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[belissaevent]

Meeting Conference Organiser | Belissa Events Management

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[batshit-auspol]

I really enjoy this blog so much. Gimme your most favorite batshit auspolitics moment from the 2000s to 2010s. please. i am morbidly curious.

2007: The APEC conference, where all global leaders converge in one city to pretend like they're doing things, is to be held in Sydney, Australia. With the war on terror in full swing, security is at a maximum, and large swathes of the city are placed behind a giant multi-layered steel fence to keep the world leaders far away from the unwashed masses.

Attempting to ward off trouble, organisers of the conference hold a meeting with notorious political comedy prank group "The Chaser", to tell them they are, under absolutely no circumstances getting anywhere near any world leaders, and to not even bother trying.

"The whole perimeter is secure," security forces told them sternly. "The only thing getting through that fence is a motorcade."

24 hours later The Chaser were on their way towards the fence with a motorcade.

Now a few things should have tipped off security guards that this fake Canadian motorcade was not a the real deal. Number one: Canada wasn't at the conference, number two: no country has actually had security running alongside cars since the 60s, and three: most security guards don't carry video cameras with them or passes that read "this is fake".

Nevertheless the ruse was more successful than anyone had anticipated, and The Chaser team were happily waved into the most secure area on planet earth by police, who informed the incognito comedians that "the road is yours."

Reaching the outside of George Bush's hotel, the pranksters now began to worry that they were never going to be stopped by police and decided to get out of the car and walk back to the fence.

While dressed as Osama Bin Laden.

At this point all hell broke loose. Snipers were locked on. Confused police scrambled, and immediately arrested the whole group, only breathing a sigh of relief when they saw the words "Chaser" on the fake security passes.

Bizarrely the police opted to give a full escort to the guy dressed in a suit, and allowed the other man cosplaying as the world's most wanted terrorist to just casually walk out on his own before booking him at the perimeter.

The Chaser team said that while being put in a cell overnight wasn't fun, they were less stressed after police started visiting to ask for photos and signatures.

The prank group were later hauled before the courts and threatened with a massive fine, but the case was eventually dropped after they successfully argued that it's not technically breaking-in if the cops happily wave you into a high security zone.

Needless to say they have changed that law for future APECs.

Making light of the situation, the prank group also returned to the site a few days later dressed as carboard cars, to see just how flimsy a disguise could get past police.

This time at least, they were not let in.

[reignpage]

Vice President!Sukuna

Ames: espionage

Contents: angsty, a little sexual so 18+ mdni, confusing, bts of the speed dating event, not proofread, meant to post this before the part 1 but I thought you guys would want to be closer to the reveal, still some people might appreciate the fluff here

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sukuna mutters. 

There, inside Conference Room 3, is a disgusting display of desperation and pitiful misery. Streamers have been thrown all over every surface, desks and chairs arranged in a shit circle and balloons have been blown up and litter the floor. 

If he had it his way, this stupid society would have never been allowed to form; the last thing the world needs is more community and whatever rainbow glitter fairy princess propaganda is being spread in this cult. 

Well, of course, he technically does have it his way. As president, he could make this society’s life a pain, he could cut their funding, could cancel their bookings for every room, could convince the trustees this is a counter-productive organisation. And if he didn’t want to bother with all that work, he could snap his fingers and have the whole farce disappear in a blink of an eye. 

But he doesn’t. 

Can’t. 

And that makes him grind his teeth even harder. Because there in a seat, facing a pimply faced loser, is you. 

His president. 

Or rather, was. 

Your hair is down, instead of tied up all neat and clean like usual, you’re wearing a dress, it’s new, he can tell, and you’ve even done your makeup. All for whom?

Him?

Some stuttering loser who keeps glancing at your breast like it’s the first time he’s ever seen a bit of cleavage? Or maybe for the guy that replaces him once the alarm blares, signalling the end of the five-minute allotted time for every stranger. This one is even more annoying than the last; his hair is slicked back with an aggressive amount of hair gel, and he’s wearing a suit. 

He’s actually wearing a suit. 

It’s ill-fitted — blazer too tight around the shoulders but loose and long on the sleeves, and his trousers don’t even reach his ankles. When you scrunch your nose up, Sukuna’s sure, too, that the guy is wearing so much aftershave that he should have bene wearing a hazmat suit instead. 

Stupid. All of this is stupid. If a boyfriend is what you’re looking for, then you’re never going to find it here; none of these filthy losers could ever give you what you need. 

Sukuna knew it as soon as he laid eyes on you at the campaign day, when you were both handing out flyers and leaflets, and educating people on your policies. Well, he wasn’t handing anything out, he had his assistant, Uraume, do that for him. But, as he leaned back in a chair and watched a line of people form, eager to catch his attention, his eyes kept drifting to you. 

You were rigid, stern-looking and a pain to look at. He could tell how badly you wanted it, could see by the way your hands shook, or how passionately you spoke to the other students, and even when you made eye contact with him. Wincing, you forced a smile on your face, trying to look civil but he could see the repulsion in your eyes. 

It intrigued him. 

That was the very first time he had ever seen you, and yet, somehow you knew he wasn’t a friend. If only others could have that survival instinct, he thought when a girl hugged his arm and asked to take a picture with the future student council president. 

Now, look at you. 

You’re actually smiling at that freak. It doesn’t meet your eyes and when you laugh it doesn’t make his chest do that weird thing, so he knows it’s fake. A sincere laugh seldom leaves your lips; he gets it, not many people are funny, though most would like to think they are. But he had made you laugh once. 

When you were both showing an old alum around, having been told by the Dean to butter him up so he’ll cough up some dough for a new sports hall because apparently the three EdenU has isn’t enough. The stuffy old loser was snappy and bossy and sexist as fuck — he thought you were the assistant and ordered you to fetch him coffee, tissues, a chair and so on. 

Sukuna wanted to intervene sooner, his fingers itching to throw a punch, but the firm shake of your head made him fist his hands, vibrating with barely restrained anger. Violence may have been off the cards, but good old mental warfare wasn’t. So, he told Uraume to make sure the family was no longer investing in the loser’s tech start up, effective immediately, and he watched the old man scramble when he got a phone call that turned his face red. 

It was when he spluttered his coffee all over himself that you laughed. 

Because you’re just like him. — you crave to let everyone know their place, the only difference is, you don’t have the power to back you. Yet. 

And when Cheap Suit takes your hand to lay a slobbery kiss all over your knuckles, Sukuna pushes off from the wall he’s been standing by for the better half of an hour and comes to stand before the both of you. 

His shadow darkens the table, nervous eyes glancing at him. Your ‘date’ gulps at the intense glare he’s receiving and somehow, good for him, gets the hint. He leaves and Sukuna takes his seat. 

“What the fuck?”

For someone so clean and put together, you have a terribly dirty mouth. It makes him want to clean it out with soap, or something else entirely. And now that he’s sitting in front of you, he actually understands why the men you’ve been talking to couldn’t keep their eyes off your chest. 

Goddamn, he wants to bury his face in there. 

“Stop staring at my tits, idiot,” you snark, face contorted into pure frustration. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Rolling his eyes, he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. With a drawl, he argues back, “Can’t I be here? I have every right to, prez.”

Your mood sours when you hear that from him and you lean back too, fingers drumming as you count down the minutes until the alarm blares. Everyone else is having a good time, smiling and laughing and exchanging numbers. But not you. Nope. Never. Because the universe hates you. 

“Don’t call me that.”

His brow ticks up. “Why not? You are the prez.”

“I’m not anymore.”

His eyes darken impossibly more, narrowing, and the people next to you shuffle uncomfortably in their seats as if they could feel that malevolent energy radiating off him. At least it isn’t directed at them. Lucky. 

“You’re always going to be the prez.”

The alarm goes off, shrill and overly joyful. You both wince. 

But when the next guy stands by, he has to shuffle his feet awkwardly, uncertain at why the pink-haired man is refusing to move and isn’t even looking at him. Eventually, seeing that Sukuna’s made himself all too comfortable in his seat, the guy skips over to the next vacant table. 

You exhale through your nose, trying to count to ten. 

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” You hiss. 

He rolls his eyes again and fires back, “You’re being dramatic. None of these guys are your type, so I’m just saving you from wasting your time. You’re welcome.”

Your eye twitches. “What do you know about me?”

Sukuna cocks his head, looking over at you with interest, like you’ve just said something funny. And then, he tips his chin over at the double doors. “Let’s get outta here. It’s hot as shit and these people stink.”

“No.”

“No?”

You cross your own arms and huff. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With a laugh, deep and menacing, his eyes twinkle and you feel your heart drop to your ass. Oh shit. 

“You’re leaving here, with me. Either willingly or thrown over my shoulder. Your choice, prez.”

And you know he’s telling the truth, can see it in the way he’s sitting up, eyeing the space around you so he can calculate the best angle and placement. He’s determining the amount of space between the tables and the firmness of the table and the chairs, and trying to determine if anyone would dare put up a fight. 

Groaning in your hands, you push the chair back and leave without looking anywhere else. You can’t take the amused or confused looks people would throw at you, and you certainly can’t take the smug grin on his face. He always gets what he wants. Fucking Ryomen prince. 

The evening breeze is colder than the last time you had been in this position with him. And that night seems so long ago and yet it’s as if it’s happening right now, because you had never moved on, it still haunts you. That professor’s lingering hands can never be washed off. The Dean made sure of that. 

“So, you’re doing yoga and speed dating,” he comes up next to you, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

You shrug. “I’ve also joined the Green Thumb and the Volleyball Society.”

“Volleyball, huh?” Sukuna looks you over with a small smirk and then it’s like he remembered something because he shakes his head with a frustrated growl. “Why the fuck are you doing all that shit?”

You both walk off, not doing anything in particular or heading somewhere special. Just like last time. 

“I have a lot of time now, like you said.” It’s cold and you’re just wearing a dress, you shiver. 

He scoffs behind you, nudging you with an elbow. “Didn’t bring my varsity jacket, so suck it up.”

“Wasn’t gonna ask anyways,” you mutter, and you’re aware by the glare he throws at you that you both know you’re lying.

Eventually, you reach the park. It’s dark and empty and you feel fear prick the back of your neck. Sukuna is not the kind of man you should be walking at night, alone, with. Sure, you’re confident he wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but you’re also not convinced he doesn’t have a snake den ready for you to trip and fall into. 

“You’re doing all sorts, but you haven’t come to a basketball game,” he grumbles. 

“Why would I?”

Sukuna scoffs, strolling leisurely and unbothered by the cool breeze that gives you goosebumps, he’s also assessing the environment around, like the rustling bushes contained machetes and machine guns. Always so suspicious. 

He’s been everywhere recently. He was there when you were painting the landscape on a Wednesday afternoon, when you were doing a book club on the Quad, and even when you were walking back late from the Exotic Dance Society. You don’t know why you joined that last one; it sounded kind of fun. 

When you shiver, he groans. And then he’s keeping a firm hand on your shoulder, stilling you both. In a flash, you’re being pressed against a tree, his front holding you down. Spluttering, you try to push him off you, but his body is like a wall, all solid and unyielding. And it’s just like the party when he held you and swayed to silent music. 

But Sukuna’s warm and it feels good, so you stop fighting. 

“Alright, enough chit-chat,” he growls in your face. Gone is all the civility, the politeness and propriety, or at least his version of it. “Tell me why you quit.”

“Fuck you,” you spit back at him. 

“We can do that, too,” he sneers. “But I want an explanation now.”

When you feel something hard poking your stomach, you know he means it. And God fucking damn it, you hate that you’re wet. It’s poor survival skills to be attracted to a monster, you’re guaranteed a slow death as a prey. Your heartbeat is going a hundred miles per hour, chest heaving and rubbing against his. 

Sukuna looks so angry, face sharpened into focus as he searches your eyes for the truth. But even as he pins you to a tree in an empty park, his desire is present, and he’s so much bigger and stronger than you, all you want is for him to kiss you. You want him to stop asking questions, to stop reminding you of everything you’ve lost, and to just satisfy that itch between you two, to alleviate the tension that’s been building up. 

It was always going to boil down to this. 

“Sign the papers, Sukuna,” you whisper.

He hates how soft your voice is, how calm and comforting it’s become. He wants to be mad, wants to fight so he can shout and scream and bully you into submission, like he’s done with everyone else. Like he did with stupid pricks who egged your window and the professor who dared touch you with his filthy, undeserving hands. 

“Tell me why you left me, prez,” he mutters back. 

You hate how desperate he sounds, how his lips are plush and gentle against your cheek as he noses at your hairlines, inhaling deep and with a groan before burying his face into the crook of your neck. His hands move from beside your heads and onto your hips, keeping you still, like he’s afraid you’re going to run off. 

“Sukuna,” you begin, “I don’t want to play this game.” Your voice is scratchy, and your vision is blurring. God, this is so humiliating. You’re actually going to cry. 

“Then don’t.”

Hands pushing at his shoulders, you try to wriggle out of his hold. This is bad. You shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t care. You should hate him but he’s holding you like you’re the only thing grounding him and it feels nice, to be held, by him. It feels like all is right in the world, like you have everything in the palms of your hands. 

But it isn’t and you don’t. 

“Sukuna. Let me go.”

He must have heard something in your voice. Maybe the strain in it or the desperation. Whatever it was, it makes him pulls away. He’s not looking at you, just breathing hard and clenching his fists at his sides. He’s livid. 

No, there’s something more. 

It’s reflecting what’s inside of you. 

But you can’t dwell on it. You aren’t ready to explain, to remind him of what he did two years ago, of what he’s done now. And you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re too cowardly to return to that point in your life you’ve been trying to pretend never happened or if it’s because you don’t want the way he looks at you to change. 

So, you walk away, stumbling and clutching yourself to bring warmth back. And when he yells at you, you don’t look back. 

“This will never be over between us,” he growls, “over my dead body, prez.”

[maxlarens]

OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

[hollyseb]

A COLLISION OF FATE - CEO!BUCKY X ASSISTANT READER (one-shot)

warnings; swearing, minors dni

2.4k words

summary; As an assistant to the powerful CEO Bucky Barnes, you’ve always kept things strictly professional—maybe even a little distant. But when a chaotic morning commute turns your world upside down, you find yourself relying on your boss in unexpected ways.

authors note; this is my first fic in a while so please let me know what you think!

Fuck.

You couldn’t help but pull the bed sheets over your head as your alarm sounded. You’d slept terribly, anticipation stewing in your chest all night long. A huge day at work loomed ahead. Your boss trusted you with organising a client meeting for a massive company project, and despite your meticulous preparations, anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly.

This marks your fourth month as an assistant to Mr Barnes, CEO of Barnes Industries. Your boss embodies power and leadership, standing well over six feet. He has a presence that’s impossible to ignore, although you often find yourself trying to; avoiding his piercing gaze, shrinking away from his broad figure. He intimidated you.

You’d learned to anticipate his needs, not just to impress him but perhaps as an attempt to keep your conversations to a minimum. Although you had managed to settle into your role, growing accustomed to your boss’ high standards, you often felt a sense of apprehension. You were overwhelmed by how important he was. Mr Barnes wasn’t just your boss - he was a force of nature.

The two of you maintained a strictly professional relationship, even lingering towards slightly cold sometimes. You liked to do what he needed you to do, and then get out of his way. However, every now and then, you’d catch him watching you with a look that lingered a moment too long. You’d always assume there was something on your face, or a smudge on your shirt, anything that might explain why he was staring. But when you checked, there was never anything there.

For Bucky, it started with the little things. He noticed how you always made sure his coffee was exactly how he liked it, down to the last detail, even on the most hectic mornings. You remembered the smallest preferences he had, the things he rarely even thought about himself—like the way you would quietly replace the pens in his office with the specific brand he preferred, or how you always ensured there was a bottle of his favorite water in the conference room before every meeting. These weren’t just the actions of a diligent assistant; they were gestures that spoke of someone who genuinely cared, someone who paid attention to him in a way that no one else ever had.

Your snoozed alarm began to sound again, piercing your thoughts like a violent shriek. Just get through the meeting, you told yourself, before ultimately deciding to drag yourself out of bed. The thought repeated like a mantra. Is it normal to feel this worried about disappointing your boss? You thought, before swatting away the idea. You didn’t need to focus on that for now.

A hot shower did little to wash away the anxiety that clinged to you. Your movements were robotic as you went through your morning routine, driven by the pressure of the meeting.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with a soft glow. 7:45 AM. It felt as though the numbers were taunting you. You ran a hand down your face, bracing yourself for the day.

Time to go.

After locking the door to your small, cozy apartment, you made your way down the narrow, communal staircase. The morning air hitting you with a welcomed bite as you stepped outside into the car park.

You slid into the drivers seat of your aging Mini, the familiar creak of the door and worn leather seat beneath you provided a familiar comfort. It wasn't much, but it was yours, the car you'd had since you were 17. You shifted into gear and gripped the steering wheel, the hum of the engine almost grounding you.

Just get through the meeting, you repeated, merging into the flow of morning traffic. You let your mind drift to the day's plans, mentally rehearsing the things you had to organise when you arrived at the office… calling the clients to confirm their attendance, setting up the meeting room, dropping the itinerary off at Mr Barnes’ desk.

As you approached a red light just a few blocks from the office, you felt a fleeting sense of calm. Your heartbeat, which had been a relentless drumbeat of anxiety, finally began to settle into a more regular rhythm. The office was so close, the meeting so imminent. All you had to do now was make it through the last stretch of traffic and face the day.

Without warning, a loud, violent crashing noise shattered the calm. The force of the impact threw you forward, your seatbelt straining against your body painfully. The contents of your bag spilling into the passenger seat footwell alongside the sound of crunching metal. Your mind was blank, struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

What the -?

Your heart raced, your breaths leaving in shallow and quick successions. The realisation hit you like a second wave of impact - you’d been rear-ended.

You gripped the steering wheel like a vice, catching sight of your pale face as movement caught your attention in the rear view mirror. the driver of the car behind you was already out of his vehicle, storming towards you.

Rather than waiting for you to get out the car, he began shouting at you through the closed window. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shouted, his voice echoing violently.

He looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed in a wrinkled suit, face red with anger and eyes practically bulging out his head.

You took a deep breath, adrenaline surging through your veins. Stay calm, don’t escalate. You unbuckle your seatbelt, ignoring the dull pain of where it had dug into you, stepping out your beloved car.

“Do you even know how to fucking drive?” He yelled, arms flailing. “I’m going to be late for work because of you, stupid bitch”

You were taken aback by his blatant profanity. Humiliation rising in your body as bystanders gawked at the interaction.

You blinked, your nerves fraying under his aggression. “I was stopped at the light. You hit me,” you said, voice trembling.

”Bullshit!” He spat, inching towards your face. “You stopped like a fucking moron and now look at my fucking car!”, he pointed in the direction of his vehicle, a sleek black BMW, barely scratched.

The sight of your car, however, made your stomach turn. The bumper was shrewd across the concrete, the metal contorted dramatically. You’d come off much worse than him. You could feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“This is all your fault!”, he spat, voice dripping with venom. “You’re going to pay every cent for the damage you’ve caused.”

Before you could respond, he lunged closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “Do you even realise how fucking pathetic you look right now? Crying because you’ve ruined my car-“

The man was interrupted. A firm, authoritative voice cutting through his ramblings like steel.

“Is there a problem here?”

You looked up, your heart pounding, and there he was - Bucky Barnes. The sight of him hit you like a tidal wave. For a split second, you were frozen, breath catching in your throat.

Bucky’s sharp blue eyes were fixed on the angry driver, his expression a mask of controlled authority. Your eyes shifted between the two, noticing how Bucky towered over the man.

The man’s voice was quieter than before, his composure tense. “Who the hell are you?”

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I’m her boss,” he said, his tone calm but edged with a warning. “And I suggest you step back before you make this any worse.”

The anger in the man’s stance faltered, replaced by a grudging recognition that he was outmatched. With a final glare towards you, he stormed back to his car.

You exhaled, realising you’d been holding your breath. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice shaky from adrenaline.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening a fraction. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a warmth which contrasted the icy authority he had shown moments before.

You watched the way his eyes trailed down your shaking body for any obvious signs of injury.

You nodded in response. “Y-yes, I’m okay. Just a bit shaken”, a forced smile pursing against your lips.

He leaned down slightly, lowering himself to your height, his face inches from yours. Placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “You don’t have to put a brave face on with me. Are you really okay?”

The depth of his concern was more than you expected, combined with the gentleness of his touch, you felt like your head was spinning.

”Thank you, Mr Barnes”, your voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m okay, I promise”.

Bucky’s expression softened even more. “Let me take you to the office. I’ll sort you out and make sure everything’s taken care of.” Bucky said, his voice low and earnest.

His words soothed you. He placed a firm but gentle hand on your mid-back, guiding you towards his car. The warmth of his touch was a comforting contrast to the cold air. You found solace in the protective way he guided you.

When you reached his car, Bucky opened the passenger door for you with a quiet, practiced grace. His movements were deliberate and careful, as if he wanted to ensure you felt as secure as possible.

Bucky closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side. As he settled into the driver’s seat, he adjusted the rear view mirror, his gaze flicking over to you. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Barnes, when it’s just us two. James will do.”

You met his gaze in the mirror, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. You faltered for a split second under the heat of his stare. “Okay, James”, you said quietly.

He gave a small, approving smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “That’s better,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s get you to the office.”

Your boss wouldn’t let you know, but the way you trembled when that man was yelling at you, the way his words reduced you to feeling small and insignificant, made Bucky’s blood boil. His usual calm and composed demeanor was barely holding back the fury simmering beneath the surface. The sight of you being treated so harshly, so unfairly, sparked something primal in him—something protective and fierce.

Arriving at the office, Bucky parked with a practised ease and opened your door, offering a supportive hand as you stepped out. Eyes glazing over you again to see if you were moving with any discomfort.

As you walked into the building, you were met with a flurry of activity. Bucky led you to your room, settling you into your office chair with a soft, reassuring hand on your back.

“Take a moment to breathe,” he instructed, his voice a mix of warmth and authority. “I’ll handle the meeting for now, okay? You’ve had a rough morning.”

You nodded gratefully, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Bucky made a few quick phone calls and sent some emails, managing the meeting logistics with the efficiency and competence that defined him.

Throughout the morning, Bucky periodically checked in on you. Each time, his concern was evident, his questions simple but genuine. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” he would ask, always with that soft, protective tone.

By lunchtime, Bucky made sure you had something to eat. He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and relief as you ate, noting the gradual return of color to your cheeks.

As the workday wound down, you wrapped up your tasks and prepared to head home. Bucky had been a steadfast support throughout the day, ensuring that you felt taken care of and that everything went smoothly despite the morning’s chaos.

As you gathered your things, Bucky approached with a rare, genuine smile. “How are you holding up?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” you said, returning his smile. “I really appreciate everything today.”

”Well I would love to drive you home, but I still have a few more things to wrap up. One of my drivers will take you, okay?”, your boss said, leaning against the door frame of your office.

You opened your mouth to politely decline, feeling that he had already done enough for you today. However, you faltered when he raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his expression, you knew there was no point in arguing.

“Alright,” you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Thank you.”

“Good,” he said, satisfied, a part of him wanted to grin at your obedience as he circled back to his office.

The ride home was quiet, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You were exhausted, but there was also a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t quite explain.

When the car pulled up outside your apartment, you thanked the driver and stepped out. The cool evening air was refreshing after the long day, and you were eager to wash the day away with a hot shower and a bottle of wine.

But as you approached your apartment building, something caught your eye. Parked in your usual spot was a familiar-looking Mini, only this one was brand new. The gleaming paint, the spotless interior—it was unmistakably the same make and model as your beloved old car, but this one was perfect in every way.

There’s no way, you thought.

Your heart pounded as you took a hesitant step closer, your mind racing to process what you were seeing. There was no mistaking it—this was a gift, one that had been carefully chosen to replace what you had lost earlier today.

A note was tucked under the windshield wiper. With trembling hands, you pulled it free and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was unmistakable.

You’ve had a rough day. I hope this makes it a little easier. – James

A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You never expected something like this. Bucky hadn’t just replaced your car—he’d chosen something that he knew would mean something to you, something that was a perfect reflection of who you were.

As you stood there, staring at the car that now felt like a symbol of so much more, you couldn’t help but feel that the boundaries between you and Bucky had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone.

A collision of fate.

————————————————————-

TAGLIST!

@sashaisready @matchat3a @writingpastmybedtime @melsunshine @lex-the-flex @himawariizephyr @jbbarnesgirl @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @sagebarness @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @selella @armystay89 @globetrotter28 @iwritewithpenandpaper @casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @buckydarling09 @kandis-mom @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90

[astrocafecoffee]

Astro observation ( part 1)

🔹For entertainment purposes only, enjoy🔹

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

✨ Uranus in the first house individuals may reject authority or traditions that feels restrictive to them.others may seem them as trendsetters or avant -garde in their approach to life.

✨ Venus in the 10th house of natal chart peoples are so workaholic that they prioritise their career, success over personal relationships or self care.

✨ your spouse's name asteroid could fall in your natal 7th house. ( Not necessarily, but it can be).

✨ mercury in the 5th house can indicate a communicative and involved parenting style. This individuals may encourage their children's intellectual development, creativity, and curiosity, fostering a supportive environment that values self expression and learning.

✨ Scorpio mars individuals have a strong sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards their loved ones. They can be fiercely protective of those they care about and may go to great lengths to defend and support them.

✨ regulus in 7th house of Composite chart - your relationship with your person may bring some fame/ recognition.

✨ Astrocartography mc lines - indicates which place may have a significant impact on your career or public life.

✨ Astrocartography Dc lines - you may meet your spouse/ long term partner there.

✨ Saturn in the 4th house individuals are very traditional 🙂

✨ solar return Jupiter/ mercury in 3rd house/ 10th house may indicate favorable year for cracking competitive exams.

✨ Earth dominate individuals may admire partners who take their commitments seriously whether it's in personal relationships ,career or other areas of life.

✨ juno in 1st house of groom persona chart means your spouse may influence how you present yourself to others or how you are perceived in social settings. they could bring out certain qualities in you or play a significant role in shaping your public image.

✨ South node lines in your Astrocartography chart indicates where you lived in your past lives.

✨ Briede conjunct Devine asteroid in synastry - divine/ fated relationship.

✨ Union asteroid in your groom / briede pc can indicate where you will meet your potential life partner/ spouse :

♾️ Union in Aries - dynamic / stimulating environments suggest adventurous activities, sports events, or places that involved risk taking and exploration. Gyms, fitness classes, martial art studios, organizing events , can meet through social gatherings / casual meet ups where people gather for fun or socializing. , Business conferences/ academic competitions.

♾️ Union in Taurus -

Fine dining restaurants , art galleries/ elegant social events. Settings related to finance, banking, investments , or business networking events., Exhibitions , concerts, musical performance, through mutual friends, wellness workshops.

♾️ Union in gemini -

Intellectual or educational events, workshops, seminars, book clubs , social gatherings , parties , online platforms, social media, dating apps, local festivals , neighborhood gatherings , during travel, airport, train station, writing workshop, media production, related to communication and journalism.

♾️ Union in cancer -

Family gatherings , reunions, hospitals , caregiving facilities, charity events , volunteering activities, through mutual friends, at historical sites, museums, art galleries, cultural events, small town festivals, near Lake, river, beaches, cafe , restaurant.

♾️ Union in leo -

Theatres , music venues, art galleries, or during performances and artistic events, parties , weddings, festivals , or grand gathering, acting class, outdoor festival, sports event , amusement park, related to child's education, youth organization, casinos, comedy clubs , gaming centre etc.

♾️ Union in Virgo -

Office , workplaces, professional conferences, networking events, volunteer activities, community service projects, charitable organisations, gyms, fitness classes health food store, wellness center, university, school , educational seminars, pet adoption events, parks , botanical garden.

♾️ Union in Libra -

Social getherings, parties, networking events, through mutual friends, concerts, cultural events, museums, theatre performance, settings related to law, mediation or during discussions that involve finding mutual agreements or resolutions., Teamwork, collaboration, relationship focused workshop,fashion shows, design exhibition, cocktail party, formal gatherings, courtroom, law office.

♾️ Union in scorpio -

Psychotherapy session, support groups, detective work, reasearch fields or in setting that require deep analysis and understanding., Spiritual retreats, metaphysical shops, astrology or tarot classes, tantra workshop, relationship councilling, setting related to investment, joint ventures, estate planning, holistic health centres , transformational workshop, place focused on healing practices.

♾️ Union in Sagittarius -

Travel, airport, train station, in foreign countries, or while participating in adventures such as hiking, backpacking, or exploring new cultures, University, libraries, seminars, religious gatherings, philosophy group, outdoor activities, sports events, camping trips, cultural festival, international events, language exchange program, law, publishing house, that promotes justice.

♾️ Union in Capricorn -

Office, corporate events, buisness conference, while pursuing ambitious projects, leadership roles, ceremony, cultural events, context related to banking, investments, Financial setting, teaching activities , prestigious club , organization, or during events where recognition and achievements are celebrated., Formal dinner etc.

♾️ Union in Aquarius -

Activism, volunteer work, community organization, seminars, conferences, discussion groups, online platforms, social media, tech startups, through mutual friends, social circles, online communities, music festival, Charity work.

♾️ Union in Pisces -

May meet in spiritual retreats, meditation centre, yoga studio, art galleries, theatre, music concert, poetry reading,film screening , volunteer work, charitable organisations, near Lake , beaches , hospital, clinic, wellness center, music festival, dance class, spiritual chants or ceremonies, book clubs focused on fiction on fantasy genres.

✨ Saturn in 1st house people often have RBF / Serious demeanor 👺

✨ Moon opposite/ square Saturn in solar return chart indicates emotional heaviness, feeling of loneliness or responsibilities weighing heavily on the emotions 😭.

✨ Jupiter/ Venus in 2nd house of Groom/ Briede pc indicates rich spouse.

✨ South node conjunct karma in synastry might suggest past life conflicts, power struggles or intense experiences that need healing or resolution in the current lifetime.

My other posts :

🔮 your future spouse's career.

🔮 your past life.

🔮 marriage placement in synastry and composite.

And many more on my page-

See you soon ~

- Piko ✨

[footygirl114]

Operation (Leah Williamson x Reader)

This is definitely a result of too much Grey's anatomy but I was told that I need to let some of the ideas out of my noggin so here you go? (I think). Also I could be persuaded into this becoming a series...

Your pager going off interrupted the scrolling of TikTok you were doing while enjoying your morning coffee, after rounding on your patients. You glanced at the screen and noticed it was a 911 to the ER for an incoming Trauma. Kicking yourself into gear you moved and started to make your way down, the whole time kicking yourself for jinxing your pager since you were hoping to catch the Arsenal vs. Manchester United Game at the Emirates on TV during your shift. 

Knowing that wasn’t going to happen as you walked into the ER and it was organised chaos. You walked towards the head of the ER and asked “what happened?” 

He turns to you and says “A car jumped a curb at the Emirates stadium before the game, ran into a few pedestrians including an 8 year old and her dad. We have the driver, a 43 year old male, and the two victims on route now.” 

“damn it, how bad?” you ask him as you move to pull your hair back, and put on a trauma gown and gloves. 

“the dad, is in critical condition, they say he was able to get the girl out of the way but she sustained injuries when he shoved her out of the way.” He says as you walk with him to the ambulance bay waiting for the incoming ambulances. 

As you wait for the ambulance you listen to the other doctors conferring over what they think the driver was on, but you take the second to glance at your phone and double check the texts with your fiancé. They state that she was there an hour prior to this happening, and knowing the teams timing you knew she was on the field for warm up. 

When they finally pull up you wait to find out what one your patient is in. Once you know where the child is you step up and move beside her gurney listening as the paramedics rattle off her name and vitals. She meets your eyes and you can see how scared she is and you say to her softly “Hi Kenzie, I’m Dr. Y/L/N, and I am going to be taking care of you.”

She’s shaking as she asks “where’s my dad?” 

“Sweetie, he’s being taken care of by some of my very good friends, You and I are going to get you checked out so you can be ready for him okay?” you tell her as you move your hand to tuck a loose piece of her hair behind her ear checking her pupils as you do this. 

When she nods, you move to grasp her hand as you gesture for the team to get her gurney moving. You had waited so they could get her father inside so she wouldn’t have to see him too injured. Once you get her into a room and transferred onto a gurney you start your exam on her. 

She’s stays silent as you explain what you are doing, you tell her that you specialise in helping kids who have been injured or sick, and when you press on her belly and he’s hisses and pulls away in pain you know she may have some internal injuries. 

Once you determine she’s stable and waiting for scans you go to move away from her but she grabs your hand and says “don’t go.” 

You turn and squeeze her hand back and says “i am just going to check on your dad and then I will be right back, I promise.” 

She shakes her head and holds up her other hand, leaving her pinky up as she asks softly “pinky promise?” 

You smile at her and wrap your pinky around hers and say “I pinky promise sweetie.” 

She lets go of both of your hands and you move outside the door, watching as your favourite ER nurse immediately steps in and starts talking to the patient, keeping her distracted, you walk out of the room and the last thing you hear is them talking about the arsenal team. You smile to yourself knowing that she will be okay for a few minutes. 

You take the time to order scans for her, and check on her dad, you also manage to talk to someone from social services who is looking for her next of kin, but they are having no luck since her fathers License is from Ireland, you know it will take some time for anyone to get over here. 

Walking back into her room you smile at her and say “Hi Kenzie, I am going to take you upstairs now.” 

She meets your eyes and asks “how is my dad?” 

Moving back towards her you sit down on the edge the bed by her legs and say “he’s been taken into surgery, by those friends of mine. He’s getting the best care possible and they will do everything they can to help him.” 

She starts to cry and you move to grasp her hand and she says “I want my daddy.” 

It breaks your heart and you move closer and pull her into a hug softly whispering “it’s okay sweetie, let it out.” 

After a few moments of letting her cry she’s sniffles and pulls back and says “I’m okay, I can be a big girl.” 

You smile and wipe under her eyes and you say “you are strong sweetie, now lets go get some scans of your belly and then we can get you fixed up to be ready for your dad okay?” She nods and you gesture to the nurse to get her ready for transport upstairs for scans then into the paediatric floor. 

**

Less than an hour later, you walk into her room on your floor. You were one of the attending surgeons on the paediatric floor. “Hi sweetie” you tell her as you walk into the room when she turns and smiles softly at you, you continue “They called your grandma, and she should be here tomorrow.” 

“Grandma is old and cant move fast” she chuckles at you. 

“Well she does have to fly over her, like you and your dad did sweetie. Why were you over here?” you as her as you fiddle with her IV. 

She gasps and says “the game! I missed the game.” 

“The arsenal one? Were you guys over here to watch it?” you ask her. 

“It was my first game, daddy saved up and finally was able to bring me over to watch my favourite team play. Did I miss it? Can I still go watch?” she asks you with wide eyes pleading. 

You sit beside her hip on her bed and say softly “sweetie, your scans came back and I need to go in and fix your belly, we are going to do it now.” 

“So i wont get to see the game?” she pouts. 

You smile sadly and hold up your pinky and ask “I pinky promise when we’re done, I will come and watch the full game with you right here.” 

She smiles and wraps her pinky around yours and says “deal.” 

Before you can say anything more the surgical team walks in and you know its time to go, You turn to her and say “We’re going to take you in and put you to sleep and when you wake up we will get to watch Arsenal kick butt okay?” 

She nods and says “okay.” 

You follow the surgical team push her towards the OR, you help them transfer Kenzie over and you stay with her until she’s out. You move into the scrub room and pull out your phone, texting Leah like you did before every surgery, and told her that you would be in the OR and will update when you are done. 

**

Almost 6 hours later you were sat beside Kenzie’s bedside, it was dark and quiet and you were not expecting her to be awake anytime soon but you wanted to be here when she did. It had started to get late and when your phone buzzed you knew it would be Leah. You saw it was and you turned and looked out into the quiet hallway and decided to take the phone call there. 

You had been with Leah for almost 5 years, and it was the best 5 years of your life. You had been still a resident and Leah was gaining popularity and you both decided that you wanted to keep your relationship quieter. Leah was worried that some of her more enthusiastic fans would attempt to contact you through the hospital and she wanted to make sure that you were safe. 

It was sweet and when the opportunity came up to be an attending at this hospital in the middle of London you jumped at the chance to be close to your fiancé. You had been at this hospital for 6 weeks and as far as you knew, no one was the wiser to if you were single or in a relationship. Which is why you would make sure no one was around before you answered a phone call from her. 

“Hi babe” you greeted her when you picked up the phone call. 

“Hi love, are you still working?” she asks with a chuckle. 

“I am, I’m gonna stay here tonight actually.” you tell her with a soft smile, eyes on the sleeping form of Kenzie in front of you. 

You can hear her moving and she says “Are you going to be in surgery all night?” 

“no actually, this patient came in and I operated on her” you tell her softly. “She’s 8 and was here with her dad to watch your game, but she was hit by a car on the way to the stadium.” 

“Oh, love, is she okay?” she asks softly. Your heart grows three times the size as she just immediately understands why you need to be here and why you cannot leave her.

You pause on answering when Kenzie moves in front of you, but when she settles you say softly to Leah “she’s all alone Lee and I promised to watch the game with her when she wakes up.” 

“You’re amazing and I love you” she says “and I will miss you tonight.” 

“I miss you too babe” you tell her with a soft smile.

You listen as she moves around and it sounds like she’s gotten into bed and she asks “can you stay on the line with me while I fall asleep?” 

Smiling you move and adjust the chair so you are reclining as you softly ask “Do you have training tomorrow?” 

“No.”

“Good, I will definitely be home tomorrow babe” you say softly. 

“Mhmm I want you here” she sleepy says. 

You stay on the line listening to her breathe evening out and you smile to your self, thinking about how much you love this woman. “Sleep tight babe, I love you.” you whisper when you hear her softly snoring you hang up the phone. Turning in the chair to settle into a light sleep. 

**

It’s early in the morning when you hear Kenzie moving around in her bed in front of you. You open your eyes to see her eyes open looking around. You wait to see if she will fall back asleep but when her eyes lock on yours you says “Hi sweetie.” 

“hi” she whispers. 

You move to stand up and check her vitals and move your hand to check her incision site and you ask her “how are you feeling?” 

“Tired” she answers softly. 

“do you want to go back to sleep?” you ask her, and move your hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

She shakes her head and says “Can we watch the game now?” 

You chuckle and tell her “yeah? lets watch.” 

You move the table over the end of the bed to be closer and you pull out your phone and find the recording of the game. You always set Leah’s games that you miss to be recorded so you can watch them back. You pull the chair closer and you set the phone up so you both can see. The first 15 minutes are quiet but when Arsenal scores one she gets excited and sits up more. 

After the third goal she’s more animated and is excitedly talking about the game and the players. The game has made her feel a lot better and more like a little girl and you are happy that she seems to be doing better. 

You are lost in thought watching when she says “holy crap thats Leah Williamson.” 

You chuckle without taking your eyes off the screen and say “sweetie she’s been on the whole game.” 

“No, she’s right there!” she shouts. 

You turn and meet the eyes of your fiancé standing in the doorway of the hospital room with two coffees, she winks at you and says “I heard we had a fan here that wasn’t able to make it to the game.” 

You pause the game and move to stand up and step closer to Leah and you say “this is Kenzie.” 

“Hi Kenzie” Leah says and she hands you a coffee and brushes by you to stand beside the bed “are you watching the game back?” 

“yeah, I missed it cause Dr. Y/N was operating on my belly.” Kenzie says, the smile bright on her face. 

“she’s pretty Awesome” Leah says and then continues “Can I watch the rest with you?” 

“Yes please!” Kenzie answers quickly with an excited smile. 

“I guess you don’t need me anymore” you say with a chuckle. 

Leah smirks at you and says “Sorry love.” 

“It’s okay, you guys enjoy I am going to shower and change.” you tell them both. “Kenzie please make sure to ask Leah all the questions okay?” 

“I will! She’s my favourite player.” Kenzie says with a smile and moves to press play on the TV as she says to Leah “What did the ref say to you there?” 

You chuckle to yourself and move outside the room, and you stand on the outside of the window looking in and you feel your heart grow again watching as Leah and Kenzie both talk with their hands about the game and you can feel the smile growing on your face knowing it may be time to have a conversation with Leah about what you want next. 

[neptunescore]

If lestappen we're teammates i fear they would be brocedes part 2 lets be fr

They wouldn't even be brocedes bc.

brocedes was lewis making snide remarks abt nico and nico talking in different languages to exclude lewis but also somehow looking teary in ever post-race interview.

No, lestappen wouldn't do any of that. They'd be something else completely. Max would straight up be going around shouting profanities abt charles to any interviewer willing to listen. Charles would be seen having multiple private conversations with their team boss. Team orders would be left ignored, podium finishes would be turned into DNFs, any race with them next to each other would literally lead to new track rules being created.

And then also they'd come out into pre-race, beginning of the week press conferences and talk abt just how amazing of a driver the other is.

Like the switch ups would be inSANE.😭

Lewis would literally call nico and organise a meet-up bc their feud would simply look like child's play in front of whatever rancid shit lestappen had going on.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXIX)

Chapter 39: ‘He grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! It's dinner with the family!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it���s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4508

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Here

After it ended badly it got so much better which took a while of course but still he grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was I’m trying to tell you I know you have staggered wept spiraled through a long room banging you head against it holding crushed bird skulls in your hands your many hearts unstrung unable to play a note their wood still beautiful and carved so elaborately maybe a collector would want them stupid collectors always preserving and never breaking open the jars so everyone starves while admiring the view you don’t own anyone everything will be taken from you go ahead and eat this poem it will help

Kim Addonizio

“You should bring Y/N over next Sunday.”

Raine’s invitation wasn’t the first one of this kind, and Andrew smiled as she offered to welcome you to Saturday’s family dinner. Still, he didn’t want to push you, you had been together for merely a couple of months, he didn’t want to rush you.

“Soon, I promise, mom.”

“You know we like her already… but your dad and I want to know her better.”

“I know, mom.”

“Then bring her next week.”

“I’ll think about it.”

The door of your shared office opened, and you walked in, smiling as you saw him. God, you were so beautiful today…

“I have to go, mom. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Sure, honey. Have a nice day.”

“You too, mom. Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, Andy.”

He ended the call and turned to you as you walked around your desk, putting down your bag.

“How was your meeting, babe?” Andrew asked, walking over to you, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling and burying his hands in his pockets.

“It was… interesting.”

“That bad, huh?”

“We’ll see. For now, some professors are reluctant at the thought of organising a full set of conferences around women and the female gaze. They fear there ‘won’t be enough speakers’.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah… it’s okay, I can still convince them.”

“I’m sure you will. You can do it, babe.”

“Thanks, honey.”

You smiled up at him when he moved even closer, so close you had to lean against your desk.

“Did you want something else, professor?”

God, his heart was beating so fast… it was so fucking hot when you called him that…

He had to remind himself that you were working, that he couldn’t simply devour you…

“Professor…”

“Stop it… we can’t.”

“Hmmm… I know.”

“Then why are you teasing, professor?”

Your lips parted for a second, and he smirked at the tortured look on your face.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, until he rested his hands on your desk, right next to where your lower back was pressed against the furniture, enclosing you between his arms.

“I like it when you blush,” you confessed, making him laugh.

“That’s still pretty cruel…”

You let out a sigh when he connected his lips to your neck, when he bit and kissed your pulse, his hold on your desk tightening so he would keep his composure. Your fingers got lost in his hair.

“Was that your mother on the phone?” you asked, breathless.

He merely hummed in response.

“How is she?”

“Fine…”

Gently, you pulled him away from your skin.

“We can’t, not here…”

Andrew nodded, trying to hide how hard it was to pull away.

“How are your parents,” you asked while he took a step back, remaining close to you, but none of you touching the other anymore.

“They’re fine. Just… the usual. My mom is working on a new painting.”

“Amazing!”

He thought about asking you, then. But it was too soon… it was too soon…

Were you really over Frank? Would you really stay? He couldn’t get his parents involved if you simply chose to disappear…

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice.”

He shook himself, put his hands into his pockets again.

“I should go back to work,” he reasoned. “I need to go to the library this afternoon, will probably work from there for a few hours.”

“Yeah, I should go back to work too… I have so much to do.”

“You’re still coming over tonight, right?”

“Of course!” you answered with an excited grin.

“I might not come back to the office before heading home…”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight at seven, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You rose to your tiptoes to peck his lips, before turning to your computer, and Andrew walked back to his desk to gather his things.

He kept on wondering if bringing you to his parents was a good idea or not…

Andrew was an overthinker, which meant that he had a special talent for ruining his own life.

His day had taken a bad turn after that shared moment in your office. He was frustrated with the article he was working on, and the conversation with his mother kept on being played on repeat in his head.

And he simply… doubted himself.

There were days when his brain got too busy, too loud, and darker thoughts and doubts were enhanced in those times. And now that he was torturing himself on whether or not he was going too fast, his own insecurities were coming back. Was he really good enough for you? So far, he hadn’t had to change to make you love him, wasn’t that strange? He was used to tune down some of his interests, to be quieter than he wanted to be, so Sam would love him.

Wasn’t it strange that you were still talking for hours? That you were still interested in him? That you… didn’t ask for him to change?

And what if you longed for Frank still?

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the knocking on his front door. Only when Elwood sprinted across the room and barked at the wooden surface did he realise that it was already 7 pm, that you were waiting on his doorstep.

He heaved a sigh, forced himself to hide his pain, before walking across his flat to welcome you in.

You greeted him with a grin, and a pizza box.

“Brought dinner!” were your first words, and he couldn’t refrain a smile as he took the box you were handing him.

“Thanks, baby.”

You went to your tiptoes to kiss him, and while he pecked your lips he wondered if it would be too much if he yielded to his impulse and hugged you now.

Yeah… probably… he would be too much…

“How was your afternoon?” you asked, taking off your shoes and jacket, before giving Elwood some scratches.

“Erm… yeah… it was fine.”

You looked at him, something expectant on your face, but he didn’t want to bother you with some unimportant problems. Sam was never interested in those anyway…

“Are you hungry, then?” he asked, already walking to his kitchen.

“Erm… sure! Yeah! Starving actually!”

“How was your afternoon?”

“Nothing very important happened… but I’ve found some interesting articles…”

He let you babble away for a while, nodding while he set the table.

You started eating, but then you grew quiet, and he wasn’t sure why. You had been excited, and then you simply… stopped talking.

Was he being annoying? Was that something he needed to change?

At the back of his head, his mother’s voice was still asking to invite you, and he was still debating on whether it was a good idea or not, and what about Frank? Did you still think about him? Did you still want him? Did you…

“Andy?”

He looked up at you, surprised that you were using his name. You hadn’t in a few weeks. The pet names were all you used when you were alone by now.

“Hmm?”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No… why?”

“I don’t know, you’re… you’re very quiet tonight.”

He couldn’t tell you that he was asking himself a thousand questions, that he was doubting himself, that he wanted to hold you close, because he would be too much then, and anyway he couldn’t talk about his feelings, he was never good at it and…

“Did something happen this afternoon? Are you okay?” you insisted, and he looked away, rubbing at his collarbone now.

“No, no… I’m okay.”

You remained quiet for a while.

“You can tell me anything, you know? I’m your girlfriend, I’m here for you,” you offered in a gentle, soothing voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“You… you were talking about your seminar… what about that speaker you wanted to contact, then?”

“Erm… I’ll contact her tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He waited for you to speak some more, but you didn’t, and the silence that settled was awkward, at best.

This was so unusual for you. It was supposed to be easy to be with you, what was happening,? What was he doing wrong?

Would you leave? Would you regret Frank all over again?

“Andy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, tell me what’s wrong. Why aren’t you talking to me? Is there something bothering you? Have I done something?”

“No, no… nothing, I’m just… tired.”

You stared at him, but there was nothing else he could say without talking about his feelings, and he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to bother you, to be too much, and anyway, he didn’t like talking about his feelings, so what was the point in burdening you with those…

“Oh, okay… do you want to go to bed early?”

“Erm… sure, yeah…”

“Okay… I’ll clean up with you, and then leave you to it, then.”

He blinked up at you as you got up and picked up your plate.

You were leaving? You were supposed to stay the night…

“You… you can stay, if you’d like.”

“It’s okay, I understand that you’re tired. We can have dinner again tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

You gave him a bright grin. Were you happy to leave?

He started fidgeting, hurried to clean up the table. He noticed the way you seemed disappointed when you moved to his hallway though.

He was doing everything wrong, somehow, what was he doing wrong?

You wanted Frank again, of course, because he would know how to hold you back, and Andrew didn’t, and…

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“I get that you’re not in the mood to talk, but… I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, babe.”

“Please… you’ve barely said a word tonight. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just… wanted to listen to you.”

You frowned at that.

“You… you didn’t say anything.”

“I had nothing to say.”

“Now, that’s not true. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not.”

“Andy…”

“I said I’m fine!”

Your eyes grew a little round at his harsh tone, and he regretted snapping as soon as the words passed his lips, but it was too late to take the words back now.

“Why are you mad at me?” you asked, hurt evident on your features.

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright… well, I’m here if you change your mind.”

He watched as you grabbed your jacket, couldn’t refrain the words from passing his lips.

“Why are you leaving?”

You turned to him with a puzzled frown.

“You said you were tired, and you don’t want to talk to me… I thought you didn’t want me to stay.”

“I… I didn’t mean for you to leave.”

“Then… talk to me.”

He heaved a frustrated sigh, ran a hand through his hair.

“I… there’s no need, I’m fine.”

“That was almost convincing, I’ll give you another try.”

“It’s not funny.”

You put on your jacket, and he was so frustrated right now, by his own thoughts, by you leaving, by his stupid feelings making him vulnerable and overreacting and…

“Are you angry?” he asked, but you shook your head.

“No… disappointed, rather.”

You were disappointed in him… of course, you were. You thought he was worth the trouble, but he wasn’t, and you were realising it, and Frank was better even though he was a fucking jerk and…

His hurt came out of his mouth as acidic words.

“Right, leave then.”

You froze, flashed him a glare.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He rubbed at his neck, until it was painful, but he didn’t care.

“Nothing’s wrong…”

“Of course, something’s wrong! I’m not blind! I’m not an idiot!”

“Why are you leaving? You said you’d stay tonight…”

“That was before you acted like you didn’t want me here.”

“I didn’t…”

“Of course you did!”

You started to put on your shoes.

You were leaving… you were leaving…

“Alright then, leave!”

“That’s what I’m doing!”

You were leaving because you didn’t want him, because he wasn’t enough, because he hadn’t changed for you, because Frank was better, Frank…

“Well, then… go back to Frank!”

The look of horror on your face sobered him up, made all traces of frustration or annoyance vanish. Instead, he was just afraid.

“You don’t mean that.”

Your lower lip trembled, he saw tears glimmering in your eyes.

What had he done? What was he doing?

“Take that back. Andy, take that back…”

He remained silent, staring at you and rubbing at his shoulder and collarbone.

He was fucking up everything…

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight, but I hope you’ll tell me once you’re calmer again,” you said in a cold voice, and he hated that tone.

And then you turned around, your hand on the doorknob.

You were leaving, you were leaving… because he couldn’t open his fucking mouth and be honest…

“Don’t… please, don’t leave.”

His voice was fragile now, and he hated it, he hated the weakness that transpired through it. You stopped your movements, turned to him, but your fingers remained on the doorknob.

“I just… I want you to stay,” he pleaded, but you raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

You crossed your arms before your chest. You were angry, but at least you weren’t about to open the door anymore…

“Really? Cause you don’t look like you want me around tonight.”

“I do. Please…”

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“I just… I’m sorry… my head’s all over the place… I do want you to stay though. I really do.”

You heaved a sigh, took off your jacket again.

“Talk to me, then, okay? If you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you, then… tell me about your day. Or anything… I just… I want to understand what’s in your head right now. And please, stop this, your skin is all red.”

He was surprised when you reached for his hand, stopped his nervous gesture, and rubbed soothing circles in the back of his hand.

“Why did you talk about Frank?”

Andrew looked down at his feet. You were still wearing your shoes.

“That…that was really hurtful.”

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled under his breath.

“Why would you say that? Did you mean that? Do you… do you want to get back with Sam?”

“What?! Of course not!”

“Why would you say something like that, then?!”

“Because I… I don’t…”

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Slowly, you nodded. He could see you were hurting though…

He was hurting you. He was hurting you… his silence was hurting you…

God, it was so painful to admit it all this out loud.

“I’m afraid.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, your expression softening.

“I’m afraid… about this. About you… leaving, and… I’m afraid you’re going to regret Frank. I’m afraid you’d choose him over me. And I’m… I’m afraid to go too fast, and to make you freak out. And I’m afraid because… I’m not changing for you, and that means I’m not giving you what you want, and…”

“Wait… what?”

“Sam… I was quiet with her, and I knew what parts of me she didn’t like, and so I tuned them down, but you’re… tonight you said you didn’t want me quiet, the way she wanted me, so… so what should I do? What should I do, so you can love me?”

He blinked tears away, and he hated it, he hated being so vulnerable before you, you could destroy him entirely with how much of his heart you owned and…

You reached up to gently stroke his cheek, and he was taken aback by your tender gesture.

“Andy… I don’t want you to change anything for me. I love you. Just as you are. I don’t want you to be quiet, I don’t want you to tune down any part of you. I just… want to be with you. That’s all. And I don’t regret Frank, not at all. I’m very happy with you.”

He blinked, trying to process your words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. And I… I would choose you over him. If I had to make that choice, I would choose you. I love you, not him. Not anymore.”

He brushed the tear that had begun rolling down his cheek, nodded.

He wasn’t sure he believed everything you were saying, and yet he knew you were earnest, that you weren’t lying.

“I’m sorry for tonight, I just… got really into my head, and just… I really doubted… everything, and… I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave, Y/N. I don’t want you to leave.”

“What do you want then? Earnestly. What do you want?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Why would it be? I’m your girlfriend, you can tell me anything.”

He forced the words out of his mouth, despite how vulnerable it made him feel.

“I… I really want you to hold me, right now.”

He let out a wry laugh.

“Christ, that’s pathetic…”

But before he could add another word, you were holding him in a tight embrace. All he could do was to hold you just as tightly.

“What about we go to bed, and cuddle?” you offered.

“Yeah… please…”

“Alright, I’ll get changed, okay?”

“Okay.”

You took off your shoes, picked up the pyjamas you had left in his drawer a couple of weeks ago, and disappeared in the bathroom. Then, Andrew got changed as well, and when he walked inside his bedroom again, you were already in his bed, waiting for him.

“Come here,” you invited him, opening your arms for him.

Slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe it, Andrew walked around the bed, lied down and nestled into your embrace, burying his face into your neck. For the first time that day, he let his body fully relax.

“You’re okay?” you asked, and he hummed in response.

“Yeah… much better. I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. We can talk about it again tomorrow. Let’s just rest now.”

You turned off the lamp on your bedside table, and in your arms, Andrew was out like a light.

Andrew woke up to the smell of coffee.

You had closed the door of his bedroom when you got up, to let him rest a little longer. As classes were over for this year, you could allow yourselves to arrive later at work. As long as the job was done, no one cared when you arrived or left.

He checked the time, it was almost 8 am.

He forced his body to move, to get up, groaned as he stretched the sleeping muscles of his long back. He almost hit his head in the doorframe, forgetting for a second that he needed to bend to avoid it.

You were there alright, in your pyjamas, putting butter on toasts and talking to Elwood. Andrew’s heart melted at the sight.

You fitted so well in his life, in his home… this was obvious, you and him. Everything about it was obviously right, so why was he sabotaging himself?

You turned to him as you heard him enter the room, welcomed him with a smile. But it wasn’t as bright as your usual ones, and a lump crept up Andrew’s throat.

“Morning, babe,” you greeted him, voice soft.

“Morning, love.”

He wanted to reach out, to hold you close, to kiss you and apologise, but he was too afraid of messing up everything again…

“Slept well?” he asked instead. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, I slept well.”

You poured him a coffee, stared at him as if gauging his reaction.

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he let out in a whisper.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It… it really is not. I’m sorry.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what happened.”

He started fidgeting, but he spoke anyway.

“I… like… I was stressed, and tired, and got stuck into my own head and… I think… I got really insecure.”

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

“I’m not… I’m not very good at talking about how I feel in those moments. I just… get stuck in my own ugly thoughts, and I fuck up everything.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“I see… is that okay if we talk about last night some more?”

“Sure… yeah…”

“Andy… Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t react well. Maybe I could have handled that situation better…”

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” Andrew shook his head. “I told you, I got stuck in my head, and was a mess…”

“Maybe I’ve triggered this…”

“You didn’t. Really, Y/N… none of this is your fault. I’m sorry.”

“Last night… you said some things… we need to talk about them.”

“Do we?”

He averted his eyes, spinning his toast in his hand, without taking a bite.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you said in a weaker voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.”

He knew you were right. You needed to talk about last night. He needed to clear the air, make up for the stupid things he said.

The stupidest of all was easy to remember.

“I’m sorry I mentioned Frank. It was cruel, and uncalled for.”

“Why did you say that?”

He shrugged.

“I just… I don’t know.”

“It hurt.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Like… I’m scared, Y/N. I’m really scared you’re going to wake up soon and regret giving me a chance, and regret not fighting for him more and…”

“I’ll never regret you, Andy.”

He looked up at you again, let his heart bloom with hope.

“I… I don’t have everything figured out either when it comes to us,” you admitted. “Sometimes, I worry too… that you’re going to leave, that you’d rather be with Sam. But I need to believe that you’d choose me over her. And you have to believe me when I tell you that I would not hesitate for a second. I would choose you, Andy. Even if Frank came begging to get me back, I would not hesitate, and I would choose you. I don’t love him anymore, I love you.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Do you believe me?”

He couldn’t lie to you, he simply couldn’t. He knew you were being vulnerable now, and he couldn’t answer with a lie, even if it meant to make things harder for you.

“I know you’re telling the truth,” he nodded. “But I… my brain just… like… I’m really struggling believing that’s the case.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?”

“I do. Of course, I do. But I’m… I’m not used to having someone who loves me the way you do. And with how Sam left, I… I thought she was a safe place, and it turned out she wasn’t. It’s hard to come back from that.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“I understand.”

“It’s not that I believe you’re lying, or that you could hurt me on purpose. It’s more that… I feel like you’re going to wake up one day, and realise you’ve made the wrong choice, and you’re just going to leave…”

“The way Sam did.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m not her, Andy.”

“I know. And I’m not Frank. Could you love me the way you loved him?”

He was surprised when you smiled, and even more so when you got up and walked over to him. He pushed back his chair so you could stand between his parted legs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I don’t want things to be the way they were with Frank,” you answered, staring intensely into his eyes, and he lost himself in the shades of your gaze. “I want better than him. You are better than him. I want to love you better than Sam loved you, too. I want this to be better, Andy. I’m not going to love you the way I loved Frank. I’m going to be happier with you.”

His heart grew warm at your words, at the sincerity in your voice and eyes as you spoke them. He blinked tears away…

God, he was such a sap, these days… crying over everything…

“All I want is for you to be happy, Y/N,” he whispered.

“And I want you to be happy, too.”

“I’m happy with you.”

You held him close, he nuzzled his face into your chest, his forehead resting against your chin.

“I’m happy with you,” you confessed. “And Andy… last night… I meant what I said. I don’t want you to change. I want you. Okay? I want you to be yourself when you’re with me. I want to talk with you. I want to hear everything you have to say. And I… I don’t want you to be afraid when you’re with me. I love you. I want to be here, with you. I’m certain about this. This… us… it feels so right…”

He took a moment to let your words sink in. And perhaps he could learn to believe them. That you could love him fully, like that. Yeah… yeah, he could believe that, with a little bit of time…

“Loving you is… I feel like myself when you’re with me,” he admitted in a fragile whisper. “And it’s… it makes me happy. But I’m not quite used to that. I’m sorry, if it takes me some time to adjust.”

“I understand. You can take all the time you need. Just… just promise me you won’t use Frank and Sam against me ever again…”

“I won’t. I promise you, I won’t.”

“Okay… I promise I won’t either.”

“Thank you.”

You heaved a relieved sigh.

“We should get ready for work.”

“This is nice, though… give us five more minutes.”

You chuckled, making him smile.

And he thought back about his mother’s words, and he forced himself not to be so scared anymore.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you hummed, kissing his hair, holding him close to you.

“Would you like to come to my parents’ for dinner this weekend?”

He was surprised when you started laughing.

“So… we’re resolving our first real fight… and you directly jump to bringing me to your parents’?”

He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Yeah… that’s a way to change the subject, I guess,” he joked, making you laugh again. “My mom asked for you to come, though.”

“Really?”

“Hmmm…”

“And you want me to come?”

“Yeah… but I’m worried I’m going too fast. I don’t mean to freak you out.”

“Who will be there?”

“My parents and my brother.”

“I’ve never met your brother.”

“No… but you’ve met my parents.”

“Yeah… and you have to warn your father, by the way… I will ask for our bet to be honoured. He lost. I was right about the rugby match we placed bets on. He owes me a beer.”

Andrew laughed.

“Alright… I’ll warn him. Do you want to come, then?”

“Of course, I want to come.”

“Is it not too soon?”

“No… it’s okay… I want to see them. And I want my free beer.”

You were laughing at your own joke, but he quickly shushed you with his lips.

Yes… perhaps, one day, he could believe that you loved him as much as he loved you…

[shalomsexual]

MILF HUNTING

Episode 1

Spy Au!

Warnings: G!P Reader, table sex, cream pie, Shalom being a bit of a brat, mentions of breeding.

In the midst of the chaotic meeting in the conference room of the organisation, there st Shalom, dressed in a black loose dress, her silky hair cascading down her shoulders. Seated in her lap was a four year old girl, who mimicked the expression of her mother; calm. These meetings were of no strangeness to Shalom as she's had been attending them for years. Way before she got pregnant with her little girl.

Paradeisos was known for having the best spies around the world, but there was two who stood out, Vixen and Rogue, or better yet known as Y/n and Shalom.

The tension between you two was as thick as a knife, with both of you always competing against each other. Of course whenever Shalom's daughter was around, there was no sign of rivalry between you two. The said woman didn't want her daughter to think she was disliked by anyone. However, it wasn't the case for you. You har practically loved Shalom, but knowing she had a daughter meant the father was in the picture- or so you thought.

"Van Peere is corrupting the peace of Discity yet the officials aren't acting. We cannot just sit around and do anything." One of the head of Paradeisos spoke.

"Van Peere is a dangerous man. We do not have the agents capable of taking him down." The other head replied. Shalom's eyes darted back and forth with a small smile as she watched the two heads bicker.

"Mama. What's going on?" Her daughter's innocent question snapped her out of her trance.

"Sweetheart, they're discussing important matters. You see, there's a bad guy who's trying to destroy our city and it's up to us to stop them."

"Well why aren't you stopping him?"

"Oh darling you're so full of questions aren't you?" The little girl giggled in response before cuddling more into Shalom. As the bickering went on, the said woman decided to intervene with an idea she's been plotting all this time.

"Allow me to input my thoughts will you?"

The two heads looked over at Shalom before nodding briefly.

"Proceed."

"As mentioned, Van Peere is an influential man; one filled with power. If we do not step in now, it will be too late. I volunteer to step in as the main carrier of this mission."

A brief moment of silence was there until one of the heads broke it. "Not bad however, you are currently injured due to your last mission. We need you in full effect if we're going to expect success."

"I agree but you two are forgetting something. We still have agent Rogue with us. She's currently away but will be back tonight. I reckon that these two will surely bring success."

It wasn't something new for the female head to always have your back. She loved the way you carried out your missions and your disguises are always hard to see through. After some contemplation, Shalom agreed. Once the mission details were all set, she waited for your arrival in the night.

Stepping out of the helicopter, you hastily approached the heads. "What's this I hear about Van Peere?"

"Right on time. We will brief you on the mission shortly. Go take a rest." Despite the urgeny of the situation, your leaders always wanted you to get rest as they needed you to fulfil any mission with utmost efficiency.

After a short rest, you sat in the meeting room as they unloaded the details of the mission on you. Immediately you knew it would be a tough one since none other than Shalom will be working. The biggest distraction you can ever face. "You two will leave tonight. He's hosting a Gala this afternoon and luckily for both of you, he's got open positions available. I've managed to snag interviews with him. His recent bodyguard was killed by him so Agent Rogue will be applying for the position. Agent Vixen will apply as his personal secretary since she's on maternity leave."

A personal bodyguard and a personal secretary. It doesn't seem so bad. "He will definitely test both of you so act with caution. You leave tonight."

And as the conclusion had approached, it was only the two of you. Heavy silence was weighed upon you until a little voice broke out. "Mama! Are you really leaving again?" Looking at the little girl, you smiled as Shalom picked her up.

"Oh sweetheart mommy's sorry but yes. You'll be okay with Clyde and Cynthia. Be good okay?" The small child nodded before Shalom rocked her to sleep. Once she was asleep, the maids took her to her room.

"It's hard having to leave her for days without ak explanation why." Shalom spoke, her voice like silk.

"Ah. She'll understand some day. She's smart and patient so that's something you should be glad for."

"Intelligence and Patience are two key things one must grow up with but, guidance from her mother is what she needs. You would understand if you had one, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know. I don't have one so I'm not sure if I'll understand." You smiled, enjoying the small huff that left her.

"Always the smart one aren't you?"

"Intelligence is key."

"Stupidity is more present in you anyway." Now it was her turn to smile at the slight agitated look on your face. "Let's not delay. Our jet awaits us."

Shalom strutted forward, her hips swaying in her loose dress. You grabbed your bag and headed towards the jet that soon took off to your destination. Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for the upcoming mission, your nerves all over the place. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, having Shalom by yourside but seeing the challenging glare she gave to you made you want to put her in her place and that's exactly what you're going to do.

"O-oh my you're very rough..." Shalom moaned breathlessly, her hands gripping the front of your shirt as you sucked on her neck, subtly grinding against her core. How did you end up in this position?

It started at the party that was hosted by Van Peere. The parry screamed elegance as the guests were all dressed in suits and dresses. Shalom wore a beautiful white long sleeved silk dress that hugged her figure perfect. She looked as beautiful as she did before she had her daughter and it made your breath get knocked out.

All throughout the party, she was throwing hints, trying to get you riled up and jealous. Your feelings to her were no stranger as you had a bit of trouble hiding your jealously throughout the years of working with her. And you had enough of her relentless teasing so you did exactly what you had to do.

"I can't help it. You look ravishing, especially with the way you looked tonight."

"Oh? And what if it wasn't you who I dressed up for?" She raised an eyebrow, clearing testing your patience.

"I don't care who you dressed up for. All I know is that I'm going to be the one taking this dress off tonight. Now turn around for me."

Shalom smiled coyly. "What if I don't want to?"

"You talk to much."

"Then make me shut up."

You grinned before lifting her ontop the table in the storage room of Van Peere's mansion before pulling her dress off, exposing her succulent breasts to you. You leaned forward, attaching your lips to her breasts as she let out a sharp gasp, her hand immediately tangling in your hair. "Hmm, your mouth is just amazing~"

Grinning, you shifted the attention to her other boob while your finger rubbed circles on clothed clit, making her instinctively buck her hips into your hand. "So eager and needy aren't you?"

She whined softly, locking her legs around your waist. "Please please.. fuck me." As she begged, she hurriedly took off your pants and boxers, seeing your hard cock spring free from it's confinements. Shalom wrapped her hand around your length before slowly stroking it while your hand worked to remove her panties. Once there were no barriers between you two, you gripped the tip before rubbing it through her folds, lubricating it in the process.

"Ready?"

"Always."

With a sharp intake of breath, you slowly inserted the tip of your cock inside, watching as her pussy stretched the accommodate the girth of your head. Shalom threw her head back as you eased the rest in, moaning softly at the feeling of being penetrated after a long time. She tightened around you, the feeling almost foreign. "Fuck you're so tight Shalom..." you breathed out, your hand holding her leg up as you slowly began to move. Shalom let out a series of curses under her breath, head hanging back as her body moved along with yours.

"Faster...faster please." She moaned, using her legs to pull you deeper. You groaned, looking at her with hazy eyes as you began to increase your thrusts. The table rocked with movements as you gritted your teeth as you tried your hardest to hold back but looking at the goddess sprawled out before you, why waste such a precious opportunity to fuck her brains out?

And with that conclusion you began to slam your hips body, the tip of your cock kissing her cervix as she let out a scream that was quickly covered by you. "Shh you don't want Van Peere to find us fucking in his storage room now would you?" You smiled coyly, seeing her glossy eyes and the rosy hue on her cheeks.

"N-no fuck... you're so big baby... harder... give it to me harder. I want you to breed me, fill me up until it's leaking darling." Your eyes widened at the words that spilled from her mouth. With a smile, you pistoned deep inside her pussy, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

"I'm cumming...fuck I'm cumming hard!" Shalom shouted, her hips moving as she chased her sweet release. Shalom clenched tightly around your cock, her body going limp as she squirted hard, the forcing nearly pushing you out but you still continued pounding her, her juices continued to gush like a waterfall.

With a final slam, you buried yourself to the hilt, ropes of cum shooting inside of her. She squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling of something warm filling her insides. "Fuck.." you shivered as you slowly pulled out, watching your combine juices leak out of her gaping hole.

"Hmm would you look at that?" She grinned, parting her pussy lips as more cum gushed out. "Looks like a stuffed pie to me no?"

You smiled before lifting her up and helping her put on her clothes. "How about we ditch this party and head on back to our suite?"

"What about our mission, Agent Rogue?"

"Fuck the mission... for now. What I'm really interested in is showing you what a stuffed pie really looks like." With a sly smile, you and Shalom went back to your suite where you continued your ministrations. It was a night filled with passion, lust and an untold love but most importantly, a stuffed and filled Shalom.

[royal-bubble-tea]

Stray Kids Headcanon

Stray Kids as Teachers 🤓📚

I'm currently studying to become a teacher and sitting in one of my lectures I wondered what kind of teachers the SKZ members would be and what subject(s) they would teach.

Bang Chan 🐺

he is super calm and understanding, his patience level cannot be reached

tries to be best friends with his students always trying to make them comfortable

He would hate to be the bad guy, would rather have a chill time but can be stern if need be

would always find a way to help a struggling student

is loved by all teachers and parents a like

If you meet him in public he is open to chat but wants to separate his private and work life

He dresses casual and of course in all black, but still looks handsome and approachable

Subjekts he would teach: Music (obviously) and physical education

He knows that these subjects are not for everyone but he would encourage his students and would give good grades for trying your best

Lee Know🐈‍⬛

He is that one weird teacher but in a good way

Would claim that he hates his students or that they annoy him, but deep down he loves and adores them

Has inside jokes with his students

In contrast to Bang Chan he is the one who would avoid his students in public, this man would literally vanish

Is okay with parents but parent teacher conferences still stress him out

His fashion style would be more towards business or silly/ cat sweathers

His subject would be: geograhpy, he is introverted and acts, like a cat so I feel this subject fits him very well

He is an amazing choreographer and performer so he needs/is good with structure so this subject fits him well

Would have pictures of his cats on his desk, can easily be distracted if asked about them

He once spend an entire lesson talking about his cats

Changbin🐷🐰

He is always so loud and has to much energy, which is good when its the end of the school day but if your are not a morning person then pray that you don't have him as your teacher in the first lessons

Is also very good with the parents, especially with the moms

Is loved by everyone in the teachers room, even the school secretary loves him

Also dresses either casual because of him being a p.e. teacher or dressing up trying to impress the cute art teacher

Another physical education teacher who supports his students and wants his students to have fun during his classes and maybe take some ideas or inspiration home with them

His other subject is math, but he is not a scary maths teacher, he often tries to help everyone understand the topic and is willing to explain it more that once

Hyunjin 🥟

Mr. Picasso himself definetly is an Art teacher

Walking around the hallways with paint stains on his hands and clothes

Sleeves rolled up and colours sprinkled up to his elbows, pencils or brushes behind his ears

He would dress in slacks and a dress shirt, but the sleeves would be rolled up and some buttons loosened

Let's students listen to music and encourages them to get creative

Will love everything as long as it is close to the guidelines or the topic

He is part of pabo Racha and it shows a little in the organisation of his desk or class room

Has a crush on the cute little p.e. teacher but does not know how to act on it, has a folder of drawings (draw him like one of your french girls)

Jisung 🐿

Music teacher, I don't have to explain this one

He loves to teach this subject often getting carried away from the Curriculum and just wanting to enjoy making music with his students

Writes songs for the theatre club

Leader of the school band, won multiple prices at different competitions, is so damn proud when looking at the awards displayed in the hallways

He is a little air head, walking around the school with his clothes a mess and sheets of paper trailing behind him

Don't make him do parent teacher conferences because he will cry, he begs Chan to take his conferences

Has a crush on the geography teacher, writes songs about him/for him in secret

Felix 🐥

Not a teacher but a social worker

Pure ray of sunshine, the students love him and often come to him to consult with him if they have trouble in school

Parents will cry tears of joy after talking to him and getting help and guidelines on how to parent their children

Organises special school bonding events for the students, like charity events or fund raisers, sports festival .... you name it

Students will always volunteer to help him

But not only students can come to him to talk, some teachers seek him out as well for comfort or to have a nice little chat

He makes sure that Chan goes home on time, drinks enough water and stops stressing about everything

Seungmin🐶

Similar to Minho, acts all tough and like he does not give a shit about his students but he will fight for them and protect them at all cost

His subjects would be something science related, he is just smart like that

Tries to make his lessons as fun as possible to make sure that pupils understand the topic

Leader of the debate club, he loves to see his students destroy opponents in discussions, often offers some snarky or sarcastic comments himself

Has a soft spot for one of the art teachers but will never admit it out loud or will fight you if you mention it

Jeongin🦊

The youngest amongst the teachers and not even a full on teacher yet

Currently still a student teacher, but already in love with the job and the students

Another Art teacher, but more modern art and design focused

Loves to share an office with Hyunjin, but would love his personal space back even more

Often comes to consult with Chan, sometimes doubting himself after being critised

Has a crush on the science teacher but fears that his feelings are not reciprocated or that he may not be smart enough

Students love him, give him good feedback and would be more than happy to have him as a long term teacher

[ukrfeminism]

UK Feminist Events in 2025

Friday 30th May-Saturday 31st May : Women Create!

Women Create! Is the world’s first ever conference exclusively for cancelled female and feminist artists from across the political spectrum

Saturday 14th June : Race, Sex, and Class

Join us for Race, Sex, and Class - a thought-provoking conference on how these factors intersect and how to chart a way forward

Sat 26 July - Sun 27 July : The Global Silencing of Women

This conference will help us share information about how to defend women's rights. The conference theme will be the Global Silencing of Women. If you can’t attend in person you can join us online.

10th-12th October : FiLiA

Learn about Women’s Rights and Global Feminism Meet the women who are challenging sex-based injustices across the world. Build your Feminist Network. Leave inspired.

Please feel free to add any events I have missed. I am not affiliated with any of the above organisations and cannot guarantee any of the events.

[dostoyevsky-official]

Europe should hijack Trump’s revolutionary plans for the world

The Trumpian revolution has already changed the nature of European politics. Less than two months into the new White House administration’s term, the European political scene has been transformed into a clash between Trump-allied revolutionaries and Trump-resisting “do not bully us” liberal nationalists. Now it is for the far right to justify Trump’s anticipated tariffs on Europe, threatened this week at 25 per cent, and to ask Europeans to follow Washington’s leadership in foreign policy. By contrast, mainstream parties are acting as defenders of national sovereignty who hope to mobilise support by appealing to national interest and national dignity. The Munich conference also put an end to the heated debate about whether Trump should be taken seriously (meaning, not literally) or literally (meaning, not seriously). Now we know that he should be taken both seriously and literally. As Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, has aptly observed, Trump “does not simply say what he thinks, but he says what he wants”. His comments about taking control of Greenland or the Panama Canal represent not signalling, but intention. The US president is convinced that America’s strategic interest lies in making Canada the 51st US state. He strongly believes that he can split Russia from China, and he blames America’s “deep state” for preventing him from achieving this in his first term. In this context, Europeans are wasting precious time pondering what will be Trump’s plan for Ukraine and complaining about not being at the negotiating table. Getting Trump right necessitates first and foremost recognising that it is a revolutionary government in power in Washington, albeit one organised as an imperial court. Revolutions never have detailed plans. They run by timetables: meet the moment; don’t project steps ahead. It is unclear what exactly Trump wants to achieve in his negotiations with Putin, but he wants to achieve something very big, and he wants to achieve it fast, very fast. What Trump offers Putin is not simply the prospect of ending the war in Ukraine on terms broadly favourable to Moscow, but a grand bargain to reorder the world. This includes America’s presence in Europe, and also in the Middle East and the Arctic. Trump promises Putin that Russia will be rapidly reintegrated into the global economy and that Moscow will regain the status of a great power that it lost in the humiliating 1990s. Trump hopes that this will convince Russia to sunder its alliance with China. The US refusal in a UN vote to condemn Russia’s aggression in Ukraine shocked even some of the president’s most devoted admirers. But it was meant to persuade the Kremlin that the American leader is ready to do the unthinkable — and reconfigure the world as shaped by Ronald Reagan and Gorbachev in the late 1980s. [...] George Orwell once observed that “all revolutions are failures, but they are not all the same failure”. What kind of failure the Trumpian revolution will be, we do not know. But what history teaches us is that the best strategy is not to resist the revolutionaries but to hijack their revolution. In doing this, Europe’s success will mostly depend not on its ability to resist but on displaying a talent to surprise. Could Europe find a way to benefit from not being at the US-Russian negotiating table? Should Trump be left to own his great peace plan for Ukraine and its implementation? In a moment of existential crisis like the present one, there is one valuable resource for the weaker party that stands out: political imagination.

[uss-edsall]

In a previous post, I spoke of my adoration for ArmA III’s primary campaigns.

The game is ten years old and feature complete, except for “Community DLCs”, that is, third-party expansions given official sponsorship. As such it is unlikely the game will get any further official content. The game’s lore is scattered across every aspect of it - tutorials, challenge scenarios, single-player scenarios (there’s one memorable scene in particular snuck into a free charity event mission), and of course, the campaigns.

Each official DLC added their own singleplayer scenarios, mini-campaigns, etc - aside from the Karts DLC, which started as an April fool’s joke. Some of these campaigns are in and of themselves very neat, if much shorter than the main campaign. I might someday go into detail about them, but for now, I will focus on my favourite, and perhaps, the most important of them all.

Spoilers below.

Preamble

The Laws of War DLC from 2017, four years after the game released and today nearly six years old, came out of a very strange event. The following information comes from this article.

In 2010, the International Committee of the Red Cross began a research project where one man, a Swiss ex-artillery officer, spent two months looking into videogames, and depiction of virtual war crimes. It was not a very important project, not one with priority. Certainly nobody, at the ICRC expected what came next. After he presented his findings at the 31st International Conference of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, news organisations started shitflinging. In attempting to call some small amount of attention on war crimes being portrayed in games (and all too often without the casual player being aware the action in question would be a real life crime), the media took ‘hey, we should be more aware of what we’re depicting’ and went “the Red Cross wants to prosecute six hundred million gamers for war crimes!”

Albeit having to backpedal and go, "no, that's not at all what we meant," the ICRC realised they’d struck a nerve. For the first time, thousands of people were talking about International Humanitarian Law who would otherwise have never touched it. So they sent out letters to major game developers (particularly of shooters) asking if they would like to meet, to talk, to collaborate. Most ignored them. Those that didn’t chose not to reveal they happened; “they think their gamers or their fans will get scared that their games will turn into training courses or that morality, as they say, will take over everything and games will not be about shooting anything anymore.”

One studio didn’t.

One studio was quite interested in collaborating and creating with the Red Cross publicly.

On 3 September 2017, Bohemia Interactive released as a DLC for the military simulator ArmA III…

Laws of War

War does have rules. . . In a firefight, things aren’t easy. . . We just ask you to remember. Actions have consequences.

ArmA III’s Laws of War DLC is the result of that collaboration between the Red Cross and Bohemia Interactive. It adds a fictional Non-Governmental Organisation, International Development & Aid Project (IDAP). Equipment includes a van, a utility drone, press gear, new bags and helmets, and most curiously of all… In order to depict war crimes, they had to add munitions for committing war crimes, in the form of an APERS mine dispenser and cluster bomb munitions for aircraft. ArmA previously hadn't had it, being one of few games to try to avoid including banned weaponry.

“Everyone on the forums says, ‘Yes! Thank you! Give us civilians and humanitarian workers and cluster munitions and we will use these new guns to eradicate as many of the first group as possible . . . But by saying that, it means that they will have consciously been saying, ‘We are going to break the law.’ It means that, even if it's at a very low level, they now have an understanding that there was a law in the first place.”

Those are the bones of the DLC. The meat of it is in the Remnants of War mini-campaign.

Remnants of War

The trailer for the DLC linked at the start telegraphs the intent of the campaign's story. Every side is depicted in the trailer. NATO forces, AAF troops, FIA guerrillas, CSAT spec-ops - they’re all there. All of them are depicted in the midst of conflict, at the cusp of committing a war crime.

The DLC takes place after the end of the primary ArmA campaign. “All’s over but the crying,” right? Not quite, not so. Even now, the actions taken back then have consequences. People are still dying. Questions remain unanswered.

The Brother - 15 August, 2035

The first mission begins with you in the shoes of Markos Kouris, the man on the left above. Five days ago, 10 August, 2035, the short but fierce war 'Altis Incident' that saw Akhanteros overthrown and the nation devastated once more, came to an explosive end. Peace returned to the country, shaky, unstable, but peace all the same. But the memories of the fighting in the fallen rebel stronghold of Oreokastro a year ago remain. The knowledge that your brother Alexis was killed in the fighting only days ago weighs heavily - now that the war is over, perhaps you can enter the obliterated town, find his remains, and bring him home for the last time.

When you step close to the ruined church, a hidden landmine triggers, detonating, and killing you - killing Markos Kouris, one more victim of the destruction of Oreokastro.

The EOD Expert - Several Days Later

You next take the role of a man named Nathan MacDade. A middle-aged American, he is a former marine who fought in Chernarus in 2009 (ArmA II), and after leaving the military, joined IDAP as an Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician. His job is to find unexploded ordnance (UXO) and safely disarm it, or failing that, detonate it safely without harm to human life. He’s good at his job, and has been at it for over twenty years. He’s on a voice call with Katherine Bishop, a journalist pursuing the story of Oreokastro.

As Nathan explores the town, he’ll find mines to defuse, unexploded ordnance to disarm, tripwires and hidden explosives… and several flashbacks. During these flashbacks to earlier events, Nathan MacDade narrates, speaking to Katherine Bishop asking questions, together depicting the various actions you can choose to do. If you take up arms as a civilian he’ll comment on it; if you choose to execute wounded combatants he’ll condemn it; so on and so forth. She'll share a draft of her article at the end of the campaign, which changes depending on the actions you take within it.

From here on out the DLC can be taken in non-chronological order. The flashbacks can be done in whichever order you find them. For the purposes of this post I will write of them in order of events.

The Peacekeeper - 28th May, 2034

Nathan’s been to Oreokastro before. Prior to the ‘Altis Incident’, IDAP had an aid camp within the town. As unrest in the nation grew stronger and bullets began to fly between the dictatorship’s troops and FIA guerrillas once more trying to fight for freedom, it became clear that aid supplies would not get to Oreokastro by land. They’d be ambushed or stolen, by both guerrilla forces and government troops. Thus, you put on the combat boots of an American peacekeeper of Task Force Aegis, Staff Sergeant Adams. The peacekeepers are unable to prevent the conflict, but they do arrange for aid supplies, IDAP priority, to be airdropped in. You drive around to collect aid supplies dropped by parachute, and defending some against a guerrilla attack. This is a short and simple mission.

ArmA is no stranger to the dangers of the remnants of war. Staff Sergeant Adams’ role is swift but deadly in the main campaign; he is your commander in the first mission, leading you to safety when TF Aegis is attacked… until he steps on a landmine, injuring you (Corporal Kerry), and killing him, leaving a terrified logistics driver to make his way alone out of the minefield and find allies in the CTRG.

The Guerrilla - 30th September, 2034

After NATO was pressured to begin withdrawal from the Republic of Altis & Stratis by Colonel Akhanteros (on the orders of his new CSAT puppet masters), the civil war began to truly heat up. Kostas Stavrou, a charismatic leader, took the reins of the FIA guerrillas. He encouraged the citizens of Oreokastro to rise up and take control of the town, with its high ground and natural terrain advantage, and turn it into a fortress.

As the Altis Armed Forces (AAF) lay siege to the town, the guerrillas prepare. One such guerrilla is Alexis Kouris, the brother Markos was searching for. In his flashback he lays mines on the road to Oreokastro - mines that you as Nathan MacDade just disarmed - and search the town for vehicles to use as roadblocks (one of which can be an IDAP van, which is a crime to do in and of itself, using humanitarian aid and stealing from humanitarian organisations for war purposes).

The roadblocks work. The mines work. The AAF’s offensive is frustrated…

… and so Akhanteros orders a brutal measure to gain victory.

The Redacted - 13 October 2034

You take the shoes of a CSAT special forces team - supposedly. Paradropped behind the guerrilla lines into the castle ruins overlooking Oreokastro, the three-man team silently eliminate the guerrilla sentries and set up an overwatch position on the town. They observe - and use a laser designator to call in a cluster bomb airstrike. It matters little who lives or dies, as long as you don’t directly hit the IDAP camp - though there’s an optional objective to try to avoid hitting an IDAP doctor in the town. Akhanteros wants the town obliterated for rising up against him so successfully.

The airstrike comes in and destroys everything. Roadblocks go up in smoke and flame; buildings collapse; men are eviscerated; and the AAF offensive begins.

This mission is the most blatant crime. Over a hundred countries banned the use of cluster munitions in 2008. Dozens die at minimum due to your actions as the faceless CSAT soldier who designated the target.

Faceless… CSAT… or are you so faceless? Are you so explicitly the Designated Enemy Faction?

“Idunno…” goes Nathan. “There were shell casings, found at the castle.” Strange. CSAT weaponry are explicitly caseless, and don’t leave behind brass. “NATO mil-spec.” Albeit you are depicted using a CSAT camouflaged laser designator in-mission, outside of it, the flashback trigger is a NATO sandy brown.

As the flashback ends, the three CSAT troops turn into the forms of Captain Miller and two other members of NATO’s CTRG.

The Survivor - 13 October, 2034

Heavily injured by the cluster bomb munitions, you take control of Markos Kouris from the beginning. The town is rubble; smoke, fire, and fog alike covers everything; the overcast skies fully block the sun. AAF forces and guerrillas fight a vicious and horrendously chaotic gunfight through the streets. Your objective is simply to survive, to escape to the IDAP camp. You are an unarmed civilian and a non-combatant… though you can choose to take up arms from the dead and join the fight. this flashback ends with getting to the IDAP camp for medical aid.

Oreokastro is ruined, depopulated. The rebellion here is over. As soon as it is safe to do so, IDAP too abandons the town, forced to vacate by the AAF.

There is nothing more they can do for the dead, after all.

The Major - 8 August, 2035

Ten months later, the Altis Incident is coming to a brutal end. The U.S. 111th Infantry Division heads NATO’s vengeance, supported by the FIA guerrillas. Two AAF soldiers, Major Gavras and his assistant Kostas Dimitriou, head into Oreokastro. AAF forces across the island are being overwhelmed. Gavras hopes making a stand in Oreokastro will buy time for other forces, drawing NATO units away from Kavala and other AAF strongholds. With NATO owning the skies there is little to no way to get reinforcements; Gavras’ forces are decimated, and the extraction helicopter is shot down. Gavras elects, then, to make a final stand in the church where the IDAP camp used to be.

You are Kostas, and you are faithful to your leader. If this is where you die, so be it - but you’re not going quietly. Knowing it is a cruel thing to do you deploy three APERS mine dispensers as a seperate act. There seems no other way to inflict as many casualties as possible on the attackers. They succeed. Somehow they survive the battle - through a storm of shot and shell, you kill or incapacitate all the guerrillas and American soldiers who attack the church. Surprisingly, the AAF manages to send a rescue helicopter that extracts the two of you.

Major Gavras is the reason the AAF held out for three days against the full might of a vengeful American and NATO force, not just one. He survived the war. He even was part of the peace process. He also gave IDAP the location of the mines he had his assistant plant in that near-final stand at the church.

Gavras and Kostas killed Alexis Kouris in that stand in Oreokastro. So, too, did they indirectly kill Markos Kouris, who stepped on one of Kostas’ mines searching for his dead brother. Their actions had consequences.

Who’s To Blame?

This ends the flashbacks, and little remains of the campaign. Katherine Bishop has one more question for Nathan MacDade.

“Now, there's just one last question I'd like to ask you. It's subjective, so, take your time. In your opinion, who's most to blame for all the suffering in Oreokastro? NATO? The guerrillas? CSAT? The Altis Armed Forces? Or, I don't know, something else?”

Who is responsible for Oreokastro? Who killed this town? Who’s to blame? Who is, if any one can be? Can anyone even be blamed at all?

You choose.

Every option leads to different thoughts from Nathan’s part. Perhaps one faction of them is higher than the rest in terms of blame. Perhaps together they form some sort of collective blame that, in the end, leaves everyone with no clear answer as to who to point a finger at, all dissatisfied, ashamed of themselves and angry at others.

NATO is to blame - “They had the capacity to make a difference, y'know? The airdrops were helpful, but it was never enough. And, ultimately? Their invasion caused more bloodshed. If they'd just had the guts to stay in the first place? A lotta killing could have been avoided…” The peacekeepers of Task Force Aegis failed to accomplish their mission. They didn’t have the influence to peacefully keep the peace without shots fired; they didn’t have the strength to keep peace by force of arms; their leaders didn’t have the guts to stay when demanded to leave. The NATO invasion led to even more deaths, once more devastating the FIA guerrillas (in a friendly fire incident, Kostas Stavrou was killed by a NATO air attack, too). Not to mention the suspicions of NATO spec-ops being responsible for the cluster bomb attack… Oreokastro is a monument to NATO’s sins.

CSAT is to blame - “That cluster strike? It took the whole thing to the brink - and with so little to gain from such a terrifying show of force. The whole thing's felt like a power-play from the get-go. One big pissing contest. It always is…” There was a shaky peace after the original Altis civil war ended in 2030. It held for four years. It only devolved back into civil war after Akhanteros got cozy with CSAT. They looked the other way when the AAF committed atrocities; they were the ones who supposedly carried out the airstrike. Unknown to Nathan, the entire struggle that eventually led to Alexis and Markos Kouris’ deaths are due to CSAT’s testing of the Eastwind Device, and the CTRG’s attempts to capture it.

The Altis Armed Forces are to blame - “It's one thing fighting against a resistance - it's another to make the civilian population pay for it. As they clung on to power, they wound up scarring the very country they'd pledged to protect…” Perhaps the most direct perpetrators of all the violence. Ceasefire agreements violated; their leader being the ultimate authority who called for the cluster bombing; they punished the weak and innocent along with those who chose armed resistance, cruelly harming the populace for the actions of a few. An army of thugs acting on the orders of a thug, caring not about the atrocities committed in the moment, the unexploded ordnance and mines left for generations of Altians to suffer from.

The FIA guerrillas are to blame - “They hid themselves among the population. These guys didn't give a damn about what it cost. They wanted power, and would do anything to get it…” The guerrillas incited the armed conflict. Though they seemingly had a moral high ground, the guerrillas resorted to underhanded tactics that violated the laws of war, even targeting humanitarian aid and taking from relief efforts for their own ends..

All sides played a part - Oreokastro’s destruction was not solely one side, one group, one man to blame. “No one side can be held accountable for the bloodshed here. No one action got us where we are now. And the folks here in Oreokastro? They're the ones that've suffered. This is the reality. This is war.” The citizens of Oreokastro paid that ultimate price, whether they wanted to or not, just more victims of a great power proxy struggle and more local regional conflicts alike.

Choose.

You’ve seen every side, parts of it at least. All throughout, no matter which side you thought was most responsible, the primary theme of the DLC remains consistent: Actions have consequences.

No matter what you think, the dead are dead and will never return.

Nathan MacDade says farewell to Katherine Bishop. The mines and UXOs in Oreokastro have been defused, and it’s time to move on. Oreokastro has become a silent mausoleum, as the IDAP vehicles drive away. A ruined city on a hill for all to behold and contemplate - or to forget, as all things are doomed to be.

There are other Oreokastros in this devastated country. There are more mines to disarm, more UXOs defuse, more potential casualties to prevent from a war long ended - more atrocities left behind in the sands of time.

Just as in Oreokastro, there may never truly be a definitive answer as to what happened in those places.

Real Life Consequences

The Laws of War DLC was made in collaboration with the International Committee of the Red Cross, and thus half the initial sales were donated to the ICRC. That came up to $176,667 USD; pretty respectable for a $10 DLC.

The community has a high number of people who, as was mentioned in a quote early in this post, reacted to the addition of a humanitarian aid NGO and medical vehicles with, "great, more things to commit war crimes on." The comments on the trailer are rife with them. But as a Bohemia Interactive employee put it:

"We knew this DLC's theme might seem a bit unusual, but we also felt that it has a rightful place in a game like Arma 3 . . . what has made it even more amazing to see the immense level of player support for the Laws of War DLC, which really shows again how both games and the gaming audience have matured. If you also consider that some of our players are in the military or might pursue a military career in the future, then we're glad this DLC has been able to increase awareness for this important topic. And being able to also make a financial contribution to the ICRC's efforts is a great bonus."

[wheeloffortune-design]

the job that's been completely remote since 2020 decided to do a meet up in september. most of the people are from out of town or province and have never set foot in the premises, so it's a huge organisation of traveling, hotel, etc.

and they hired a guy to do the conference, actually an humorist, which, cool, except they don't seem to realize that this guy has built his career on sexist jokes for the last 20 years.

this is a company that claims to be diverse and open (but the white RH lady said to my face that they couldn't be racist because that's not how they were).

i can't wait to see how bad this is going to be.

[reasonsforhope]

"On Monday this week [first week of December, 2023], workers in London’s financial centre were met with an unfamiliar sight – and sound. Around 100 chorists, some sporting bowler hats, had gathered at the headquarters of the City’s biggest fossil fuel-backing corporations to sing in protest.

The singers, encompassing a range of generations and vocal pitches, were part of the Climate Choir Movement, a network of choirs that officially launched in January 2023. While world leaders convened at the Cop28 climate summit in Dubai, they raised their voices in support of the Stop Ecocide campaign, which is working to criminalise the destruction of the environment.

The Climate Choir Movement’s co-founder Jo Flanagan first formed a choir in April 2022 with Extinction Rebellion to protest against HSBC’s fossil fuel investments at the bank’s AGM. Dressed smartly to blend in with shareholders, the singers rose up from their seats to disrupt the meeting with a rendition of the Abba classic "Money, Money, Money," the lyrics adapted to urge HSBC to finance renewable energy. [Note: A+ Song choice for this, tbh]

Flanagan had been inspired by a video of US activists singing as a flashmob in the middle of a conference speech to protest against greenwashing. “It made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck,” she recalls. “They walked out of the room in a very dignified way, still singing. I just thought, that’s the way I want to do it.”

Since then, the movement has grown from its first choir in Bristol to 10 choirs across the UK, with around 550 members at the time of writing. The local choirs organise their own rehearsals and protests, while all movement members can attend monthly sessions on Zoom where they learn new songs, to be performed at protests like the one in London.

For Ruth Routledge, who works as a singing for health practitioner and leads the Portsmouth choir in her spare time, taking part in this action was a “wonderful, uplifting” experience. “Singing and harmonising together is a very beautiful way to protest,” she says. “There’s something very gentle, very moving, and very powerful about it. It’s so vulnerable. There’s just a real naked, stripped back humanity that I think cuts through a lot of noise.”

The movement welcomes all new members, regardless of singing ability. Routledge was touched when some passersby – including “a couple of lads” – joined in with the songs. 

She is eager for others to experience the sense of hope that singing together brings. “I feel very passionately about the state of the environment. I’m very concerned about my children’s futures, and I’m concerned about the whole world. It keeps me awake at night.

“Joining together means we’re not isolated, worrying that the world is on fire and no one’s going to do anything.” 

For Flanagan, what sets the movement apart from other choirs that sing songs about nature is its targeted approach. “We organise very carefully choreographed, peaceful performance protests. We want to change hearts and minds.”

Seeing onlookers in tears illustrates to her what singing can achieve. “It reaches deep inside people in a way that other forms of protest can’t.”"

-via Positive.News, December 6, 2023