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opencommunion · 10 months ago

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"Palestine was heralded as ‘a land without a people for a people without a land’, and the Naqab in particular was characterized as a desert in need of technologically advanced (Zionist) pioneers to make it bloom. In actual fact, the estimated 65,000–90,000 Palestinian Arabs populating the Naqab Desert prior to the 1948 war were organized into 95 tribes, and engaged in animal husbandry and seasonal agriculture. Turkish records dating as far back as the sixteenth century show that Palestinian Bedouin owned, cultivated and paid taxes on land; and that cultivation was extensive, particularly in the more fertile, less arid northern and northwestern Naqab. Palestinian Bedouin cultivation in the Naqab was documented by European traveller accounts from the mid- to late-1800s, as well as Zionist explorer accounts from the late 1800s and early 1900s. Reports produced both by British Mandate authorities and the Zionist Movement’s Palestine Land Development Company in the early to mid-1900s indicated that over 2 million dunams were owned and cultivated by Naqab Palestinians. The great majority of Naqab Palestinians held their land under customary Bedouin law. Neither the Ottoman or British Mandate governments ever completed land surveys of the vast Naqab region; however, they both recognized the Naqab Palestinians’ traditional land ownership system, at the collective tribal and individual levels.

... However, prior to the 1948 war, Zionist leaders such as Ben-Gurion denied Naqab Palestinian land ownership, and characterized the Naqab as ‘No Man’s Land. It has no legal owners and anyone who cultivates it with the permission of the government is entitled to become its owner, according to a Turkish law, which still prevails in Palestine’. He rejected the idea of purchasing land in the Naqab, saying to his staff: ‘In the Negev we will not buy land. We will conquer it. You are forgetting that we are at war.’ The 1948 war/Palestinian Nakba (Catastrophe) resulted in large-scale expulsion of Palestinian population, and internal displacement of many who remained in the territory that became the State of Israel. Studies of the internally displaced Palestinians have generally not included the Bedouin Palestinians in the Naqab; aside from noting that the official governmental numbers did not include them, or that a much higher proportion of the population was displaced, as compared to other regions. They, indeed, faced the most extensive displacement and dispossession, with 12 of the 19 tribes that remained in the Israeli state forced to move from their fertile lands in the northwestern Naqab to the infertile, arid region of the Seig. This resulted in nearly two thirds of the communities losing their land, property and possessions. Although Israeli authorities initially told them that the displacement was temporary, and they would be allowed to return to their lands, this never occurred. Instead, an arsenal of laws was enacted and applied throughout Israel to transfer Palestinian owned land to the Israeli state. ... Recently uncovered archives and declassified government documents confirm that the displacement and land acquisition was not coincidental, but occurred according to an orderly, large-scale state plan to expel Palestinian citizens from the northwestern Naqab, with the goal of severing their physical ties to the land, and transferring this land to the possession of the state. Moshe Dayan, who commanded the military operation, wrote: ‘It’s now possible to transfer most of the Bedouin in the vicinity of [Kibbutz] Shoval to areas south of the Hebron-Be’er Sheva road. Doing so will clear around 60,000 dunams in which we can farm and establish communities.’ Although security issues were given as a rationale for the transfer, Dayan also clearly stated: ‘Transferring the Bedouin to new territories will annul their rights as landowners and they will become tenants on government lands.’ The military government carried out the operation using a mix of threats, violence, bribery and fraud; but were careful never to give the displaced Naqab Palestinians written transfer orders, because such an operation for the purpose of land acquisition was illegal. Oral Palestinian histories of threats, violence and arrests were confirmed by archival kibbutz and state records. Although the official government story was that Naqab Palestinians voluntarily left their lands, declassified government records from the time document the ‘Bedouin resistance and protests, the stubbornness with which they tried to hold onto their land, even at the cost of hunger and thirst, not to mention the army’s threats and violence’. Archival kibbutz records also documented the military government’s use of many methods to force the Bedouin to leave their lands, including stopping their food supplies for months."

Ismael Abu-Saad, "Al-Naqab: The Unfinished Zionist Settler-colonial Conquest of its Elusive 'Last Frontier,' and Indigenous Palestinian Bedouin Arab Resistance," in Decolonizing the Study of Palestine: Indigenous Perspectives and Settler Colonialism (2023)

#palestine #zionism #colonialism #history #library

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motherofdogs1010 · 1 year ago

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Little Darling I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Birmingham has received a new club, one that is showcasing a exotic type of dance that is drawing in crowds, but it is one particular dancer that catches Thomas Shelby's eye... one that goes by the stage name: Little Darling

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, stripper!reader, eventual smut, swearing, drinking, mentions of prostitution/ sex work, canon Peaky Blinders violence

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Series Masterlist

A new club in Peaky Blinder territory was something that always raised Tommy's attention; usually, he would pay no mind when they first pop up, but it seemed like this club was different.

The Scarlet Letter was what it was called, Tommy had been sitting in his office at Shelby Company Ltd. when John and Arthur had come in to report about this club. Apparently, the club was showcasing a unique type of dance with its female employees, one that involved the use of a pole?

"A bloody pole?" Tommy had scoffed at the mention. "How the bloody hell are these women dancing with a pole?"

"Have to go check it out to see", Arthur had replied with a cheeky grin. "From what we've heard, this club had been making money. No ties to any gangs either."

It was a sight to see inside The Scarlet Letter, women adorned in expensive lingerie, their hair adorned in pinned curls and lips painted a deep red, but what was interesting was they work masks that concealed half their face. Literal poles were scattered throughout the place, a barmaid and bartender maned two bars on either side of the place, both busy; sofas and booth seats surrounded some of the poles, paritions in certain parts of the building.

He noticed a few heavy built men guarding certain areas, Tommy realizing they were hired help for the women.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby", a voice boomed. "What a surprise to be seeing the Peaky Blinders in my establishment!"

Y/N ran the red lipstick over her lips, smacking her lips together to get the the color saturated onto her lips. The eyelash extensions she had glued on for the evening tying the whole look together as she made sure to careful wipe away any excess around her mouth just as the boss came in.

"Ladies", she boomed, "We got some big customers outside. Make sure to put on your best performances!"

Cherry Johnson was their boss, she was a woman of a tall stature with a loud, booming voice that commanded respect. But she was a good boss, always fair to them and making sure they were safe, she only had them dance or perform lap dances, never forcing them to go any further.

Cherry came over to her as Y/N was about to fix the mask on, "Y/N, do you mind taking on a particular client here?"

"What client?" she asked as she adjusted the mask and tied the ribbon to secure it.

She saw Cherry grin in the mirror, "Thomas Shelby. Told him I'd send him only the best of my girls."

Everyone had heard of Thomas Shelby, of the Peaky Blinders so she looked at Cherry with a little frown, her lips curled a little.

"He's an obvious big tipper, darling", Cherry said, Y/N sighed.

"Fine", Y/N said as she adjusted her corset. "But he better know the rules."

Cherry grinned even bigger if that was even possible.

Y/N waited behind the curtain, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she waited for her arrival to be announced. They switched dancers every hour or so, changing sets and outfits, working the floor and private dances. She noticed that her two other co-workers, Babydoll and Lovely, were up next with her on the big stage.

"Hey there, Little Darling", Lovely said with a grin. "Heard the boss gave you some big fish to entertain."

"I just hope he isn't stingy with the tips", Y/N said as she heard Cherry begin to announce them.

"Look alive, ladies", Babydoll teased, "it's showtime."

Tommy leaned back in the plush velvet chair that was in front of the large stage, Arthur and John on either side of him as he inspected the area. Cherry, the boss, had told him that she was sending one of her best girls to dance for them, the crowd favorite, but Cherry had told him the rules and the biggest one was 'no touching'.

"Next up we got Lovely, Babydoll and your favorite... Little Darling!" Cherry announced to the eager crowd.

Tommy put his cigarette between his lips as he noticed the anticipation in John and Arthur, the eagerness in their bodies; Tommy wondered where Esme thought John was as she came out, a intricate corset and stockings piece with a garter on one plush thigh adorned her body. Pinned curls framed her masked face with those blood red, plump lips and sultry, bedroom lidded eyes that were just calling to him.

He didn't even notice his brothers be captivated by her or the other two dancers as she approached the pole, a sensual dance performed in front of him as she moved in a way he had never witnessed before. He noticed other patrons throwing... pounds? at them, the women sensually grabbing the bills and stuffing them into the attire.

"C'mon Tommy", John said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little. "Let loose a little already."

His brothers were throwing notes onto the stage, Little Darling making a show of grabbing them and stuffing them into the corset with a wink. She was like a seductress on the stage, moving with the music, performing acrobatic moves on the pole, it amazed him so as he light another cigarette and placed it in his mouth, he reached into his inner coat pocket, grabbing some bills into his hand.

Little Darling gave him a seductive smile, moving from the pole and getting to her knees, begin to crawl towards him till she reached the end of the stage where he was; she tilted her head a little before she leaned forward, making a show of grabbing his hand that held the bills and guiding it to stuffing the bills into the front of her corset where her tits were.

She winked at him before blowing him a kiss.

Y/N made a good amount of money from her dancing on the stage, counting the pounds that were thrown before passing it to Cherry to take her part.

"Good show out there, N/N", Cherry said, handing her back the money she earned. "You got a private dance with a Mr. Shelby."

Y/N nodded, rolling her shoulders back before making sure her makeup was still good before heading to one of the private rooms.

Walking into one of the private rooms, she saw him there; the dimly light room only seemed to work in the man's favor, adding to the feeling of danger that already existed in the room. He had his cap off, it resting on one of the side tables in the room as he blew out a smoke of nicotine from his lips.

"Cherry tells me you're called Little Darling", Tommy said as she closed the door behind her.

"I am", she answered as she slowly walked towards them.

"Quite the performance you put on."

She moved to straddle his lap, draping her arms his shoulders with a lazy grin on her face.

"I could see you enjoyed it, very much."

She stared into his piercing blue eyes, she could see the lust swirling in his eyes as she begun to move her hips.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #x reader #plus sized reader #chubby reader #reader insert #thomas shelby

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months ago

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Snippet - Thirteen Months- Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

If the Silco x Reader fics were realistic.

And not in a good way.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

tw: physical abuse, drug use, rough sex, mistreatment of sex workers

Snippet:

Migraine's ripening in his brainstem; the cigar's nearly dead. He stubs its smoldering butt into a crystal ashtray at the table. Sevika's eyeing him with a shrewd mix of caution and concern.

Ghosts here, too. A shared bed, and the physicality of memory.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" she asks.

"None."

"Figures." Her face goes through a complicated series of micro-expressions. Then it resets into guarded neutrality. "Maven not doing her duty?"

"Maven is, as we know, a marvel."

"Doesn't answer my question."

Silco doesn't answer that, either.

Thirteen months, he thinks.

Thirteen months since his and Sevika's last time. He's not sure what the gap signifies, other than the fact it does signify something, else why'd he keep track of the tally? He's no idea what to call it either: this no-man's land between reproach and rapprochement, a space of tacit glances and barred doors, of shared history and estranged present.

He's got only two working theories. One: it's the symptom of an early midlife crisis, triggered by Jinx's blossoming adulthood and a city narrowly salvaged from hellfire. Two: it's not a crisis, but a crossroads, and Silco's finding himself, after years, in the uncharted territory of unmet need. The kind of need that summons live memory, and makes the memory ache: a shared smoke of brightleaf; a skull resting against a strong shoulder; a sinewy arm slung over a hard waist...

Silco doesn't dwell on the two theories, because there's a third. And he hates it, because it's the truth.

It's not about him. It's never been about him.

It's always, always, been about her.

He would never say he feels the lack. He keeps a revolving door of liaisons who spend the night at the Laguna Lounge, and fill his sheets when they're not filling his head with promises, platitudes, praise. It's a libertine's smorgasbord: from zaftig beauties in crushed velvet to sharp-cheeked high-rollers in bespoke pinstripe.

Except, in Silco's mind, they're an unspooling procession of flesh, like a carnival freak composed of a hundred different limbs. Only vague outlines and fleeting sensations last the distance. He remembers a cute little crooner who'd sing for her supper over his knee. A muscular dockhand with a cock like a bludgeon and an arsehole as pinkly unspoilt as the petals of a Demacian rose. A svelte tinkerer with elegant fingers and the vilest mouth this side of the Fissures; a late-night raver with hair like a halo of sparks and eyes incandescent with holy lust.

He recalls playthings on their knees; paramours at his feet. Recalls his darkest appetites fed; his worst hungers sated.

He recalls Maven.

Last summer, he'd summoned back to his service. She was a dab hand at spreading her lovely legs on command and seeing to his satisfaction without interrupting his twisting train of thought.

Better yet, she was unafraid of his proclivities. Whatever he dished out, she took in stride. Whatever he demanded, she gave.

Talent deserved recognition; Silco had rewarded hers generously. He'd set her up in the Laguna Lounge's east wing. Given her a corner suite, a maid of her own, a monthly stipend. Gifted her with luxury and leisure: anything from high-end threads to high-grade wines. Granted her access to his best, most potent, Shimmer.

He'd also given her an order: Come when called.

For six months, it was bliss. Then it devolved into a nightmare.

Maven was a whip-smart girl with a taste for decadence. But she also had her own vendetta to grind. Her life had been a constant peril, and she'd only made it thus far by making herself indispensable. Now, by a stroke of fortune, she was the Eye's favorite.

And she was determined—at any cost—to secure a permanent berth in his boudoir.

In bed, she was quick to pick up on his cues; even quicker at cater to his whims. Full-body massages, tongue-baths, foot-rubs—the works. Silco awoke to morning suckjobs that could strip the chrome off a tailpipe. Drowsed to nightly kisses that'd drain the venom from a snakebite.

Sometimes, she'd treat him to wicked games of her own devising. Once, she'd greeted him at the Laguna Lounge's front door in nothing but a black leather harness and a set of gold clamps attached to her nipples. Let him fuck her on the marble-topped bar, and afterward, while he'd lazed back in the sofa and sipped a cognac, sucked him off with those same clamps twined around his balls.

Another time, she'd arranged for a trio of dancers—all male, louche and lithe and oiled to a shine. The first pair had swapped sloppy kisses with his cock between their lips; the third had ridden him for a solid hour. Maven, curled up in the sofa, had watched the proceedings with the feral interest of a cat eyeing a birdcage. After the show, she'd fixed him an icy gin cocktail, a hot-tub soak, and an exquisite dinner of seared filet-mignon, poached eggs, and the creamiest souffle he'd ever sampled.

Silco, replete, had asked if she was angling to become his personal chef. Maven, perched naked at the end of the table, had purred, "Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Whatever you want, my love. Whatever you need."

My love.

The endearment hadn't jarred him. She'd used it often. Yet it'd stuck in his palate that night, like a fishbone between the teeth.

In reply, Silco had taken her bent over the table, her cheek pressed to the linen and the tablecloth bunched between her fists, as the wineglasses toppled and a plate shattered beneath his boot. Afterward, to her wet-eyed dismay, he'd retired to the Laguna Lounge's south wing and spent the rest of the night alone.

A week after the dinner debacle, Maven had greeted him at the door, shiny-eyed and smiling. But in her hands, instead of his nightly brandy, she'd presented him with a box.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

"I've no taste for gifts."

"You'll enjoy this one." She nudged the box closer. "Open it."

Inside was a vial of bright-green liquid. Silco, the premier chem-baron of Zaun, recognized it at a glance. A potent psychedelic distilled from a rare strain of Fissure mushroom. The kick was so intense it made the walls breathe and the ceiling bleed.

"A fresh batch," Maven said, her cat-eyes a slow wandering across his face. "One of my old contacts hooked me up. Told me it'd make our lovemaking divine."

"Divine," Silco echoed.

"Even a devil deserves a taste of the divine. Right, my love?"

She'd gone on tiptoe and kissed him. Silco, tongue curling against hers, let it happen. It'd been a bad day. Another Firelight raid. Another fight with Jinx. Another not-talk with Sevika. He'd allowed himself to be persuaded.

It was a costly mistake.

She'd chosen a smooth-flowing jazz song from his record collection, and set the needle on the gramophone. Chosen a syringe, and a vein in Silco's arm. Chosen her favorite spot, and straddled him on the sofa.

Then, hands braced on his chest, she'd engulfed his cock in a wet glide as the world began its slow-motion collapse.

For hours, Silco fucked, fought, fucked inside a kaleidoscope of colors. His brain was on fire with a thousand schemes. His cock was electrified with a thousand volts. Maven's hands were everywhere, melting, maddening, merciless. Her mouth, a living furnace. Her cunt, a nest of wet silk and wetter sin. Her screams, a chorus to his climax. The colors were climaxing, too.

She'd begged to be whipped until her buttocks were a nightmare of earthworm-red welts. Silco obliged, and she'd sobbed so sweetly, so wretchedly, as he flayed the meat off her supple young flesh. She'd begged to be tied to the bedposts and fucked, and he obliged again. She shook and wailed and shook as his cock split her, a rapidfire barrage that had the bedframe jolting and the mattress springs shrieking and the walls coming down. Then she'd begged to be choked, and he obliged once more, and the colors were no longer climaxing but combusting, and Maven's eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes, were rolling back to show the white moon-curves, and her mouth was a perfect circle of rapture, and her thighs were quivering, her spine arching, her cunt squeezing and squeezing and squeezing—

And the high-pitched phantasmagoria liquified into a single blackened maw, and he'd found himself staring into Vander's face.

"You'll lose everything, Blut."

And the high was stripped bare, and Silco fell into a depthless sea, and drowned.

When he resurfaced, there was a body in the room.

Not Maven. She was slumped by the headboard. Knees drawn up, her hands pressed between them, her head lolling forward. Seizing her shoulders, Silco shook her awake. She stirred, murmuring drowsily. He'd sifted her tangled hair aside to take her pulse. It was strong. But there were dark fingerprints on her throat, her wrists, her thighs. Her lovely eyes held a glaze of shock and a deeper, unreachable awe.

In the afterglow, she'd kissed Silco's knuckles, wetting them with tears. And, turning those cat-eyes eyes upon him, she'd breathed, "I won't tell."

The body belonged to a boy.

A lovely, long-limbed lad, with hair like a headful of black waves and eyes like the sun off a churning blue sea. He was a new hire—skittish, as new hires often were—whom Silco had summoned from the lobby, earlier that evening, to restock the bar.

Now he lay starfished on the carpet in a pool of congealing blood. There was a red-lipped gash in his jugular. Vander's knife—now Silco's knife—was planted hilt-deep in his left eye.

Silco had slithered out from bed and crossed the room. Knelt over the boy's body, and stared at the soft sea-glass eyes. It was a stranger's stare. It was his own stare: the face that he'd worn in another lifetime.

"I won't tell," Maven repeated, and Silco felt the icewater closing in.

The blackguards had disposed of the body; Posky had scrubbed down the carpets; the crew sent a fat severance check to the boy's family.

That's how Silco recalls it now: not bloodlust, but a hungover tedium of logistics and a cold stack of paperwork.

He'd not told Sevika. The crew, on pain of death, were likewise sworn to secrecy. Not because Silco dreaded the repercussions. He dreaded, above all, that Sevika would know.

She'd know it'd happened in a psychotic stupor. Know the root of it wasn't naked bloodlust, but naked need.

She'd know, and she'd never, ever, let him forget the truth.

The truth, that Maven was a marvel, but Sevika was worth a million in cold steel—and it wasn't for her grit or her guts or the sheer force of will she exerted in a crisis. It was the other side of her. That quiet side, so seldom revealed. The tether that'd quieted Silco's storm, in turn, and steered him to port. Into a bed that was always warm, and a body built of bedrock.

Except the port had denied him safe harbor, and the bed was empty, and the body beyond reach.

Thirteen bloody months.

Maven hadn't lasted half that time. She'd begun to believe their shared secrets gave her leverage. To believe, too, that Silco's devotion belonged exclusively to her. Bit by bit, she began spreading her tendrils across his private life. Began to intrude where she wasn't invited, and linger where she was least welcome.

Suddenly their late-night drinks were no longer a regularity, but a requirement. Suddenly, the backrubs had an agenda, and the footrubs had a catch. Suddenly, Silco could no longer relax after a long day, because instead of a suckjob and sweet silence, he'd get sulking and a strident earful of demands.

She expected no more playthings past his threshold unless she’d hand-picked them—be they crooners, tinkerers or dockhands with rosebud arseholes. No more games unless she lay down the law—be they on a bed of sweat-stained silk or a dirty rug that'd seen better days or a tub sloshing with wine as cold as a dead man's balls. And no more straying from the beaten path: if she didn't fancy a kink, it wouldn't make it to the negotiating table, much less see the light of day.

She was especially jealous of Silco's private time. She'd pout if he took a business call mid-fuck. If a blackguard intruded with an urgent message, she'd slam the door on his face. Once, she'd nearly gutted poor Posky for wheeling in the breakfast cart at an inopportune hour.

To a point, Silco had indulged her peevishness. A coping mechanism, he surmised, given the hellacious circumstances she'd faced in her formative years. But then, she'd dared to bar Jinx's way into his chambers with the toe of a lacquered heel.

Silco's tolerance took a steep nosedive.

Jinx, to her credit, had given Maven the cold shoulder—nearly regal in its teengirly frost. She'd waltzed right in, a sashay to her stride, pecked Silco's cheek and unfurled the blueprints for a sump-drainage pump across his desk.

Silco had bestowed his usual praise, and the rare show of affection—a palm at the nape of Jinx's neck. He'd not missed Jinx's childishly flushed glee; nor the spite that etched itself at the corners of Maven's pretty, poisonous mouth. After, he'd signed off on the order for the pump's manufacture, and sent Jinx on her merry way.

"It's sweet how close you are." Maven clipped off the word 'sweet' like shears taking off the tip of a rosebud. "She must miss you terribly when you're busy. Why not make it easier on yourselves and move her in here?"

The sarcasm was treacle-thick and spiked with envy. She was testing his boundaries, as she'd been wont to do lately. For Silco, boundaries were ones that didn't need to be enforced. It was implicit that to cross them meant a blade to the throat.

Maven had an appreciation for his knifeplay. But a short memory for the blade's bite.

She'd need a refresher.

"I'd have thought," Silco said, without lifting his eyes from the blueprints, "you'd prefer our privacy."

"Maybe I would." She slid onto his lap. Her dress, a sheer black number, was a curtain of smoke over his suit-clad legs. She circled her tongue over the shell of his ear, then whispered into it, "Or maybe I'd enjoy it if she invited Vi along, and they both watched."

That had done it.

Maybe it was the mounting pressure. Maybe it was the memory of dead boys and rivers full of corpses. Maybe it was his knowledge of Jinx's late nights, and with whom.

Or maybe, he'd simply had his fill: of the constant scheming, the endless death, the ceaseless want. And fact that his needs—his real needs—could not be satisfied, because they were not the needs of a monster but the needs of a man.

His need for Vander's absolution. For Nandi's forgiveness.

For Sevika's touch, and the trust they'd once shared.

Silco needed them all, but none were his to take.

So he'd taken it out on Maven instead.

The backhand was so hard she'd skidded off his lap and crashed to the carpet. A livid mark bloomed across her cheek. When she looked up, shock stole over her face, then an ugly, disbelieving fury.

He'd never struck her before. There'd never even been any sign to suggest it.

The Eye of Zaun was many things—each more atrocious than the last. But he was not a man who'd beat his girls.

Maven was no longer his girl.

"How dare you?" Maven spat. "After all I've done for you—"

Silco's shadow, looming, killed the words in her throat.

"You've two choices," he said, deathly soft. "Leave, and do not look back. Or stay, and take the consequences. I'm giving you this choice because you've served me well. Do not presume that it entitles you to more." His shadow spread across the carpet; Maven's breath caught. "Do not presume anything, least of all what I owe."

The fury leached from Maven's face. Only gelid tears remained, suspended like dewdrops upon her eyelashes.

And in those tears: fear.

Fear, that the man who had saved her life might yet end it, for a transgression so severe it verged on treason.

"Sir," she began, "I—"

"I said: choose."

Maven's lashes dipped; the tears spilled. Shivering, she turned her head, offering the unblemished side of her cheek for the second strike.

The choice, and her penitence, were accepted.

Silco hadn't spared her. He'd taken his due. Taken her, after, on her elbows and knees, with an utter absence of mercy. Taken her until she was sobbing real tears, and barely able to keep her balance. Taken her, as he had the night she'd sworn herself to him: her body bared to his blade; the rest of her aching to prove her worth.

He'll call upon that vow again, before the end.

Since that night, she's slept in a huddle at the foot of his bed, shivering under a crisscrossing of welts. Stripes she's earned, and will wear without complaint. She'll crawl on her knees and abase herself for his pleasure. She'll greet his daughter with downcast eyes and a deferential smile, and she'll be twice as diligent in her duties to him.

And in her heart, where ambition and adoration entwine, she'll be twice as covetous. Twice as cunning. Twice as eager to prove herself worthy.

He'll use that, too, before the end.

And, the end's nearly in sight.

Silco's glad of it. A warm cunt's not a confidant, and Maven's a poor substitute for either. In her, he sees his hunger reflected. Sees the limits of what that hunger can take, and what it'll leave behind.

Blood. Bruises. Bodies.

He thinks of Sevika's steady hands and steadier eyes, and wonders what they'd see if they knew the truth. That, in the absence of a tether, he's let the storm run rampant, and it's taken him over a cliff's edge.

And now he's fallen into the deepest, darkest place of all.

His child: compromised, and no longer his own.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane sevika #sevika #tw: violence #tw: drugs #sevilco #silco x sevika

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saphig-iawn · 10 months ago

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My drones adore some good mech pilot erotica. Stories of cute women hooked into hulking metal machines of death, feeling every movement and kill reform into intoxicating pleasure as they obey their handlers and follow their orders. The care and intimacy that would follow after a debrief. The mechs that would reciprocate and lock their pilots in titanium carbide bondage and rail them senseless. These stories spun sweet fantasies in their minds, but little did they realise how close these fantasies were to their realities.

Last night, we had a little game night in the Dollhouse and rallied around to play some Helldivers and spread democracy. I gathered the drones together and activated their Arousal Energy Retention Systems but with a cruel 15% arousal limit. They moaned in protest, but then I told them why. I issued each drone a command: each kill, each resource secured, each stratagem called, each objective secured, each mission completed would give them sweet sexual pleasure. If they completed the campaign, I would discharge their system and give them their well-earned climax.

When the first drone called in an orbital barrage on an outpost, she felt it. Each thump of the 120mm cannon sent pleasure across her body. The euphoria would hit, but then the frustration would swell in its wake... Only 3 kills... The Fabricator was still standing... The itch grew... The ache blossomed... She needed more...

Every failure became a hard lesson: no success, no pleasure.

So shots became deadlier. Enemy dropships would begin to fall upon arrival. Each drone would push deeper into enemy territory, dodging mines, cannons, fire, in the hopes it would get the orbital cannon beacon closer to the enemy to gain maximum efficiency of each blast. One by one, they all began to fall in line in the pursuit of the reward for their obedience. Addressing me as Ma'am, requesting permission to call in airstrikes and bombardments, feeling a bucking of their knees when I praised them.

We would finish our first campaign and I offered to discharge their AERSes but they declined. They wanted more... they needed more... so being the good Mother Controller I am, we descended into hell one more time.

Their strategies adapted, using undetonated nukes to eliminate more enemies in one go. Their support weapons became bigger, faster. They would synchronise barrages, align airstrikes, cover each other with suppressive fire. They are such good drones, but they became perfect Helldrones, completing yet another campaign faster than the last.

The sounds they made when I discharged their systems, as the memories of every bullet, every shell, every blast came flooding back, were beautiful. They whimpered, moaned, as they were overwhelmed with the pleasure their obedience earned. Their minds fell to the hiss of static and white noise as the orgasm ripped through their bodies. One of them even made the sweetest mess in her panties from her performance.

After whimpered thanks, we had some aftercare in which each drone said the same thing: they can't wait to do it again.

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inkmonster21 · 3 months ago

Text

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: Smut (fing fem reviving)

Part 10

Series Masterlist

Drawin’ Hearts ‘Round Our Names

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You and Hugh had arrived in the United Kingdom to begin filming the highly anticipated Deadpool and Wolverine movie. Cameras were set up, costumes were prepared, and the cast and crew were buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

You turned to Megan, your question catching her attention. "So where am I staying?"

Megan smiled, a hint of mischievousness sparkling in her eyes. "Oh, you'll be staying with Hugh," she answered, her tone light but suggestive. Upon hearing Megan's response, Hugh's heart skipped a beat. He tried to keep his cool exterior intact, but on the inside, his mind was racing with curious anticipation. Staying with you, in the same home, under the same roof, for four months.

You leaned your head on Megan's shoulder, a sense of affection and gratitude in your gesture. "Did I tell you you're the best assistant today?"

Megan chuckled and playfully ruffled your hair. "Yeah, yeah," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "I know I am. But thanks for the compliment, anyway."

Hugh pushed open the door to the luxurious apartment, and you were immediately struck by the sight before you. The spacious and tastefully decorated interior exuded an aura of comfort and sophistication. Large windows allowed natural light to flood the living area, making the space feel airy and welcoming.

Hugh wrapped his arms around you, the warmth and security of his embrace enveloping you. He whispered against your ear, "Welcome home." The words hung in the air, filling the room with warmth and a sense of belonging.

A soft giggle escaped your lips, a reflexive response to the comfort and safety of Hugh's strong arms around you. The sound filled the room, a sweet melody that only made Hugh's heart beat faster. You nestle against Hugh, basking in the warmth and security of his embrace. As you muse against him, he can feel your body mold against his, an almost perfect fit. "I like the way you say that," you confessed, your voice soft and content.

Hugh smiled, his heart swelling with a mix of affection and pride. He held onto you tighter, his fingers tracing gentle circles against your back. "I like saying it," he replied, his voice a low, raspy whisper.

Hugh chuckled in response to your suggestion, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. "So, do we... break this place in now or later?"

He pulled you closer, his hands roaming across your waist, his touch causing a flutter of anticipation within you. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave lower, laced with a hint of desire. You pushed back against him, your body molding against him, your voice filled with sultry promise. "I say we-"

But before you could finish speaking, Hugh's hands gently wrapped around your wrists, pinning them down against the wall. His mouth was a mere inch away from your ear, his breath hot and seductive against your skin. "Not yet, love," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. You look back at him with a scoff, “Not now? Are you kidding me?”

Hugh chuckled at your reaction, his eyes flickering with a mixture of lust and control. "Not yet," he repeated, his voice firm. "Not now."

He held your wrists in place, his grip firm but gentle, preventing you from moving closer to him. "Patience, love," he purred, his lips tracing a slow, maddening path down your neck.

One thing you had come to learn and love about Hugh was his tendency to worship your body. He loved to trace, explore, and memorize every curve and contour as if he were painting a masterpiece on your skin.

His lips would brush against your skin like a soft, warm caress, leaving a trail of sensation that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was both tender and possessive as if he was marking his territory with every kiss and caress.

Hugh pressed you up against the wall, his body pinning you in place as one of his large, strong hands held both of your wrists in an unyielding grip.

The other hand began a slow, tantalizing descent down your behind, tracing the curves of your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “You don’t know how badly I want you.” Your breathless confession sent a jolt of desire through Hugh, his eyes darkening with lust and need. He leaned in closer, his body pressing flush against yours, as he whispered, "Oh, I know exactly how badly you want me."

With a fluid and dominant gesture, Hugh tilted your chin up to face him, his gaze locking onto yours. Before you could speak, he leaned in and claimed your lips in a passionate kiss.

His lips moved fiercely against yours, his tongue delving into your mouth with a fervor that mirrored the desire burning inside him. It was a kiss that spoke of hunger, need, and claiming, a declaration of his possession over you. Despite the obvious desire and need pulsing between the two of you, Hugh displayed remarkable restraint. It amused him to see how desperately you craved him, how your body and mind were already begging for his touch.

He knew exactly how much you wanted him, but he was determined to draw it out, to tease and tantalize you until you were begging for his release. Hugh's words broke the charged silence, bringing you back to reality with a slight jolt. "We have dinner plans," he spoke, his voice steady and firm.

The realization that you committed to be somewhere quickly sobered you, though your body still hummed with the electric energy caused by his touch and the heat of your desire.

You let out a sigh, your body and mind still craving his touch, your desire for him not yet satisfied. As a solution, you suggest, "Cancel?"

Hugh chuckled, his eyes dark with a mixture of amusement and desire. He released your wrists, his hand moving to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Oh, no, love. We're not canceling."

He stepped back, giving you some space, but his gaze never left yours, still filled with an intense hunger.

"We have dinner plans," he repeated his voice firm but edged with a hint of huskiness. "And we're going."

The idea of having to wait and contain your desire for him seemed torturous. You could still feel the heat in your body, the desperate need to feel his touch, the ache for his body against yours. But Hugh's determination was steadfast, and you knew he wouldn't give in so easily.

“Fine.” You began to undress, removing your shirt and pants, leaving only your underwear on. "Then I'll have to change," you said calmly, feigning nonchalance as you attempted to play his game.

Hugh's jaw clenched, a visible sign of his restraint being tested. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, taking in every exposed inch of your skin. He swallowed hard, the movement of his throat betraying his struggling self-control.

Despite the visible struggle within him, Hugh maintained his composure. He was determined to test your limits, to see how far he could push you before you broke down and begged for him.

You sit across from Hugh at the dimly lit restaurant, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance. The intimate setting is perfect for a romantic evening, and you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation as you watch your date for the night. He's a fox, the greying strands of his hair and rugged features exuding an irresistible charm, and, he's all yours.

As you pick up the menu, Hugh's deep voice interrupts your perusal. "Don't bother with that, sweetheart. I already know what you're craving." His eyes sparkle with mischief, and you feel a tingle run down your spine.

"Oh?" You play along, putting down the menu. "And what's that, Mr. Know-It-All?"

"You're craving me," he whispers, leaning forward, his intense gaze fixed on your lips. "And I plan to give you a taste."

A rush of heat engulfs you, and you shift in your seat, suddenly aware of the wetness between your thighs. The waiter approaches, and Hugh orders for both of you, his commanding voice leaving no room for objections. "We'll start with the oysters and a bottle of champagne. And for the main course, the rib-eye steak, medium-rare." He winks at you, adding, "I know how much you love a good, juicy steak."

You swallow hard, and your mouth suddenly dries. The innuendo is clear, and you can't help but wonder if he's referring to more than just the food. The oysters, a well-known aphrodisiac, only add to the sexual tension building between you.

The waiter scurries away, and Hugh leans back in his chair, taking a sip from his glass of water, his eyes never leaving yours. "Tell me, do you like being teased, darling?"

You feel your cheeks flush, knowing full well that he's referring to more than just playful banter. "Maybe," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "But only if the tease is worth it."

Hugh chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Oh, it will be worth it, I promise."

As the waiter returns with the oysters and champagne, Hugh's hand finds yours under the table, his thumb stroking your palm in a slow, deliberate motion. The touch is electric, and you struggle to focus on the meal. You swallow an oyster in one mouthful, savoring the briny taste and the subtle hint of the sea.

"Mmm, delicious," Hugh murmurs, his eyes closing briefly as he enjoys the flavor. "But not as delicious as what's to come." You blush, taking a sip of champagne to hide your embarrassment.

The bubbles tickle your nose, and you feel lightheaded, a pleasant sensation that only adds to the growing desire. "You know, I've been thinking about this all day," Hugh continues, his voice low and husky.

"How I'd taste you, feel every inch of your gorgeous body." His words are like a caress, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You set down your glass, your heart pounding. "Hugh, we're in a restaurant. Keep your voice down." But even as you say it, you want him to continue, to say all the dirty things you've been fantasizing about.

He grins, a devilish glint in his eyes. "I can't help it, you're just so damn sexy. Those lips, the way they part slightly when you're turned on..." He trails off, his eyes roaming over your body.

Your breath quickens as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth exploring every inch of your skin. You shift again, crossing your legs to ease the throbbing between your legs. "Patience, my dear," he says, seeing your discomfort. "The night is young, and we have all the time in the world."

The waiter returns with the main course, and Hugh wastes no time in cutting into the juicy steak, the pink center exactly as ordered. He offers you a bite, feeding it to you with his fork. The meat is tender and flavorful, but it's the way he watches you eat that makes your stomach flutter.

"Delicious, isn't it?" He leans in, his breath warm on your cheek. "But not as delicious as what I have planned for dessert."

You swallow, your throat dry. "And what's that?" you ask, your voice hoarse. "You'll see," he teases, taking a sip of wine. "But first, I want to savor every moment with you."

As the restaurant begins to empty, you realize you've been so engrossed in Hugh's company that you've barely noticed the passing of time. The candles have burned low, casting an even more intimate glow.

Hugh signals for the bill, and once it's settled, he takes your hand, leading you out of the restaurant. The cool night air washes over you, doing little to cool the heat between your legs.

"Where are we going?" you ask, your voice laced with anticipation. "To a place where I can finally have you all to myself," he replies, his grip tightening around your hand.

He leads you to his car, opening the passenger door, he helps you in, his hand lingering on your thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

As he gets into the driver's seat, you can't help but notice the bulge in his pants, a clear indication of his desire. The thought of what's to come makes your breath come in short gasps.

Hugh starts the engine, and the purr of the powerful machine seems to echo your growing anticipation. He drives with one hand on the wheel, his other hand resting on your thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin under your skirt.

"Are you ready for what's next, my eager little vixen?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

You nod, unable to speak, your body on fire with need. He chuckles a deep, satisfied sound. "Good. Because I've been waiting far too long to have you." As the car pulls up to a secluded spot overlooking the city, you realize this is no ordinary date.

The view is breathtaking, the city lights twinkling below, but it's the promise of what Hugh has in store that truly excites you.

He kills the engine, and the silence between you is thick with anticipation. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, a rhythm that matches the pulse between your legs.

Hugh turns to you, his eyes dark with desire. "Now, my beautiful girl, it's time to give you what you've been craving."

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. You part your lips, inviting his tongue, and the kiss is fiery and passionate. His hand cups your breast, squeezing gently through the fabric of your dress, making you moan into his mouth.

"That's it, let me hear you," he whispers against your lips. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I—I want you," you manage to say between kisses. "I've been aching for you all night."

His hand slides down your body, finding the slit in your dress, and he teases the bare skin of your thigh, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. "I can feel how wet you are. Do you want me to touch you here?"

You nod frantically, unable to form words.

Hugh's fingers trail upwards, brushing against your wetness, making you gasp. "Oh yes, you're so wet. I love how responsive you are."

His fingers delve deeper, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs in slow circles, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You arch against his hand, desperate for more. "Please, Hugh," you beg, your voice hoarse. "I need more."

He chuckles, his breath hot on your neck. "Patience, my love. I want to make this last."

With that, he leans back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your chest heaves, and you struggle to regain control of your body.

"You're incredible," he whispers, his eyes roaming over your flushed face. "So responsive, so beautiful. I can't wait to feel you cum around my fingers."

He resumes his touch, sliding two fingers inside your drenched pussy, stretching and filling you. His thumb finds your clit again, and he strokes it in rhythm with his fingers, sending you spiraling toward ecstasy.

"Oh god, Hugh," you cry out, your hips moving in time with his hand. "I'm so close..."

"That's it, let it build. I want to feel you come apart for me," he encourages, his voice thick with desire.

Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure, and you cry out, your body shaking. Hugh's fingers continue their relentless assault, drawing out your pleasure, making you feel things you never thought possible.

As your climax subsides, Hugh leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "That's my girl. Now, it's my turn.” Hugh smirks, “show me how good you can be."

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A/N: I would love if y’all would send me some ideas or suggestions on where this story should go…

#hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

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The Pull of Gravity

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a chat with Steve about his new friend. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, tension, teasing, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: More Wolfie and Little Red! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics .❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One of the most important rules of the eastern territory was that nothing and no one was allowed to disrupt the sanctuary of the land. It was a place for Bucky and the other shifters in the pack to shut out the rest of the world and be themselves without judgment or fear. They deserved a home with peace and security.

Watching you in the garden, he wondered if you were going to shake things up.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know you. Other than that you're a little badass fox who can help in getting rid of a body. And spirited and beautiful and-

"Talk," Steve said.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his best friend's authoritative tone. Growing up, Steve's growl was worse than his bite. That was only because he was so small. A late bloomer, his wolf form was one of the largest and strongest he had ever seen. And he was an affectionate punk.

"I'm not a dog. I don't speak on command."

Steve sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Would you mind explaining why there's a fox playing in our flowers? I'm sure there's a good reason and I'd love to hear it," he said, not as entranced with you as he was.

Good. One of us needs to be logical.

It took a moment for Bucky to respond since he was too busy watching you roll around, bringing a small smile to his face as your red fur blurred through the petals. “A hunter was tracking her near the border of our land and she handled it before I stepped in,” he said.

"The body?"

"Buried and we covered our tracks," he told him. Even if someone managed to find the man, no one would be able to trace it back to them. It wasn't the first time they had to put someone in the ground.

“She was alone?” Steve asked curiously. Bucky nodded in confirmation. “What was she doing there?”

“The hunter was killing smaller animals in the western territory, so she lured him here. She figured a larger creature could handle him if she couldn’t,” he explained, his gaze soft as he watched your tail flick.

"Smart strategy, if not dangerous. What if you hadn't stumbled upon her? She could’ve been hurt," he said.

Bucky had a hard time not smiling as you sat up to stare at his friend. "I think she can handle herself," he admitted, as much as he didn't want to. He liked to think you needed him in some capacity.

"Did she follow you here?"

“No,” he answered, clearing his throat a little as he crossed his arms. “I may have asked her to come here.”

Steve gave his friend a thoughtful look. He was a man who thrived on doing the right thing, but he also didn’t want to compromise the safety of the place they made their home. "Why did you do that?"

Bucky glanced at you before he looked away. “I offered to get her safely back to the border after we buried the body, but…” he trailed off as he thought back to the conversation he had with you.

"Well, that's that," you said, brushing the dirt off your hands. You weren't afraid to get your hands dirty as the two of you buried the man, along with his bow and arrows. "Finished up quicker than I thought."

"Not eager to leave, are you?" he asked casually, wiping his head with the back of his hand. He wasn't ready to take you back.

"As much fun as it is to put hunters in the dirt,” you winked, stretching your arms above your head with a hum. He wasn’t sure how he managed to concentrate without staring at your chest. “I figured you'd want to lead me back so I can be on my way and you can go home quicker."

"The shifters I live with are used to me being out late," he said, stretching a bit himself. "I'm sure they'd like to meet you."

"I doubt that," you said, looking behind you. "Ready?"

Bucky's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't they want to meet you?" he asked.

"Because I'm a stranger who killed a hunter in your land," you said, your expression blank. "Can we just go?"

"Okay," he said, ignoring the sinking feeling of you brushing him off. He understood that some foxes by nature preferred to be on their own, but he thought it would be nice for you to meet others like yourself. "So, what is your way once you get past the border?"

“Why? You planning on paying me a visit?” you smiled. "Take a roll on the dirt with me?"

In more ways than one.

"I'd offer a roll right now if we didn't need to get going," he smirked. As much as he didn't want to, he could see you itching to leave. “You said you came from the west, but is that where you’re living?” he questioned, curious to know even though you had no reason to give him an answer.

“It’s where I’ve been staying, but I'll likely move on soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped, hoping you wouldn't go too far away. “When are you going to leave?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” you snapped, putting your hands on your hips. You didn’t back away or appear guarded, but the slight defense in your voice gave away that you didn’t want him prying. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder, but it felt anything but casual. “You said you were used to going it alone, but maybe I want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is. Because it's always ulterior motives or people looking out for themselves,” you said, kicking a bit of dirt toward the grave with a flash of fury in your eyes. He wondered what happened to give you that mindset, but knew it wasn’t the time to ask. “I’ve been on my own for years and I’ve been just fine, thank you."

"The thing is, you don't have to be," he said, taking a slow step forward as surprise filled your beautiful eyes. He had a feeling that if he moved too quickly or invaded your space, you’d run. And it wouldn’t be the fun kind of chase. "I don't know your story and you don't owe it to me, but I do want to help if you need it."

"I didn't mean to snap at you, okay?" you said, your tone softer as your arms dropped to your side. He kept still when you moved close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your body. "I can sense that you aren't a bad guy and I appreciate that you want to help, but I’m not your responsibility, Wolfie.”

“I know you’re not,” he said, his hands itching with the need to touch you. “But maybe I’m not ready for you to go yet, Little Red.”

"Why is that?" you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek as his heart raced, your scent invading his senses once again.

Bucky couldn't say he felt a pull toward you. It would sound crazy. He had to word it carefully. "I just want to get to know you a bit more and, maybe, there's a part of you that wants to get to know me, too."

Your soft expression shifted to something a bit more sultry. "Not ready to let me go and you haven't even had sex with me," you teased.

Bucky didn't kiss you, but he did lean in close enough to feel your breath mingle with his. "If we have sex, you won't want to let me go."

Cocky, but true.

"I knew I liked you, Wolfie," you smiled, your playful demeanor back in full swing. "And maybe I wouldn't mind seeing your place, if you're really offering. It doesn't mean I'm staying though."

Maybe I can convince you to stick around.

"Let's go then."

"But what?" Steve asked.

"I just thought it would be better if she stayed here for the night instead of letting her go off by herself," Bucky replied, not wanting to say more on the subject as you continued to stare at them.

"But she doesn't want to meet the others?"

"Maybe after she gets some rest," Bucky said, though you weren't acting tired at all. "I'm trying not to overwhelm her."

“Does she realize we’re talking about her?”

Bucky smiled when you barked, loudly. "Yeah, she knows."

The blonde held up his hands when you barked again. “I mean no harm. I’m just trying to get some answers.”

You stretched before you trotted over to Steve’s feet and looked up at him, not blinking as you assessed him. Bucky wondered what was going through his friend's head. The guy was massively built, like him, but you stared him down like his size didn't matter.

"I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you," he said, reaching a hand out to pet you before he decided against it.

Smart move.

Seemingly satisfied with what you saw after a moment, you went to Bucky and carefully climbed up his leg and side. Steve’s eyebrows shot up, not bothering to hide his surprise as you gracefully curled in the brunette’s arms. It had to be quite the sight.

"Are you not going to shift?" Bucky asked.

You yawned and closed your eyes like you didn't hear him.

Why aren’t you showing Steve your human side? Are you nervous to meet everyone? Or are you just being careful?

“I’m not just going to stand here and hold you while we talk, Little Red,” he said, a slight growl in his voice. Instead of jumping out of his arms or cowering, you huffed and lightly nipped his forearm. It didn’t hurt. If anything, he liked it. “Fine. I’ll hold you.”

Steve covered up his laugh with a small cough when you nuzzled against Bucky with a satisfied hum. “Little Red, huh?”

“It’s what she said to call her. Well, what I can call her,” Bucky said, stating your real name.

"She seems to like you," Steve mused.

You gently barked, a happy sound, and moved your head to his chest.

"I like her, too," he said, running a hand along your fur as he glanced down at you, your eyes crinkling as you stared back.

Fucking adorable and probably two seconds away from biting my chin.

"And she's just staying for the night?"

Bucky didn't give him an answer as you tilted your head. He didn't want to say "yes" and make you think you weren't welcome. He also didn't want to say "no" and pressure you to stay.

As if you sensed Bucky's dilemma, you sprang free from his hold and landed gracefully on your paws. He stepped back to give you room when your bones began to shift, your red fur gone within moments as your naked human form appeared. Steve averted his eyes as you stood, the gentleman shifter he was since he didn't know you. He was thankful he didn't have to growl at his best friend to look away.

Even though I have no claim over you.

"Nice to meet you, too, Steve. I like this place," you said, giving Bucky an amused glance when Steve continued to look off in the distance. "Will he not look at me? I'm sure it's nothing he hasn't seen before."

"Just being polite," he said.

"I'm not after you bit me," Bucky said, wondering how much lust was in his eyes when he saw your nipples harden in the breeze.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his heated gaze. "Relax. It was a love bite and you enjoyed it."

Just a little.

"And, Steve, I'm curious. Will anyone get mad if Wolfie and I fuck in the flowers?" you asked, giggling when he chortled.

"Um. Natasha might ask that you put new seeds in if you make a mess of it."

Really, Steve?

Glancing below Bucky's waist, you smirked, a hint of arousal in the air. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be a mess. And I doubt he'll have any trouble filling a hole with seed," you said. Before Bucky could drag you over and pin you down, you turned and went back to the garden with a swish of your hips. "But maybe later. For now, I'm making you both flower crowns."

Fucking tease. You're going to drive me crazy.

"I'm not wearing a flower crown!" Bucky called after you.

"Yes, you are!" you called back.

Yes, I am.

"She's, um, bold," Steve commented, clearing his throat again as he finally turned his head. "And did she call you Wolfie?" he asked, not covering up his laughter this time when Bucky snarled.

"Tell Sam and I'll rearrange your face," he threatened.

"I'd like to see you try," Steve said as his laughter died down. "She can stay as long as she wants."

"Just like that?" Bucky asked. Was he sure? He knew it was a lot to have someone unfamiliar there.

"Just like that," he nodded. "You like her and I trust your judgment. And, like I said, she seems to like you, too. I have a feeling that doesn't come easy to her."

"Thanks," Bucky said. It meant a lot that he was willing to take a chance on you. "And I have that same feeling."

"I wonder why that is."

Bucky watched as you chose a few flowers, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you made a crown. "I don't know, but I hope she knows she's safe here."

His home was his kingdom. He had freedom and his friends who were practically family. But as you looked over at him with a smile, he didn't realize he was missing a queen to run along beside him.

Until now.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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olekciy · 2 years ago

Text

A short reminder that Russia is imperialist, has been imperialist for a long time, and there's no way around that fact.

Sections of the Western left have developed a narrative according to which Russia has been gradually surrounded by NATO and that supposedly "provoked" Putin. It's increasingly difficult to sustain the notion that Russia is simply "defending itself" after 24 February 2022, but the thing is - the invasion did not come out of the blue. One needs a different narrative to understand what Russia actually is: an aggressive imperialist power alongside other imperialisms.

So, a different narrative:

- 1994: Russia, with US support, acquires Ukrainian nuclear arsenal in exchange for the assurances to respect Ukraine's territorial integrity

- 1997: Russia acquires the Sevastopol naval base and almost all of the ships (82%, to be exact)... in exchange for the assurances to respect Ukraine's territorial integrity!

- 2004: Russia meddles in Ukrainian presidential elections, fighting hard to force an undemocratic fraudulent outcome, but fails

- Mid-to-late 2000s: As punishment for Ukraine electing Yushchenko, Russia uses energy blackmail, a form of economic coercion not very different from the IMF and World Bank lending and conditionality

- 2008: NATO refuses to adopt a roadmap towards Ukraine's membership and in effect postpones the decision indefinitely. Ukraine's security is in no way guaranteed, while Russia has already demonstrated the propensity to use coercion to force Ukraine to do its bidding

- 2009: Dmitry Medvedev, then president, writes to Yushchenko that "Russia does not pose and cannot pose any kind of threat to Ukraine", so seeking NATO membership is stupid. Yea, sure

- 2014: Russia, which "does not pose and cannot pose a threat to Ukraine"... annexes Crimea. Really, Dima?? I thought you were for real??

Of course, by annexing Crimea Russia not only makes all the previous statements that it "can never pose a threat to Ukraine" a ridiculous lie, but also breaks the 1994 memorandum and 1997 treaty. "We are the Kremlin. Our word is worth nothing"

- Crimea's annexation provokes armed separatism in Donbas that Russia supports and coordinates, including direct military command and control, and then completely subordinates Donbas "authorities", in effect occupying the region

- Ukraine's still not in NATO, its security is still in no way guaranteed, and the supplies of US weapons only begin in 2018. They are kept to a minimum... out of fear of provoking Russia!

- Nevertheless, on 24 February 2022 Russia launches a full-scale invasion to establish 100% control over all of Ukraine in one way or another. There is literally no military development on the ground that could have provoked the invasion. On Russia's part, it's a war of choice in exactly the same way the invasion of Iraq was a war of choice for the US in 2003.

Now, this is only the general outline. One should add Russia's drowning of Ukraine with spies and agents of influence, money to corrupt Ukrainian politicians and massive acquisition of Ukrainian assets to impose economic and political dependency.

These are well-known facts, but so many on the left refuse to see the story behind them. It's a story of decades of imperialist aggression, culminating in a war that cost 150,000 lives in 2022 alone. Any discussion of left-wing internationalism should begin with recognizing the reality of what Russia is and what it did.

#ukraine war #ukraine #imperialism #left #russian imperialism #russian ukrainian war #russia #policy #war #nato #russian chauvinism #anti-imperialism #history

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sur-i-ki · 3 months ago

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9/20

If only

The cold rage burns deep, a seething fire in his veins as he storms down the corridor, each step echoing with the relentless rhythm of his heart. He feels his pulse pounding in his ears, a drumbeat of fear and anger, drowning out every thought but one: to find you.

They had refused him at first, his superiors dismissing his pleas as though your life was a mere inconvenience, as though you weren’t worth the resources it would take to bring you back. He remembers the way they looked at him, cold and condescending, as if his desperation were some flaw they couldn’t tolerate. When he demanded, when he threw himself against every rule, every regulation, they sent his own comrades to stop him, to drag him back from the ledge he was ready to leap over just to find you.

But his friends hadn’t fought him. They had looked into his eyes and seen the determination there, the fury tempered by a love so deep it was woven into the fabric of his being. Without a word, they had joined him, moving as one to tear through the obstacles in their path.

Together, they fought through layers of security, into the enemy’s territory, a violent and unrelenting force. They fought with desperation, with purpose, cutting down anyone who dared stand between him and you. He moved like a man possessed, driven by the image of your face, by the unspoken promise he carried in his heart. The ring, small and delicate, pressed against his chest in the hidden pocket, seemed to burn hotter with every step. I just have to get to you, he thought. Then I’ll ask. Then we can leave this hell behind.

When he sees the door, the heavy iron barrier that separates him from you, something inside him snaps. He throws himself against it, pounding with all the strength left in him. His voice is raw, a hoarse shout tearing from his throat.

"Open it!" His voice is shaking, desperate, not a command but a plea. One of his friends, barely recognizable through the blur of his grief and rage, reaches forward, fitting a key into the lock. The door creaks open, the sound like a screeching wail, and he pushes forward, unseeing, uncaring.

The room is dim, but he sees you instantly, his heart leaping with a moment’s hope before it plummets into despair. Your perfume hangs in the air.

Then he sees the rest.

You’re there, on the cold stone floor, but the spark in your eyes, the life he’d clung to in his mind, is gone. Your body is still, too still, bruised and broken, each mark a silent testament to the agony you must have endured. The world shifts, everything blurring around him as he stumbles forward, his mind refusing to believe what his eyes see.

“No,” he whispers, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands reach out, shaking as he touches your shoulder, as if trying to stir you, to pull you back from whatever place you’ve gone. "No, no, this isn’t… You’re just… You’re just asleep." His voice breaks, shattering into fragments as he runs his hand over your face, gentle as if a softer touch could bring you back.

But you don’t move.

The silence presses down on him, heavy and suffocating. His heart, which had raced with the thought of seeing you, of holding you again, now feels hollow, a cavern echoing with loss.

One of his friends speaks behind him, murmuring words of sympathy, of sorrow, but he barely hears them. All he knows is the weight of you, the way your body feels beneath his hands, so close yet unreachable, lost to him in a way that feels unbearable. His hand finds yours, fingers curling around your cold, lifeless hand, and the contrast between the warmth in his chest and the chill of your skin feels like a cruel joke, a lie he can’t accept.

"Come on, wake up," he whispers, his voice shaking as he leans close to your face, as if his words alone could breathe life back into you. "Please, you have to wake up. I need you here, I need you to—” His voice cracks, a sob escaping as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the faint scent that still lingers, a trace of the person he loved, the person he would have given everything to save.

"Why?" he chokes out, his voice muffled against your skin, each word a desperate plea to whatever force could still hear him. "Why did you have to go through this alone? I was coming for you. I was so close. Just… Just a little longer, and I would have been here."

He pulls away, his hand shaking as it moves to his chest, pressing against the pocket where the ring lies, cold and unyielding, a bitter reminder of what he never got to ask. It burns a mark into his chest, the coldness of it biting. He had imagined a hundred ways to ask, a thousand moments where he could slip that ring onto your finger and tell you that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. But now, that future is gone, torn away, leaving only this raw, hollow ache.

"I was going to…" His voice trails off as his fingers brush your hair back, smoothing away the strands that fall over your closed eyes. He tries to force a smile, to make this moment something gentler, something softer than the reality that’s bearing down on him. "I was going to ask you to stay with me. Forever." A tear slips down his cheek, splashing onto your face, and he wipes it away, as if he could somehow protect you, even now.

"You can’t be gone," he says, the words thick and slurred as he chokes on another sob. "You… You’re stronger than this. You’re not supposed to leave me. We were supposed to be together. Don’t you remember?"

His slides the ring onto your hand. It fits perfectly. The tips of your fingers are blue. One of them is missing.

He’s shaking now, his hands gripping your shoulders, almost as if he could shake the life back into you, as if he could pull you back through sheer force of will. But you remain still, a silence colder than any he’s ever known stretching between you.

A hand falls on his shoulder, gentle but firm, pulling him back. He fights it, jerking away, refusing to be separated from you. "No!" he cries, his voice a raw, broken wail. "Don’t take me away! Don’t you dare. I’m not leaving."

But his friend tightens their grip, voice choked with their own sorrow. "You have to let go," they say, and their voice trembles with the weight of it, as if they, too, feel the same unbearable pain, the same helplessness that fills him.

He doesn’t let go. He can’t. The thought of walking away, of leaving you here, feels like ripping his own heart out. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as he whispers, "Please. Come back to me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you."

But you’re gone, a quiet, still presence that doesn’t answer, that offers no comfort. And he realizes, with a deep, suffocating ache, that there is nothing he can do, no battle he can fight, no plea that can bring you back.

There is a gaping hole in his chest. It matches yours.

The hand on his shoulder tugs again, a silent reminder that he has to leave, that he has to keep moving, even though every part of him wants to stay here, to sink into the emptiness beside you.

As he’s pulled away, his gaze never leaves you, his heart breaking with every step, each one carrying him farther from the life he’d wanted, the future he’d dreamed of with you. The ring presses against his chest, a cruel reminder of all he’d lost, of the love he’d never be able to share with you, of the words he’d never get to say.

And as he stumbles forward, away from the battlefield and the broken promise you’d left behind, he knows he's a dead man walking.

There are two bodies haunting that room now.

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

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simply-ivanka · 11 months ago

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A May 2021 report revealed that Liz Cheney ‘secretly orchestrated the Washington Post op-ed by all ten living former Defense Secretaries – including her father – warning against Trump’s efforts to politicize the military’ prior to January 6.

In the Washington Post op-ed, the disgraced congresswoman warned that “involving the military in election disputes would cross into dangerous territory.”

Weeks later, Liz Cheney led the efforts to impeach President Trump and throw him in prison for not securing the US Capitol prior to the January 6 protests.

It is now widely reported that it was Pelosi, Democrats, Mayor Bowser, and the Capitol Police who refused President Trump’s request to secure the US Capitol with 10,000 National Guard troops.

For context, Kash Patel, the Former Chief of Staff to the Secretary of Defense, joined The Epoch Times for an interview on the security planning and protests on Jan. 6 at the US Capitol in Washington DC.

During his interview, Kash admitted that Mayor Muriel Bowser turned down thousands of National Guard troops at the Capitol on January 6 for political reasons.

Chris Wray’s FBI also refused to notify the Trump administration and his cabinet secretaries that they believed there could be a situation like the mass protests at the Capitol that took place.

Nancy Pelosi also refused the National Guard at the US Capitol due to politics.

In a WaPo interview with the Washington DC police chief, Steve Sund, The National Pulse reports the outgoing police chief “believes his efforts to secure the premises were undermined by a lack of concern from House and Senate security officials who answer directly to Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate leader Mitch McConnell.”

President Trump later also reiterated during an interview with Sean Hannity that he authorized the National Guard to be in Washington, DC, on January 6, 2021.

Sean Hannity: Did you authorize, as required by law, the calling up of up to 20,000 National Guard troops on January 4th and maybe even other occasions in the lead-up to what everybody knew would be a big rally? Did you authorize calling up the guard, and then it became the chain of command went to Nancy Pelosi and the mayor of DC, Muriel Bowser? Did you, as required by law, authorize that? Trump: 100% and attested to by many people and they turned it down. Nancy Pelosi turned it down, I guess they both did. But Nancy Pelosi turned it down and she’s in charge of the capitol. So they run the Capitol, the security of the capitol. If you had 10,000 or 20,000 soldiers wrapped around the capitol, you would have had no January 6 as we know it, there would have been no problem whatsoever. But they turned it down, which tells you everything.

#investigate. indict. prosecute. incarcerate.#trump #president trump #trump 2024 #america first

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sleepyfan-blog · 6 months ago

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Intruder!!

Author’s Note: This is the next installment of Joth’s adventures in the Husbandry AU! Other fics with Joth in them that I’ve written can be found here.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel

Warnings: none? Please ask me to tag something if I missed it/it bothers you

Summary: Joth handles an intruder with the mercy you’ve taught him.

“Put the goat down. Gently. Leave this property and return with money or never.” Joth ordered the Blood Claw who had his idiot hands on one of your goats. He had heard Maisie’s warning bark and growls, followed by Jacks and Sandy running to aid the oldest of your trio of Great Pyrenees. The canids helped Joth patrol the boundaries of your territory and chased away most predators and would be threats at night, while you slept in your home.

“The fuck I will, Chaos scum! I’m hungry and this thing looks like it’d be a decent enough meal.” The young Space Wolf growled, bristling visibly. The goat in his hands squirmed and butted his horned head against the other’s armored stomach.

Maisie growled lowly, and Joth whistled, not wanting her to get injured by this insufferable Loyalist Fool. Jacks rumbled, equally unhappy. “Do you know where you are, Space Wolf?”

“... That doesn’t matter! I’m hungry, and I’m taking this as my meal!” The Blood Claw blustered, glaring up at him.

“We are on Terra. M3 Terra.” Joth rumbled, stalking closer to the Loyalist “Put. Down. The goat.”

“Why the fuck would I believe a word out of your mouth, you Traitor?!” The Loyalist huffed, still glaring at him, pulling the goat closer to his body, even as it bleated and kicked at him.

“Do you have a working vox-communicator?” Joth asked, struggling to not roll his eyes at the young idiot in front of him.

“I do. But I am on a survival mission! To prove that I am capable of surviving, no matter the circumstances.” The Blood Claw snapped.

“Aren’t baby Space Wolves left on frozen hell-holes to prove themselves? Most of Terra is far from such a world, even in the depths of winter that would qualify.” Joth asked, tilting his head a little as he took another slow step towards the young idiot. The other didn’t have armor on and was lightly armed.

“... To be entirely honest, I thought I was dreaming. This part of the world at least, is so temperate and pretty. Prey and edible greens and fruits are so plentiful here. And I’m not a baby!” The young Space Wolf protested, puffing out his chest up at him.

Joth took another step towards the Blood Claw, whistling another command to Maisie and Jacks, who kept the younger Astartes hemmed in on two sides, while the pup, Sandy padded up behind him. “Youngling Astarte. Put down the goat. It belongs to the one whose property this is. There is Astartes-food available, but to get it you put the animal down. Now.”

The young Space Wolf looked up at him, before looking around “But… But you’re a traitor! Why should I believe y-”

You call out from the porch “Is everything alright, Joth?”

Oh! He hadn’t known you were awake. He has an idiot youngling to wrangle. Faster than the little Loyalist could track, Joth lunged forward and scooped him up, pinning the Blood Claw’s arms between his side and one of his arms, in a secure grip that the other would not be able to easily break. His other arm carefully yanked the goat free before setting her down and giving the goat a loving pat on the head. “I found the raider.” He answers in the same language you spoke.

“Who are you talking to? Who is that?!” The baby Space Wolf growled in Gothic, wriggling ineffectually in Joth’s hold.

Joth grabbed the younger Astarte by the back of his neck and shook him a little “You behave. That is the owner of these lands, and the animal you tried to steal.” WIth that he trotted up to the porch, firmly holding onto the wiggly young Astarte, who wasn’t going to escape his grasp unless the thousands of years old World Eater let him go. Khorne’s Blessings of strength and endurance far outweighed what the whelp could muster up.

You look at the rough fur-clothing covered young Space Wolf struggling in his hands, a small smile appearing on your face “Do you know how long he’s been on Earth?”

Joth shook his head “No, but from what little he said, he hasn’t been here long. Naughty puppy has been eating your livestock that has gone missing, I’ll bet. He was trying to take a goat when Maisie yelled at him.”

“Joth, dearheart, he’s a person. What’s your name? Does he speak English?” You respond, having a sigh and shake your head a little “Bring him inside. I’ll heat up some leftovers for him to eat. He looks like he’s half-starved. No wonder he was going after my animals. Especially if he doesn’t know about the base he could visit for food and clothing if he felt like it.”

“Space Wolf youngling.” Joth huffed, glaring down at the wiggly Blood Claw. He snapped “What is your name, puppy?”

You sigh as you go get your cellphone “He’s still a person. I’m going to call the after-hours astartes response line for the closest Loyalist base in Gannet Point - unless. Is he a renegade? He’s not odd enough to be a chaos marine, I think.”

“As if I would tell you that, Traitor! You might do some sort of horrible ritual to fuck me up, or steal my identity if I told you! Who is this baseline mortal who cavorts with traitors! I-” The baby Space Wolf began to shout.

“Loyalist puppy.” The Chaos astartes acknowledged in English. He then readjusted his grip on the Blood Claw so that he was covering the other’s mouth. An Astartes could accidentally injure the hearing of a mortal if he wasn’t careful, and Joth had encountered enough Blood Claws to know that the rough and tumble little lunatic pups were seldom careful. “Shush. No yelling in the house.” He shook the growling pup who was trying to bite through his armored gauntlets with just enough force to get him to settle down.

“Alright. Nearest loyalist base it is. Do you think he’ll eat anything I try to give him? Or will he growl at me and refuse?” You muse as you press the numbers to the on-call phone number, knowing it by heart by now.

“Probably would refuse. Keeps calling me a traitor, among other things, when I let him talk.” Joth answered, able to hold the squirming Blood Claw in his hands as he waited for you to make the phone call.

In less than ten minutes after you made the call, despite the fact that your farm was over an hour away from Gannet point by car ride, there was a mixed squad of Loyalists. Two were Ultramarines, one was a Salamander, and the remaining two were Space Wolves.

The Blood Claw had tried and failed to escape Joth’s implacable grip the entire time, making angry little growling and whining noises behind the hand that kept his vocalizations quiet. Maisie had decided to stop growling at him just before the squad of loyalists had arrived.

“Sargeant Amicus, thank you for coming so quickly. I’m aware that it’s terribly early in the morning, but this particular Astartes has likely been stealing my chickens for the better part of the week and he looks half-starved.” You murmur, greeting the lead Astartes, the slightly smaller Ultramarine.

“It’s our duty to take care of issues like this. Especially when Brothers or Cousins are causing such problems. Faffnir, Ulric, would you mind retrieving the Blood Claw from Joth?” The Sargeant answered with a small, professional smile, gesturing to the two Space Wolves.

Ultric and Faffnir each grabbed one of the younger Wolf’s arms, with the latter saying “We’ve got the pup… You were a lot gentler with him than I expected you’d be.”

Joth shrugged “He is young and dumb. Nothing wrong with that, and I have been learning that kindness is not weakness here on Terra.”

“... Fair enough. No biting, you little shit!” Ulric answered, sharply reprimanding the Blood Claw as the young Wolf attempted to chomp one of the hands restraining him.

“The muzzle I was brought here with should fit him well enough.” Joth remarked lightly as he loomed over the trio of Space Wolves “I would be willing to let you borrow it.”

“.. No, I think he’s finished being bitey, right? You’re going to be a good Scout and not try and cause more mischief, right?” Faffnir rumbled, his voice going low and growly.

The youngest Space Wolf let out a low, unhappy whine before looking away from Faffnir, his body going limp “Yes sirs… Why are we not murdering the heretic?”

“That will be explained later. Off we go, pup.” Ulric hummed before he and Faffnir dragged the Blood Claw away.

“As he is a loyalist, please send us a bill of how many animals he killed to feed himself, and you will be recompensed for it. I am aware that you’d rather have the a animals back, but money is all we are able to offer at this time. Though perhaps, after the young one has settled into Terra and how things run here, we could have him work on your farm as partial recompense, if you would be comfortable about that?” Sergeant AMicus asks you.

Joth’s tail swishes back and forth in agitation at the thought of that and he crosses his arms. He is scowling at the floor, but doesn’t saying anything.

“A tempting offer, but I would rather have the money, sergeant.” You answer honestly, shaking your head a little.

“As you say.” The Ultramarine acknowledged before turning and leaving, the other marines leaving behind him.

You wait until you’re sure that the Loyalist Marine sare out of hearing range before you smile warmly up at Joth and move in close. You gently touch one of his arms so that he is looking at you as you say “You did really well tonight, Joth. You protected my animals. You didn’t hurt the other marine, just restrained him so that ye wouldn’t cause more problems , and you were very patient.”

Joth beams at your praise and kneels down, lowering his head.

You smile warmly, knowing what he ias asking of you without words, and you gently pat his head, mindful of the Nails still digging into his skull. You press a kiss to his forehead “I mean it, Joth. You did very well.”

You hear the happy thump-thump-thump of Joth’s tail hitting your floorboards as he leans a little more into your head-pats. “I tried to be gentle, like you said I should be.” He rumbles.

You can hear the smile in his voice and you give him a couple more kisses on the forehead “And you succeeded. Well done, Joth.” You murmur as you try and fail to stop a tired yawn from leaving you.

HIs large, warm arms come up to gently encircle you, hugging you close. “Rest. I will protect, alongside your guard dogs.” His voice had an almost lyrical quality to it, and you nod sleepily, closing your eyes and allowing Joth to carry you up to your room and tuck you into bed.

#world eater #ultramarine #space wolf #oc: joth #oc: amicus #oc: faffnir #oc: Ulfric #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #my writing #space marine husbandry #reader insert

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dancingintherainwithchifuyu · 3 months ago

Text

Ichiji Vinsmoke x Fem Reader.

Chapter 1

In a kingdom where marriage is power, a princess finds herself at the center of a political scheme. When the ambitious Vinsmoke family arrives, intent on winning her hand to secure an alliance, each of the brothers vies for her favor. But it’s the stoic Ichiji who catches her attention—despite his cold demeanor and sense of duty.

Warnings: Political Manipulation, Schemes,Arranged/Forced Marriage,Mild Violence Conflict,Emotional Manipulation,Slow-Burn Romance,Toxic Family Dynamics,Class and Social Hierarchy.

Tags: @omi-replies , @fic-dumpster , @firstdivisiongirl , @livid-basket , @alexa-fika

Part 2

The air in the Germa Kingdom’s main strategy chamber was thick with an uncomfortable silence. Judge Vinsmoke sat at the head of the long table, his imposing figure casting a shadow over his four children seated before him. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as he eyed each of them, his gaze resting a moment longer on Ichiji, his eldest.

“Listen carefully,” Judge began, his voice commanding their full attention. “We are about to enter a kingdom with powerful resources—resources that could secure Germa’s place as an unstoppable force. I have reason to believe that the king is considering marriage alliances for his daughter. He knows it’s time for her to marry.”

“A royal alliance has presented itself,” Judge announced, his tone heavy with expectation. “An opportunity to expand Germa’s influence beyond the North Blue.”

Ichiji’s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew his father didn’t indulge them in such serious discussions unless he believed there was something of significant value at stake.

A brief, tense silence settled around the table as each of the Vinsmokes absorbed this revelation. Niji let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Marriage? Don’t tell me you actually want one of us to play house with some pampered princess. Who needs that kind of baggage?”

“Careful, Niji,” Judge’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t just any princess. She’s the daughter of a kingdom that controls a significant stretch of strategic territory. If we establish ties through marriage, Germa will have access to their resources, their ports… Their people.”

“Father, you talk as if she’s a prize to be won,” Reiju remarked quietly, though she wore a small, knowing smile. “You do realize she’s a person?”

Judge’s gaze flicked to his only daughter, his voice hardening. “That’s precisely what makes her valuable. She’s the means to an end, and Germa needs that end.” His eyes swept over them again, calculating. “The girl’s family holds immense sway over trade routes. Once she’s married into our family, that influence belongs to us.”

“That’s where you come in,” he continued, his gaze shifting from one son to the next. “I want each of you to compete for the princess’s favor. Show her what Germa’s finest can offer. This is your opportunity to prove yourselves.”

Yonji laughed under his breath. “Sounds easy enough. If all we have to do is charm some doe-eyed princess, then let me handle it.”

“I doubt charm will get you far, Yonji,” Reiju cut in, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “From what I hear, she’s supposed to be quite... particular.”

Niji leaned forward, an arrogant gleam in his eyes. “Particular, huh? She sounds soft”.Ichiji hadn’t spoken yet, instead choosing to assess his father’s expression with a quiet intensity. He knew exactly what Judge expected of him—the ideal son, the one molded from childhood to carry Germa’s ambitions forward without question.

“Spare us the theatrics,” Ichiji finally spoke, his tone level. “This is clearly a strategy, nothing more. I’ll play the role if it’s required. But let’s not pretend it’s anything other than manipulation.”

Judge’s eyes gleamed, the faintest hint of pride in his eldest son’s calculated mindset. “Precisely,” he affirmed. “This girl has likely been raised to be a pawn her entire life, groomed to follow the wishes of her family. You need only exploit that training. She will trust Germa if she believes she’s marrying someone worthy, someone loyal”

The Germa 66 fleet sailed smoothly over the calm sea, their dark, sleek ships forming an imposing line against the horizon. Judge stood on the deck of the lead ship, his gaze fixed forward, unyielding and cold. Behind him, his children assembled, each in their characteristic stance—Niji and Yonji leaning against the rails with their usual smirks, Reiju standing calmly with her arms crossed, and Ichiji, silent and focused, his eyes narrowed as he observed the approaching island.

The distant outline of the kingdom's lush forests and majestic palace came into view. The port city bustled with ships coming and going, but none compared to the intimidating, uniform might of the Germa fleet. Even from a distance, they could see the kingdom's guards hurrying to clear the docks, each with expressions of tense anticipation.

"Quite the welcome they’re giving us," Yonji snickered, watching as the guards lined up in a formation, clearly put on edge by the sight of Germa’s arrival.

Judge’s gaze remained forward. “Of course, they’re intimidated. They know what it means for Germa to visit. We’re a force to be reckoned with.”

The ship lurched slightly as it neared the dock, the water rippling against the massive hull. Reiju watched the kingdom’s coastline, her gaze lingering on the distant palace towers. “I hope they’re prepared for what’s coming,” she murmured. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of place accustomed to Germa’s… approach.”

Niji chuckled. “All the better for us. The softer they are, the easier they’ll be to control. This should be a walk in the park.”

Ichiji gave him a sidelong glance, his voice cold. “You’d do well to control your arrogance, Niji. They may be soft, but underestimating them will only complicate matters.”

“Relax, Ichiji,” Niji shot back, smirking. “We’re here to charm them, aren’t we? Father didn’t bring us along to just stand there and look pretty.” He straightened his coat, the gleam in his eye betraying the enjoyment he took from the chance to play a role in the family scheme.

Judge’s gaze settled on each of them in turn, ensuring his children understood their roles. “Remember, this marriage is our chance to expand Germa’s reach. Each of you has a part to play in securing this alliance. Reiju, you will earn the princess’s trust. Niji, Yonji—support Ichiji’s efforts, but do not overstep. This is a delicate situation, and I will not tolerate failure.”

Reiju nodded thoughtfully, her mind already working through the best way to approach this task. She understood her father’s methods all too well, and she knew this wasn’t about romance or family. This was about gaining control.

Judge continued, his tone a blend of impatience and expectation. “Each of you has something to offer. Show her why Germa is her best option, and make sure she feels that. I’ll be watching closely.”

Niji leaned over to Yonji, grinning. “Guess the best man wins, huh?” He gave his older brother a nudge, his grin widening. “Good luck, Ichiji.”

Yonji chuckled, looking Ichiji over with a smug smirk. “You going to try charming her, Ichiji? Or just stand there looking all stoic and intimidating?”

Ichiji shot them both a steely look but said nothing. It was pointless to argue; he would do what he must, even if the idea of vying for someone’s favor left him with a bitter taste.

“Save your boasting for the banquet,” Judge warned, his voice cold. “Remember, this alliance is essential. Failure is not an option.”

With that, he turned his back on them, effectively dismissing them. Reiju gave Ichiji a brief, sympathetic glance as she turned to leave. She understood better than the others what he felt—how difficult it was to be the figure their father molded for his own purposes.

As they left the room, Niji and Yonji exchanged competitive glances, clearly eager to outdo one another. They already had their sights set on impressing the princess, and neither seemed to care how obvious their rivalry was.

As the Vinsmokes prepared to disembark at the kingdom’s port, they were met by an escort of palace guards who would lead them to the palace for that night’s banquet. Each sibling took in the sights with different degrees of interest, their minds already on the tasks Judge had set before them.

Niji elbowed Yonji as they walked, a grin spreading across his face. “What do you think? The princess will be wrapped around my finger in no time.”

Yonji smirked, unfazed. “You? Not a chance. I’ll have her attention before you can even blink.”

Ichiji ignored them, his gaze fixed on the palace looming ahead. He could already envision the evening: the charade, the flattery, the act of interest he’d have to feign. It was his duty, nothing more. A distraction he’d put up with if it meant securing his father’s ambitions.

Reiju, meanwhile, was mentally preparing herself for the night. Befriending the princess would require tact, patience, and a delicate hand. But she was well-versed in her father’s games. She knew how to maneuver through them gracefully, keeping her own feelings in check.

Niji elbowed Yonji as they walked, a grin spreading across his face. “What do you think? The princess will be wrapped around my finger in no time.” Yonji smirked, unfazed. “You? Not a chance. I’ll have her attention before you can even blink.”

The grand ballroom was filled with music and laughter, noble guests drifting between conversations and dancing under the glow of crystal chandeliers. The princess, standing near the edge of the gathering, felt herself sinking deeper into discomfort. A persistent nobleman, clearly emboldened by wine, had been hovering around her for the past few minutes, his attention increasingly unwelcome.

“I was saying, Your Highness,” the nobleman continued, leaning too close, “you would be wise to consider my family’s standing. We have much to offer, after all,” he said, flashing a grin she found all too smug.

The princess forced a polite smile, subtly shifting away from him. “I’m sure your family is very… esteemed,” she replied, her voice wavering slightly.

The nobleman’s hand reached out, just enough to lightly touch her arm, making her tense. “Please, Your Highness, a dance?” He bowed dramatically, blocking her from slipping away.

She looked around, eyes searching for a familiar face, her discomfort rising as she struggled to find a way out of the situation.

Then, just as her anxiety was about to bubble over, a calm, confident voice cut through the tension.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Reiju interjected, stepping between the princess and the nobleman with perfect poise. “I couldn’t help but notice how lovely you look this evening. You must tell me who styled your hair—it’s simply enchanting.”

The princess blinked, caught off guard but relieved, and let out a small sigh. Reiju’s warm smile was both friendly and reassuring, the perfect lifeline.

“Oh, thank you, Lady Reiju,” she replied, her voice soft but grateful.

Reiju’s eyes flicked toward the nobleman, who was looking between them with a frown, clearly unimpressed by the interruption. She held her gaze steady, an undercurrent of steel flashing in her blue eyes as she addressed him with cool politeness.

“I’m sorry, but the princess and I have a prior engagement,” Reiju said smoothly. “We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting, would we?”

The nobleman’s eyes narrowed, his pride clearly stung. “I wasn’t aware the princess was… so occupied,” he said, voice dripping with irritation. But under Reiju’s unflinching stare, he gave a curt bow and stalked off, muttering under his breath.

Reiju watched him go, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Once he was out of earshot, she turned back to the princess, her expression softening.

“Apologies for the interruption, Your Highness,” she said with a gentle smile. “It’s just that these banquets seem to attract a… particular type of guest.”

The princess let out a small, relieved laugh, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Thank you, Lady Reiju. I… wasn’t sure what to say to him.”

Reiju nodded knowingly. “I can imagine. Men like that don’t always take hints easily.” She tilted her head thoughtfully, lowering her voice. “Truthfully, I could never stand that type myself. Far too forward.”

The princess’s eyes lit up in surprise, a smile breaking through her initial shyness. “I feel the same way,” she confessed. “Sometimes, I just… wish I could tell them no without being polite about it.

Reiju chuckled, leaning in conspiratorially. “Believe me, Your Highness, every woman wishes that at some point.” She glanced around the ballroom with a sly smile. “Shall we escape to the balcony? It’s much quieter there.”

The princess nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. I could use a bit of fresh air.”

The two slipped away, weaving through the crowd until they reached the balcony overlooking the garden, where the soft night air provided a welcome respite. The princess took a deep breath, her face relaxing as she gazed over the quiet scene.

“Thank you again, Lady Reiju,” she murmured. “I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”

Reiju shook her head, her expression turning unexpectedly soft. “Think nothing of it, Your Highness. Sometimes, we all need a little help. And you can call me Reiju,” she added with a wink, her usual formality melting away.

The princess smiled shyly. “Reiju, then.” She looked down, gathering her thoughts before adding, “I don’t have many… friends in court, I suppose. This was… really kind of you.”

Reiju placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Well, you have one now,” she said with genuine warmth. “And if you ever need me to help fend off another admirer, you know where to find me.”

The princess laughed softly, feeling more at ease in Reiju’s presence. For the first time, she felt she had an ally—someone who wasn’t interested in power or politics but simply understood her. The pressures of court life felt lighter, if only for a moment.

And though Reiju’s family might have their own motives, she found herself unexpectedly protective of the princess, hoping that their friendship might bring her a taste of normalcy amid the endless scheming.

The night was peaceful as Reiju and the princess strolled along the garden path. The banquet music was a faint hum in the background, giving them a sense of privacy in the open air. The princess’s face was relaxed, her earlier tension forgotten as she glanced curiously at Reiju.

“Lady Reiju,” the princess began, then corrected herself with a shy smile. “I mean, Reiju… you mentioned earlier that you’ve traveled far and wide with your family. I’ve never had the chance to travel beyond our islands. What’s it like?”

Reiju paused, a gentle smile crossing her lips as she glanced up at the night sky, gathering her thoughts. “It’s… exhilarating,” she replied. “One moment, you’re in the middle of a bustling port city, full of people and noise and life. And the next, you’re in a quiet, forgotten village where time seems to stand still. There’s always something new to see, something unexpected waiting around the corner.”

The princess listened intently, her eyes shining with fascination. “It sounds so… freeing,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine going wherever you please. Which place was your favorite?”

Reiju smiled, though there was a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “There was a city in the North Blue,” she said, her voice tinged with warmth. “It was surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and the air was always crisp and cold. The people there were so hardy, living in harsh conditions, but they were kind too. They had this annual festival where they’d hang lanterns all around the town. At night, the whole place would glow—it was breathtaking.”

The princess sighed, lost in the mental picture Reiju had painted. “That sounds so beautiful,” she murmured. “I’ve always loved festivals and celebrations. I think… it reminds people to be joyful, even if only for a little while.”

Reiju nodded, her gaze softening as she looked at the princess. “You have a way of seeing things that many don’t. Even when times are hard, you find something good to hold onto.”

The princess blushed, glancing down shyly. “Thank you, Reiju. I suppose it’s just how I was raised. I’ve always been taught that kindness and understanding can make a difference, even in small ways.” She paused, looking up with curiosity. “Do you ever feel that way?”

Reiju hesitated, not used to sharing personal thoughts but sensing the princess’s sincerity. “Sometimes,” she said finally. “I think… there’s strength in kindness, though not everyone realizes it. It takes a certain bravery to be gentle in a world that can be… harsh.”

The princess nodded thoughtfully, a small smile spreading across her face. “I like to think so too. Perhaps that’s why I’m so fascinated by the idea of traveling. Meeting people from different places, seeing their lives—maybe there’s more kindness in the world than we realize.”

Reiju glanced over, feeling an unexpected admiration for the princess’s innocent outlook. “You’d make a wonderful traveler,” she said. “And you know, if you ever do get the chance, I’d love to be the one to show you around.”

The princess’s face lit up with joy, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, that would be a dream! To travel with someone like you—who’s seen so much already.”

Reiju chuckled, trying to keep her tone light. “We’d make a fine pair, I think,” she said. “I’d handle the logistics, and you could remind me to see the beauty in each place we visit.”

As they walked further into the garden, Reiju continued to share stories, carefully selecting memories that highlighted the wonders of the world without betraying the harsher truths of her family’s conquests. She described vibrant markets filled with exotic spices, coastal towns with waves crashing against rocky shores, and sprawling forests with trees older than memory. All the while, the princess listened, occasionally asking questions with wide-eyed curiosity, immersing herself in each tale.

Eventually, they reached a secluded bench near a bed of fragrant night-blooming flowers. The princess sat down, pulling her knees up slightly as she gazed up at Reiju with wonder.

“I never thought I’d find a friend like you, Reiju,” she said softly. “Thank you… for sharing all this with me.”

Reiju took a seat beside her, a small smile playing at her lips. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. It’s nice to speak with someone who understands the world beyond titles and power.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts. For Reiju, it was a rare feeling of peace, a brief respite from the expectations that usually weighed upon her. And for the princess, it was a moment of connection—a reminder that even in a world shaped by duty and formality, true friendship could be found.

#one pieces #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece yn #one piece imagine #one piece hcs #one piece headcanons #one piece ichiji #one piece ichiji vinsmoke #ichiji vinsmoke #ichiji x reader

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ratt-king · 10 days ago

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"I want them DEAD!!! I hate Pidbit so much!!" I say as I write the meetings between Tim and Darry for Pidbit mafia au. . . more under the cut!

☆

Darry fixed his tie about five times as he spoke, clearing his throat a dozen more. It was clear that he was nervous. He was handsome too, and although he was nervous, he was firm and quick when negotiating, strong arguments, and strong arms. So maybe Tim was a little more interested in Darry than the alliance... He likes strong leaders, sue him!

"Mr Shepard, you haven't said a word since I came in. Is there something on your mind?" Darry asked.

You. Tim clasped his hands on the desk. "How does this show you know what you're doing, Mr. Curtis?"

Confusion filled Darry's face. The performance, territory, and the enemies clearly showed that they were doing well for themselves. Tim gave him an expectant look. But the Shepards had neighboring circles of influence, so it's not as though he doesn't believe Darry.

"Mr. Shepard, the facts dont lie. It's not whether or not you think we aren't. We are more than-"

His voice was smooth, the only hint of emotion being the slow rise in speed. It would be easy to have him coming back, but Tim has to play his cards right. He can't afford to offend the man despite not wanting to work with him. These meetings could be a source of entertainment.

"I don't make assumptions. But this is from when, and I hate to say, your father was in command." Tim leaned back against his chair. Hook. "You may be just as efficient or more, but there is no proof of that yet, Mr. Curtis."

Tim knew that Darry would have no arguments against this. Its true, his rise to power was sudden, just as this offer. Infact the word of Darrel Sr. dying still had yet to reach many others. Even Tim was expecting to see the older man, not the son of his.

Darry wasn't just going to give up though, this alliance could be crucial to running Bob Sheldon and his help out of Tulsa.

"With due time, I can prove my efficiency." Darry fixed his tie once more. Line, "Would you be amendable to recurring meetings? If proof is what you want, I can provide it-" sinker.

"Well, aren't you persistent?" Tim let a smirk spill onto his face. "I would be willing to review your methods, I'll see you again in two weeks. Mr. Curtis"

"Of course, Mr. Shepard." Darry said as a younger woman, who looked like Tim shooed him out.

She gave him a kind smile as she walked him out. They always had strict security, but walking him to his car seemed excessive. She gave a knowing smirk, having practicallly sniffed out Darry's worries.

"Don't fret, since you're coming back, we're making sure we know what vehicle and where you're coming in from." Her assurance was laced with something threatening.

Although she went back to the sweet smile as he drove away, Darry couldn't shake the feeling of danger being just over his shoulder...

...

Tim watches as Angela crept back into the room with an evil look on her face. He could never keep a secret from her, seeing how she manages to force the truth out of him. At least it made her a good spy and an even worse pain in Tim's ass.

"Angela."

"Tim?" She giggled, "Is there a reason you're dragging this out? You said you didn't think we should work with them."

He can always trust her to use his words against him. It was obvious that Tim was just keeping Darry as eyecandy, but he wasn't just going to admit that. He has a reputation after all.

"His father was an exceptional leader, and Mr. Curtis seems to be a promising leader." Tim stated.

It was sterile, avoiding any emotion giving him away, but lack of emotion is emotion, and it speaks volumes. Angela decided not to press for more information, likely going to gossip with her friends. And Slyvia, god Tim really didn't want to work with them. If the stories Sylvia tells about her 'mystery man' from the Curtis territory are any bit accurate, they're sloppy and reactive and a liability for Tim's reputation.

☆

Tim decided to venture into the Darry's territory this time around. He didn't want a repeat of Angela's nosiness. Slyvia already side eyed him. He didn't need or want her raunchy jokes about cowboys and musclemen. When Tim came in, two guys playing with, hopefully unloaded, guns, were laughing like it was normal. One of them directed him in the right direction. His name was Soda, and he was also easy on the eyes like his brother but with fewer muscles.

Tim got himself trapped in a conversation with him, finding himself nodding along despite not knowing what he was saying. Something about cars, maybe his brothers? He wasn't really paying attention.

"I won't hold ya much longer," He said with an infectious chuckle, "Tell Darry I need him to approve Steve for working on the cars while you're there wontcha?"

"Okay- I suppose...?" Tim said as Soda gave him a playful shove in the right direction.

...

"Sorry for my late arrival, Mr. Curtis." Tim said as he took a seat across from Darry. "I got caught up with your brother. By the way, you have to approve some guy Steve for cars."

Darry looked a little embarrassed, likely from his brothers brief run-in with tim. He just hoped Tim didn't recognize Soda as the guy who threw a molotov at his brother. Or run into Dally, Dally had messed with their stuff about a million times.

"That's more than okay, Mr. Shepard. I know how he likes to talk," Darry's chest rumbled with laughter, "I'm surprised he let you go so quick! Now let's get into business, yeah?"

The facts didn't lie, Darry was a promising man, and they were only getting more power, and even though their influences were few, they had an iron grip over them. Even being a direct competitor to the Sheldons for weaponry and hits. It still bugged Tim that they were so casual about everything.

"So tell me, does this soothe your worries?" He said.

Tim figured it was an easy way to drag this out, "You are promising, but sloppy. You're effective, but there's countless mistakes along the way. I think my worries have just been replaced with new ones." So why don't you soothe it with your lips instead?

Darry took a deep breath, irritation deep in his body as he spoke, "Mr. Shepard, mistakes are bound to happen, and we always come out on top."

Irritation was the first step. Soon, Tim would bring him to fondness it was important to let Darry down on a negative note and pick up on a positive one. Keeping him on edge kept him aware, which allowed him to be easier to read.

How about you get on top of me? "Coming out on top means nothing if the towers is a strong wind away from collapsing." Tim hummed, taking a sip from the water offered.

Darry tapped his finger impatiently. "And about the alliance? Does this change your answer?"

Tim shrugged, "Why dont I come back every couple weeks, on Thursday, to see about the behavior of your boys?"

A car engine began in the background, then a loud explosion right after. Tim and Darry sat in silence for almost 5 minutes until the same brother burst in.

"Uhm, Dare... I might've busted an engine..." He said, holding his side. "and a rib."

Oh god. This was the group that he was going to ally with. Tim definitely did not want to work with them. It helped that Darry also looked mortified at the situation.

"I'll see you on Thurday, 'Dare'. At least pretend you have some control by then."

☆

So what do we think guyss??!??!?@,? I'm actually going crazy i hate writing (false) i think literacy shouldn't exist and people shouldn't have ever invented it.

#pidbit mafia!au #pidbit #the stuff im NOT writing #darry curtis #tim shepard #Negotiating but Tim is super gay and manipulative and drags it out #sodapop curtis #steve randle

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workersolidarity · 6 months ago

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[ 📹 "We were sitting in the house, all of us were civilians," a Palestinian man says while holding the body of a dead child after their home was bombed by the Israeli occupation forces.

"Suddenly the house collapsed on us. The entire house is full of children, as you can see. This child is less than two months old. He was born during the war," the man says before asking, "For what sin was this child killed? This is an innocent child. Is this on Netanyahu's target list?" ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

GAZA WAR DAY 311: GALLANT SLAMS NETANYAHU CLAIMS OF "COMPLETE VICTORY", ISRAELI OCCUPATION CLOSES SEVERAL AREAS IN GAZA NEAR BORDER, ETHNIC CLEANSING OF GAZA REACHES NEW MILESTONE WITH 84% OF TERRITORY UNDER MANDATORY EVACUATION ORDERS, GENICIDAL WAR CONTINUES WITH MASS MURDER OF PALESTINIAN CIVILIANS

On the 311th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 142 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 150 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or whose bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally the number of those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Beginning on Monday, August 12th, the Israeli occupation army has announced it will close several areas within the Gaza envelope near the border with "Israel" following the assessment of the army.

The order was signed by occupation army Maj. Gen. Yaron Finkelman, head of the Israeli occupation forces' Southern Command.

The evacuation calls for several areas along the border between Gaza and Israeli-occupied Palestine to be added to the "closed military zone", prohibiting entrance without prior coordination with the army.

The announcement was made after Israeli colonial settler activists planned to hold a prayer event on the Gaza border, with the activists seeking to alter the government's position against the resettlement of Gaza by the colonists.

The newly closed areas include the fields between the Erez crossing, Yad Mordechai, to the Shaar HaNegev Junction, and Nahal Oz, as well as the fields between the access road to the cemetery in Netivot and Route-234 to the Gaza Security barrier.

Additionally, the areas between the Re'im and Urim Junctions, to the security barrier will also be closed, according to the army.

In other news on Monday, Zionist Defense Minister Yoav Gallant spoke during a meeting of the Israeli occupation's Security Committee hearings in which he gave an overview of the progress of the genocidal war in Gaza.

During the meeting, Gallant slammed the Netanyahu administration, declaring that "I hear the tam-tam drums and this chatter about the absolute victory, it's a shame that in the room they didn't show the same courage," referring to the Israeli security establishment, which previously proposed pre-emptive strikes against Hezbollah near the start of the war.

“The conditions today for war in Lebanon are unlike those at the beginning of the war," Gallant continued.

"Maybe I don't understand the media and the talk, but I understand security, today we are in a completely different situation than we were when I insisted on an attack in the north that the entire security system supported," he added.

Gallant then responded to questions in which he stated that the position of the Rafah Brigade in southern Gaza had been "decided". He added that, for the dozens of hostages who remained alive, it was worth withdrawing from the so-called "Philadelphi Corridor" for a period of 6 weeks, during which, negotiations could proceed in phases and actions be taken.

Following the meeting, the Prime Minister's Office responded to Gallant's comments, declaring that he "is bound by 'absolute victory' too."

In a statement issued by Netanyahu's office, the occupation Prime Minister determined that "When Gallant adopts an anti-Israel narrative, he hurts the chances of reaching a hostage deal."

"He should have attacked [Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar], who refuses to send a delegation to negotiations, and who was and remains the only obstacle to the hostage deal.”

It should be noted that the Hamas resistance movement has repeatedly agreed to the terms of the Biden administration's proposed hostage exchange and ceasefire agreement, only to see the Israeli Prime Minister change the terms of the agreement, add new conditions, or, most recently, assassinate the lead negotiator, former Hamas Political Bureau leader Ismail Haniyeh.

The Prime Minister's Office reiterated its stance that the Israeli entity must achieve "absolute victory", which Netanyahu claims can only be accomplished through the elimination of the Hamas resistance movement's military and governance capabilities, as well as the release of the Israeli hostages that continue to be held by the Palestinian resistance forces in Gaza.

The Office's statement concludes by stating that "This is the clear directive of Prime Minister Netanyahu and the cabinet, and it is binding on everyone — including Gallant."

Meanwhile, in more news, Zionist colonial settlers continue storming the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound on a near daily basis, continueing to tread on established agreements and destroying what remains of the status quo.

According to local reporting, dozens of Zionist settlers stormed the mosque compound while under the protection of the Israeli occupation forces and Shin Bet security services, carrying out tours of the compound and performing provocative rituals while blocking Muslim worshippers from entering the compound.

On Sunday, "Temple Groups" of more than 370 colonial settlers stormed the compound, announcing their intention of establishing a human chain surrounding the mosque and calling for its demolition.

At the same time, Shin Bet police turned the Old City area of Jerusalem into a military barracks, deploying hundreds of its security officers in the streets and near the Al-Aqsa Gates, as well as the gates to the Old City.

In other news on Monday, the Israeli ethnic cleansing of the Gaza Strip reached a new milestone, with more than 84% of territory under mandatory evacuation orders by the Israeli occupation army.

In a report published by Turkish news outlet Anadolu News Agency, Anadolu cites the deputy spokesperson for the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), Farhan Haq, as saying that the Israeli occupation's "ongoing bombardment and hostilities in Gaza continue to kill, injure and displace Palestinians- as well as damage and destroy the homes and infrastructure they rely on."

"Two evacuation orders were issued by the Israeli military over the weekend for Khan Yunis, mostly for areas that were previously placed under evacuation," Haq said during a press conference on Monday morning.

Farhan Haq went on to point out that around 23 displacement sites, along with 14 water, sanitation and hygiene facilities and four educational facilities have been effected by the occupation's evacuation orders.

"In total, about 305 square kilometers (117.7 square miles), or nearly 84% of the Gaza Strip, have been placed under evacuation orders by the Israeli military," Haq said during the press conference.

He also noted that the entry of humanitarian aid supplies into the Gaza Strip has been severely restricted as a result of "active hostilities, access constraints, high levels of insecurity, the lack of public order and safety," as well as other factors.

During a back and forth with reporters, Haq responded to a question about whether a "genocide" is unfolding in Gaza by saying that there would need to be "a judicial ruling" by the appropriate courts to label it as such.

While referring to previous comments regarding the situation in Gaza, Haq said that "these are alarming figures for any conflict anywhere," and also called for a ceasefire.

Meanwhile, the Israeli's genocidal war continues unabated, with the constant slaughter of civilians and near complete destruction of Palestinian housing, facilities and infrastructure amid the constant bombardment of the Israeli occupation forces (IOF).

Beginning on Monday morning, local ambulance crews reported the recovery of two dead bodies from the western neighborhoods of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

According to local reporting, Occupation forces bombarded residential homes in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing two Palestinians who were recovered by local ambulance and civil defense crews.

The Israeli occupation army also detonated an entire residential block in the town of Abasan al-Jadida, east of the city of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza.

Prior to that, on Sunday evening, Israeli aircraft bombed a number of civilian homes in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, north of Gaza City, as well as in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, and in Rafah in southern Gaza.

According to local reporting, Zionist warplanes bombed a residential house belonging to the Hamdan family west of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of two Palestinians and wounding several others.

Similarly, on Monday morning, occupation fighter jets bombed a residential home belonging to the Murad family west of Gaza City, killing two civilians and wounding a number of others with various injuries.

In another atrocity, Zionist forces targeted a gathering of civilians near the Badr Mosque in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City. Following the strike, Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) paramedics reported the transfer of three dead Palestinians and a number of wounded to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the city.

Moreover, throughout the day, Israeli occupation forces began several waves of intense bombardments targeting the city of Khan Yunis, in southern Gaza, resulting in dozens of casualties throughout the day.

Zionist artillery shelling and airstrikes targsted the residential home of the Al-Najjar family in the Ma'an neighborhood of Khan Yunis, killing several Palestinians and wounding others, while occupation forces also bombed a civilian vehicle in the vicinity of a refueling station on Salah al-Din Street, east of the Khan Yunis, killing at least three Palestinians and wounding 10 others.

It was also reported that Zionist soldiers fired smoked grenades towards neighborhoods east of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

The Israeli occupation army continued its horrific war crimes by bombing a civilian residence in the town of Abasan Al-Kabira, east of Khan Yunis, in southern Gaza, killing more than 10 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

On Monday evening, occupation aircraft bombarded a residential home belonging to the Darwish family in the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing one civilian and wounding several others, while another bombing of the Al-Sayed family home on Block-9 of the Al-Bureij Camp, also in central Gaza, killed a Palestinian citizen and his son.

In another criminal bombing, occupation forces targeted the residential home of the Abu Alwan family in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood of Gaza City, resulting in a number of dead and wounded.

Additionally, Zionist warplanes bombed another residential house in the town of Al-Qarara, northeast of Khan Yunis, killing two Palestinian civilians and wounding several others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the death toll now exceeds 39'897 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'980 women and more than 16'315 children, while another 92'152 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

August 12th, 2024

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

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lutawolf · 1 year ago

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My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 1

I've gotten several Asks requesting this review. I will say that as of watching the trailer, this is more a D/s relationship and an M/s one.

Let's check it out and decide for sure, though. I love the beginning. It says so much about the character. It was a warm day, and he dressed too warm, which is why he didn't understand the initial request.

Okay, so we know he watches the new aka weather news anyway. Every day and all the way through. Now is that because he wants to or is that a command?

Okay, I just fell in love with this character. "I don't like him. He just has the most appealing facial features out of all the faces in the world." Boy in love, but he not gonna say it. Is what that means. His friend is adorable. "I hate him. Including all those aspects." Home girl calls him out, though. "People who watch it six times are usually devoted fans." Yoh is not a slave. A slave would be way too terrified to say the things he is saying. Then add in the fact that he'd clearly broke a rule and wasn't breaking into a sweat about it. Says he is no slave.

They are D/s. Right off you can see there are rules. Yoh didn't notice him come in and cut off the phone. Which is why Segasaki just reached over and turned it off for him. Then reprimanded him for not noticing. That's when Yoh says, "Welcome back." Indicating this is a baseline command. I'm assuming he doesn't get back at the same time every day, or he would expect Yoh to be waiting at the door for him. One word command, "food." Again, Yoh is feeling secure in venting openly, and he feels comfortable with Segasaki's anger. That is not a slave. Segasaki so far does show Master tendencies. That's not a biggie because I can too and as most of you know, I'm not one.

The way he stutters and gets nervous when Segasaki cages him in, is completely normal. That's exactly how I would expect a submissive to act if I caged and got with direct intent. However, Yoh and Segasaki are not on the same wavelength, which is never a good thing. Segasaki is actually reprimanding Yoh, but Yoh isn't realizing it.

I have no baseline to go off of yet. So I don't know if him saying the food is bland is him reprimanding or his natural state of assholishness. I'm actually leaning into a mix. He's still upset about the girl and is wanting attention. This gives him a reason to make demands. See the way he touches and smiles, that's a reward.

Poor Yoh just doesn't understand and is completely missing his Dom's love languages. The drinking his drink. Completely normal. I 100% do this. As I tell my husband, I'm marking my territory. Just be glad I don't want to piss on you. To which he is eternally grateful. Please note that I am not kink shaming. If it doesn't harm anyone, I'm of a mind, you do you. However, it is not mine or my husband's kink. However, even if this kink is yours. I think even you can find amusement in mine and my husband's by play.

Yoh's internal monologue is hilarious.

I love how Japan's dramas make sex so visceral and realistic.

I'm so dead. Sunny has now become a lewd word. Yeah buddy boy, he doesn't understand because you aren't opening your mouth and telling him. To be fair, Segasaki is shit in the communication area too. Which is a no-go when living a D/s lifestyle. Also, humiliation is clearly not a kink for Yoh and that's something that Segasaki should really be respecting. "I hate my obedience, always giving in." That's something that a sub should never think. However, they will if you are a shit Dom.

Even I want to punch him over that curry comment. Okay, so there's the kink. Segasaki likes to see the anticipation from Yoh. That's why he is doing this. That little bit of talk back is, once again, not a slave. And why Segasaki immediately responded, he wasn't upset that Yoh talked back. So right now I can tell you on the sliding scale, Segasaki isn't a Master but a deep Dom with Master tendencies. I'm still trying to get a feel of Yoh, but I can say without a doubt that he is not a slave.

Oh, that was a brat move. He purposely did something he knew would piss off his Dom to get the reaction he wanted. Which was to be forcefully handled. That little moan he gave at the force. Boy likes some pain. That smile says that his Dom knows exactly what he is doing and is enjoying the game.

That command and demand for obedience. And Yoh does it. Not because he has to, but because at that moment he is dominated and he wants it. That's what makes him a subby sub. He's using the word slave, but there is too much give for that. Boy isn't willing to own up to his own feelings. Lawd, but these two are a mess. His Dom adores him. It's all right there, but Yoh can't see it. Because he thinks he is a slave. For whatever reason, he can't see all the freedom he is given.

The fact that he knocked and let him know that he'll be late. There is a lot of respect there. This is a right mess, it is. Honestly, it kind of giving me heart palpitations, and not the good kind. I have like this absolute need to contact all my subs to make sure everyone is healthy and happy. Ahhh!

I hope you guys enjoyed this. Much love. 💜💜💜

#my personal weatherman #luta talks my personal weatherman #luta talks kink #coconuts mafia

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