benignity of it isn't lost on you. Occasionally perking up from your own scribbling upon Alhaitham's call, searching for a specific book on the vast (dusty, if you may add) shelves, and commenting on a few meeting topics and research projects he grazes, assigning you a few. He doesn't miss the comical dragging of your feet as you walk back over to your desk, befuddled with more work. He wants to tease you, he wants you to ask him for help, for an extra bottle of ink, for an extra post it note, whatever way in which you ask for his help.

He theorises you don't remember much of your and his student days.

—

“shit, I forgot them.”

You searched the familiar pockets and zips of your bag, scrunched eyebrows in frustration.

“Seriously? I'm not lending you any of mine~”

Your friend laughed. You sigh.

“I let you hog all my lunch and this is what I get as a thank you?”

“Too bad. You don't like the blue coloured ones anyway.”

“I'm desperate for a sticky note. Does it look like I'm in a state to be picky?”

Your friend laughs again, and throws their little compact stack of post-its on your book.

“Fine. But you've already annotated so much, what are you gonna write about?”

“Hmm? Wouldn't you like to know?”

You playfully ignore them, as they chitter behind you; carefully sticking it into your textbook and scribbling down the information before you forget. You sigh and look up. You make eye contact.

Right. It's him.

The grey-haired Haravatat boy that rarely showed up. Everyone knew him for his quiet attitude, and his tendency to make your professor's blood boil due to his absence in every lecture. Your friends had a few inside jokes about him. You would dare say this is your first encounter, or really the only one, with him. A stoic look and a judgmental one at the same time, behind curiously multicoloured eyes. 

Nearing the end of the semester – usually the smart ones would avoid the house of Daena, as it would overflow with study groups of caffeine-run seniors and freshman alike. Some of the other clever ones chose spots that weren't easy to find in the first place, and some chose to simply come early.

The thing is, you didn't come early. You were here from midnight. The librarian and all the security checks probably missed you, since you were neatly tucked away into the corner, taking a well-needed nap on one of your reference materials. You only woke up when one of your friends, and that boy poked and prodded you. Your friend laughed until they were out of breath when you looked up – drool slipping down past your chin, eyes swollen from the lack of sleep (and the incessant crying of an academic student), handwriting illegible from just how drowsy you were. The boy only stood quietly, probably judging your.. mannerisms. You weren't sure how, or why, he sat down at the same table as you and your friend. 

—-

Every once in a while - Alhaitham does use the sticky notes.

He didn't buy them. He wanted to borrow them for a short second, but in your hurry, you gave him the compact stack and left, never looking back. After that, you never got them back. Neither of you had the time, and your fate simply intertwined for a brief moment. Things like these happen.

But you keep appearing in the crowd.

He sees you in a flurry of students, or alone at a desolate desk. On a high-up ladder reaching an impossibly reachable book, crouching down to pick up the several you dropped in the process. Passing by the dull lecture halls as he slipped into the library, following the reference materials his father recommended, picked out neatly from private journals and books. The yellow sticky notes never served him much purpose after a single use. He debated simply keeping them on your desk the next time he saw you, but never quite worked up the courage. He swore the sumeru rose scent gave him a headache.

So, when he heard you were continuing your studies at the Akademiya, he was pleased. Working as a Scribe was a simple job, and his chances of seeing you just increased. And he may have been too ambitious, but it worked greatly in his favour – as he opened up another Assistant role for you. 

He hums, content with his decision to keep the sticky notes. Now - how would he utilise them? He wonders if you remember that friend's handwriting. Simple notes turned into obsessive confessions.

Once in a while turned into almost everyday, the more he observed you.

His obsession alone could become the subject of his own studies – but for now you are his sole interest.

And the next overtime, his first after returning to his post as the Scribe – he decides to finally close the chapter.

Has your perfume always been this sweet? That headache's been catching up to you. All that worrying and panic.. when was the last time you slept?

He opens the door to his office. You stand under the warm light, horrified. Piles of sticky notes crowd your feet. The wall barely peeks through behind you from the sticky notes. He closes the door, and a flurry of them fall from the movement. Both of you stare at each other.

“Alhaitham?”

You remember looking at the collection of sticky notes you'd received over a period of time. Is the red ink turning brown? You swore the color changed. Is it supposed to smell? You don't think you want to know.

“Congratulations. You've made it this far. Ive been waiting to talk to you in private."

Your arms go limp, dropping the stack of files onto the floor. The clock ticks silently. You should have gone home. Your bad habit of staying past closing time and evading the security seemed to have not worked in your favour this time.

----

[reasonsforhope]

"While tourists visiting Mexican beaches complain about piles of smelly seaweed, one Mexican gardener reckoned it was something like a gift.

The governments in places like Cancun have been required to clear away as much as 40,000 tons of sargassum seaweed, which smells like rotten eggs, but Omar de Jesús Vazquez Sánchez is steering it away from the landfills and into a kiln, where he makes adobe-like blocks that pass regulation as a building material.

He started SargaBlock to market the bricks, which are being highlighted by the UN Development Program as a stroke of brilliance, and a sustainable solution to a current environmental problem.

His story begins back in 2015 when, like any experienced laborer, he found rich people were stuck with a job they didn’t want to do. In this case, it was cleaning up the sargassum on the beaches of the Riviera Maya.

Omar grew up in poverty, immigrated to the US as a child to become a day laborer, and eventually dropped out of school and became a substance abuser. The American dream never appealed to him as much as a “Mexican dream”—a mix of memories from his childhood and dreams of being a gardener back home, so he moved back.

His time feeling unwanted as an addict and immigrant gave him a unique perspective on the smelly seaweed.

“When you have problems with drugs or alcohol, you’re viewed as a problem for society. No one wants anything to do with you. They look away,” Omar told Christian Science Monitor in a translated interview.

“When sargassum started arriving, it created a similar reaction. Everyone was complaining, I wanted to mold something good out of something everyone saw as bad.”

The ecology and environment offices of Quintana Roo, the legislative area that includes the city of Cancun, approved the SargaBlocks for use, and similar organic-based blocks have been reckoned as being capable of enduring 120 years.

The UN Development Program selected Omar’s work to be featured in their Accelerator Lab global broadcast to alert the world of its value and ingenuity.

There are all kinds of naturally-occurring pollutants or burdens that could be used in construction, and the UNDP hoped that by sharing Omar’s vision of the future of the Caribbean’s sargassum problem, it would inspire others to act in similar ways.

Bricks and cement can be great sources to use up naturally-occurring material that’s dangerous or burdensome—like this Filippino community using the ash from volcanic eruptions to make bricks.

Omar has been fortunate enough to be able to donate 14 “Casas Angelitas,” or homes made of SargaBlock, to families in need, and seems to be exceedingly close to achieving his “Mexican dream.”"

-via Good News Network, 4/24/23

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 3)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, cliffhanger lol, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The engaged couple spent a blissful week in the Bahamas, with lazy mornings on the beach, where they enjoyed the sun and turquoise waters. They explored hidden coves, snorkeled among vibrant coral reefs, and took sunset boat rides that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. Evenings were filled with romantic dinners by the ocean, where they savored local cuisine and each other's company. Between laughter and quiet moments, their bond deepened, making the trip a perfect escape from work and the stressful life they led.

On Monday, they were back home and back to work. The of them were at their respective workspaces catching up on missed work. Y/n sat at her desk, skimming through the files that were placed in front of her when the telephone on her desk rang.

“Winchester Co, this is Dean Winchester’s office.” She said answering the phone with a professional tone. She waited for the person on the other end to introduce themselves. It was Mary Winchester. After exchanging pleasantries Mary asked her if Dean was free. “He’s catching up on the work he missed while he was away.” She replied, almost saying ‘while we were away’ but caught herself before she could ruin it all. She knew she had to wait for Dean to tell his mother about them.

“Could you ask him if he can come home for lunch?” Mary said and Y/n nodded although the other woman can’t see her.

“If you’d give me a minute.” She replied asking her to be on hold while she goes and asks Dean. She knocked on the door and went in when she heard his approval. Dean looked up to see Y/n enter and his face immediately morphed into a smile. “Hey! Your mom called and she’s asking if you could go over theirs for lunch?”

“Am I free?” Dean questioned getting up from his chair and walking over to her. She nodded in response. “Well then you can tell her, I’ll be there.” He said holding her waist. “Might as well tell them about us.” He leaned down to peck her lips. Her face broke into a huge smile and she quickly kissed him but he deepened the kiss pulling her close. She pulled away from him.

“Your mom’s on hold, waiting for me.” She scolded him lightly and he chuckled. He let her rush out of the room but not before smacking her rear, and she turned to glare at him. With quick steps she reached back to the phone and with a deep breath she picked it up. “He said he’ll be there, Mrs.Winchester.” The older woman thanked her and hung up.

A few hours later Dean left to meet his parents. When he returned, Y/n was right where he had last seen her, at her desk working diligently. He really admired her for her work, she never used her relationship with him as reason to slack off.

Y/n looked up to see Dean coming back but he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed and his jaw was tensed. He seemed frustrated or irritated. He moved past her and went inside his office without a word. Y/n furrowed her brows at his behaviour clearly not expecting him to ignore like she followed him inside.

“Dean?”

“Not now.” He replied with a sharp intensity in his gaze.

“Baby what’s wrong?” She tried again but he didn’t answer her.

“I said not now, Y/n. Get out of here, right now.” He bellowed and she jumped back a bit. He knew he fucked up the minute he looked at her, before he could open his mouth to apologise, she shook her head and left the room. The whole day Dean tried to approach her but she gave him the cold shoulder.

Y/n went back home when she was done for the day. She was midway preparing her dinner when her doorbell rang. She sighed dropping the spoon she was using to stir the pasta sauce because she knew who was at the door. She opened the door and there stood Dean. He had bouquet of red roses in his hands and an apologetic look on his face. At least he knows he fucked up. Without another word she left the door open and went back to her food.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly entering the kitchen. “I really am, I’m an A grade asshole who doesn’t deserve your forgiveness but you know I’d be a mess without you.” He said standing behind her and pulling her into a back-hug. “I’m sorry sweetheart I promise I won’t do it ever again.” He mumbled in her neck.

“Never again?” She asked turning her head slightly to look at him better.

“Never.” Dean said sincerely. “I promise.”

“That was the first and the last time you’ve pulled this, you hear me?” Y/n said sternly and he nodded eagerly. “Forgiven. But—” she held a hand up before he could get too excited. “If you’re staying you’re sleeping on the couch.” She added. Dean’s eyes widened and he immediately protested.

“What- baby no!”

“Yes!” She said crossing her arms against her chest. “Just so you’d remember not to be a bitch to me next time.” Dean wanted to argue but he knew he was fault so he had to make it up to her by proving to her that he’s remorseful and he’d never do it ever again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said dejectedly. “But I’m not compromising on kisses.” He said turning the stove off and smashing his lips to hers. He picked her up and placed her onto to counter. He slithered between her legs, resting his hands onto her waist. “I’m sorry, i missed you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“What actually happened?” She asked pulling away from him. He tensed a bit, avoiding eye contact. “Did she not approve of us?” She questioned meekly, already coming up with the worst case scenario.

“No!” He excalimed quickly. “No, my mom, she just said some stuff that pissed me off and i stormed off before I could tell her about us.” He said looking into her eyes. “I disappointed you twice today, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward for me to tell my family.”

“It’s okay Dean, I’m just worried about what she said that made you so angry. I’ve never seen you like his before.” She said running her hand through his hair and he leaned into her touch.

“Just about work, she thinks I’ve become impudent ever since I’ve become CEO.” Dean rolled his eyes repeating what his mother said.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n said not knowing what else to say. Dean brushed it off telling her it wasn’t her fault. Disregarding the issue Dean suggested dinner and the two of them sat in silence. After dinner Y/n declared she’s going to bed and Dean very sneakily tried to get in bed with her but she withstood her request.

“I had a bad day. And I said I’m sorry.” Dean whined like a child and she swore this man is not her boss. He is literally a different person outside of work and no one could ever convince her otherwise.

“No, just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. Let this be a lesson.” Dean reluctantly settled onto the couch. After hours of tossing and turning he had finally managed to fall asleep. Y/n looked at the clock, it read 3 am and she couldn’t sleep. Softly padding across her apartment she made her way to the couch, pulling the blanket off of Dean she settled beside him. Dean smiled in his sleep, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer. He knew she’d come around and she knew too that they’d both eventually end up on the couch.

The next few days were uneventful, Y/n went back and forth between home to work and vice versa, with Dean following her home everyday. It was normal Thursday afternoon, Y/n had just gotten off phone with Cas, she asked him where the hell has he disappeared to and he’d told her he had to fly to France for a charity event for a week. She told him to come back soon since she’s got news to share with him. Although she was pretty sure he was in on the plan when Dean suggested the vacation.

Y/n was buried deep in work when she heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor and she looked up to see a woman around her age sauntering over to her. She was ready to greet the woman with her well practiced professional smile but the woman walked past her towards Dean’s office. She quickly jumped from her desk chair and went behind her.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” The woman turned to face Y/n. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked but the brunetter shook her head. “I’m afraid I cant let you in there without an appointment.” Y/n said softly.

“I’m sure you’re just doing your job, darling but it’s fine. He won’t mind.” The woman replied with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be so sure ma’am, he doesn’t like unscheduled visitors.” She tried to be polite but she was running out of patience with this woman.

“It’s alright, I’m his fiancée.”

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[judesmoonbeauty]

Miss Fairytale Keeper, Come Have Fun With Us: Nica Schwartz EPILOGUE

Translations will not include screenshots or CGs as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

Nica: She truly is a cute robin.

I heard a muttered voice and turned around, but he just smiled and waved.

Kate: Did you say something?

Nica: Nothing at all. Anyway, if you don’t go home, then will you keep doing naughty things with me?

Kate: I won’t!

When I turned away from him, Nica began to walk ahead, chuckling.

(I’m so tired today…..)

(It’s all because of Nica’s teasing me)

As I watched his nonchalant back, I felt a little irritated, but I didn’t feel any regret about taking his hand.

[Transitions to the Palace.]

One day, a few days after the mission —

(I’m glad the issue was exposed because there was evidence of illegal gambling.)

It was thought that the evidence had been lost in the fire, but a ledger left at the scene revealed illegal gambling, and was delivered to Her Majesty the Queen.

(This is just the tip of the iceberg.)

I recalled Nica’s words and came to a halt.

(Still, I think we need to solve the problems in front of us one at a time.)

With a changed mindset, I started walking,

(Maybe I should talk to Nica about it?)

I turned on my heel to search the entire palace to lay out the facts.

Nica: I found a cute robin looking for me.

At that moment, Nica appeared before me and I jumped in surprise.

Kate: How did you know I was looking for you?

Nica: Heh, so you really were looking for me.

(I’ve been taken along for a ride…..)

Nica: Is there something you wanted to say to me?

Nica: How about some tea?

When I accepted the invitation with a nod, he escorted me to the drawing room, where I sat down on the sofa.

Nica: So, you wanted to have a chat about the casino the other day?

Kate: How’s that….

Nica: I’m a staff officer, right?

Nica: Information gathering is a skill.

He takes a sip of his tea and begins cutting the deck of playing cards he has in hand.

Nica: The core of the aristocrats were arrested, but the children of the upper class were released on bail.

Nica: Well, they’re nothing more than debauched sons and daughters.

Kate: …..People who’ve lost everything because of gambling.

Nica: At best they’ll go to a rescue institution, otherwise won’t they die in ditch somewhere? [1]

Nica: I don’t care what happens to the gambling addicts.

I frowned at his skillful shuffling.

Kate: They certainly brought it upon themselves.

Kate: But I don't believe that all of the people who attacked me had ill intentions that were beyond the point of no return.

Whatever the reason, it was a crime to cause an explosion and attack so many people.

Kate: I don’t approve of methods that do not allow room for rehabilitation.

Nica’s eyes widened and he blinks repeatedly.

Then, there’s a loud laugh.

Nica: I’m jealous that a kind young lady is worried about them.

Nica: Would you like to gamble to find out how they feel?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: You might understand if you experience the thrill of not knowing if you’ll win or lose,

Nica: The exhilaration of winning and the despair of losing.

When I gazed at him who was dealing the cards alternately,

Nica: What will you bet? Money? Your body?

Kate: I won’t bet that!

Nica: The bigger the stakes, the more intense it is.

When he picks up the cards dealt,

Nica: If I win, show me around the city.

Nica: Of course, without telling Crown.

Nica discards a pair of matching cards, and I realize this is a game of Old Maid.

Nica: You might not be trusted as a fairytale keeper anymore.

Kate: What’s in it for me?

Nica: If you win, I’ll tell you all about us.

Kate: What?

He flashed a card,

Nica: What’s our aim, what we’re going to do, I’ll answer all your questions.

Nica: What will you do?

He smiled meaningfully and crossed his legs.

(Maybe I can learn about “their lies” that Harrison was talking about.)

Kate: I’ll do it.

Nica: Now you’re talking.

Taking a deep breath I faced it.

Nica: Ladies first.

As he said that, I reached and pulled out a card, but

(Ah,)

I drew the joker, and resisted the urge to make a facial expression.

Then Nica smiled widely.

(Maybe he knows what I drew…..?)

Nica: Why are you staring at me like that. Have you fallen in love with me?

This battle may have been decided who’d lose from the start.

Ftn [1] 野垂れ死に 'Notarejini' - Literally, to die in a field or die a dog’s death.

[Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags list!

[fanficwriterlover]

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 2 (Part 1) : Big News to All

Summary : Hera has returned home, yet your absence has put a damper on the taskforce 141. Everyone is confused of your absence and it takes a lot of getting used to being a civilian now and being pregnant now.

Expectations: Confessions, Past Smut, Shooting, Cursing, Pregnancy, Reveals, Reconnecting, Smoking, Drinking, Assault, Google Translator etc.

Call-Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count: 6.7k

A03 Version

Ghost’s POV

Quit ? You ? That almost seems impossible to believe. He composes himself once more looking at Price for any sign of misunderstanding. But who was he kidding, this sort of topic isn’t something Price would make up into the thin of air let alone joke about. He could tell this was taking a heavy toll on him, as if this was the last thing he would’ve expected. As he should, because he probably was unaware that it was due to him scolding her for making her quit. Least, that’s what he told himself. His eyes narrow seeing the paper before Price, it was your resignation form. You filled it out yesterday and gave it to him. He stood for the longest time processing, had his words been too harsh ? Should be have approached you yesterday and apologized for what he said to you. Yet, Price was the one to pull him from his thoughts… “I was hoping she wouldn’t go about it this way…unless you had a hand in the decision?” he cocks his brow at him waiting. But from the sound of it, why was he asking as if the two of you talked as if you both needed approval from another ? “Sir ?” he was confused, why would he make a decision for you ? Obviously this made Price eyes widen “She didn’t say or mention anything to you ?” he then narrows his eyes on Ghost, Ghost was just as confused as he cocked a brow, crossing his arms over his chest “Should I have been aware of a choice the Sargent had made on her own accord ?” Price huffs at that rubbing his forehead, something was eating at him… like he knew something that Ghost didn’t knows. However he seems to brush it under “Nevermind Simon…I thought you two may have discussed or something before she wrote in her resignation.” He sighs at this leaning back in his chair grabbing a cigar and his lighter. Stressed. This wasn’t at all what they were expecting from you. Out of everyone you were the most driven and dedicated to staying with the taskforce. You saw them as family, and felt accepted. Ghost couldn’t help but feel slightly, disappointed? When he said those words to you, he expected you to more prove him wrong…but guess you didn’t. Yet, why is it bothering him so much that you didn’t. He looks back at the Captain “Sir…was there something I should know" he asks curiously watching the Captains movement as he took a drag of his smoke yet eventually landing his eyes back on him. “Honestly, it’s not my place to say Simon. But, when the time is right, I’m sure you’ll get the answer.” He sighs heavily, Ghost could see traces of stress in his voice that the very idea they’ve lost another member would take a toll. And it would, being asked into this taskforce is no easy deal. You’d be a hard person to replace, and quite frankly it’s too soon for it.

Ghost takes his leave from Prices office, he lingers by the door for a moment processing his words and his own with you. This felt like horrible timing, he wished he knew where you live so he could snap some sense into you. Maybe Johnny or Gaz knows where you live ? Perhaps he should see how they’re handling the news if they know about it. Surely she would’ve said goodbye to her best friends ? Though it’s odd that she didn’t even give Price a chance to coax her otherwise, and why wasn’t Price making efforts to get her back? For her to even leave would’ve required a signature approving her reason to depart, therefore someone higher rank has given it to her. But who ?

He trudges down the halls of the bunkers then sees one of the doors wide open, deep down he knew exactly who the room belonged to, well had, as he stands in front of the doorframe, your room. He can see that the room is a bare state now. The bed perfectly tucked and made, with an extra blanket laying at the end, folded neatly, with the pillow at the top fluffed up. From the desk cleaned with even some new pencils and pens in a cup and blank sheets of papers laid neatly, obviously done for the next person to inherit this room. He couldn’t help but be reminded of how the two of you spent that night together. It was a moment he let himself go, let Ghost go, and brought out Simon. He felt vulnerable to your touch yet felt the power that always coursed through you spread through him. Yet now, as he stands in the middle of your room, it’s cold, empty, lifeless. It feels more as if you were killed off never to be seen again. That made it feel worse. The fact that you made a room warm would be loss now. But most of all, he didn’t realize how dark his vision had become without your energy . You bright aura that shined so dominantly, it gave Ghost a headache sometimes because he was never used to such a sight. No matter when you’ve been shot at, stabbed, nearly blown up (as he still remembers the incident like it was yesterday). Every hellish moment, he was there with you during them saving you at the last minute or finding you. Even then, you never, ever, let it diminish your light. He takes in his surroundings once more, before silently leaving the bunker as he walked out the door he could hear the familiar footfall patterns of two Sargent’s obviously coming down probably to collect you. Instead they are faced with a skull mask.

Gaz curses in a mumble and Johnny practically jumps when Ghost steps out through the room. They both were obviously not expecting the looming man to step from your bedroom, but Gaz quickly recovers. “Afternoon sir, is y/n up ? We hadn’t seen her in a while and thought she was cooping herself up in there.” They both look at him expectantly he frowns a bit, it was a fleeting moment one neither would’ve caught as he now knew, that not only did you leave somehow with approval and never told himself or maybe the captain but you didn’t even tell your closest friends. The Sargent’s. He looks away from them glancing down to the other way of the hall saying gruffly “You won’t find ‘er ‘ere. She resigned from the taskforce.” He could hear the sharp intake of Soap and as he glances at them with his arms crossed now, they both are wide eyed and shocked. Soap is the first to speak “What ?! I don’t fuckin’ believe it !” he peeks into your once room, seeing how bare it is, he start rummaging through everything as if looking for any sign that just maybe, maybe, you left for a bit and would return. He flung open your closet where your clothes used to hang but it was empty, except for extra hangers on the pole and extra blankets, towels, etc laying on the top shelf. Gaz stands there stunned yet, sadden as Soap still seems to refuse you’ve left as he curses “Fuck !” his efforts are to no a vail. You had cleaned out your bunker spotlessly, there was no practical evidence of you living here for all these years. And that’s what hurt more. Gaz mumbles softly. “She didn’t even say bye…nothing…” he almost whispers it. Ghost could tell it was tearing the inside of Gaz. You two were hip and bone. He remembers when the two of you found out that you were part of the same taskforce exclaiming how you both met on a mission in Paris and you were aiding Gaz’s team to collecting more Intel. So seeing that not only were they not told of your soon departure but you had left without a word to your friend. Ghost breaks the annoying silence, in some cases he would’ve enjoyed it, but it was painful now, usually you were the one to break the moment with your cheerful demeanor and made everyone forget what they were glooming or stressing about. Now you were gone. The effects obvious now. “Soap, Gaz, you two are needed to train the privates. Should get to it Sargent’s.” He watches as they both seem to straighten up at the order, walking out of your once room slowly, Gaz lingering last as Ghost observed him. “Did she not say anything to you Lt ?” he still looking at the room but glances his way as Ghost meets his eyes, “No.” Gaz nods his head painfully, almost having to accept the reality, he took his leave of the room leaving Ghost last. He takes one last look, a reminder of the place he seen her so many times, before leaving. He shut the door to your room then went to his office to get some work done. Maybe, just maybe, he hoped they’d see you again. Maybe you would come back ?

Your Pov

Honestly it was scary leaving, the base was your home for so long. Wearing your military attire was all you’ve ever known., yet now you were dressed as a civilian in a cab heading back. Already you felt butterflies in your stomach, it was thanks to Laswell for making the changes and approving you resignation and to leave the base. Already driving home, you were about three hours from your home and already excited to see your mother. You had called ahead to let your mother know you’ll be returning home which she was ecstatic to know you’ll be home. She just didn’t know you were pregnant and you had to leave the taskforce because of it. That was a conversation you were dreading. Your mother being a single mother and raising you on her own, had always wanted you to do better than her. She made the mistake in dating your father who had one too many issues that your mother to this day refuses to share the details. All you knew was you mother hightailed as far as possible, dishonored by her own parents for being knocked up before marriage and choosing to keep you. Yet to her, you were a blessing. You gave her motivation to keep living and honestly embrace motherhood. You were never a complicated child, sure as you got older you rebelled but you respected your mother above all else. She inspired you to join the military because you saw her as fearless and determined as a soldier. The moment you hit 16, things were getting harder financially so you asked her, no pleaded with her to let you join the service. Of course emotionally she refuses but you had encouraged telling her how it was your wish, even though you simply joined to support your mother. Every paycheck you received went to your mother. And you made certain she was given it on time. This allowed your mother and you to look into a new home that was more suitable than a dingy old flat. You both ended up saving up on a nice townhouse that had more rooms than your old flat. It was a three bedroom two bath, a decent size kitchenette, living, and one office. One bedroom is upstairs and the other is upstairs next to the office.

You knew immediately that the third bedroom will likely become your unborn child’s bedroom. A part of you seemed excited to prepare for the baby but another part of you terrified, you left at a crucial time for the team. You would have gone on a mission to eliminate and it was a top priority but now with you out, and no reason to be allowed to return for a long while it broke your heart to think that you’ll be looked at differently. Definitely probably in the eyes of the Lieutenant, you knew he took betrayal seriously and to him you’re probably certain he believes you did just that.

Sighing heavily you rub your brows you draw closer and closer to home, passing by valley, meadows, woods, homes, farmlands and more each passing by in a haze. It’s almost hard to imagine that this world is peaceful when there’s war raging elsewhere. Knowing exactly your team will be giving their lives for this exact peace while you would not be there to see it through. You don’t realize how much driving gone by until you see a familiar street, as your driver turns down it. Your home, how it seemed unfamiliar, all the rows of homes lined up nicely in different shades it was emotional seeing it once more. When the driver finally pulls to the front of your driveway you nearly suck in a breath. Seeing your home digits on the door as you can seeing your mother’s car in the driveway. You smile to yourself, opening your purse you grab out the cash to pay the driver, adding an extra tip for the ride as he gets out to pull out your duffle bag. You travel light, you didn’t have much anyways. Taking it in hand you thank him as he then drives off.

Standing in your driveway it felt unreal, you never thought you’d come home honestly. With always being on mission you honestly thought you’d die on the field before you ever could be home again. As sad as that reality was, you were always away. From one base to another it never ended. And Laswell always needed your for a mission so it was impossible to be in one place for long. Which you didn’t mind, however, sometimes you were homesick or close to facing death. You don’t know how long you were staring at your apartment but the next thing you knew, the door to your home flies open, your eyes quickly snap in that direction, immediately thinking your mother must’ve seen you through the window. She was in pure tears rushing down the three steps as you began to get emotional to “Mom!” you cry as she tightly embraces you you don’t remember dropping your duffle bag you’re just overwhelmed, she’s crying holding you and it makes you feel so loved once again. “Oh my god ! Y/n !” She sniffles as she strokes your cheek looking at your face you had one tiny scar over the top of your brow nothing serious, least not compared to the ones on your body as she hugs you again “I thought you wouldn’t get here for another hour ?” she smiles at you happily taking in that you’re in front of her as you laugh softly “Well, that would ruin the element of surprise.” You wipe your eyes but she immediately begins to do so too before wiping her own. “Come ! Let’s get you inside ! Oh I just can’t believe my little girls home !” you smile bashfully, knowing it’s not the only thing you brought home. Yet you followed your mother waist to waist carrying your duffle as you entered your home.

Couple Hours Later

It doesn’t take you long to settle into your room, your mother insists on making you a grand meal upon your arrival and had even already contacted your Uncle Daryl to come see you. You were his only niece and favorite. He raised you as if you were his own daughter so hearing he’ll be arriving made you smile. As you walked around your place you couldn’t help but smile seeing the pictures hung of the two of you when you were much younger. It almost made you hope you could share the same experiences with your own child…This also made you come to the conclusion that you’ll have to tell your mother and uncle about your unplanned pregnancy. The thought made your stomach feel more acidic, but you kept it down in your stomach. Though the thought quickly left your mind when you nearly jumped from your seat upon hearing the front door open abruptly. Turning your head you see your Uncle Daryl, who obviously out of breath and eyes scanning the place until he sees YOU.

The tears prick at the corner of your eye as you stand up and he takes long strides to meet in the middle. Embracing you in a tight hug. You missed him. Your mother sneaks a peek seeing the two of you embracing as she also starts to get emotional and comes in to join the hug. Your family. One you sometimes forget because you’re so consumed in your job. You don’t know how long the three of you hold each other, or who was the first to withdraw but you sniffle wiping your eyes then smile “Good seeing you Uncle,” he huffs smiling back with the biggest one, showing his dimples. He was your mother’s big brother, so of course he looked after the two of you. He too was part of the military, the Air Force to be exact, and he was another inspiration for you to joining the military. Yet you never imagined you’d be in more dangerous situations than him. “Good seeing you again lil lumière.(little light)” He seems to do a quick scan over you, probably looking for any kind of wounds, which fortunately are in areas well hidden so you thanked your lucky stars. Otherwise he would’ve gone on a rant about how unwise you decided to join the most dangerous type of work. Honestly you were glad you could share a bit with him, of course not classified information but it helped to share her struggles and things only he would understand and handle emotionally better than your mother could. “Momma, is making our favorite tonight.” You giggle seeing his eyes widen with excitement “Oh you shouldn’t have Monica ! Hell, I’m trying to keep this old body still in shape and you trying to fatten me up !” he laughs at this which your mother playfully whacks him on the arm “Only thing fattening you up Daryl is your wine.” You couldn’t help but stifle a snort as he looks at you to her offended “Sorry Unc, she’s got a point.” He grumbles in French, which you caught a little how he says we disgrace the French tongue. However your mother rolls her eyes and goes on her way to continue cooking as you go to sit down with your uncle. “So…what brought you back ? And I don’t want to hear,” as he uses the air quotes incorrectly “That you wanted a vacay. I know you better than that.” He leans close as he was seated across from you in a lounge chair waiting for your response. You shift in your sheet, his narrowing eyes felt the same as your Captain. Which would make sense because your Uncle was once the Commander of his unit. “Well…I resigned from the taskforce…” his eyes shoot wide open, obviously shocked. Yet he goes straight back to composing himself narrowing then once again “Why ?” it came out gruff and you felt like you were on the pedestal being scolded by your homeroom teacher. “I-, I wanted to tell you both honestly…not just one of you.” He cocks his head to the side confused, what you didn’t know was your mother was ease dropping in the conversation as she steps out with concern written on her face “What is it sweetie ?” your uncle seems to be processing and calculating different reasons why you would have resigned from the taskforce, let alone been allowed to. You could practically see the gears in his brain churning with every possibility. You must’ve been holding your breath because you quickly blurted out “I’m pregnant.”

In a quick huff you take in both your uncle and moms facial. Complete shock. Your uncle seems to be going between your eyes and stomach almost probably finding it hard to believe and possibly questioning how along are you because you sure as hell didn’t look it “3 weeks…I’m three weeks pregnant.” Biting your lower lip you couldn’t help but feel anxious with the growing silence between the two as you spoke “Look, I know it’s horrible timing. It wasn’t exactly intentional… and I’ll be allowed back in the task force once the baby is born but the station chief made the call and got me out so no one would question my absence.” You pant out, you said it so quickly your mother must’ve been confused on some parts but her eyes were welling up and it made you more worry that it was because of disappointment “I- I know…I’m so-” your mother latches herself around your neck hugging you as your left dumbfounded as she speaks softly stroking your hair “Oh sweetie, if you’re happy with having this child, I’ll sport and help you. You have NOTHING to apologize for.” she looks you dead in the eyes and you feel a sense of warmth. You should’ve known, your mother would walk through hell with you and trust you entirely. You’ve done nothing but look after her and provide her a good life, so she was beyond willing to do the same for you and your child. You glance over at your uncle who seems to be processing, as he says lowly “I knew something was different about you kid…” you and your mom look at him confused as you never felt nervous until you saw him smile. “You’re glowing as much as your mother did when she was pregnant with you mi lumière” he stands up and comes over rubbing your back at you give him the most appreciative smile “Thank you… both of you” felt like a weight came off your shoulder. Telling them was a big deal and knowing they’d still support you made you feel so much better. You Uncle then looks serious at you “So, do I want to know who the âne (jackass) of a father to this baby is ?” You mother once again reaches over and whacks your uncle who curses “Qu’est-ce que c’est que Monica ?!(What the hell Monica)” you begin laughing as your mother giggles, with your uncle huffing in mild amusement. “Well ?” he cocks his brow looking at you as you blush a bit “I- I can’t tell you yet, but I promise he’s a good man…in his own way.” He squints his eyes at you questioning your choice of words “If that’s so…why isn’t he here ?” obviously your mother senses you tense from the subject giving a glare in your uncle’s direction “What Daryl means is ! As long as he’s a good man we’re happy” he grumbles a bit “Bien sûr Bien sûr (Of course of course) , but why isn’t he here with you meeting us ?” he cocks his brow again as you sigh knowing he won’t be letting go “Because…I didn’t tell him exactly he’s going to be a father…”he rubs his face with both hands obviously more stressed. Your mother seems taken back by this news as she tentatively asks “Why not sweetie ?”

A good question indeed, honestly the idea of telling them the father is your Lieutenant would sending your uncle to his grave early. And no, not from the idea but simply because you know he’d be yelling his hat off to Ghost and would likely get himself well handed to him. Sighing heavily “I didn’t get a chance, they were preparing for a mission.” You’d hope they’d buy it, your mother seems to have. But your uncle ? Hah, impossible he could read you like a book and as he should considering he used to be a commander. You mother claps her hands together standing up “Well ! This is a cause for pie then and I’ll need to run to store to collect some stuff. Write a list dear, I know those growing cravings will get to you soon.” She smiles with delight going back into the kitchen leaving you with your uncle.

He stares at you for a few moments as if waiting to make sure your mother was actually in the kitchen continuing to cook. When he’s satisfied, hearing the clattering of pots and pans against the stove or her bustling through the fridge for ingredients he then speaks lowly “So, what’s the real reason the father doesn’t know?” he squints his eyes at you, felt more like an interrogation then question, however you probably wouldn’t be surprised he’s using his Commander tone in order to get an answer from you. In all honesty it worked. “Because his my superior officer. I was told to tell him but quite honestly I don’t think he would’ve…” you bite your tongue considering your next words tentatively “I don’t think he could handle having a child. He barely knows himself.” You say softly. Hoping your uncle wouldn’t pry further. Which he wouldn’t. He understood every soldier has traumatic experiences in the military especially being in the SAS. He had no doubt you’ve seen things he would’ve rather your eyes never witnessed. With that answer he nods his head. “Well…one of these days you need to tell him. Perhaps you’d be more surprised by the outcome.” He pauses for a moment stroking his chin and looking out the window “If I’m being honest y/n, I think telling the father would make him better. I know when Monica told me, I was horrified for her. But then,” He smiles “Then when you were born it all changed. Before you I was short tempered and…” he grumbles “Not gentle with my choice of words which I got a firm scolding from Monica during his hormonal stages.” The idea your mother would have yelled seems hard to believe, even when you did wrong she never raised her voice at you. “Tell him one day y/n. I think your child deserves that chance at least.” Pondering on his words he leaves the room to go help your mother continue cooking with you contemplating on his words.

Maybe you should…perhaps ? What’s the worst that can happen ? He rejects you once again ? Tells you your on your own when you’ve already mentally accepted that fate ? Maybe your uncle is right, you don’t know. Ghost is still a mystery to you. Sometimes he’s snappy and harsh to others especially during missions. But you know he means well. Infact you couldn’t help but think about the times he was more…nicer to you. Like the time you were at the shooting range you were working with different weapons at the time, but particularly was working with a heavy set rifle that always made you sore in the shoulders…

You huff annoyed after having pulled the trigger on this rifle. It was bulky and heavy, when it fired it sent a painful ache up your shoulder upon impact. Now usually your preferred rifle was lighter and easier to handle the impact into your shoulder. Yet this one, this one was so big and bulky, the idea of carrying it onto the field seemed impossible. You’re only average height standing 5’7, which apparently to everyone else is very small since you usually get picked on. However, you always made up for your size with your agile self and quickness. If a bigger opponent used their full strength you had to be quicker. It’s why you did so well on the field especially hand to hand combat. You had you fair share of training with other recruits, privates, and Sargent’s McTavish and Garrick. Soap always gave you a run for your money but you always held your ground. Yet, you never dared to attempt against ghost. He was a forced to be recon with. You seen soap spar with him and seeing the big brute of the Scottish man easily subdued was terrifying.

Withdrawing your gaze from the scoop you grab the binoculars to inspect how well you shot it, not a bulleye, you hit right outside it. You were close…but it wasn’t good enough. A mere inches off is enough to give the enemy time to fire a shot back at you or detonate you and your team. The progress you’ve made with the weeks of practicing seemed futile. You almost were considering telling price you were not cut out for this particular mission which required you to be watching soaps six while ghost would be overwatch. Why they were making you go, you understood. They wanted to get in quick only relying on stealth and to not attract attention. Not saying ghost would, but his large stature would give way to the enemies quickly. Yet, you’ve seen him infiltrate buildings with ease but this mission was hoping to shed no blood shed. Sighing heavily you lean away from the table, “you keep gripping it like that you’ll never hit your target right.” The words from a deep voice made you almost jump, as you quickly reached for your knife quickly swing it behind you, only for your wrist to be caught, inches from ghosts looming neck. You let out a shaky voice “Lieutenant..” You were embarrassed now, relaxing your stance as he releases his hold on your wrist before looking right over your head where you had missed your target once more already having hit it 7 times to no avail. “When you fire don’t fight against the shot, you tense alters your movement when looking through scope.” He nods his head “Try again.” You raise a brow at him but obey. Not like you’d ignore your lieutenants orders. Facing back and getting into position, you then start to feel his hand readjust your stance, it was subtle, he used his boot to nudge your feet, he used his gloved hand to fix your elbow, then poke at your shoulder to moving it back and relax. When he seemed content after fixing your stance he simply grunts an approval. His back leaning against the table as you take the shot. It felt different, not as abrupt when the bullet launched your whole body seemed to absorb it better, and when you lift your gaze from the scope to look at where it hit you see you finally hit the bulleye. You’re shocked …you made the shot, but that’s not what was shocking to you, ghost helped you make it. Glancing up at him, his posture was looking at the base but his eyes were gazing down at you. “Not bad.” He mumbles before pushing off the table and walking off. You��re left stunned but appreciative. He didn’t have to help you, let alone adjust your stance. You began continuing to practice doing that stance until the day of the mission. Honestly, it paid off.

Now that that you’re thinking back on it, perhaps that’s when you began to notice other subtle gestures Ghost would show to you. At first you just thought it was his way of correcting you but now maybe…it was perhaps he cared enough to do so. He never took the time to do that with other recruits or privates. So maybe ? Perhaps you should give him the benefit of the doubt at least give him the chance to see if he wants to be a part of your child’s life. For now…you’ll wait. You’re certain by now they’re deciding best course of action eliminating General Ghorbani, that was the mission you were tasked to go with Ghost yet instead you’re dealing with his unborn child growing in your stomach. Probably best to wait it out. Though one thing is certain, you owe it to Soap and Gaz…

Few Months After Eliminating General Ghorbani

Ghost’s POV

Recently Ghost was just filling out paperwork, having to write down everything that happened per week for higher ups to see from different points of view. Gaz had gone back to his original base, working to get some intel and Soap, he knew he’d be returning tonight. Felt like everyone had gone their own way. Just the thought of how everyone seemed to slowly fade away made Ghost tense. First you, then Gaz, then Soap, and Price. He knew they’d return but the idea he was surrounded by no one he trusts made it hard. A part of him would never blatantly say it out loud but, the minute you left there was nothing holding them together now. Metaphorically you were the chip on a glass cup that kept everyone together, the minute you fell off the rest soon cracked.

During your absence, he would never admit, he spent every opportunity dwelling on his words to you. He wondered if you hated him so much that you turned on them all because of his choice of words. He felt like a bloody idiot for saying them. The only reason he said it, he had hoped to cut his own feelings for you. It was never to doubt your abilities. Far from it, he knew what an asset you were to the team. Besides your bubbly personality and calmness during tense times you were a skilled fighter. He seen you take down a man not as big as himself, but fairly tall as Soap and you easily had the man struggling to keep up having the man shift to a defense stance. You were a sight when in a fight. In fact it was almost alarmingly attractive to Ghost seeing a women so lean yet small hold your own. The image of you from that night often played in his mind, it was torturous. He can hear how you moaned out his name, arching your back from the immense pleasure and begging him to keep going and give you more. It’s been 5 months…5 long grueling months and not a minute of breather. It’s hard to believe how much he needed your presence, how you kept him sane when not out in the field, in his zone. Sometimes he wondered how he would cope with the life of mundane lively hood. Were you living such ? Knowing what you know and have seen out in the world, did you forget it all ? Did you let your guard down ?

That’s when other thoughts, ones he absolutely hated crossed his mind. Did you find someone ? Probably by now, no doubt in his mind you found a bloody bloke who is a lucky bastard to have such a fearless yet regal women. The mere thought of you walking hand in hand with a man who probably could never protect you as well as you could yourself. But no, the idea that HE wasn’t the one protecting you even though you weren’t a damsel in distress. The urge to always protect you in the field was natural instincts for him. He didn’t realize he was gripping his pen tightly until it snapped. Looking at the broken piece of plastic he let go pushing back from his chair simply looking at his hands.

For years, since he was a mere teenager, he only saw himself capable of fighting. Then when he became a soldier all he could think about was killing. Yet when you joined the taskforce and he had himself between your legs, he could see he could perhaps also be gentle. You brought that innocent Simon Riley out of him, the boy who couldn’t fight against his father’s abuse. Couldn’t stand up for his mother when his father was a drunken state. Yet you, you reminded him that he was very much Ghost and Simon. His hands could touch your perfectly smooth skin gently tracing every inch of you, getting the most pleasurable reaction he ever heard. Yet he could also be rough just enough to send you over the edge and begging, clawing him for more.

Grumbling to himself, he pulls out his packet of cigarettes, grabbing one. Lifting his mask just over his nose, he then put the wrapped piece in his mouth then lighting it. He took a drag before puffing out the smoke, the nicotine hitting him hard as he shut his eyes. He did everything in his power to find a way to look to where you were. But even with his rank, he was limited to much. Couldn’t access the full extent to your file as most of your information was black. Not as covered as his but enough for him to be annoyed with because he bloody couldn’t stand he didn’t know where you were if you’re still alive and how he can contact you. This was an annoying addiction that drove him crazy. Where the fuck were you ?

Gaz POV

Honestly seeing the number pop up on his screen while he was in his bunker on a base near London he frowned at bit. It was his personal phone yet only few people could access it since it was a secured number that could not be traced. So he answered “Ello ?” waiting for a response he almost thought it was someone playing a practical prank on him until he heard a soft familiar voice “Hey Kyle…”, you. He was utterly stunned, his throat felt tight and his heart beating hard. “The fuck…y/n ?” you let out a tired laugh as he felt his heart flutter. “Yeah, it’s me silly. How are you ?” you seemed shy, but the same soft spoken as ever. He didn’t know how long he must’ve been silent but it obviously must’ve made you question “Kyle ? You still alive there bud ?” he snorts “Yeah Yeah, I’m just…wow. I’m shocked if I’m honest. How about you ?” you sigh a bit, he could hear you sounded exhausted. Were you not sleeping ? “I’m doing alright…just tired. I- I just missed you. How is everyone ?Been on a lot of missions since ?” he smiled, you were so motherly, he swear his mother would love to know you had reached out to him… in honesty you two knew each other well. Gaz had brought you once to meet his mother during the holidays and she took a liking to you immediately. His mother would always joke about how you were the daughter she always asked for. “Yeah…I’m actually in London working on getting some Intel. I haven’t heard much from Price. Sure the old man out smoking a cigar on a hunting trip. Soap and I keep in contact…Ghost, well haven’t heard much from him honestly. He isn’t much a talker. Oh ! My mam wants to see you again one day ! She was worried when I told her you left.” He could hear you humming as you listened to his update. “Aw, well I’d love to see her again…actually…if your free sometime, I’m sure your mission is important but I’d love to meet you up some time.” He smiles at this “Yeah ? Say where and when.” He chuckles and he holds his breath hearing you laugh. It was airy, he can’t believe how much his missed your energy “Alright, well I’d love to have you over from some tea at my place. Just let me know when you can come by.” He perked up at this. He never been to your place, in fact you seemed very secretive about showing it. He never asked why, so he always volunteered to take you to his place. “Id love that Hera.” He smirked saying your call sign, he can already imagine you grinning “Ah good old days, unfortunately not much of Hera anymore. I don’t think I ever can honestly…” he frowned at this, he wondered if that’s why you resigned from the task force. In fact thinking about it you seemed exhausted, your voice wasn’t as chirpy like you used to be. You seemed out of breath with a few sentences. Were you ill ? “Are…are you ill ?” he asks hesitantly. He huff softly from your side “No…not exactly. It’s complicated, but I promise when we meet I’ll explain. Not like I could hide it anyways.” He now was more curious…did you secretly get sent off on a mission and got seriously hurt ? Were you that ill, you had to resign ? “Well, actually, I’m free today if you are ?” he looks at his clock. It was 06:20, you still were just an early riser as he was. “That would be great. I’ll text you my address. See you soon Gaz.” He can imagine you smiling, as he smiles too “Yeah, see you soon Hera.”

Taglist : @the-reality-of-my-life , @kat-nee , @wwe1rdc0re , @saturnknows , @stalyxysh ,@avatarislife4ever,@ayesha-fish , @sae1kie ,@longing-for-the-past-times,@daisyfrubies,@sailorneotunemivhiru,@ra-im , @maflor123 ,@i-love-ptv

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 7 a rebelcaptain regency au

“To first understand Cassian’s life,” Lady Mothma began...

______

Jyn hears of Cassian's history with the Krennics from Lady Mothma. Bearing this newfound knowledge, she finds herself facing a difficult decision.

Read Chapter 7 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

“To first understand Cassian’s life,” Lady Mothma began, “you must first know about his and Kerri’s parents, Cassandra and Kiernan. Cassandra, who was then Cassandra Dashwood, was the fourth child of a well-off family who lived in Liverpool. One day, in an attempt to momentarily escape her parents’ incessant and too enthusiastic attempts at marrying her off, she took to the ports to wander about and keep her mind off things. 

“There, she met Kiernan, who was a clerk and assistant for one of the merchants who had a small office there. His line of work, in particular, was translating on behalf of his patron’s clients who could only speak Spanish; he was incredibly fluent at it.

“He and Cassandra got off quite well, and soon, they fell in love with each other. Cassandra would sneak away from her home everyday to meet him, and eventually Kiernan found the courage to offer his hand in marriage. Cassandra willingly accepted it.

“It came as no surprise to the both of them, however, that when Cassandra told her parents of the engagement, they did not approve—The Dashwoods did not want Kiernan as a husband for their daughter. But this did not faze Cassandra, and was still determined in keeping her engagement with Kiernan.

"To this her parents retaliated still with an obstinacy, and one even greater. They gave her an ultimatum: if she married the man, they would cut off all material support for her for good, and never speak to her again.”

“But still, she chose him," Jyn guessed.

“She did, yes,” confirmed Lady Mothma. “But despite the threat of financial loss, you see, in actuality, the union did not mean any ruin for her. For while Kiernan was not wealthy, he was also not entirely poor. After they got wed, they moved and found a small cottage in a town called Fest farther up north, almost to the border of Scotland.

"They managed on their own, Cassandra and Kiernan, which, just a year later, led to the birth of their first child, Cassian. Five years later followed Kerri.

“But while it overjoyed the Andors to have a second child, this also posed a problem for them now. With two very young children to take care of, keeping the household afloat was now becoming more of a struggle to accomplish. Kiernan’s clerical work, while previously enough, no longer produced the amount of money needed to sustain his growing family.

"With the war against France escalating and the Crown needing more men to fight at sea than ever before, he found himself with no other choice but to enlist in the Navy as a seaman. They deployed him on a ship called HMS Celeste. 

“Fighting at sea was not without its constant danger, but for a while he was finally able to earn enough to send home to his family in Fest. This went on for seven years. By the end of that period, though, things began to change.

"In the wake of the kingdom’s still increasing tensions with France, the conditions suffered by sailors all across the Royal Navy turned even more abysmal than they had already been before. This was when mutinies amongst sailors became more prolific. You’ve heard of the Nore mutiny, haven’t you? That was just one of the many others that occurred at the time. 

“The crew of HMS Celeste eventually partook in one themselves, with the willing participation of Kiernan himself. At that point, their crew were dropping like flies at such a rapid rate; within the last five months alone, seven of them had died—not from fighting the French, no, but from famine, infections, or madness.

"So they decided that they had had enough of it.

“Their determination was strong, but the force with which the Crown responded was too brutal, even for seasoned sailors. Kiernan fought valiantly, but he was killed, the entire crew along with him.

“The conflict irredeemably wrecked HMS Celeste. This infuriated its owner, who had invested a great deal in the vessel.” She then narrowed her eyes at Jyn. “I think you can guess who he is, Jyn. There are only a few names known for investing in the trade during the Napoleonic wars, and you are very close to one of them.”

It instantly dawned on Jyn. Her heart sank. Quietly she said, “The Krennics.” 

Lady Mothma nodded.

Jyn fell into total silence for a few seconds, reveling in the realization. “Sir Orson Krennic owned HMS Celeste.”

“He did, yes. Now widowed, Cassandra, upon discovering this, appealed to the Admiralty for reparation for what her late-husband had suffered. She also demanded due compensation for his service, which, after all, he had rendered for the kingdom for seven years.

"But Sir Krennic, who had taken it upon himself to get involved in the affairs of the ship’s mutineers, convinced its captain (who had fought against his own crew) that no such recovery of damages should be given to her.

“Cassandra did not back down, however. Still she stuck to her demands, but Sir Krennic was equally unflinching; to settle the matter for good, he made a case for Kiernan’s descent, which was when things began to go really south for her.”

“Why, Your Grace?" asked Jyn. "What did Sir Krennic do?”

“He had found out that apparently," answered the duchess, "that Kiernan was not from England; his investigations tied him back to New Spain, where his entire family resided. And it wasn’t just any family, either; his father, it turned out, was a governor who held office in the capital.”

Jyn’s brows furrowed. “And was it true?”

Lady Mothma nodded. “It was. Sir Krennic found this sufficient reason enough to suspect that the mutiny in which he had a large part in leading was motivated by his covert allegiances to Spain—a kingdom which, by then, was still a staunch ally of France. This would make Kiernan Andor, in effect, a much worse traitor to the Crown, and therefore must be treated as one. He had made such a compelling case to the Admiralty that it was too easy for him from that point.”

“But that’s not really the case, was it not?" argued Jyn. "He was not really a spy for Spain?"

“Sir Krennic had presumed the worst intentions behind his actions, on the mere basis of that information about him."

"So if his claim was a falsehood, then what is the truth, Your Grace? Also, come to think of it, if he was the son of a governor, why was he all the way over in Liverpool doing small clerical work?” 

Lady Mothma gave her a small smile. “I believe that is a story for Cassian and Kerri to tell.” 

Jyn suddenly felt flustered. "Oh. Of course."

"Anyway," continued Lady Mothma, "because of it, in the end, Cassandra received nothing. She now had neither husband nor money.

“Kiernan’s death devastated her, that’s without a doubt, but the dread of raising Cassian and Kerri now all by herself took heavier weight upon her. How could she even take care of two children alone without a reliable income?

“It was also not easy for the children themselves, but the loss seem to have affected Kerri much more gravely. She was only seven at the time, and losing a father was a severe tragedy to her heart. To see such a young child grieve to such a sorrowful extent—it was a tough sight for a mother to bear. So Cassandra made her son promise not to tell her about what Sir Krennic had done in response to his death—she did not know how much more her daughter could take. Cassian gave her his word.”

Jyn briefly remembered the imposingly cheerful disposition of the younger Andor sibling, now in awe of the disjoint between the joy she so consistently exuded, and the grief she had experienced. 

“For the next four years,” continued the duchess, “Cassandra tried to make ends meet as a governess, but overworking herself had made her weak. Eventually her body succumbed to a terrible case of tuberculosis in the lungs. She was too tired at that point, so much that Cassian already knew, young as he was, that there was no hope for her recovery. And he was right.

“Cassian and Kerri became orphans since then, and Cassian, in particular, was afraid—as any sixteen-year-old boy would be. He did not have any money to inherit, and he did not know how to take care of his younger sister by himself. There was no one he could reach out to—the Dashwoods remained steadfast in their prejudice against the Andors, and he did not take his chances with anybody from his father’s side. He tried to work, but since none of what he made was even close enough, he had fallen into a state of debt. 

“One day, while he was trying to evade somebody who he owed money to, he snuck into a gentleman’s club to hide. There, he ran into Mr. Draven.” Lady Mothma then paused to ask Jyn, “You remember Mr. Draven from this morning? He was the barrister who briefly stopped for a visit.”

Jyn nodded, and in an instant, already got an inkling of what was about to happen next. Lady Mothma, as she spoke the next parts of the story, confirmed it to be almost accurate:

“You see, Mr. Draven had known all along that Cassian, what with his appearance and dress during that moment, was not a gentleman who frequented that club—anybody would have known, really. But Cassian did not fold under it and impressively kept his air, despite looking like he did not belong there.

"Mr. Draven knew then, as he listened to Cassian’s attempts at conversation, that he wasn’t pretending, not entirely; there existed in the boy a well of knowledge that could only be acquired from studying materials typical for gentlemen. He also found that he possessed the high ability to converse, to reason, and to think with such logic and erudition. It amazed him quite profoundly.

“Later Mr. Draven finally called Cassian’s bluff, and propositioned for him to be his apprentice in law. And Cassian, not one to let such an opportunity pass, immediately accepted. Eventually he began his education at Gray’s Temple. There he studied law for five years, then worked for the next twelve.”

Jyn fell into a state of quietude, reflecting on these events that had fallen upon Cassian’s life. “And now he is a successful solicitor,” she said above a whisper. 

“And has accumulated enough money for his and his sister’s more than comfortable living,” supplied Lady Mothma further. “But, despite things already being better for him and Kerri, I believe he’s still keeping his promise to his mother; it seems to me that he continues to carry that knowledge alone, after hearing what you two had argued about.” 

Jyn had reason to believe the same. Nothing in the explanations that Kerri had provided in her letter signified that she knew at all about what Sir Krennic had done. And recalling the events of Mr. Rook’s ball now, Jyn surmised that she had not even known of the Krennics until they’d met that evening.

A sense of dread immediately fell upon her, sinking her spirit to the deepest of depths. She could hardly look at the duchess now; she buried her face in her hands. 

“Jyn?” asked Lady Mothma, concern clear in her voice. “What’s wrong?” 

The things Jyn had said to Cassian during their argument in Vallt Park all came crawling back to her mind. She felt her face redden in shame. 

“Jyn?”

Jyn sighed. “I said some terrible things to him, Your Grace. I had always perceived his anger towards it, but I never truly understood the extent of it, or the reason for it, until now.” 

Lady Mothma did not speak, only offered her a look of sympathy.

Jyn finally managed to meet the duchess’s eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, “I see now why he feels that way about the Krennics, and by extension, about me—I, who now intend to join the family. But I knew nothing of this, Your Grace. I had absolutely no idea.” 

Lady Mothma put a hand on Jyn’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t, Jyn.”

Jyn sighed again. “But now that I do,” she said, “I assume you are now to dissuade me from marrying Mr. Krennic.”

She held her breath, preparing herself for the duchess’s answer, and now trying to imagine her new future from this point hence. But what Lady Mothma said next surprised her:

“No, Jyn. I’m not going to do that.”

Jyn gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re not?” she asked. “But—but I thought that you disapproved of my match with him.”

Lady Mothma observed her carefully. Then she shook her head. “I think you have misconstrued me, Jyn. But I can see why you would think that way.”

Jyn just stared at her, anticipating an explanation.

“Look,” the duchess said, “I admit that I had harbored some doubt particularly in the beginning when I saw you and Philip, but I soon realized that that feeling had less to do with Mr. Krennic himself, and more to do with the surprise that I felt from your decision to marry at all—for I know very clearly how you feel about it.” 

When Jyn didn’t speak, she continued, “Jyn, I am not judging you for it. You must do what you must—I know what it feels like to be burdened with the necessity.” 

Jyn frowned. “But I still do not understand, Your Grace. Why won’t you talk me out of it now, after all this?”

Lady Mothma offered her a kind smile. “I cannot tell you what you should or should not do about Philip.” Then, when she sensed Jyn’s confusion, she said, “What I’m trying to say, Jyn, is that whether or not you still want to pursue a union with him is something you have to decide for yourself. I do not know him, not in the way you do. And yes, Sir Krennic had pulled a decisive influence surrounding the matter of Cassian’s father, but you must realize, those were his actions, not his son’s.”

Jyn stared, spending a few moments to take all the duchess’s words in. “Your Grace, are you saying that Philip is blameless in all this?”

Lady Mothma shrugged. “Perhaps he is, perhaps he is not. It’s possible he knows not of it even—he was only but ten when it happened. Here is what I know: people are complicated; they don’t always turn out to be their parents. Sometimes they do, yes, but a lot of the time, they also just don’t. We cannot quickly condemn Philip for something his father had done—the same way Cassian cannot condemn you for it.” 

When Jyn still didn’t speak, Lady Mothma finally posed, “So what do you think, Jyn? Do you think that you cannot trust Philip anymore because of what his father had done, or do you think that you still can, because you know for certain that he had no part to play in it, and that he cannot do such a thing himself? Only you can tell this.”

Jyn started to feel lightheaded. “My, Your Grace,” she breathed, “that is an impossibly difficult question.” As she even attempted to think about it, so many complications already tangled themselves up with each other in her head.

She felt as though suddenly all of life, which hung over her like a cloud, had begun to descend into heavy rain.

Lady Mothma gave her a sympathetic smile. “Most questions posed by life usually are, Jyn.” 

Just then, the curtains on the stage below began to part, and a painted and costumed ensemble began to move about to the rhythm of a melodramatic, orchestral overture. 

Just as the first singer sang her first note, Philip finally emerged from behind Jyn. She jumped in surprise. 

He leaned down within her earshot. “Forgive me for being a bit late, Miss Erso,” he said, before sitting down on the chair beside her. “It was the first time I saw my mates in months.”

Jyn did not speak, only stared at the gentleman, her breaths quick in her anxiety. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, smiling. He proceeded to lift a hand to feel his cheeks in jest. 

As she looked at him in silence, Jyn suppressed any reaction that would betray her current confusions. In his countenance she saw the face of Sir Krennic, and yet, all the same, she found it difficult to reconcile him as being the same person entirely. 

It was impossible to imagine that Philip would ever do the sort of thing that Sir Krennic had. 

She was utterly torn, so much that she could feel her mind practically splitting itself in half.

In the instant Philip sensed her mood, he quickly dropped his gaiety. With audible concern he asked, “Miss Erso, are you quite all right?”

The singer on stage began to sing a shrill note, the sound ululating in the air, against the walls, and straight into Jyn’s ears.

Still, she did not speak. 

Jyn had since then racked her brain, thinking of the right way to deal with her current predicament. Unfortunately for her, she had not been able to find the time to do it—for after the opera, Lady Mothma ushered them both immediately to Sir Organa’s dinner party, where Jyn’s attentions had all but been solicited by the host’s daughter, Miss Leia. 

On the one hand, Jyn was glad for the distraction, for discussions of various matters that interested her meant postponing what she wildly hoped not to discover about Philip’s complicity in the whole deluge (and she liked the lady’s company very much), yet on the other hand, she also felt as though she was only but sustaining the anxieties that did not seem to quiet down, even in passing time. 

By the end of the evening, Jyn was already too tired yet again, and Philip too it seemed, for he had already gone straight for his lodging. 

She only found the time for reflection, really, when the conclusion of their trip to Bath finally arrived. 

The goodbyes that Jyn and Lady Mothma had exchanged during the moment were bittersweet, and Jyn, overcome by a deep gratitude, had expressed her thanks for the guidance which the duchess had shared to her, and should now inform her next actions henceforth.

As the carriage rolled away, she suddenly felt alone, despite the companionship of the gentleman who sat across from her.

Philip looked at her with a curious expression. “Miss Erso,” he said cautiously, “I sense that something has been bothering you since the opera.” He leaned forward. “I wish you would tell me what it is.” 

There was no going around it anymore; it was time for Jyn to settle the matter. 

At first she hesitated, but soon managed to begin. “I suppose I’ve been thinking about a question, Mr. Krennic—a rather difficult one at that.”

“Yes?”

“I wonder if one’s sentiments and affections for a person can overpower their sensibility for what is good and what is not.” 

“What do you mean, Miss Erso?”

“Do you…do you ever think about what you would be willing or not willing to excuse, ignore, or look past for the people you really liked and respected?” 

Philip paused in thought. “That is a rather deep musing, I would say. I hope you are not torn about it, Miss Erso. It seems like a difficult question.” 

Jyn let out a quiet, dry laugh. “It is, isn’t it. Well, I’m afraid I must now rope you into thinking about it as well.”

Philip looked uncertain, but he tried for a smile. “Try me, then.” 

“All right.” Jyn cleared her throat. “What if, say, you discovered that—that your father had done something deplorable? What if—what if he had deprived a person of something they truly needed because he thinks they do not deserve it?”

Philip frowned. “Why would my father think they do not deserve it?”

“Because—” Jyn tried not to show her indignation upon the remembrance of the fact “—he just believes they do not.”

Philip hummed in thought. “But they do?”

Jyn nodded. “Yes, very much so. And in consequence, that deprivation ruins their life for the worst—forever.” 

“Upon my word, that is rather a conundrum.”

Jyn narrowed her sight. “Is it?”

Philip tilted his head. “You seem surprised, Miss Erso. Why would it not be one?” 

“You do not think that your immediate disapproval is due the act?”

When Philip saw the growing mortification on Jyn’s face, he quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, Miss Erso. That is not what I’m saying at all.” He took a quick pause. “What I only mean is that it is difficult. Say it’s your father—would you not feel the same way?”

Jyn beheld him in a way that made it seem as if the answer was obvious. “I understand the difficulty of it quite clearly. However, the presence or lack of that feeling should not signify what I should do about it. Honestly, Mr. Krennic, I think it should be quite simple. Why must we condone a truly terrible thing being done just because someone we loved did it? What does that say about us? Our principles and sensibilities? Ruining a life out of spite, Mr. Krennic—I do not think it should be that hard.”

Philip quietly sank into thought. 

“So to answer your question,” proceeded Jyn, “if my father had done it, he would not be exempt from the same disfavor I would give to somebody I neither knew nor have deep affections for.”

Philip looked ahead and out the window beside him, his mind running at full speed.

After a long pause he finally said, “You’re right, Miss Erso.”

Jyn watched him carefully. “I am?”

The gentleman nodded, surer this time. “You are. You definitely are. I would do what you would in an instant; if my father had done something of the sort, I would deplore him for it, too.”

Jyn fell silent, which encouraged Philip to say, “But the thing is, Miss Erso, I do not believe it would come to that point; the reason I’ve always respected and looked up to my father is because I know that he had not and will not do anything of the sort.”

Jyn grimaced. Quietly she said, “But what if I told you, Mr. Krennic, that he had?”

Philip’s expression fell. “What do you mean?”

Jyn stammered. She did not realize how difficult it would be to impart dreadful knowledge about one’s father to his son.

“Miss Erso,” urged Philip, “what did you mean?”

Jyn took in a deep breath, and with a heavy heart, began to tell the story of HMS Celeste and the Andors—leaving out, with due diligence, any detail surrounding the family’s life which was not necessary to Philip’s awareness. 

As she progressed through the tale, so did Philip’s look of terror and incredulity.

By the time she finished, silence fell upon them in the carriage. Philip did not utter a single word. 

After a while, Jyn could not bear the quiet any longer. “Mr. Krennic?”

Philip, whose gaze seemed distant, finally looked at Jyn. He shook his head. “Forgive me, Miss Erso. I am just...shocked. I did not know about this at all—this is news to me.”

“So you really did not know?” asked Jyn.

Philip shook his head with a forlorn, but earnest conviction. "I did not, Miss Erso." Then, with desperation he looked into her eyes. “My father really did that to the Andors?”

Jyn leaned forward. “You believe it, then?”

Philip hesitated for a moment, then answered, “I do not find any good reason to doubt your accounts, Miss Erso, nor Lady Mothma’s, for that matter.” 

Jyn dipped her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” Philip gave off a weak, wistful laugh. “It would seem that the fruits of our discussion will now be put to the test.” He looked at Jyn with a sad smile. “I understand now why you have been thinking about it, Miss Erso. It is clear that you disapprove of what my father had done, as anyone ought to, and you would now like to see where I stand.”  

Jyn felt her cheeks grow warm. “I do not mean to test you, Mr. Krennic. I know this must be a lot to deal with all at once, and you don’t have to say anything at the moment—”

“No, no,” gently interrupted Philip. “You are wise, Miss Erso, and you have served me well. You are right. My father had done something terrible, and I cannot just turn a blind eye to it merely because of my affections for him.”

Jyn gazed down to her lap.

“Be ill at ease no longer,” assured Philip. “I shall confront him about it when he returns from the East Indies, and then I shall make sure that he pays back what he has taken away from the Andors.” 

Jyn quickly looked up to face him. “How will you do that?” she asked.

Philip took a moment to reflect, then shook his head. “I…I admit that is something I do not yet know.”

They fell into more painful silence, and maintained it for a while. Philip, upon registering the uncertainty in Jyn’s expression, felt himself obliged to say, “I know it may sound vague, but you have my word that I will get it done, Miss Erso. I promise. If I am going to follow in his footsteps, I shall do it right by correcting his wrongs.” 

The proclamation stunned Jyn into more silence. It was something she did not expect to hear, but not something she didn't not want to, either.

Philip then leaned forward, and directly looking into her eyes, he asked, “Do you believe me?”

Jyn heard her own blood rush against her head. She exhaled air just as quickly as she inhaled them. She stared back at the Krennic son, and for a while did not—could not—answer. 

You must decide this for yourself, Lady Mothma had told her.

In all her life, whenever Jyn found herself at a crossroads, she had always relied on what she knew to decide which path to take forth.

She thought back on what she had always known of Philip. 

She decided to believe that. 

“Miss Erso?” the gentleman asked again. He watched and waited in near-agony for her reply. 

Jyn, meeting his eyes, took a deep breath. 

And then she finally spoke her answer. 

[aheartofdawn]

As Democrats struggle to come to terms with the results of this week’s election, some young women are looking abroad for inspiration. Women across social media have been exploring an idea called 4B, a protest movement in South Korea that calls for women to boycott men.“Now I am, how you say this, a ho, but I really want to get behind this 4B movement,” begins one TikToker, who goes on to say she approves of women withholding sex from men. “After this election — where women were pretty much told to their faces that no one gives a shit about them — don’t forget, ladies, we do have power. And you know the kind of power I’m talking about. Giving up our bodies to men is a choice. We don’t have to do this.”

The TikTok tag #4bmovement currently has thousands of posts with millions of views, and Google search interest in the term spiked after the election. Some of the social media posters are clearly joking out of a combination of rage, stress, and sadness — but others are more serious.“Once you can get out of your mind that you will not be missing out by engaging in this behavior, you will be better off,” one earnest TikToker says. “I encourage you to reclaim your power and have really honest conversations with yourself about whether being in a romantic relationship with men at this point in time is worth it.”

The tenets of 4B are extremely different from the kinds of feminism that tend to flourish in the US, where popular culture places a premium on choice and empowerment. Mainstream feminist campaigns here usually celebrate women’s ability to make their own decisions and do whatever makes them feel best as individuals.The point of 4B and Escape the Corset, however, is not to make women feel more fulfilled or more at home in their bodies. It is also not to put pressure on men as individuals to reform their ways. The point of 4B is to send a message about the structure of society — to say it’s not acceptable that you are valued only for your fertility and sexual appeal — and to ensure your independence.In an academic paper about the movement, author Hyejung Park translates a 2019 video from the South Korean activist group SOLOdarity: “It is true that tal-corset [Escape the Corset] comes with some inconveniences,” the activists allow. “When your hair is short, you might have to get a haircut more frequently, and you might need to buy a whole new wardrobe for tal-corset. Nevertheless, we practice tal-corset because it is not about being more comfortable. It is about not being a doll, a second-class citizen.”

The idea of refusing to wear skirts for the sake of your politics, even if you like them, is an attitude that has been out of favor in American feminism since the end of the second wave in the 1970s. Still, there is a discipline and a radicalism to this form of activism that you can easily understand feeling attractive for America’s angry young women in this moment. It supposes a world that so emphatically decenters men and their desires for women that men themselves disappear from a woman’s life. After the US elected a symbol of masculine aggression and violence to our highest office for the second time, a person can see the appeal.The idea of such severe and uncompromising protest also makes sense considering the reams of smirking rape jokes that the mere discussion of 4B online has provoked. Many American 4B TikToks have comments from men under them crowing, “Your body, my choice,” a refrain that young fans of far-right influencer Nick Fuentes have reportedly taken to parroting in schools.“[W]omen threatening sex strikes like LMAO as if you have a say,” a post from one X account with 122,000 followers went.

It’s worth remembering, though, that the divide between left and right in this country does not neatly map across gender divides. While we won’t know until later how the numbers break down, early exit polls say 45 percent of all women and 53 percent of white women voted for Trump. Trump surrounds himself with enabling women, and the likes of Marjorie Tyler Greene gleefully shriek misogyny across the floors of Congress.A possible lesson of the Women’s March era — that feminist reaction to the first Trump term — is this: Uniting in a large group as a pure expression of rage is not always sustainable. The Women’s March collapsed because of vicious infighting, which is traditionally what happens to large leftist groups in the US.Perhaps it’s time for American feminism to get specific and disciplined about its action points. 4B is specific and it is disciplined, which is part of what makes it difficult to translate out of its cultural context and into America. It is clear on its goals, which are to take personal autonomy through the force of one’s own denial, rather than to ask for it at the polls or in interpersonal relationships.A line of inquiry American feminists might take from 4B is this: What are you going to work toward? And what are you going to do to get there?

[mochie85]

Smut prompts “Show me how much you need me.” and “Hands behind your back.” Please for my baby Bucky ❤️ Love youuuu and thank youuuu

Brut Gold - Chapter 2 Rosaline & Bucky

1K Celebration Masterlist Brut Gold Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Of all the clubs to go to for your Bachelorette Party, you had to go to Thor's, your former lover. But you didn't know it was his, and when Bucky finds out, he tries to make you forget about him completely. Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Female Reader/OFC Word Count: Over 3.5K Warnings: Mentions of killing, language Steve Rogers wouldn't approve of, jealous Bucky (let's face it, that's a warning), praise and degradation kink, oral, P in V, rough sex. A/N: I want to thank @springdandelixn for this request and for being so patient with me while I write this. And I want to thank both her and @michelleleewise for being my BETA reader on it. Also, I'd like to thank @thalzr for helping me with some of the Romanian translations. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Dugan walked down the hall toward James’ office. The classic Rococo furniture contrasted with what the newer generation of the family preferred. But they would never change it. Because what the Barnes family loved more than their outdated furniture was tradition.

They were immutable. The habit of the institution was ingrained into them as young as five years old. For James “Bucky” Barnes- probably younger because he was set to inherit the family business.

Dugan walked in as a lifeless body was being dragged out. The face was unrecognizable as the only feature standing out was a backward initial ‘J.B.’ imprinted on the man’s cheek.

Steve nodded as he saw Dugan approach. He held out his hands towards him in greeting. “Dugan, how are you, my man? Or should I still call you DumDum?” Steve chuckled.

James was watching through the window’s reflection as smoke from his cigar blew out from his thin lips. His other hand, adorned with bloodied rings, nursed a half-filled glass of bourbon.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, Rogers? I was four!” Bucky said talking to Steve’s reflection.

“And you’ve been calling him that ever since.” Dugan smiled wearily as he took Steve’s hand and greeted him. He didn’t want to end up like the faceless man that was dragged out moments before.

“Why are you here?” Bucky asked him suspiciously. “You were supposed to be watching the bachelorette party.” He turned around, looking straight at Dugan.

“Bucky, you’re not gonna like this,” Dugan answered, looking sideways at Steve.

“Where’s my fiancé, Dugan?” James asked level toned. Dugan took a moment to decide which information he should start with first. “WHERE IS SHE?!” Bucky yelled and Dugan flinched.

“She went into Odinson territory. Got into one of his clubs. I could only watch from the border. I left Junior behind to watch and inform me when she and her friends come out.”

“You left the protection of floricica mea to a greenie? WHY WAS SHE EVEN FUCKING THERE?!”

“Buck, I’m sorry. I tried…” Dugan started. Bucky grabbed his collar and pushed him up against the wall.

“And if something happens to her, Dugan? If she gets kidnapped? What happens? Will you be sorry then too?” Bucky let go of his shirt. “Go back and tell me as soon as she comes out. Grab the entire party and send them home. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, boss,”

“Bring Rose and Lia here!”

“Yes, boss,” Dugan quickly accepted his command and left. Bucky was seething. He knew of your history with the older Odinson brother. Why the fuck would you go there?

“Buck, I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Steve tried to placate him. “Maybe she didn’t know.”

Bucky contemplated, then sighed. “No. That’s bullshit. She knows the boundaries, at least.” He downed the rest of his whiskey and slammed it on his desk reaching for the decanter. Steve watched him from the corners of his eyes as he sipped his drink slowly. He knew Bucky could be temperamental…at best. You were an angel for having fallen in love with him.

“Buck, she’s madly in love with you. YOU! You crazy, fucked-up psycho. She’s a saint for doing so. And for all you know, it could’ve been Lia who suggested it. She wouldn’t know where the borders are.”

“Lia can be rebellious,” Bucky noted.

“She’s naïve. Which in our line of work, can be dangerous.” Steve answered back.

“She didn’t grow up in the life.”

“Does she know? That you’re…about your family business?” Steve waved his fingers around.

“If she doesn’t, I think she suspects. She’s smart. Or Rose told her. They tell each other everything.”

“That whole family has brains. How’d you manage to snag Strange’s daughter anyway?” Steve asked finishing his drink. “Does that mean The Hospital isn’t neutral anymore?”

“Strange won’t let me anywhere near The Hospital unless I’m on my deathbed.”

“Hmm.” Steve nodded, knowing he wouldn’t get any more info other than that from his long-time friend.

You stepped out into the cold evening air, a slight breeze chilling the night. Bucky was not gonna like this. If you learned anything by now, you knew that Dugan had sent word to him that your bachelorette party wandered into Odinson territory and that he would be furious.

You didn’t know this was one of Thor’s clubs. You just followed your bridesmaid’s lead, talking about a brand-new spot that was trending. The lot of you had gone from one bar to another. Always within James’s borders of protection. You tried to steer the party back, but your cousin, Lia wanted to see it. Lord knows you can’t say no to her and her damn puppy eyes.

You thought it would be ok, one quick drink and lay low so you don’t gather attention. It wasn’t until you saw Lia kissing Loki Odinson, of all people, that you realized you were going to be in trouble.

You walked out onto the breezy summer night and before Lia could step foot on the concrete, Junior had already come up to you and your friends.

“Ma’am,” was all he said.

“He’s not happy, isn’t he?” you asked quietly.

“No, he’s not,” Dugan answered from behind Junior. “He’s furious.”

“I’m sorry Duggy. I didn’t know,” you said out of earshot from your friends. You were the only one who could call him that and make it sound endearing. You tried to channel Lia and gave him your sweetest puppy-eyed face.

“Well maybe you can get away with that, but I can’t. C’mon, he wants you guys to end the night,” Dugan ordered, motioning you guys back to two large SUV’s waiting on the curb.

In all honesty, you were glad that the night was ending. Aside from Lia, everyone there just tolerated you. They were there because your fiancé was “Bucky” Barnes and wanted to make advantageous connections with his future wife. They weren’t there for you.

After dropping the two of you off at Bucky’s house, Dugan set off to drop off the rest of your bachelorette party. Holding your hand, Lia followed you down the hall into James’ grand office. She gave your hand a heartfelt squeeze. Making sure you were all right.

“I’m sorry, Rose. Did I get us in trouble?”

“No. No, it’s all right,” you squeezed her hand back. “Even if Bucky is mad, what’s he gonna do? We didn’t do anything wrong.” You put on a brave face. You knew what kind of temper he had. It was never directed at you, but you’ve heard the cries of the men that have wronged him. He tried to shield you the best he could, but you were around it all your life. Especially since your father was the neutral doctor for all the families.

The scent of fresh cedar and tobacco hit your senses as soon as you entered his office. You froze for a half second. A habit you did involuntarily whenever you saw James. Not because you were frightened, but because his presence, his undeniable charisma always made you pause.

Lia walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. She held his hand and whispered, not too quietly, “Be nice. Or I’ll have to hurt you!”

“I’m always nice!” Bucky played offended. “C’mon. Have I ever not been nice?” he lovingly touched her nose with the tip of his finger and Lia giggled. You were so happy that they got along. Lia was hesitant about him at first, but she saw how you looked at him with love and devotion in your eyes. She saw how happy you were and how much you were yourself whenever you were around Bucky.

Most importantly, she saw how completely and madly in love Bucky was with you. How he would move heaven and earth for you to be happy. That was what won her over.

“Rogers, why don’t you take Lia here for a walk in the gardens? I need to speak to my future wife,” James calmly ordered. Both Steve and Lia looked at you. Worry and wistful glee warring on their faces. Steve held out his arms and Lia took them. Their footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as they left the room.

A quietly charged moment went by, and all James had done was stare at you. The deep-set brows on his face downturned in anger. Or worry? Neither was good when it came to Bucky.

You crossed the small space in between you and placed your hands on his chest. He lifted his head and looked down at you. His devastating features only got more handsome as he tried to be indifferent and stoic. His jaw was set, his nose flared and his eyes narrowed at the innocent cherubic features you were trying to portray.

His fingers grabbed your chin gently and forced you to look into his eyes. “Of all the places, Roza, why his?!” You heard his deep Romanian accent come forth. A shiver ran down your body, making your stomach curl in desire. His accent was only obvious when he felt a deep emotion. You recounted all the times that voice came out in the throws of passion as he took you over and over again.

“I didn’t know, Bucky. Honestly. I was just following the girls. They wanted to try out a new place. Some place they hadn’t been before, and I was just catching up with Lia. I didn’t notice that we had gone into Odinson territory. Or that Dugan had stopped following us.” You caressed your hands up and down his chest.

“HIS PLACE, ROSE?! Of all the clubs it was his place!” he held on to your hands and stopped your caress.

“Bucky! It’s over. You know that it is. He never loved me. Not like you!”

“Oh, don’t start comparing me to that bastard!” he let go of your hands and moved away in anger.

“It’s true!” you yelled out. “I was just something to pass the time for him. I…”

“Do you think that makes me feel any better?”

“Let me finish!” You stomped your foot. Bucky picked up his glass of whiskey and threw it against the wall from your opposite direction. You didn’t let it faze you as you slowly walked over to him. His anger dissipated with your every step. “He didn’t mean anything to me either Bucky. He was a tool. To anger my father. But you…you are the love of my life. The one I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I hadn’t even thought about him until tonight when I found out where we were.” You said placing your hands in soothing circles over his chest.

“Did you see him tonight?” he snarled.

“No.” You answered looking into his eyes so he would know you weren’t lying.

“Did he see you?”

“I honestly don’t know. I was too busy dancing with Lia.” You tried to give him your best apologetic face. You peppered small kisses onto his cheek and made your way to his lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, wanting him to open up and kiss you back. “What can I do to prove to you that I love you, dragostea meu, my love?”

Bucky stood there stubborn, yet slowly losing his resolve. Your soft lips on any part of his skin always excited him. “No one makes me weak like you do,” he said grabbing your waist. “Or so fucking angry!” James growled at the last word.

He pushed you up against his desk. The familiar cold mahogany sends chills up your skin as he picks you up by your waist and sits you down. He pulls up his chair and sits. He lounges in it with a slight swivel as his eyes travel the length of your body. He spreads his legs, showcasing the hard bulge he’s been trying to conceal.

“James, I really am sorry…”

“Shh. Spread them for me, sweetheart. One leg on each armrest,” he commanded as he scoots closer. You quietly and slowly open your legs and lean back as you placed your strappy heels on the armrest of his chair. The hem of your dress rides further up your waist and you almost whimper from his stare. That hungry look in his eyes, as if he found something he would kill for. Something he would die for.

“You’re so beautiful spread out for me like this Roza. Ready and willing.” He traced his fingers on the outside of your calves. His warm lips pushed against your supple thighs, slowly inching closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

“Tell me, Roza, did he ever worship you like this?” his nose grazed against the hood of your clit, sending shivers throughout your body. His tongue traced the seam of your panties and made you open wider. “Answer me, sweetheart.” He grabbed you and pulled you closer to his face. He looked up at you, but your head was thrown back in ecstasy, savoring him between your legs.

“N-no. Never,” you gasped as his mouth latched on to your sensitive nub. The thin fabric of your panties stopped his tongue from entering further. You pushed yourself closer to him. But he held you still, teasing you, knowing you wanted more.

“Mmm. This little number you have on is beautiful. Did I buy this for you?” you shook your head no. He traced his fingers on the gusset of your panties and pulled to a snap. You yelped in slight shock, more than pain. “Hmm. And these shoes?” Bucky asked as his hands pulled your panties off and traveled the length of your legs down to your ankles.

“I bought them, baby.” You answered. Bucky stood up slowly and leaned over you on the desk. He trapped you in between his muscular frame as he looked down at your lips. He kissed you fervidly. All teeth and tongue, leaving you gasping for air. His lips roamed down to your collar, and he bit the chain hanging on your neck.

“And this? Who bought this?” he said licking the bruise he just made.

“I did.” You answered. “I bought it for myself.”

“So you don’t need anyone, do you floricica mea? You certainly don’t need that low-life prick who couldn’t even bother to get on his knees and worship you like the goddess you are.” His head dipped lower, trailing his tongue in between your breasts. “Which means you don’t need me either, do you?”

“No, I don’t need you.” You whispered. Bucky paused and stared deep into your eyes. He started pulling away, but you grabbed his face between your hands and pulled it back up to yours. “I don’t need you. Or your money.” You brushed your lips against his. “But I want you. I want you Bucky Barnes! In every way and in every chance I get.” You kissed him, sucking on his top lip, as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You reached for his belt, undoing the fastening and making quick work of his zipper. Your hand brushed up against his hard length, feeling him throb through his boxers. Your mouth salivated at the thought of his arousal.

“Do you see what you do to me, Roza?”

“Oh, Bucky…” you whimpered as you pushed him back down to his office chair. He grunted when he hit the cushion and you swiftly placed yourself in between his legs. He stared up at you with ravenous eyes, licking his lips as he watched you lower yourself onto your knees. “Let me prove to you how much I want you.”

Bucky leaned forward to capture your lips. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt one by one tracing the hard muscle underneath. You dipped your fingers under the hem of his boxers and pulled them down, his large erection springing free from the tight confines of his pants. He groaned as you fisted him, your fingers barely closing around his large girth.

You licked the tip, tasting him. “Fuck,” he growled as his head rolled back. You continued to give him small licks, kissing and sucking down the length of his cock. Your hand moved to a rhythmic pace as you softly bit the base of his shaft, sending bolts of pleasure up his spine. You licked your way back up to the end and swallowed his tip. You could see his knuckles clenched and white on the armrest of the chair.

“Don’t tease me now. Show me how much you need me. How much you want me.” He said, one hand holding the side of your face. You moaned, opening your mouth wider and sticking your tongue out further. You took him in slowly. Inch by inch until his cock hit the back of your throat. “Look at me while you suck my cock.”

You looked up to see his gorgeous face curled in pleasure. Your eyes watering as he slowly pushed deeper into your throat making you gag. He pulled out slowly, savoring your lips around his girth. “Fuck,” he panted as he saw himself coated in your saliva. “That’s a good girl.” He thrust back into your mouth. “A good fuckin’ girl.”

You continued to bob your head up and down. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth. All you could hear was the gulp and swallow of your mouth mixed with Bucky’s shameless, feral moans. Even after holding the base of his cock, he felt heavy in your mouth as you dragged him faster and faster through your lips.

“St-stop,” he whimpered into the air. But you kept going. “Stop, Rose.” But you couldn’t. He chuckled at your eagerness. With one hand on your head, he pulled you off his hard cock as it bounced back toward his stomach. “Naughty little Roza” He smiled as he pulled your hair up to look at him. “I didn’t know I was going to marry such a slut.”

His words sent a chill throughout your body. He always danced that fine line between praise and degradation that always made you weak. “Bucky,” you whined.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. You need my cock inside you, don’t you?” You nodded as you turned your head licking his wrist that was holding your hair. “Stand by my desk and bend over for me. Hands behind your back.” He commanded.

You quickly complied, moving to stand by his desk and bend over it. You spread your legs apart putting most of your weight on the desk. The cold mahogany felt like ice against your heated face. You placed your hands behind your back and slowly pulled your dress up, showing him your dripping cunt. You heard the sound of his buckle as he stood. “You’re such a good little slut for me aren’t you?” Bucky slid two of his fingers through your folds, teasing you.

“Only for you, Bucky.”

“Only for me,’ she says.” There was an edge to his voice that made you nervous.

“Only you.” You repeated.

“Oh, floricica mea, you have no idea what I would do for you.” He spanked your ass, causing you to cry out in shock. He grabbed both of your wrists in one of his hands and secured them on your back. With his other hand, he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“You have no idea what I would do to anyone who ever touched you,” he slammed into your heated core making both of you cry out at the same time. Bucky bent over you, his hot breath tickling your ear as he said, “You are mine, Rosaline,” he growled. “MINE. I’m gonna make sure you forget that he ever existed.” He slammed further against you making you scream. A gargled plea between pain and pleasure.

Bucky stood back up and began thrusting his hips inside you. “…Ohfuck…God Bucky!...”

“That’s it, baby girl, say my name.”

“…B-bu…” you panted. With every thrust, every push, you felt the weight of his large cock pressing inside you. “…bucky…youfeelsogood…so good baby…” He took you hard and rough, keeping your chest pressed down onto the desk.

“You like that, sweetheart? You like my hard cock inside that tight pussy of yours?” he asked out of breath. You nodded your head, unable to make any coherent words other than grunts and moans. “Then say my name,” he growled.

“Bucky! yesyesyes…oh!Bucky…” You screamed over and over again. Every thrust had you yelling his name until it was the only thing you could say. Your legs started shaking. He could feel you squeeze him hard, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Give it to me baby. Come all over my cock.” And with his words, you screamed out the pleasure that he built up in your body. Bucky grunted as he stilled inside you. “Squeeze me harder, baby.” And somehow you obeyed as incoherent as you were.

When Bucky finished inside you, he pulled out slowly, watching his spent drip down your thighs. “Can you walk baby girl?” he said massaging your shoulders as you stood up slowly. You had a dazed look in your eyes as you shook your head. He picked you up bridal style and carried you down the hall to your bedroom. You giggled and made small love bites on his neck. “Just as well. I’m not finished with you yet.”

⬅️Brut Gold: Chapter 1 | Brut Gold: Chapter 3 (Coming Soon)➡️

A/N: This is part of my 1K Follower Celebration and also part of @the-slumberparty April Challenge: Mob AU.

🏷️ @emarich7 @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappinesss @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @gigglingtigger @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @splendidreads

[mr-clow]

Ensemble 2: Greed and Politics. Part 1:

Quatl was disappointed. As a representative of the Gubni he had planned every move he and other representatives in the galactic council would make. It was easy to trick humanity’s delegate, so the other species could have a meeting to vote for the reclamation of several human colonies and distribute them between the other species. As he knew, the only ones against it were the KalHals, they were too attached to humanity, and the fact that those furred Sanaris held their vote and ended abstaining to take a position was also inside his calculations.

Even then, he had studied every other specie, and made whatever arrangements were needed to have the majority approval. The Rajne have been in this since the beginning, those tall humanoid shaped herbivores gave him the creeps, but they were as good as him to handle the council and both species coveted new systems, worlds and resources the humans had conquered through their unstoppable conviction. The SavJok and Naba never had a good relationship with humanity, as they had grave issues in the past and were glad to dismantle the human expansionist machine. They also chipped in with ships and military forces, as well the BitiOng who were always hungry for more space to reproduce and consume as any insect specie. The avians were scared, and they simply vote to avoid conflict directed to them, but they would not help, any species that had a depredatory past made them cringe and humans were the case. What Quatl could not stop wandering was why the Spin’d rejected the proposal. He had bought the delegated weeks before, those arachnids were easily convinced. The Spin’d delegate had got permission even to dispose a few hundred ships and their tribulation to the cause, and the morning of the proposal he renounced and was replaced by a totally new delegate that not only voted against the proposal but defended humanity.

Quatl stood and served himself another glass of water with added nutrients. It tasted awful, but being a council delegate didn’t allow him to pass a month with his legs buried to absorb nutrients from the soil. His several roots tapped the floor as he walked around his office and went out to the cells below the council. He cleared his mind of any doubts as he knew humanity could not win against five entire empires from different species, but still needed to understand why humanity had stopped fighting two rotations ago and retreated as they could to their home system without even trying to fight. That was not planned, nor expected, humans always fought, to death and beyond. Suddenly, they only fought for nine of their rotations and retreated without any notice, even the cries for peace from their calls stopped. Total and absolute radio silence.

Michael was tired and hurt, he tried to beak at least one of those dirty branches from Quatl when he heard what was proposed and approved in a session he was not notified. Several guards stopped him, gave him a beating and threw him in this dirty cell. He wasn’t able to notify anyone to prepare for the joint attack and he was sure that his team suffered the same luck as him or worse. As the countless possibilities consumed his mind an echo reached him and he knew Quatl decided to appear after ten days or so, keeping track of the time was difficult here.

Quatl – I see that the guards could have beaten you more, I regret stopping them so soon now.

The voice, dubbed by the translator that was placed over Michael’s ear, gave him nausea, there was nothing in the whole universe he hated more than this guy. As Michael saw something that might have been a mythological dryad, he stood, only to tower over this dirty tree with brains and spat through the laser bars that held him prisoner.

Michael – I would love to see if your people are as flammable as the vegetation from my world.

Quatl – Don’t waste your energy, human, it is useless. The only thing that you can get right now is a bit of information from humanity if you answer my question.

Michael – So, the almighty flower pot wants my help now. Tell me, what keeps your roots outside the dirt for so long.

Quatl – Mock me to your heart contempt, I’m free in the end. Now tell me two things, why did humanity kept their inner worlds so lightly guarded, it is not common for your species to lack military power everywhere you go.

Michael – You attacked directly the inner worlds? And you ask me this!? What’s wrong with you, those are mainly civilian worlds!!

Quatl - Human worlds for what I care. Why were they unguarded?

Michael – Mainly because no one would be so stupid, coward or dishonourable to attack those worlds.

Quatl – Ha! Really, you are so naive? And even after only nine days you start to retire, running away to Sol system cowardly?

Michael – Wait, what?

Quatl – Yes, humanity is surrendering their worlds, leaving them behind and running back without giving any fight.

Michael – That, you disposable piece of timber, I won’t believe. I know who we are, and we would never retreat like that.

Quatl – So, you don’t know why, too. This might be a problem and I’m loosing time.

Quatl left, leaving the human screaming things he didn’t care to hear. He needed to warn the others, but warn them of what, he wondered. The war was going so well that they were almost a quarter of a cycle ahead of schedule (Around hundred and fifty human rotations). They expected high losses in the first cycle, but humans barely gave fight the first rotations and suddenly they started retreating. He remembered that centuries ago humanity did several sneak attacks against the SavJok, this might be the case again. He started cunning how to convince the other species of this and to crush humanity until nothing was left of them. Quatl approached Kiltnik office as he needed to share this with the Rajne delegate.

[mariacallous]

Seeing the imagery coming out of Gaza, it’s no wonder that 153 out of 193 states in the United Nations General Assembly and two-thirds of Americans support a cease-fire. The Hamas-controlled Gaza Ministry of Health reports that more than 20,000 Palestinians—many of them civilians—have died so far, and the numbers are climbing. As of the end of November, some 60 percent of the homes in Gaza had been damaged or destroyed. Fuel, medicine, and food are all in short supply. Given all of this, who would not want such devastation to end?

Strategically, however, calls for a cease-fire—as opposed to a short pause in fighting, such as the one-week truce proposed by Israel and rejected by Hamas this week—are a mistake. These calls from the international community are, for starters, unlikely to change Israeli policy. But more importantly, they actually end up making what is already an undeniably bad situation even worse. That is because successful cease-fires require both sides to believe that such a cessation serves their interests. After a week in Israel talking to senior Israeli military and security officials and everyday Israelis, I can say that this is simply not the case right now.

Even before the Oct. 7 attacks, the Israeli electorate was growing more skeptical of a peaceful two-state solution. One of the perverse ironies of the Oct. 7 attacks is that some of the communities hardest hit by the atrocities—the kibbutzim deeply rooted in Israel’s socialist past—were also some of the most staunchly pro-peace voices in Israeli society. Today, buildings across Israel are filled with photographs of the hostages and streets are filled with posters that, roughly translated, declare “together to victory.” In a society that was so recently reeling from deep polarization and mass protests, Israelis from across the political spectrum are now fully united at least in one respect: their desire for the destruction of Hamas.

Much of this broad commitment to Hamas’s destruction stems less from seeking revenge or even appeasing anger (although there is, to be sure, some of this in play as well), but rather an even more basic and powerful emotion: fear. Prior to the attack, Israeli security officials regarded Hamas as a second-tier threat, ranking below Iran and its premier proxy, Hezbollah. While Israel expected Hamas to launch rockets or occasionally kidnap Israelis, Israeli security officials never believed Hamas could conduct an attack at the scale or complexity of Oct. 7.

The attacks that morning shattered many Israelis’ sense of security in profound ways. Hamas operatives killed, raped, and tortured Israelis—both soldiers and civilians—in a brutal but highly methodical fashion. According Israeli military officers I interviewed, captured plans indicate that Hamas meticulously planned its assault, down to naming the owners of individual houses and even identifying who owned dogs. Captured weaponry suggests that Hamas planned to advance up to 30 kilometers into Israel and hold the territory for days. For context, Tel Aviv is a mere 60 kilometers from the Gaza border.

Indeed, the wounds of Oct. 7 remain fresh. More than 200,000 Israelis—from the Gaza border and from the Lebanese border—remain internally displaced. Over 10,000 rockets have been fired into Israel since the war began; hundreds of rockets are fired into Israel weekly, including into major cities like Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Since Oct. 7, 260,000 Israelis have applied for gun permits, and approvals have increased thirtyfold from a similar time period prior to the conflict. And with a currently mobilized army of a half-million in a country of fewer than 10 million, practically everyone has a family member either at or ready for war. Given that Hamas promised to repeat the Oct. 7 attack until Israel’s annihilation, it is no wonder that Israelis nearly uniformly want, as one Israeli politician put it to me, to “finish the job” this time around.

Against this backdrop, to Israelis, the international calls for a cease-fire ring hollow. Some seem tone-deaf. Francesca Albanese, the United Nations special rapporteur on the occupied Palestinian territories, even claimed that Israel never had a right to self-defense, because Gaza is “under belligerent occupation,” ignoring both the immediate reality of the Oct. 7 attacks and the broader context that Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005.

Other calls for a cease-fire smack of blatant hypocrisy. Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan—who is one of the most prolific jailers of journalists in the world and is also engaged in his own crackdown on Kurdish militant groups—quickly proclaimed Israel “a war criminal to the world.” Russian President Vladimir Putin, who is conducting an increasingly genocidal campaign in Ukraine, now wants to “stop the bloodshed” in Gaza. And Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, may decry the “crimes against Palestinians” but will torture and kill those who dare protest his regime and its strict interpretation of Islamic law.

It’s not merely that the calls for a cease-fire will likely go unheeded, however. They are likely having a perverse effect. As Israel senses the window for action closing, it increases the pressure to go fast and destroy Hamas infrastructure while it still can, rather than conduct a slower, more deliberate campaign to root out Hamas networks. The popular slogan heard at protests around the world—“from the river to the sea”—fuels Israel’s sense that it is locked in an existential battle. When countries face existential threats, they will go to any length to guarantee their security and are less—rather than more—likely to act with restraint.

Even if the calls for cease-fire are ultimately successful, the outcome will not be a pretty one. Israel, fearing a repeat of Oct. 7, will fortify its border with Gaza, turning it into something more akin to the Demilitarized Zone in Korea—with more walls, obstacles, and minefields—than its current state. Reconstruction will become significantly more difficult, as Israel will restrict what aid enters Gaza, again tempered by the fear that Hamas will use everything from concrete to fuel to rebuild its military infrastructure. Israel would also likely ban the 18,000 Gazans who previously worked in Israel, given the fears that some of them could have been a conduit of Hamas’s intelligence-gathering efforts, further stifling the chances that the Gazan economy bounces back from the conflict. Military operations would not cease, either. Hamas would still try to attack Israel; Israel would still strike Hamas and other military groups in return. Ultimately, these conditions would lay the seeds for yet another, potentially even bloodier Gaza war.

What, then, can the international community do to ease the suffering of Gaza’s civilian population? First, it should pressure Israeli operations to become more precise in their use of force. To date, Israel’s operations have included at least 29,000 airstrikes—not to mention significant amounts of artillery and ground operations. Israeli analyses of these strikes, as well as the relatively high rates of friendly fire between Israeli military units (believed to be up to 20 percent of Israeli casualties), suggest that, at the very least, Israel has loosened its rules of engagement for this war. Tightening these rules would save lives among both the Israeli military and Palestinian civilians.

The international community should also push for increased humanitarian aid for Gaza. While Israelis accuse Hamas of stealing aid for its own purposes, at least some of it gets through to Gaza’s population. In particular, with winter coming, and many of Gaza’s buildings destroyed, the international community should look to provide temporary housing to Gaza’s population. Of course, such housing is contingent upon having relatively safe places to put it, so the international community should also push Israel to create safe havens in spaces it has already cleared of Hamas militants.

Finally, the international community should force a hard and necessary conversation with Israel the day after the war ends. If there is to be any silver lining in all the death and destruction in Gaza, then it should be that this war opens the aperture for a more lasting political solution, rather than a continuous cycle of violence that has plagued the region ever since the Israeli withdrawal from the strip in 2005. Should Israel succeed in its war aims and drive Hamas out, it’s incumbent on Israel—as well as the international community—to provide the space for a liberal Palestinian nationalist movement to take Hamas’s place. That, in turn, requires Israel to make real concessions, not only in Gaza, but in the West Bank as well.

That is the trouble with cease-fires: They are short-term fixes amid the lasting problem of war. Given all the blood that has already been spilled, the international community must ensure that this war results not in some sort of temporary truce, but a lasting peace.

[housano]

Housano's Live-A-Half Assed summaries presents: How Alphecca Got His Groove Back Final Part

CW: Live a Hero spoilers

For the previous part, click here

Well here we are folks, the final episode of this event.

Our heroes are greeted to the sound of thunderous applause and rain of glowing petals and are thanked for saving the city from the Kaibutsu. Obsidious is a bit disappointed he abandoned the ores since no one was hurt and Rakta checked with the local infirmary, confirming no injuries and expressed relief everyone is in good health. They also praise King Alphecca, which suprises him as to how they know his true identity. Obsidious points out he literally declared that he was Alphecca, King of Alcidia, out loud. Alphecca realizes that old habits die hard and must have blurted it out as an autoresponse. We decide to join in the festivities and after some unseen sightseeing, we unfortunately all went our separate ways (save me from office work Obsidious!).

Obsidious and Rakta

Obsidious finally relents and travels to Lunar city gets his physical checkup which he is not a happy camper (I believe he doesn't like needles but translation is still out for deliberation on that one). Rakta does finish up the physical checkup. Obsidious says if he needs to thoroughly inspect his body to go ahead. Rakta says that won't be necessary as this is merely a routine checkup, but if he is interested in a more detailed examination then Rakta would definit-Obsidious immediately declines.

Both he and Rakta are thankful for their time and what they learned in Awkwes. However both express their regret about the trip being too short (don't we all feel that way about summer vacation?) Obsidious laments there were so many rare ores that a few days were not enough to analyze and having to submit a full scale investigation request to the university but it moves at a pace slower than Lifewonders translation team (they're not on Tumblr, I can call them out like that). Rakta said he wanted more time to research the medicinal properties of the bath waters. He also says he wishes he could do it with everyone again, but with Alphecca's schedule that might not be feasible. They also have no idea where Theoreol gallavanted off to, and even though he awakended as a Hero, he declined joining the Heroic Educators and Rakta theorizes that it may be for the best that he remains unaffiliated.

Rakta mentions that he has the rest of the day off and asks Obsidious if he would like a tour of the city. He mentions how it's always changing and places come and go quickly. However, he determined to learn as much as he can about his home so that he can make refugees and immigrants to the city feel as welcome as possible. Obsidious takes him up on that offer and off they go.

Theoreol

Our silly boy is off on a desolate planet where they find an injured habitant where they give them a new and medically approved concoction. THe person thanks Theoreol and offers to take him back to his place but mentions that the only delicacy is wilderness potatoes. Theoreol is intrigued of food that would grow on this planet, but warns that he isn't human and the way he eats things may freak out the person he saved. The anonymous person doesn't give a shit. He mentions he hopes to write a travelogue and travel the stars one day and asks Theoreol if he has any good stories. Theoreol starts off "Once upon a time, in a far off kingdom, there lay a small village at the edge of the woods. And in this village, there lived a childless baker with his wi-"

*Gets smacked by the Musical police and issued a Sondheim Citation*

Actually he talks about how stories have different value but the one that sticks out to him most was his recent trip to Awkes....

Alphecca

Rutilix is rutilixing about looking for Alphecca to let him know that the messenger from Awkwes has arrived. Thanks to his efforts and autopilot self-promotion, The Kingdom of Ardisia and Awkwes have established diplomatic relations. He has had Rutilix help him with examining the land to see how they could increase tourism to their Kingdom. He mentions the road he wants to choose is the People of his Kingdom. he wants to open the univserse to them so they can choose the path that is best for them. It is time for the meeting the Prime minister and Alphecca thinks to himself that his present should be arriving at this moment.

Our Live a Hero Stand In

We now return to our boring as hell desk job Parallel Flight where we are drenched in sweat. Mokdai, being the perfect cinnamon roll he is, gets us a cold wet towel and even relents in letting Akashi hand out his secret ice cream state. Ryekie and Huckle are out on business but will be back soon. They saw the news about the event and want to know all the details about what happened. However, before we get into that we got a package from Alphecca as a thank you gift. We open it up to find that he sent us: a tank full of Awkwes eels.

Mokdai immediately wants to know how to prepare it and Akashi grabs one before we can warn him not. Sure enough, it goes right for the cleavage and Mokdai and us struggle to get it out as Huckle and Ryekie return.

Still trying to process what is going on, we manage to get the eel out of Akashi and the eel makes its way into Huckle. They may all have gone to the hot springs to clean off but those are skins for another event.

How Alphecca Got His Groove Back, Finale- Eels well that Ends Well- END

Final Thoughts:

I thought this event would be underwhelming, but I was pleasantly surprised. All the characters had great arcs and Obisidious and Theoreol are absolutely wonderful additions to the cast. I'm sad that the event is over but now counting down the days to Obsidious's alt. My favorite still remains tied between Virtual Festa Royale and Melodic Meteorite Christmas. I'll give this 7/10. My support lineup already has Toshu and Shaft in it so it's ready for the VFR rerun. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Hiroyuki Sanada is one of a handful of Japanese actors to land major Hollywood roles, He has an extensive background in Kendo, Shorinji Kempo and Kyokushin Kaikan Karate. Sanada's films include “The Last Samurai,” released in 2003, “The 47 Ronin,” starring Keanu Reeves in 2013, Bullet Train in 2022 John Wick: Chapter 4 in 2023. The role Sanada plays in “Shōgun” was first portrayed by Toshiro Mifune in the 1980s.

Hiroyuki Sanada not only starred in Shōgun, but he served as one of the producers of the show, in charge of things associated with the Japanese culture and he thoroughly pursued authenticity. As such, he was poised for a big job and He was an example to follow. He took the producer role, and He could throw all his experience into the cause to look fully satisfied. Shooting was done amid the [COVID-19] pandemic. Sanada wore two masks and a pair of goggles on his face and came to all the scenes, taking thorough measures against infection.

It is important to stress that sometimes actors become producers to gain extra power on the set, sometimes in place of a pay raise or just to look good in their resume, and we have seen many examples on TV.

MOST producer-actors aren’t TRUE producers because producers work 6–7 days 14+ hours a day, and actors wouldn’t give up their “off days” to come into the office and handle what a producer has to do getting next week's show going, including story and script writing.

Sanada was involved in making the script as well and followed painstaking steps in the process. He could work on the production in the way he liked thanks to the ample budget of the global streaming service.

The high quality of the production, including costuming, props and mannerisms; collaboration between the Japanese professional team, headed by producer Sanada, and the local production team; as well as the acting that delivered a strong sense of reality, all came together.

He first booked creative staff and called on Japan’s specialists in wardrobe, wig-making and set design, with whom he had produced period dramas and films for nearly 40 years. He also made sure that each Japanese actor was taught by a specialist instructor on their role, be it samurai or lady-in-waiting. Props and wigs were brought from Kyoto. Some of them were produced in eclectic styles, combining Japanese and Western methods.

He checked the first draft [in English] to see whether there was anything culturally off. Once the draft was translated into Japanese and examined by history experts for authenticity, a scriptwriter created the dialogue. Then, He changed them to suit each character, which was then translated back into English and brushed up before being approved as the final version. Sanada said, adding that he always made certain that the script would sound neither Westernsed nor modern. He wanted to put an end, in his time, to the era in which Japan was misrepresented on screen.

Sanada is on the red carpet. AMY SUSSMAN//GETTY IMAGES

Sanada understood their backgrounds very well. Since He also got himself involved in script-making, He knew Toranaga’s personality and role inside out. He was able to concentrate on playing the character without any trouble and as a reward for making all the preparations. He was able to thoroughly enjoy the process of acting and He was rewarded with an Emmy for Outstanding Actor in A Drama Series and an Emmy for a Producer for his fantastic work in FX's critically acclaimed Shogun.

It took home prizes including Outstanding Drama Series, as star and co-producer Hiroyuki Sanada became the first Japanese actor to win the Emmy for best lead actor in a dramatic series.

#Shōgun #Emmy #HiroyukiSanada #actor #producer #LordYoshiiToranaga #Japan #series #feudalsystem #FX #Hulu #Disney+ #COVID-19 #pandemic #JamesClavell #book

Posted 17th September 2024

[mightyflamethrower]

consequences of illegal behavior, systemic mediocrity follows.

Under toxic National Socialism, Stalinism, and Maoism, millions of cronies and grifters mouthed party lines in hopes that their approved ideology would allow them to advance their careers and excuse their lawbreaking.

The same thing has happened with the woke movement and the now-huge Diversity/Equity/Inclusion conglomerate.

Grifters and opportunists mask their selfish agendas under the cloak of neo-Marxist care for the underprivileged or victimized minorities. Meanwhile, they seek to profit illegally as if they were old-fashioned crony capitalists.

During the disastrous COVID-19 lockdown, California governor Gavin Newsom pontificated about leveraging the quarantine to ensure greater equality: “There is opportunity for reimagining a [more] progressive era as it [relates] to capitalism…We see this as an opportunity to reshape the way we do business and how we govern.”

Meanwhile, Newsom did not seem very “progressive” when he was caught in one of California’s most expensive restaurants dining with sidekick lobbyists while violating the very mask and social distancing rules he had mandated for 40 million others.

Newsom also bragged about social equity when he signed a new California law mandating $20 an hour for fast-food workers—while many of his own employees at his various company-controlled eateries made only $16 an hour.

And he allegedly gave a unique exemption from his wage law to one particular bakery/restaurant chain, Panera, whose owner is an old friend and major campaign contributor.

Newsom apparently feels that the more progressively he postures, the less he’ll be called out for his own hypocrisy and self-interested agendas.

In another egregious case, the now-imprisoned felon, Sam Bankman-Fried, may have been the greatest con artist in American history. He siphoned billions of dollars from his cryptocurrency company, destroying the fortunes of thousands when his multi-billion-dollar Ponzi empire collapsed.

How did Sam and his two Stanford law-professor parents manage to accumulate millions of dollars in resort properties and perks without getting caught until after their empire collapsed?

Answer: Sam showered millions of dollars on left-wing politicians to advance their progressive crusades. His parents justified this family giving as a form of “effective altruism.”

That catchy phrase masked the reality that his crusade for social justice was just an incredibly effective get-rich-quick scheme.

The Bankman-Fried family apparently reasoned that their devotion to this woke form of “altruism” would translate into riches for themselves, albeit bankruptcies for investors.

Another example: in Georgia’s Fulton County, District Attorney Fani Willis ran for office, promising to indict supposed right-wing monster Donald Trump.

She raised campaign money on her woke credentials. Often, when challenged, she played the race victim card.

Meanwhile, Willis hired as a special prosecutor her secret paramour, the incompetent Nathan Wade, although he had never tried a single felony or even criminal case.

She and Wade then went on expensive junkets. She claimed that she reimbursed him with cash that was, of course, unverifiable.

Given their woke ideology, both assumed they were entitled to splurge at taxpayers’ expense, offer likely-false testimony under oath, and violate canons of professional behavior for lawyers.

She wasn’t alone in her corruption. After the death of George Floyd, the founders of the left-wing Black Lives Matter movement went on a house-buying rampage. The more corporations filled their coffers with millions, either from guilt or as protection money, the more new homes the directors purchased.

One co-founder, Patrisse Khan-Cullors, a self-described Marxist, splurged by spending $3.2 million in BLM money to buy herself four upscale residences.

And the most radical Democratic members of Congress—the so-called Squad—apparently feel that the more they level accusations of racism, the more they can profit without fearing any consequences for their wrongdoing.

One squad member, Rep. Ilhan Omar, redirected $2.8 million of her office’s allotted government money to her husband’s political consulting company.

Still another member, the radical leftist Rep. Cori Bush, often harangued the country to defund the police. Now the FBI is investigating her for stealthily paying tens of thousands of campaign dollars to her own husband for “security.”

Woke and DEI activists may not necessarily be any more innately mediocre, corrupt, or conniving than other politicians and activists.

But they seem so, because they loudly broadcast that they are for “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion”—and thus assume themselves to be exempt from all scrutiny and free to profit in any way they please.

The woke/DEI project is enticing thousands of shysters, careerists, and mediocrities, all keen to enrich themselves on the premise that they are noble fighters for social justice who deserve immunity from any scrutiny.

How odd it is that America is wasting billions of dollars hiring DEI czars and electing woke politicians who so often accuse others of a multitude of sins, largely as a way of enriching themselves, hiding their own culpability, and making a mockery of the law.

[ivpapaemeritusiv]

Chapter 13: You Will Never Walk Alone

Summary: In this chapter, Addeline has fully recovered from childbirth and is relishing her second pregnancy, hopeful for a boy. However, her joy is short-lived when she realizes her husband will be away on tour during the birth of their second child. She bravely confronts him, insisting on accompanying him to avoid being left vulnerable to the clergy. Will Papa heed her plea? And how will Sister react to the idea of a pregnant mother traveling with an infant?

Word Count: 3,800

This is a chapter filled with smut and fluff (Rough sub/dom, oral f receiving, oral m receiving, handjob, teasing, marking). This is a transition chapter to move us from home life at the ministry to the band's upcoming tour. Translations: Mi fai impazzire = You drive me crazy

Papa was in his office when Addy decided to bring him a meal. He’d been absent from sight since morning, and she longed to be in his presence. Addeline often started her mornings alone, noticing the absence of her husband in their bed, as he dedicated his early hours to projects for the ministry or the band. Sometimes he’d work well into the afternoons.

She approached the door, catching the sound of a woman's laughter from within. Sister Annaliese, she presumed, always by Papa's side, waiting on him hand and foot. With a gentle tap on the door, she discreetly interrupted their conversation.

“Come in!”

She pushed the creaky door open to behold Papa sitting at his desk.

“Ah, Amore,” he turned to the sister of sin, “Annaliese, will you leave us please.”

Addeline's patience wore thin as the young woman curtsied for the satanic pope and then turned her attention to Addy, stating, "I will fetch Elizabeth; it's time for her to wake up from her nap."

Addy swiftly responded, "I will get my daughter after speaking with my husband. But thank you, Sister."

Annaliese clicked her tongue and let her eyes flutter, saying, "Of course, Addy."

"Mrs. Copia," Addy corrected.

"Oh it is fine, Addeline," Copia announced, "Sorella, you may fetch Elizabeth."

The young sister cut eyes with Papa's wife, "Sì Papà."

Addeline huffed in frustration, though Copia remained oblivious to the catty exchange. He was in his black cassock—his matching papal mitre next to him upon his desk.

“Good evening, my darling. My two darlings,” he rubbed her growing belly.

“I brought you food. You’ve been cooped up in here all day so I thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate that,” he said taking the plate off her hands. His leather clad fingers brushed up against hers. He took a bite of food and with a mouthful said, “While you’re here, I could use an extra set of eyes.”

Sister Annaliese can’t read? She thought as she grabbed a document from Papa’s hands.

“It’s just a rough draft of dates for the next tour. Can you make sure the dates do not overlap? I’m afraid I’ve been looking at them for so long that the days are all looking the same to me.”

She studied the paper, reading aloud, “January... February... March? There’s a March date on here. Is that this coming March?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “We'll wrap it up in March.”

“No. Papa, the baby is going to come in March. Who approved these dates?”

“Well, it was a collective agreement between myself, the ghouls and the clergy, of course.”

“They must know that I’m pregnant!”

“Sister and Nihil?” Papa asked, “How would they know?”

“They want you away when the baby is born! They want control over everything. What if they want to kill the baby if it’s a girl? I won’t stay here with them alone! I WON’T!”

“Amore, calm down,” he said, trying to quiet her, “We have not told anybody you are pregnant yet. Had you let me say something earlier then perhaps they would not have suggested this particular date.”

“You knew!” Addeline said callously, allowing a fiery bit of her personality to show, “Why the hell then would you approve it?”

Angry at her tone and appalled at her disrespect, the man grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her closely, "Remember who you are speaking to."

She felt the intensity in his grip, the tension palpable in the air as he uttered those words, a warning laced with authority and a hint of menace. Addeline's defiance met his gaze, a battle of wills unfolding in that charged moment.

The emotion was too much for her and a solitary tear betrayed the storm of emotions within her. The Cardinal's guilt softened his demeanor, his grip loosening on his wife's wrist as he uttered, “I'm sorry, Tesoro.”

“I want to come with you.”

Papa regretfully shook his head as he reminded the woman that the road was no place for a child and that someone would have to stay behind and watch Elizabeth, "She's too small to be cared for on tour."

"She'll be one by then! Please!" she pleaded, her voice carrying a mix of longing and determination. "Certainly, I deserve more excitement in my life than just having and watching babies within the walls of this ministry."

Her eyes reflected a deep sense of yearning and desperation, aware that his decision held the key to her future. She hoped to sway his heart, not wanting to be confined to a life solely within the walls of duty and motherhood. The desire to explore the world alongside him, sharing experiences with their children, burned brightly within her.

Papa stared into her pupils. They were wide and big and filled with such hope. He did not want to be the bane of her existence, and he did not wish to be someone she grew to resent, "Perhaps, this once we can test it out. You bring Elizabeth and we'll see if it works," he stated, his gaze filled with understanding and a hint of compromise. Addeline's joy was palpable, but the Cardinal's reminder was swift, "You are pregnant though, my sweet. And by the tour you'll be very pregnant. You must be careful, and what about your appointments with the doctor?”

“Can’t we just take Saoirse along?”

Papa mulled over the idea, now faced with the challenge of accommodating three additional individuals on a packed tour bus. The logistics of adding more members to the group posed a new consideration in their journey ahead.

“The bus is at capacity, I'm afraid, Tesoro. Perhaps we can schedule your appointment times around the shows?"

Addeline's face lit up with enthusiasm, "Yes, give me a list of cities we'll be in, and I'll make my appointments during off days.”

The proactive approach to managing her appointments amidst the tour's schedule impressed Papa Emeritus. He was quite taken with his wife’s responsibility.

“You could be a manager, you know?” he complimented her.

It was well received, and Addy's spirits were much higher now. He loved to see her happy, although he knew Sister wouldn't be thrilled about the idea.

“Now, Amore,” he said, pulling her closely until he could bring her onto his lap. He embraced her tight, “I think I shall punish you for your deviance a moment ago.”

A rush of excitement began to build up inside of the woman as Papa placed a succession of gentle kisses upon her lip. Rising to his feet, with Addy in his arms, he walked over to the door and placed her on her feet once more, “I’d love an evening nap. Wouldn’t you?”

She nodded in anticipation and quickly opened the door. Addy practically skipped down the hall to their bedroom and waited for her husband to meet her there. In the privacy of their room, Papa picked Addeline up and laid her down gently on the bed. He began removing articles of her clothing, lightly caressing the skin underneath until soon only her underwear remained.

He ravished his wife with kisses, sucking her delicate skin so hard that it began to welt, leaving a path of red imperfections in his wake. He slowly began removing his own clothes, keeping the sash from around his cassock in his hand.

He grabbed his wife’s wrists and clasped them together above her head, preparing to tie her to the bedpost, when he noticed dark bruising around them. He gasped, “Amore Mia! Did I do this to you?”

She looked at her bruises, “Oh, I guess so. But it’s fine, Papa,��� she reassured him.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I do get carried away sometimes.”

It was true, the Cardinal was a demon when it came to intimacy. The balance between pleasure and pain sometimes tipped the scales, although Addeline couldn’t get enough of it.

“It doesn’t hurt, Papa,” she took his face into her small hands, “You’ve never done anything to me that I didn’t want,” she was very reassuring although she could still sense some guilt from him.

“Even still, my darling. We must be careful. You are with child again. And so soon after Elizabeth. I don’t want to harm you or the little one.”

Now, feeling unsatisfied, she pouted at the Cardinal, “But, Papa, I really want you right now.”

“Ah, my darling is insatiable,” he said, giving her a pat on the head.

She felt heat rising inside of her as she looked upon him. She could see him thinking on the matter and each second, he refused to blink was a torturous moment for her.

“I believe I will let your cunt rest tonight, my pet.”

She felt his erection go away suddenly and she gave him a look that a small child might give for hearing the word no.

He noticed the look and scolded her slightly, “No moping, my sweet. Get some rest.”

The couple fell asleep as nighttime crept upon them, but the Cardinal woke up not much later, aching once more. Apparently his hard on had returned. He looked next to him and saw Addy fast asleep, her back turned to him. He inched up closer to her and wrapping his hand around her belly he began to slide his hand downward toward her clit. He was breathing softly into her ear, trying to rouse her from her slumber, “Addy, Darling?”

She stirred awake but did not open her eyes, “Papa?”

“Shh,” he continued rubbing her.

His fingers felt magical. She began to grind against them wanting more of the feeling as he only teased her. A thought ran through her head, an idea to get Papa a bit heated much like he was earlier, “That feels amazing, Cardinal,” she said, knowing that calling him by his informal name would push his buttons.

Still stroking her down below, he used his free hand to grab a handful of her hair. He snapped her neck back forcing her to look at him, “What was that my little pet?”

“I said that feels amazing, Papa,” she struggled to utter the words with her neck pulled back so far. Her vocal cords were being stretched and her voice was strained.

“Mm hm.” The man was very turned on by his wife’s defiance, “You’re being very disrespectful to your Papa today, aren’t you?”

He stopped rubbing her and flipped her onto her stomach so that she was facing downward. He pushed her head further into the pillow sandwiching her cheeks between the bed and his palm, “You need to be taught a lesson, I think.”

He left a sweet trail of kisses down her spine as he made his way down below, propping her hips up just a bit so that he could bury his face into her slick folds from this angle. He used his tongue to lick at her creases, madly whipping the tip around every inch of her. Her legs began to involuntarily close in on him, the sensation being far too sensitive for her to handle.

“Open wide,” he commanded, slapping her ass cheek as hard as he could.

“OWW!” Addy cried out, the sting leaving a handprint on her skin.

He used his teeth to gently nibble her clit. Her legs began to close once more with the intensely ever-growing sensitivity. No matter how hard she tried to fight the urge to squish Papa’s face between her thighs she couldn’t make her body listen.

SMACK, another blow to her other cheek, “AHHHH,” she recoiled a bit in pain and involuntarily fell forward. He yanked her back and plunged his tongue deep into her entrance. This time she didn’t even try to fight her slowly moving limbs. She closed in on him once more and braced for another smack. The Cardinal spanked her again in the same spot causing a surge of burning discomfort to go shooting up her spine.

“You’re not obeying me tonight,” he continued to tease her, “I guess I’m going to have to make you work for your pleasure.”

He grabbed her and forcefully whipped her around on to her back. He hovered over her and positioned himself just far enough away so that Addy could only reach the tip of his cock with her pelvis, “Fuck me, my dear,” he said to her, “If you can reach me.”

She lifted her hips up as far as they could go, forcing the man to penetrate her but she could only get an inch of him. It wasn’t nearly enough. She continued thrusting up and down, desperately trying to get more length. The Cardinal could see that she was growing weary, and he was pleased with her attempts to try to take on more of him. He brought himself down a bit further so that her entrance could swallow him a bit more. The extra few inches gave her the relief she needed.

“Ahh, is that better, Amore?” he asked. “You needed more of your Papa, didn’t you?”

He watched her work hard for an orgasm and he so enjoyed watching her use his cock like a toy. When he felt that familiar feeling—her legs beginning to quiver—he immediately darted into her, pushing her far into the mattress with one powerful thrust.

“Papa!” Addeline screamed out his name. He never grew tired of hearing her scream for him when she was losing herself in the pleasure that only he could give her. He watched her eyes tighten, her fists clench, her toes curl. Then, nothing. It was such a quiet release, he thought. She relaxed and let herself fall limp as he gazed upon her, so satisfied she was—much like Elizabeth after a meal.

“No, my darling,” he said, quite aroused, “We’re not done.”

The Cardinal continued to push himself in and out of her rested body. She tried to come back to life for him, but he assured her it wasn’t necessary, “It’s okay, Cara Mia, I will do it.”

He continued in this way with Addy’s arms tightly around his back. His back was wide and muscular, and she was unable to make her own fingers meet in the middle when she wrapped her hands around him.

With one final thrust the Cardinal let out a quiet grumble and then fell off of Addy back onto his side of the bed.

“Cazzo, Amore,” he cursed, “I’ll never grow tired of you, my sweet. Mi fai impazzire.”

She smiled at him, “So much for letting me rest.”

The man laughed and closed his eyes. Addeline could still see him smiling even long after he fell asleep. She decided to roll out of bed to go to her tiny daughter.

Elizabeth, in the nursery down the hall, was fast asleep in her little crib. Addy dared not wake her but looked down on her as she lay unbothered. She thought to herself as she watched the child smile in its sleep that she looked just like the Cardinal. You’ll be better than any boy, she whispered at the side of the crib as she let her dry hands brush the side of the sleeping angel’s face.

As she made her way back to Papa’s room, she clutched her tummy tightly, feeling guilty that she kept praying for a boy. She slid back underneath the covers careful not to disturb her other half and thought of an imaginary male heir. And when she fell asleep, she dreamed of him too.

*

Addy woke up early the next morning to the sight of Papa getting dressed. She stretched her arms, threw her feet on the ground and put a robe on her naked body and walked over to where he was.

“Ah, good morning,” Copia said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Good morning, Papa. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes, pet. I must meet with Sister about preparations for the next gig. We must choose a set list and venues.”

“Talk to her about me coming along.”

“I will inform her that you will accompany me.”

She wrapped her arms around the Cardinal, “Thank you.”

“I see you have some new marks on your body,” he noticed the love bites he had given her just hours ago.

“A gracious gift from my Papa,” she smirked.

“No, Amore, those were from the Cardinal.”

She laughed nervously, remembering she had purposefully addressed him that way during their lovemaking.

“Again, I am too rough with you. Forgive me, dear, for in the heat of the moment I become so passionate. I cannot help it.”

“I love your passion, Papa,” she smiled.

He was growing excited again and Addeline could see this.

“Well, well,” she said, “Will you be going to meet Sister like that?”

Copia stepped closer to his wife, close enough for her to see his small, charming crow’s feet and catch a whiff of his cologne.

“If I may—” he asked, putting her hair behind her shoulders. He suddenly leaned in and kissed Addy. She stumbled backwards, a little unprepared for the kiss, but he righted her with a firm hand on her back.

“I thought you had to go?” she asked, pressing against him to let him know that she wanted this if he did.

He didn’t say a word. He just continued to kiss her. Her arms traveled up his sturdy shoulders, as they continued to kiss fervently. His hardness continued to grow. The girl frantically pulled his pants down to his ankles, exposing the lump that had been growing underneath.

“See what you’ve done to me, Tesoro?”

Dropping to her knees on the cold, ceramic floor, she took his girth into her hand and began pumping up and down, delighting in the moans it elicited from him. She moved to wrap her lips around the man. He propelled his hips to meet her mouth and she took his cock, gladly. A series of Italian curses spilled from his mouth, interspersed with shallow grunts. It was the most vocal she had ever heard him be.

“Papa,” she exclaimed, “Someone will hear you.”

“Your mouth feels so good. Keep going!”

His words encouraged her to move faster. She wrapped her lips around him, taking him deep enough so that his manhood brushed up against the back of her throat. She gazed upwards and locked eyes with him. His hair, typically neatly slicked back, was tousled and hanging in strands in front of his face. He struggled to maintain eye contact, his tetrachromatic eyes fluttering. He couldn’t believe she was taking in all of him right now.

“I’m going to—”

He withdrew from Addy’s mouth and with a deep groan, his hips snapped, and he painted the girl’s face with ropes of his release.

“C—azzo,” He stuttered emptying the last of it while she waited patiently for the aftershocks of his orgasm to settle. He slumped against his desk, catching his breath and admiring the way his wife was covered in him.

“You know,” Addy started, “I think I would have rather you just shot it in my mouth,” she was wiping her face with the fabric of her robe.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he apologized, tucking his cock back into his pants, “It happened much too quickly for me to think.”

He grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and dampened it in the sink before dabbing at Addy’s face to clean away what he had just soiled her with.

“Thank you, Papa,” she said sweetly.

“No, thank you!”

*

The Cardinal walked to Sister’s office. He knocked on the door and was met with a friendly, “Come in.”

He slowly opened the door and entered the room to find Sister sitting at her desk.

Glancing up briefly from her work, she managed to mutter, “Cardi! Good of you to join me—only 15 minutes late. I assume what you were doing before this was much more essential?”

“Oh,” Copia began, “Absolutely—of the upmost importance!” he replied.

Sister raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, “Well, never mind that. Did you look over the material we put together for the European tour?”

“I did, yes! It all looks great save for one thing.”

“Oh?” she questioned, “What thing is that?”

“Well…” he paused. He’d forgotten they had not formally told sister about Addeline being pregnant again. Addy said she had her suspicions that they had somehow found out, but Copia wasn’t convinced.

“The March date…”

“Yes?” Sister urged him to continue.

“Well, you see… Addeline is pregnant.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide, as she shouted with relief while slapping her hands together like a playful seal, “The most joyous news! How far along?”

“See, uh, that’s the thing Sister. The baby will arrive in March, and you and the Clergy have me on tour in March.”

“I see no problem,” She said, “Being on tour never stopped anyone from having a baby.”

“Right, right,” he said nervously, mustering the courage to get his point across, “Then it is settled? Addeline will accompany me.”

“Oh no that won’t do. You see, she should be here for the delivery. A son will need to be presented to the clergy just as last time. We need to verify that it did come from the girl.”

“You mean, to make sure my wife actually gives birth to my baby? Because there are so many others on hand that it could be switched with?”

Sister scoffed, “I just think it is best.”

“Without me present?” Copia kindly but firmly questioned, “Should my own child’s birth not be of concern to me, Sister? Maybe I would like to make sure the baby is not switched as well, eh?”

“Of course, Cardi. But the tour dates are set. We had no way of knowing your wife was pregnant.”

“Didn’t you?” he asked, suggesting what Addeline had been suspicious of all along—he too, starting to believe it as well.

“We just thought that—”

“—I know what you thought, Sister. Nonetheless, she will come with me. I am best at knowing what is right for my wife. You can tell the rest of them that if it is all the same, she will receive the best of care from me on the road.

“I will come too then. I used to go on all the tours and perhaps it’s a good time for me to begin again.

The Cardinal was at a loss for words. He knew Addy would not like it but it was happening too quickly for him to stop it, “I… well… I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I’ll have my bags packed and ready to go.”

“Oh…” the man stuttered. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he came to confront Sister and he knew his young wife would be less than pleased. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Sister walked away, swaying from side to side, still speaking, “Of course. You’ll need help watching Elizabeth while you’re out there on the road. She'll be a little busy body by then - probably walking.”