#the more that Marche's resolve increases
Text
can you keep it down?
pairing: neighbor!mark x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, dilf!mark, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, thigh slapping, forced submission, implications of brat taming (in progress), praise, degradation but it’s more like banter, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy)
summary: The apartment next door to yours has been vacant for months. No one had gone in or out, not until your new next door neighbor moved in two weeks ago. Mark, a slightly older guy who prides himself on his patience and willpower with a penchant for control. But when you make it clear you’re resolved to wither away the things he values most, Mark decides he’s down for the challenge, determined to put a leash on your unrestrained behavior - and most importantly, finally shut you the hell up.
word count: 10.4k
a/n: 4/4 of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!
The first time you met Mark, it was right outside your door.
It was late at night - debatably early in the morning - and you had been in the middle of bringing yourself to the third consecutive orgasm in a row when loud knocking interrupted you. Part of you was tempted to ignore whoever was determined to beat down your door, but it was ceaseless and frankly, you were growing annoyed.
Swiftly you slipped on the closest pair of shorts and marched to the front door in large strides, swinging it open once you finally arrived. Then, your eyes met Mark’s.
He was a mere stranger to you then. But what you saw made you want to know him. What you saw made you nearly forget that you were on the brink of orgasm only moments ago. A pair of beautiful brown eyes stared back at you.
“Hey,” he greeted, voice gruff. “Sorry to bother you, but can you keep it down? I live right next door and with all the noise I can’t sleep.”
For a moment you only blinked, processing his words slowly. You weren’t aware that you were being that loud. But then again, you were in no state to properly register your actions - you were delirious with pleasure and had blocked everything else past your senses.
When you finally processed his statement, your cheeks burned, slightly embarrassed. “Fuck. I’m so, so sorry, I had no idea. I’ll try to be quieter from now on.”
He gave you a courteous nod and replied, “No worries. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
And that was it. When you shimmied back out of your shorts, you didn’t even feel energetic anymore, only overcome by exhaustion and the burdensome fact that you had work in the morning. You groaned and flopped against your bedsheets, letting sleep swallow you whole.
But the image of your new neighbor was reoccurring. There was something familiar about him, like you had seen him once before. And there were things you noticed right off the bat about him. For one, he was an older guy. Not old, but evidently beyond your years. And if the shorts he wore was any indicator, he was likely a father.
That made the chain of thoughts about him increase, and you didn’t even know his first name. There was instant intrigue and desire to get to know your new, next-door neighbor.
Though visions died quick, and dreams were killed even quicker. When you saw Mark swallowing some girl’s face only moments before she left his apartment on your way to work some days later, you rationalized yourself and decided to take it steady. It was certain that you were sure of what you wanted, but you respected his relationship. You were a great deal of things - delusional and a homewrecker weren’t on the list.
The second time, it was when you least expected it - at a local cafe.
Mark sat across from you, coffee cup in hand. Awareness of someone’s sudden presence made you shudder, and it slightly soothed you when you realized it was your hot neighbor. Your heart was still beating fast.
You played it cool. “Are you stalking me, neighbor?”
Amused, your neighbor let out a chuckle that was like music to your ears. “My name is Mark,” he introduced himself, smiling blithely. “And don’t flatter yourself, neighbor. I saw you here coincidentally and sat here because I had one good question for you.”
With an eyebrow arched, you casted Mark an identical smile. It amused you that he spoke to you as if you had been long friends, though you didn’t mind. You had been intrigued by Mark the moment you first laid eyes on him, and had been incapable of taking them off him since.
“Mark,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue. You played along and bobbed your head after a few moments, deciding you liked his name and gave him yours. “What do you have to ask me, Mark?”
Mark leaned over the table, voice an octave above a whisper as he asked, “Who’s fucking you so good that you can’t be quiet?”
He leaned back out and eyed you smugly when you blinked in surprise. His bluntness had caught you off-guard and he was proud of it, but you refused to not quickly recover.
Feigning indifference, you replied, “No one. Most of the time it’s just me and my toys. I have a hectic work schedule so it’s rare for me to find time to mess with people.”
Much to your misfortune, it was true. Working a busy office job meant that you had little time for even short-lived flings or one-night stands, much less the commitment of a serious relationship. It was difficult to recall the last time that you had gotten laid. With work taking such a humongous toll on you, your only way of relieving all of your pent-up frustrations was with sex toys.
That response was a clear shock to Mark, and in return you took pride in it. He was expecting you to be taken, but now that you had essentially implied that you weren’t dating anyone, he felt free to make a move on you. It was an indirect way of asking you if you were single. He also didn’t expect the same girl that flushed red when he confronted you about your noisiness to meet his boldness, but it was a welcome surprise. Mark could tell only fun things would come out of knowing you and becoming your neighbor.
Mark took a long sip from his cup, then asked, “What do you do for a living?”
“I work a variable job as an executive assistant that spends an ungodly amount of time behind a computer screen doing everyone else’s job for them,” you smiled tiredly.
He threw you a playful grimace and glanced at his watch for a split-second, but you had his undivided attention again in no time. “Damn, no wonder. You must like things rough.”
That took you by surprise, but you didn’t dare show it. “You have no idea,” you grumbled, playing it safe. “What about you?”
Mark grinned with pride. “I’m an editor for a publishing company.”
“Must be fun.”
“I can’t complain. It’s a stress sometimes, but it pays the bills.”
You chuckled. “Amen to that.”
It felt forbidden to be interested in your potentially taken neighbor that you only met a couple of days ago, yet here you were talking to him about your sex and work life. To make matters worse - and if that comment about you liking things rough was any indicator - you might have somehow also piqued his interests.
Maybe you were just reading too much into his words. After all, you were his noisy neighbor that kept him up at night. He was probably just curious as to why you seemingly made enemies with silence.
Mark glanced at his watch again then rose from his seat, and you figured he had places to be. “I’d better get going. I have to pick up my son.”
“Your son?” you questioned, furrowing your brows. The confusion was fake, of course. You had a hunch that he was a father, but you had never seen or heard the child to confirm your suspicions.
“Yes, my son,” Mark gave you a hard stare that you couldn’t make out. “It’s Friday and he stays with me this weekend so please, if not for my sake then for his, keep it down.”
You gave Mark a nod. He bid you farewell and made a break for the door, the chime of the bells letting you know that he was gone. He had wanted to stay for a bit, play for a little longer, but decided it was a good thing he didn’t get much of a chance to make a move. For now, Mark was intent on observing you. He wanted to figure you out a bit more before he went to first base.
But damn was he interested. There was something about you a couple of moments ago that he was attracted to, how you seemed equally bold as he was. A stark contrast from the first time he met you, but he figured that he had simply caught you at a bad time.
That was the thing, though - Mark didn’t know you. He needed more time before he could be sure you were worth it.
For at least the weekend, you obliged Mark’s wishes. As aforementioned, you were a great deal of things, but you weren’t petty for the wrong reasons. Or outright odd. It wasn’t like you were loud for the sake of it, you truly just never realized what you were capable of.
Over the course of those days, you continued to think about Mark. He had cut deep in your imagination and now there was a permanent scar that refused to heal. It was silly, being so hung over a guy you hardly knew and couldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it.
Mark was giving you a headache. You weren’t one to be indecisive over what you wanted, but that wasn’t the case here. From the moment he showed up at your doorstep, you knew that you had to have him. The problem was that you wanted to outline boundaries. There were places you were able to step and then there were places you weren’t. The last thing you wanted was to scare him away because of your urges.
The third time you saw Mark was the following weekend, bumping into him in the halls. You were going to apologize, but then his face fell into your vision. And thus, you noticed something completely new about it.
“You have a stubble,” you commented, nearly gawking.
Mark bobbed his head, grinning. He found it interesting how you gazed up at him as if you’d never seen a man with a stubble before. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you don’t shave. Shocking, I know.”
“I kind of like it.”
He snickered. “Only kinda?”
More than kind of - and while you weren’t afraid to admit it, you ignored his question. The stubble was the completion to Mark’s physical attractiveness that you hadn’t even known you would be into. He was already hot as hell, though now he was somehow even hotter.
He shot you a smug smile, unable to miss the way that you leered at him. You found him attractive. It was no secret and Mark wasn’t sure if you intended for it to be or not, though the way that you were unabashedly fucking him with your eyes gave him a huge hint. After last weekend’s encounter, you didn’t strike him as the type to shy away very easily. Confident.
So was he.
“You’re just standing here watching me like you want to eat me. Do you like it that much?”
There were a couple of routes you could take with that question. Either you could be honest and tell him how you felt, or you could beat around the bush. You chose the former.
“Sight for sore eyes,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes. He held eye contact with you as well as the expectation that you would break, but you proved him wrong. You kept looking him in his eyes as you said, “I love it. I think it suits the fuck out of you.”
Mark raised a brow, intrigued by your response. “Mm,” he hummed. He moved a step closer to you and asked, “What else do you like?”
Your breath began to speed up and so did your pulse when you picked up on how close your bodies were. You were hyper aware of the proximity and it was slowly killing you, setting off visceral reactions in your body. Another inch and his lips would be brushing yours. It felt like a test on your behalf - to see how you would react and if you would chicken out - and you utterly refused to back down from the challenge.
Deflecting, you tore your eyes from his lips and asked back, “Initiating a conversation with me in the middle of the hallway?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you wanna come in, then?”
“I don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much,” you faked a pout, the most subtle sullen undertone hiding in your sentence.
Mark resisted a grin. It was probable you were indirectly determining whether or not he was single. But the tiniest hint of sadness in your voice suggested that you might have genuinely been under the impression he was in a relationship.
“What girlfriend?” He threw you an utterly confused look. “I haven’t been in a relationship since the birth of Christ.”
You stared at him with genuine surprise. “I saw you sucking some girl’s face like last week.”
“And have you seen her around here again since?” Mark scoffed, amused.
What he was implying began to sink in gradually and you realized that you had made an awfully large assumption the other day. Though in your defense, people making out with their hookups like that was completely unheard of to you. It looked too passionate, especially for the morning after. When you had nothing to quip, Mark made a face at you that made you want to sink into the ground, and added, “She’s not my girlfriend - she was a fling. We had sex the previous night but I’m sure you weren’t able to tell because unlike someone, I know how to be quiet.”
Was. That meant not any more.
Affronted, and refusing to take that, you took a step back and shot, “Maybe your dick game is just weak if she’s that quiet.”
“You wanna find out?” Mark cocked his head to the side with an exasperating smile, taking a step forward for every step you took backwards until your back hit a wall. It was obvious that you were trying to get a rise out of him and he wouldn’t take the bait. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
Mark’s hands were on either side of you and his gaze rooted you in place. Neither of you seemed to give a damn that you were in public and in the view of a security camera. You kept staring at one another, pupils dilated with obvious want. Now that you were aware that Mark was single you deemed it perfectly safe to cave in to your desires, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to - yet. It was funny how whenever you finally got what you wanted, it was never enough.
You smiled softly, matching the little smirk on his face - you didn’t want him to think that he had an advantage over you, and whether he did or didn’t wasn’t relevant. “Are you saying that you want me?”
“I do want you,” Mark confessed without a care. He had no true intention of sleeping with you just yet, wanting to get to know you some more, but it wouldn’t hurt to admit that he was attracted to you nonetheless. “Do you want me?”
Seductively, you leered at him, then purred, “So bad.”
“Then, stop deflecting.”
With one little breath, you said, “Fine,” then closed the tiny gap between the both of you and your lips. When he kissed you back, your hands sought for his neck and his hooked around your waist.
As you kissed Mark it only became more fierce, tongues and teeth clashing in attempts to maintain dominance over the other. Yet neither of you would cave. Both of you were fighting fire with fire and it was like nothing that either of you had ever experienced before. Mark displayed a clear need for power and control, and while you weren’t against letting him have it, you were never one to give it away that easily.
You tugged on Mark’s hair, wanting to feel him as close as possible. His calloused hands began to wander all over you, kneading your skin and making you moan softly into his mouth. You could feel him grinning against your lips. His touch was like fire and your body was already burning with lust, desire, and everything in between. It had been so long since someone last touched you like this, kissed you like this. Mark was filling in all the little gaps and empty spaces.
A rough pull at his locks made Mark groan into your mouth and he pinned your hands above your head, up against the wall. He got rougher, as if he was trying to fit you into the wall - or maybe force you through it. But the fervor was welcome, and although he had pinned your hands above your head, you still kissed him with as much eagerness as you were humanly capable.
You pulled away when you had your fill, knowing that if you kept him close to you any longer you would make a move for his clothes, and your exhibitionism kink only extended so far. The both of you stared at one another with sheer lust, but there was an almost telepathic understanding between you. We have to wait.
Out of breath, you casted Mark a flirtatious wink and smile before parting and said, “See you later, Mark.”
Then, you sashayed back to your apartment. When you felt his eyes boring holes into your back, you simpered to yourself. You had planted the seed; now all you had to do was let it grow.
Days of messing around with Mark turned into weeks, but both of you were yet to succumb to your temptations. It was like you were waiting for the other to give in first and neither of you wanted to grant the other that satisfaction.
But of course, after planting the seed you had to water it and give it sunshine. In other words, you continued to flirt with Mark, maintaining his interest. And in return, he maintained yours. From anyone else’s point of view it might have seemed silly to be resisting each other when it was clear as day that the lust was mutual, but you and Mark were too alike. Too much pride, and too much adoration for all things thrill and tension.
Even when he wasn’t in your company, Mark was on your mind. It had only gotten worse the moment you kissed him. In the beginning you only thought about him occasionally - mostly whenever you saw or heard him - but now he was creeping into your head during your downtime and that was a problem. Your thoughts consisted nearly completely of him. Mark, Mark, Mark. He was all you could think about.
One weekend, you surprisingly encountered Mark at a playground. He appeared shocked to see you, but only let it show for a brief moment.
“I’m beginning to think that you’re the one stalking me. What in God’s name are you of all people doing at a playground?”
“Please. You’re not that special. I don’t have the time or energy to stalk anyone, baby,” you drawled with a hint of amusement. You pointed at a little girl. “You see that little girl in the purple shirt on the slide? That’s my niece. I’m babysitting her for my brother and sister-in-law. Today’s their anniversary and they wanted peace.”
Mark bobbed his head, understanding. “Of course. You can’t have any of that around a child. How old is she?”
“Just turned six about a week ago.”
“Around my son’s age,” he remarked, then pointed towards the set of swings. A couple of children played over there, but only one young boy was in the group. And he looked almost just like someone you knew. “He’s right there on the swings. Six, but he’s nearing seven.”
He was absolutely adorable. You were already thinking about play dates between him and your niece. She was lovely and enjoyed meeting new people, bless her pure heart.
You smiled softly with awe. “Stole your whole face. There’s no way in hell you could deny that boy.”
Mark snickered, shoulders shaking. “Damn right. My little mini-me,” he sighed happily. He took his eyes off his son for a split-second to glance over at you. You looked beautiful, as always. And you were watching your niece with so much intent and care that he doubted you had even snook a glance of your own his way. “Fond of kids?”
“I babysitted throughout college,” you replied pensively. Reminiscent. “Believe it or not. I thought it was my calling because I was so responsible and the parents always praised me, plus it was a huge step towards individuality. Grew up with a lot of siblings and relatives, too, so I’ve always been around children.”
Mark grinned, satisfied. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was only curious because he was interested in you, and before he jumped too far ahead he needed to know what you thought about children. It was a relief that you had so much tenderness for and resonated so well with them. That gave him all the more reasons to want you by his side. “What about you?” he asked, adding when your face scrunched about with confusion, “Do you want kids of your own?”
There was no reluctance in your answer, like you had already thought long and hard about the question before. “Someday. When I’m married and sure I’ve chosen the right person to settle down and have kids with. And when I have a less demanding job so that I’m able to take care of my family and spend time with them,” you said, smiling wistfully. “My parents were busy people. They weren’t around a whole lot so me and my siblings practically raised each other.”
Mark gave you a look. One you could make out as pity. You thought his response would be predictable, but it caught you by surprise. “You don’t want to be pitied, do you?”
You blinked, genuinely unsure of how to respond for a moment. Then you broke into a broad grin and said, “Nope.”
“I feel for you anyways,” Mark gave a playful nudge to your side with his elbow. “And I think you have beautiful visions for the future. I can tell you’re gonna be a great mother.”
You thanked him in a way that was positively bashful. For a while, you and Mark chatted about whatever the hell you wanted - topics in relation to the children, personal life, and everything in between. After the day you and Mark kissed, a more mutual effort to get to know each other blossomed. Mark told you everything there was to know about his job. Most of the time he worked from home without much need for overseer authorization, and set his own hours. As someone who loved being in control, it suited him.
It was alarming that you had gotten so personal so fast. You had only known each other for a month, more or less, and only really began talking a couple of weeks ago. Yet you felt comfortable enough to share a certain level of information that you normally would conceal.
You were becoming close in every sense of the word. The tension between you and Mark never fizzled out, it only seemed to grow more, and more, and more, until it would eventually explode in your faces. By then, you would have no choice but to confront it directly. You couldn’t wait.
Mark wrapped his arm around your waist, and peered down briefly to look at it. Contact drove you crazy. You loved having Mark’s hands on you, even in non-sexual ways.
He pulled you into him and asked, “How long are you keeping her?”
“Just until five. I’m taking her to her grandma’s after this,” you replied, shifting your gaze back to the playground. But a smug smile tugged your lips. “Why?���
There was a shine in Mark’s pretty brown eyes. It was almost five. Voice tickling your neck, he leaned in to say bluntly, “Because I wanna take you for a ride. Are you down?”
You casted him an observant glance over your shoulder. What Mark wanted was clear, or so you thought, but you were in the mood for playing hard to get. As per usual. “Dunno. What kind of ride?”
“The kind where we get in my car and go whatever the road and a full tank of gas leads us,” Mark shrugged. “It’s a yes-no question, doll. Are you down, or not?”
Doll. That was new. You had reached the pet name stage, calling each other ‘baby’ a couple of times, but ‘doll’ was new. It also had you wishing that you were both alone so that you could do something about how badly you craved Mark in that moment.
“I’m down. Meet me outside the complex at six?” You questioned, peering up at him yet again. You smiled when you met his eyes, unable to resist the urge. Mark made you feel good inside, all warm and gross. It was a delight to know you were still capable of feeling such a way. After all, it had been so long since the last time.
Mark nodded and smiled back. “I will. Child-less, so that we can have peace of our own.”
You giggled into his chest. You could smell his scent, and it was heavenly.
At six o’clock, Mark was waiting for you downstairs like he said that he would be. And he was child-less. You both were.
Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door of his car for you and shut it once you were completely inside. Of course, it took more than simple courtesy to impress you, but something about it was making you giggle. Something you couldn’t pinpoint.
Mark gave you a look once he settled in the driver’s seat. “What’s funny?”
“Chivalry,” you sighed, smiling. “Apparently, it’s not dead.”
Mark was amused, but held back a snort. You were occasionally ridiculous, but just the right amount. He could tolerate it.
As he gripped the steering wheel, the car jerked to live underneath his fingertips, and soon you were both rolling. You said nothing for a little while, Mark focusing on the road and you peering out the window. The silence wasn’t awkward, but he cut on the radio and began to hum the song that was currently playing.
You glanced at him witheringly, but he was unbothered. Then, you teased with a grin, “Oh, yeah. Show out, Beyoncé.”
“Stop being a hater,” Mark groaned, then went back to singing.
After some moments of teasing, you were finally content and gave it a rest, relaxing into the leather seat. You were happy. If anyone had told you a month ago that you’d be in your new neighbor’s car listening to him sing songs from the radio, you would have called them insane. But you weren’t stupid and you knew better than to vulnerate yourself to a stranger. You told a couple friends about him and realized why Mark had seemed familiar - because he was. One of them knew Mark and was able to vouch for him, assuring you he was a good guy. That was why you felt so goddamn free.
It was peaceful, being alone with Mark. Whenever you weren’t both determined to get into each other’s pants, that was. But there was none of that right now - only the scenery whirling by at the pace of the lightning, the radio prevailing over the silence, and Mark by your side. And you by his. It felt too damn nice.
“You never answered my question that day.”
“Hm?” you gazed at him, confused. By his sentence and sudden will to ignite conversation, although you didn’t mind. “What question?”
Mark’s hand left the steering wheel and dropped to your thigh, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t move it, but you couldn’t ignore his fingers on your skin. “I asked you, what else do you like?”
“About you, or in general?”
He shrugged. “Whatever gets you talking.”
You gazed through the windshield, pretending to be pondering deeply. “Well, in general, I like a bunch of things. I’ve got a penchant for poetry and music. This tends to shock people, but parties aren’t my scene. I’m a more reserved person. I love the color blue.”
“Why blue?”
“Because it looks amazing on me,” you winked.
“Mm,” Mark glanced at you fleetingly through the rear-view mirror. That was when his fingers started moving, kneading your thigh. “What else?”
“Hm, well,” you began, pretending to be unbothered by his touch. In reality, you were melting with every move. “About you, there’s a lot for me to like, too. You’re confident, smart, funny, sexy,” then you licked your lips and added, “And an excellent kisser.”
Mark grinned, hand still massaging your bare skin. “What a sweet-talker you are. Keep going,” he whispered, then gave your thigh a little squeeze.
But you were honest. There were too many things you admired about Mark that led you to becoming drawn to him in such a little period of time. Just as easily as he had been able to make you tell him things, you had persuaded him into opening up. There was still so much to learn about each other on deeper levels, but time was your best friend. For now, you decided that you would tell him what you already knew.
“I like the way you put so much care and effort into what you love. I’ve heard you talk about your son, your friends, your job. You never neglect anything,” you confessed, smiling fondly as you recalled the conversations you’d had. “I like how we’re similar, too. I think that’s part of the reason why we feel comfortable moving so fast. We’re cut from the same cloth. We both know what we want and when and how we want it, and we’re not afraid to go get it. It’s like playing a damn game of tug of war whenever I’m with you.”
“Or a very calculated game of chess,” Mark added, shaking his head with amusement.
You giggled. “But there’s something about you that’s so… alluring. I’m attracted to it. You’re a hardworking borderline control freak that’s unafraid of sincerity. I love it.”
“Romantic. I’m swooning,” he deadpanned, throwing you a playful glare.
“And you’re the right amount of sarcastic.”
“And that’s what gets you going?”
“Baby, please. If I could kiss you right fucking now, I would,” you admitted.
Mark said nothing, but his fingers kept fondling with your flesh, and your breath kept getting out of control. He gave your thigh another reassuring squeeze, letting you know he heard you.
Forest views took over. You pressed your fingertips to the window glass and watched as the rapid blur of scenes that once consisted of neon city lights turned green. Moss-coated branches replaced them, last rays of sunlight filtering through them as you neared the woods and the gravel roads turned to dirt.
“Woods, very spooky. Are you gonna kill me and hide my body out here?” you asked him humorously, watching as he drove you through the wild.
Mark didn’t take his eyes off the road as he replied, “And dump it in the lake.”
“Lake?”
He smiled. “You’ll see.”
You did see a lake. Mark parked his car near some trees and once he helped you outside, led you down a trail until you reached a bridge. It was long and stretched above a medium body of water. Blossoming flowers lived in the grass and the scent was earthy. You stretched ever so slightly over the railing and saw yours and Mark’s reflection staring back at you.
There were little fountains in the lake. Creatures made the water ripple and you watched with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist as the smell and sound of nature filled your senses. Ducks pecked around the land edges of the lake in hunt of food.
“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled in awe. The clouds and setting sun peered down on the water and you wished that you had your camera on your person. It was a sight too gorgeous to let become nothing more than a memory fading at the back of your head.
Mark bobbed his head in agreement. The corners of his lips tugged upwards as he said, “It is. I come here from time to time whenever I need to clear my head. It’s a nice place that I’ve always wanted to share with someone.”
“You trust me enough to share it with me?” you teased, palms on his chest as you gazed up at his face. “I mean, like what if I get arrested for tax fraud and every time you come here all you can think about is your old neighbor that got sent to prison for evading her taxes.”
“Then, you better do your taxes, or else I’ll be right after you when you get out. For attempted murder.”
You made a face of faux fear. “Shiver me timbers!”
Somehow, Mark pulled you closer and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Any closer and you were sure he would be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. It was safe to say that you had a little crush on your neighbor. You wanted him to an extent that words couldn’t capture.
There was something different with Mark. Linger was the perfect word to describe how his every action affected you. When he kissed you, you could still feel his lips on you moments afterwards. His every touch lingered on you, even the barest ones. You could taste him on you, his scent lingered on your body - it was too much. But Mark was too persistent. Even if you wanted to, and you didn’t, you couldn’t get away.
Mark looked at you as if he wanted to kiss you, but to your misfortune, he didn’t. Instead his lips parted to say, “Watch the sunset with me.”
Obediently, you turned to face the railing, which pleased him. He moved behind you and tightened his grip on your waist.
The sunset was beautiful, even more so with Mark’s company. The two of you made conversation, all the while watching how the sky that was once a pleasant array of colors dulled a deep indigo. The sun descended below the horizon and its reflection in the water was replaced by the moon.
And you - the moonlight illuminated every inch of your face. Mark had always thought that you were gorgeous, but the moonlight made your beauty criminal. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer.
“I can’t control myself anymore,” Mark growled. At first, you were confused, but when he whirled you around and pressed his lips against yours, you quickly understood.
Mark backed you against the railing, cornering you. Kissing him was too much fun. It was the same battle, the same fervent effort to compel one of you to submit to the other’s touch, yet both of you always held out, keeping your white flags lowered. Mark had never met anyone that challenged him this much, and you had never met anyone so desperate to prove a point.
When one of you pulled away, you not only were breathing heavily, but dangerously turned on. Your despires were no longer pure wants - they were needs.
“Mark,” you exhaled through shallow breaths, “Please.”
Mark cocked a brow, incredulous, yet amused. “You’re begging?”
You nodded, casting him a needy glance that nearly made him want to give you everything you wanted then and there. It wounded your pride to beg him to do anything, but you weren’t necessarily above it anymore. Lust made you do anything - and it was flowing rapidly through your bloodstream. “Please, I want it.”
That much was entertaining to him, although Mark still didn’t want to give himself to you yet. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to have sex with you, but he wanted to bide his time. He wanted things a specific way and hooking up with you in his car simply wasn’t ideal.
Mark shook his head. “I’m not fucking you in my car.”
You pursed your lips and fought back the best way you knew how, huffing, “Why not? Don’t wanna fuck up your expensive seats? Car sex virgin?”
“My first time was in the back of a car,” Mark told you matter-of-factly, being sure to smile in the most menacing way possible. It was only deserved for the way you left him that day that you kissed him. You wanted to kiss that stupid grin off his face, but you thought he didn’t deserve it. “And everything I wanna do to you can’t happen in a car. You’ve been patient all this time, baby, you can wait a little more.”
“Ever the elaborate controlling perfectionist are you,” you drawled, faux aggravation to your tone.
Mark entwined his fingers with yours. “But you love that about me.”
“I never said that.”
“Oh? Must I remind you of your little love confession in my car earlier?” he teased.
You rolled your eyes. “No, thank you. But I will be expecting a four-page love letter detailing everything you like about me in the mail signed ‘Markie Pooh’ soon. I like to be courted.”
Mark gave your forehead a chaste peck, grinning as he joked, “I’ll enclose it with a kiss.”
You giggled. 
Soon, Mark drove you back home and you were kissing him goodbye. It was a dramatic farewell, considering you lived right next door to him, but tonight had been magical and you were wondering where the time had gone. All you wanted to do was freeze time and kiss Mark on that bridge forever.
But you were also sick to your stomach that he still wasn’t in your guts. And tonight, you had a plan that would undoubtedly make him snap and give you what you wanted.
Last night, you gave yourself the release that your body was begging for, since Mark refused to fulfill your desires himself. And you made sure to be loud so that your intentions were obvious - ever since the last time he asked you to keep it down, you began doing an impressive job at suppressing your noises, muffling them into your pillow or biting your lip. But not last night. You called it being petty for the right reasons. That was what you were, and rather proudly.
For a little extra flare, you moaned Mark’s name. As much as it was you being petty for the sake of setting him off, it was also a self-indulging experience. Fantasizing about your neighbor was what brought you to the edge quicker than anything, and you came harder than ever with the thought of him on your mind.
Mark didn’t text you the following day. Usually, you would find time through your hectic work hours to chat, and you would spend the better half of your lunch break typing away at your phone, but it was radio silence.
It was weird. Maybe you and Mark were alike in more ways than you thought, and he was also extremely petty. But for the wrong reasons, in your opinion.
When you came home from work, Mark was standing outside his door, waiting. He leaned against it and stared you down.
“Had fun last night?”
Pretending to be oblivious as to what he was referencing, you played dumb and answered, “You mean, at the bridge? Of course. When are we going again?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mark chastised, glaring. “I heard you last night. You seemed like you were having a good time, you know, moaning my name and all like a slut.”
Never had it ever crossed your mind that you would enjoy Mark calling you a slut, yet here you were, becoming more and more aroused the longer you pushed his buttons. With his commitment to patience, you typically never got much fun out of it, but right now he was approaching his limit and you were anticipating every second of it.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, searching for your keys and acting as if you were paying him no mind.
Mark wasn’t having any of it. For weeks you had all been all over each other, the mutual lust long-established, though now you were suddenly disregarding him and it was with one clear intention in mind. He wasn’t going to give in to your tricks, but he would play along with your little game. And he was going to win.
The little remaining bits of restraint he had suddenly exhausted and Mark gripped your wrists, ignoring the sound of surprise you uttered as he dragged you into his apartment. The door slammed shut in your trail and he pushed you up against it, pinning your arms above your head as he began to kiss you with urgency.
Kissing Mark was exhilarating. Whenever his lips were flush against yours, it was as if time stopped. Everything seemed to slow down but the dangerously rapid thud of your heart against your chest and the spreading wildfire in your body. You made an attempt to free your wrists from his seemingly tightening touch, writhing against him with desire to touch him, yet whatever strength you had Mark had more and you were unable to overpower his might.
“Mark,” you exhaled, pulling away to catch your breath. “I want to touch you.”
He hummed, an idea slithering into his brain. “If you want to so bad, then beg.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly incredulous, yet the feeling dissipated when you remembered who exactly you were talking to. Scowling, you said, “I begged you once and now you’re getting too used to it.”
“If you want to get your way when it comes to me, then you better start getting used to it. Now, do you wanna get your pretty little hands on me, or not?”
You sighed. “I do.”
Mark gave you an expecting look. “Then, beg.”
“You want me to get on my knees, too?” you deadpanned, shooting him a sharp glare that he seemed utterly unbothered by - and it exasperated you.
The grin on his lips then was infuriating. “Don’t worry, you’ll do that later.”
Ignoring the very obvious implication of those words, you made a face, but the look in Mark’s eyes when you met his gaze was so goddamn commanding. The dominance to his aura that you had been so intent on destroying was finally getting to you.
“Please,” you whimpered, trying to ignore how pathetic you sounded. “Let me touch you, Mark, please.”
Satisfied, Mark let go of your wrists and his lips immediately fell back on yours, the need to kiss you resurfacing. It was like resuming, pressing play and pause. There was something about hearing and seeing you beg - especially against your will - that he found so arousing. You were so resistant to his dominance and it was all too entertaining to see you finally succumb.
Your hands raced to his shirt and with his own assistance, you hiked it above his head, hands flying to his chest afterwards. For a moment, your eyes opened to ogle at him, wallowing in the sight of his bare skin. Mark began to tug at your blouse and you both began to undress one another, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you both headed to his bedroom.
By the time you got to his bed, you were stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. Lying flat on your back, you watched as Mark took his sweet time to crawl over you. His hand moved at an agonizingly slow pace from your thighs, to your stomach, to your clothed breasts. You felt as if your breath was stuck in your throat as you anticipated what he would do next, and he finally leaned in your ear, whispering, “You do look good in blue.”
He kissed you there for a little longer, heated and passionate, then pulled you up and said, “Get on your knees.” 
Submissively, you sank to the floor without a fight, which both pleased and surprised Mark. Though the little sly grin playing on your lips was a good enough indicator that you were planning something. And you were. Any other time you would have refused to listen to him without first making an attack on his pride, but you were skilled with your tongue and had a line of people you’d been with to show for it. 
You were resolved to make him unravel - and you would.
The bulge of his dick was prominent through his underwear, of which you tugged down in desperate haste. You had wanted a taste of him for only God knows how long.
His dick sprung against his stomach and by then your mouth was watering. You took him into your palm, smiling up at Mark as you began to leisurely pump him. Your efforts to tease him only became worse, intentionally letting your lips graze the head of his dick every now and then, giving him false hope that you’d finally get to the best part.
“Don’t tease me, doll. You won’t like what’ll happen if you keep up,” Mark warned.
“Punish me, Mark,” you said, smiling broadening.
He wasn’t given the chance to respond before you took his cock into your mouth, a little grunt leaving his mouth instead. You were taking him into your mouth bit by bit, efforts to tease him still lingering. Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and held it behind your neck.
Mark, a man of patience, was beginning to lose the thing he clung to most. He used your hair to force you down on him some more. “Stop fooling around and take it, baby. Put your mouth to good use for once.”
In pursuit of spiting him, you fooled around for a moment longer, though finally gave up contentedly after you figured that you’d frustrated him enough. Soon you were steadily bobbing your head up and down his length, cheeks hollowed, his fingers gripping your hair to control your movements to an extent.
The wet sound of your mouth sucking his dick and his little noises of pleasure echoed throughout the bedroom. You smiled to yourself slyly at a thought you were having. Mark was a groaner. 
He sounded heavenly. You were quick to discover his weaknesses, catching on to how he became noisier. Mark wasn’t the loudest guy that you’d been with, fairly moderate, but he was still unable to hide the signs that said loud and clear you were making him feel good. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and saw how pleasure was written all over his face, lips parted and his eyes closing from time to time.
That drove Mark borderline insane, you peering up at him like that - and you had already known that it would. At the end of the day, Mark was simply a man, after all. And you had men all figured out.
“Good girl. Just like that,” he praised, pushing your head down a little more.
Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and you stroked him all the while sucking him off, tasting pre-cum on your tongue. You could feel him twitching in your mouth and it was a pleasure. There was no denying he was close.
When Mark noticed you slowing down in efforts to tease him, he was displeased and decided that he had enough of your schemes. The loosened, relaxed grip on your hair suddenly tightened and he began to thrust into your mouth, taking control. You were good with your mouth and able to take it deep, but the sudden movement caught you off-guard and you began to gag.
“Just when I praise you, you decide you wanna be a little fucking brat,” Mark spat, pulling your hair again. “You just can’t listen, can you?”
You glared up at him, tears pricking your eyes, and the sight made him let out a laugh. He knew as well as the next person that you liked acting tough, but with tears in the corners of your eyes and a cock in your mouth, you looked nothing short of pathetic.
He shot you a withering look, adding, “You always act like you have the whole world in the palm of your hands. You try to get under my skin because you want to see me succumb to the same tricks you play on everyone else, but you know I won’t give an inch and you don’t know how to handle it. Wish you could see how pathetic you look when you shut the hell up and take my cock.”
Right now you wished that he would shut the hell up, but oddly enough, his words were turning you on. You silently prayed that he wouldn’t catch on to how wet you were getting with every passing moment.
Mark was close. His sentences became raspy, deep groans and his pace was relentless, merciless. Like he was trying to bruise the very back of your throat. It took everything in you not to choke out, but you refused to give him the satisfaction in seeing you in such a vulnerable state. He was already enjoying this too much.
Mark groaned, “Fuck. You gonna swallow it, babe?”
As a way of saying ‘yes’, you hummed around his shaft and the vibration was making him lose his mind. You swiftly moved one of your palms to wipe at a streak of tears on your cheeks before he noticed.
You doubted that he did. Mark was in another world, eyes closed as he was overcome by pleasure. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was everything and he was out of control, movements unrestrained. He came in your mouth with a grunt, giving your hair one last violent tug as his climax struck his body. You milked him dry, taking every bit of his cum in your mouth that you could possibly manage.
There was a noise when you rolled him out of your mouth, looking him in his eyes immediately afterwards. Mark was breathless, and so were you, but he could only smile.
You gave him a look, voice slightly hoarse from the throat-fucking as you asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” he replied, smile unfaltering, but it was obviously something. “I’m simply enjoying the way you look with spit and my cum on your lips and chin.”
You rolled your eyes and wiped yourself clean with the back of your hand. “And I was enjoying the way you looked like you were on the verge of losing your shit.”
“Funny how you’re only quiet when you have a dick in your mouth.”
Wittily, you retorted, “Maybe I would shut up if you fucked me.”
Instead of giving you an immediate response, Mark pulled you back onto the mattress, hovering above you as you lay flat on your back. “Mm-hm. That’s why you were moaning my name so loud last night, right? Because you wanted my dick?”
One of his palms slipped underneath the band of your underwear and you let out a little cry of surprise when you felt his fingers brushing against your arousal. You were holding in your breath. It had been so long since anyone had you like this and you were touch-starved, feeling completely deprived of sex and nearly the memory of what it was like.
His free hand gave a loud, resounding smack to your thigh, and you yelped. “That was a question, doll.”
“Yes,” you choked out. “Please. I want it so bad, Mark.”
“So wet, all for me,” he sighed with bliss. His fingers were now plunging inside your pussy, sliding in and out with ease. You hadn’t been this wet in ages. “How long has it been since you were last with someone?”
“I don’t know, like three months,” you guessed, not really wanting to think about it when his touch was all you could focus on. “A really long fucking time, basically.”
Mark made a face, surprised. “No wonder you’re so damn needy.”
His teasing did nothing to help and you were quickly growing impatient. There was no need to explain why it had been so long, you were certain he already knew. With your work schedule there was rarely time to meet new people and you had no one to come home to. But Mark made it too goddamn easy, and considering how hard you worked, you could use a good fuck.
“It’ll be a year by the time you fuck me,” you grumbled, impatient. What more did he want you to do? You sucked him off, begged, and yet he was still torturing you by resisting. It was like he was deliberately trying to get you to lose your goddamn mind, and knowing Mark, you wouldn’t put it past him. It was working.
Mark said nothing, looking at you blithely. And hungrily. There was still a layer of clothes obstructing the view of your bare skin, and greedily his hands flew to the band of your underwear. You bit back a whimper at the feeling of being suddenly empty, but Mark tore your panties past your ankles, and your bra immediately followed as he tugged on the straps.
The sight of your naked body had Mark’s dick throbbing and he swore then that you were Aphrodite. You were driving him past the brink of insanity. He had envisaged your body in his dreams and fantasies, though nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful you looked sprawled out on his sheets and he could only think one thing. Goddamn.
That was it for him. He was still resolved to tease you to sheer hell, but he could keep playing your games while inside of you.
You made a tiny gasp when you felt the head of Mark’s cock prod your folds. The sight of your pussy was his kryptonite - you were dripping with arousal. You wanted him so badly and he wanted you just as much. He pushed the tip in with a raspy groan and made a couple slow, shallow thrusts.
Then a couple turned into too many for you to count and you were becoming impatient. More than you already were. “Mark, hurry the hell up,” you grumbled.
“Mm, no. I think I’ll keep going like this,” Mark teased. After the way you treated him only moments ago, he wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “I told you, you weren’t going to like what happened if you kept teasing me. Now look.”
Just like he said you wouldn’t, you weren’t liking this. He was agonizingly slow, not deep enough, and it was all deliberate. Karma was a fucking bitch.
“Fuck you,” you spat, insincere.
Mark was totally unbothered, seemingly paying you no mind as he replied, “That’s no way to talk to the man who you’re so wet for. Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll reconsider.”
Holding back a groan in fear of his changing his mind about reconsidering, you tidied up the sentence you were preparing to say to him and fixed your tone. “Mark, can you please move faster?”
“Don’t you sound so sweet when you ask like a good girl,” Mark sang. Before you could muster a response, he finally thrusted completely into you and you moaned. The way your pussy gripped him was his vice, and you stretched to accommodate his size.
In no time he also discarded his formerly slow pace and adopted a new, speedier one. The way he was pounding you was so deep and perfect and you grabbed his shoulders, desperately needing something to cling to.
This type of experience used to only exist in your head. More often than not, you winded up touching yourself to the thought of the man before you as a way to cope with your stress and lechery. You would close your eyes and picture his dark hair matted by sweat, his face scrunched up with pleasure. You would imagine the noises that he’d make when he finally felt the grip of your pussy around his dick, the way your body responded to his every touch. It got you off too quick, tempting you to march over to his apartment and demand he finished the job.
But you never did. You wanted to see him lose his patience - and you did.
“Pussy’s so damn tight,” Mark groaned, which made you grin smugly. You knew that already.
Mark leaned low and began to press soft kisses into your skin, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipples. He found you utterly beautiful, no flaw in his eyes. The breathy sounds you were making in response felt like hearing an angel.
Although you were enjoying yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing and said, “Don’t be gentle with me, baby.”
Mark smiled softly. “I don’t plan to be, doll.”
When Mark was finished with your breasts, his mouth replaced them, beginning to latch roughly onto your neck. Which made you sigh out in bliss. The feeling of his teeth digging sharply into your flesh made you certain that he was going to leave Mark’s, and you were too fond of it. You wanted Mark to make you his.
Everything was too much in the best way possible. You were intoxicated by the feeling of Mark’s bare cock between your walls, striking the sweetest parts of you. Your mouth parted in too-loud moans of his name.
He gripped your throat, looking you dead in the eyes as he commanded, “Be fucking quiet.”
That made you clench around his length. At first, your eyes widened, but you recovered swiftly and your lips curled into a broad smile as you met Mark’s gaze. The look on your face right then made his cock twitch.
“You like that, huh?” he asked, tightening the grip around your neck. You couldn’t get a single coherent word out, choking, but the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head was more than the perfect answer.
Mark let go of your throat after a moment and began to watch the way your cunt swallowed him whole. It was satisfying to have you at his disposal like this. He was hell bent on taming you, no matter how many fucks it took; the more the merrier. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt - warm, wet walls clamping tightly around his size - and he knew deep down that there was no way in hell this would be the last time.
There was no going back. He was set on you; you on him. You were different from anyone he had ever been with before, you were a challenge. Brats were something he never thought he would be fond of, wallowing in the fact that most women bent to his will. But you caught onto his behavior fast and opposed it, resolved to break down his walls, and he was game. Mark never went down without a fight, though neither did you, and he liked it too damn much.
Taming you was fun. It was something he never knew that he needed until you suddenly came into his life, providing him a little thrill and excitement on a silver platter. You were so much like him that it was all too easy to read you, to find out what made you tick. And making you feel defeated was what he got out of trying to put a leash on your wildness.
Not too long after, you were moaning in a chant, “Mark,” his words forewarning you to be quiet going in one ear and out of the other. You couldn’t help it. It felt perfect. He was so deep and so thick, making you feel full.
“Brat,” Mark hissed, shaking his head. But with how utterly disobedient you were he didn’t bother to scold you again, taking matters into his own hands by picking your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “That’ll shut you up.”
There was an instant sound of protest and likely you cursing at him, considering how you narrowed your eyes at him, but there was no way for him to tell. Mark smiled tauntingly. “Can’t hear you, babe,” he said.
You raised your middle finger in a silent retaliation, but Mark retaliated back even quicker and lifted your hands above your head, pinning them down to the mattress. You felt so fucking powerless, yet Mark had so much power over you and your body. It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t long before you could finally sense your orgasm building up, a dam on the very verge of breaking loose. Everything felt otherworldly and you swore that you were no longer breathing. Like you were gone, but your body was still physically alive and well. Pleasure ripped through every last vein in your bare body and consumed it in its entirety, swallowing you in its mass.
Mark’s pace was merciless, and when he moved one of his hands to wrap around your throat, so was the tight squeeze on both sides. It was damn near bruising and your eyes were fluttering, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were internally begging that he wouldn’t.
Your panties fell from your mouth and you took the opportunity to ask with a struggle, “Can I please cum, Mark?”
“Let go for me, babe,” Mark grunted, resisting the urge to comment on how pathetic you sounded asking for permission in your hoarse little voice. It came to him as a pleasant surprise, and a satisfying sound that left his dick throbbing.
There was no need to tell you twice. You came with one last cry of his name, back arching as you began to come undone. It was explosive, your entire body reacting to the intensity of it. Your toes clenched and your pussy gripped relentlessly around his shaft. You swore that you were beginning to see stars.
Mark pulled out and came on your stomach with a deep sexy groan, the sight and sound of you at your very climax triggering his own orgasm consecutively. His hands loosened their grip and set you free, and soon you were both lying flat on his bed, panting heavily.
“So,” he began through shallow breaths, and you braced yourself for whatever he could have possibly said next. “How’s that for a weak dick game?”
You glanced at him confused, then suddenly broke into a fit of laughter after you recalled what he was referencing. You had insulted his game. “I take it back,” you replied. “It’s alright.”
Mark raised a brow. “Just alright? Like I didn’t have to put your panties in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop screaming my name?”
“I was not screaming.”
“You were screaming. And…,”
Before he could add anything else - and you knew he would, refusing to let you live anything that happened today down - you smashed your lips against his and carded your fingers through his hair, effectively shutting him up. Mark kissed back with joy, smiling against your lips. All of the other kisses that you two shared had consisted of rough, unrestrained attempts at dominating one another, but this was slow and sweet. It was gentle, and dare you say loving.
“One more round?” you asked when you pulled away.
Mark snickered. “Don’t tempt me, baby. If we start with one it might become two.”
You licked your lips and grinned. That was useful information. “Nope, I’m tempting you. Now give in.”
Mark gave your lips another kiss, but immediately became distracted once he caught another glimpse of the swell of your breasts. “Damn, baby,” he sighed contentedly, running his hands over the shape. “I just fucking might.”
Temptations. Oh, how dangerous they were. But caving into them might have been the best decision you’d ever made - and Mark was living proof.
He was your temptation.
#mark smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#nct smut#mark lee x reader#nct imagines#mark lee imagines#mark lee smut#nct x reader#nct#nct scenarios
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Haiti’s deepening crisis — armed groups launching an assault on the government, and the de facto prime minister on indefinite layover in the San Juan, Puerto Rico airport — is a predictable consequence of 14 years of U.S. support for undemocratic regimes connected to Haiti’s PHTK party as it has dismantled Haiti’s democracy.
Haiti has a chance at reversing this descent and returning to a more stable, democratic path, but only if the Biden administration will let it.
Prime Minister Ariel Henry was stranded in San Juan Tuesday on his way back from Kenya, where he had signed an agreement for Kenyan police to come bolster his repressive, corrupt and unpopular regime. The armed groups, including many that had collaborated with Henry’s regime, took advantage of his absence to attack government infrastructure, and free 5,000 prisoners, many of them members of armed groups. Henry had planned to fly to the neighboring Dominican Republic and take a helicopter ride back to Haiti’s National Palace under the cover of darkness. But Dominican authorities refused entry to the prime minister’s chartered plane, which re-routed to San Juan.
Prime Minister Henry has not yet resigned, and the State Department denied reports that it demanded his resignation. But Henry has clearly lost the support of the United States, which for two years had allowed him to resist Haitians demands for fair elections. Absent Washington’s support, Henry has little chance of regaining power.
This dire situation is not only predictable, it was predicted. Haitian-American officials, Haitian civil society, members of the U.S. Congress, and other experts had been warning for years that the U.S. propping up Henry would lead to increasing tragedy for Haitians. The United States, which installed Henry in power in the first place, ignored these pleas and stood resolutely by its friend. With U.S. support, Henry’s unconstitutional term as prime minister exceeded any other prime minister’s term under Haiti’s 1987 Constitution. Levels of gang violence, kidnapping, hunger, and misery also reached unprecedented levels.
The United States is still insisting on getting Kenyan troops to Haiti. The State Department has persistently — if so far unsuccessfully — tried to deploy non-American boots onto Haitian ground since Henry requested them in October 2022. The mission’s deployment initially stalled because it was widely rejected as a bad idea that will primarily serve to prop up the repressive regime that generated the crisis. Haitian civil society [groups] repeatedly insisted that the first step towards security must be a transitional government with the legitimacy to organize elections and determine how the international community can best help Haiti.
Concerns that the intervention would serve only to reinforce an unpopular regime led the countries that the Biden administration first tapped to lead the mission, including Canada, Haiti’s Caribbean neighbors, and Brazil, to pass. The U.N. itself concluded that the mission would require too much “robust use of force” to be appropriate for a peacekeeping mission. So, the Security Council took the unusual step of authorizing the mission, but on the condition that it not actually be a U.N. mission that the organization would have to take responsibility for. The Biden administration, likely concerned about election-year cell phone videos of troops shooting indiscriminately in crowded neighborhoods — as the last foreign intervention did — declined to send U.S. troops for the mission (but is considering deploying a small Marine contingent to Haiti in early March).
Last August Kenya — which did not even have diplomatic relations with Haiti but did need the hundreds of millions of dollars that the United States offered — agreed to lead the mission. The exploratory delegation Kenya sent to evaluate conditions in Haiti quickly realized how deadly the planned mission would be for Haitians and Kenyans alike, and proposed to limit its scope to protecting public infrastructure.
The United States was not open to renegotiating the deal, and Kenya withdrew its proposed limits. But Kenya’s High Court temporarily blocked the deployment as unconstitutional. Ariel Henry’s visit to Kenya was for the signature of an accord that Kenya’s President William Ruto hoped would overcome the court’s objections. Kenyan lawyers insist that the agreement itself is illegal, and are continuing their challenge. In the meantime, Kenyan officers who had volunteered for the mission are changing their minds. Another obstacle appeared on March 7, when the White House conceded that the mission cannot be deployed without congressional approval of funding.
The State Department’s insistence that the Kenyan deployment must nevertheless happen raises fears that the United States will also continue its policy of installing and propping up undemocratic regimes in Haiti. Finance Minister Patrick Boisvert, who Henry tapped as interim prime minister when he left for Kenya, increased concerns of authoritarian governance on March 6 when he declared a three-day curfew and state of emergency throughout the Port-au-Prince region in an edict that did not even mention the legal basis for his authority. The next day Boisvert raised more fears by extending the emergency measures for a month and adding in a ban on all protests.
The State Department’s rescinding its support for Henry might have been promising had the gangs not already made his ouster inevitable. State’s claim that it now supports “an empowered and inclusive governance structure” that will “pave the way for free and fair elections” might have been promising if it had not added the condition that the new government must “move with urgency to help the country prepare for a multinational security support mission.”
A legitimate, broadly supported, sovereign transitional Haitian government might request foreign police assistance. But a government allowed to form only if it accepts a U.S.-imposed occupation force originally designed to prop up a hated, repressive government is not sovereign. It may not be legitimate or broadly-supported either.
The United States tasked CARICOM, the federation of Haiti’s Caribbean neighbors, to forge a civil society consensus. CARICOM has enjoyed credibility in Haiti in the past, but over the past few months it has faced criticism for trying to strong-arm civil society into an agreement that maintained Henry’s power. Not surprisingly, CARICOM-led talks on March 6 and 7 failed.
When allowed, Haitians have a history of coming together to make their way out of a crisis. Haiti became a country in 1804 by defeating Napoleon, with almost no outside help. In 1986, when the U.S. finally withdrew its support from Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier, Haitians eventually wrested power from the military and held fair elections. In 2006, they voted their way out of the crisis created by the U.S. kidnapping of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide two years before. In August 2021, shortly after the killing of Haiti’s last president, Jovenel Moïse, a broad-based group presented the Montana Accord that would have created a transitional government leading to elections in two years. The U.S. vetoed the accord, citing, among other reasons, that the two-year time frame was too long. That was 30 months ago, and there are no elections in sight.No amount of submission to U.S. demands by Prime Minister Henry and his predecessors can justify the absolute horror that our support has allowed them to inflict on the Haitian people. It is time for the United States to let Haitians come together and make their way out of the current crisis. Civil society [groups] [see] an opportunity for democracy in the crisis, and people all over Haiti have been meeting, discussing and negotiating to develop platforms for a broad-based, legitimate transitional government that can hold fair elections. It is expected that soon — maybe within weeks — one of these platforms will rise to the top, and civil society will coalesce around it. The United States needs to let that process happen without interference or conditions.
8 Mar 24
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zip up the jacket, it’s cold
leona & f!reader, reader depicted as shorter than him
oh my god leona. leona? bro leona. have u seen leona? YOOO leona. dude leona. leona leona leona.
“You did really well just now, Leona!” and the man couldn’t help but silently swoon at the obvious admiration and adoration for him in your eyes. For him, and him alone. The captain of NRC’s spelldrive team breathes out a chuckle. “Just really well?”
Halting your steps, you did a sharp turn to face him. “And you looked really cool!” Obviously singing corny praises but does he care at the moment? Obviously not. Mhm, that’s what he wanted to hear from his herbivore. He gave you a hum of satisfaction that prompted a cheeky smile from your own lips as well before you started marching towards the stalls again, talking about the trending snacks Cater recommended you to try.
Your little journey was interrupted when a hand much larger than yours engulf your own and gently pulled you backwards, the little stumble making you press into his chest, all of that combined to make you let out an awkward, surprised sound as you try your best to stand back tall.
It is a fairly new relationship, after all. Skinship isn’t an exactly common interaction between you two yet. You are also in the arms of the man you thought was pointless to try and get attention from just a few months ago. I’d say it’s a valid reaction to feel like the bones from your legs disappeared.
“Haha yeah, uh, what is it?” Feigning composure, you laughed awkwardly at your boyfriend—wow, boyfriend. You didn’t think you’d ever have a chance to call him that—making the corner of his lips quirk up in amusement. “Aren’t you cold?” a murmur while he busies himself with adjusting the oversized item on you. It’s his sport jacket that he put on you just minutes ago because apparently his little girlfriend thought she could handle the cold as winter approaches. “It’s warmer when ya zip it up.”
Dragging out a whine representing your dismay, you raised your arms up and shook the flappy sleeves too long for you. “It’s cuter like this.” He guess it is cute, watching you do a little twirl in his clothing.
“Cute, but ’m not gonna babysit a sick Y/N.” With that said, Leona made you stand still and attached the end of the zipper together, pulling it up all the way to the top, enough to cover your lips. Somehow you have a feeling you looked like a penguin. “Cuter like this.”
You have no arguments. No resolve in you to fight back nor unzip the jacket. All you managed to do was look up at him stunned and flustered. You may try to hide it, but you’re gulping and averting your gaze after a few seconds and feeling hot at the damage he has done. Felt like your feelings for him is just slowly increasing by the minute.
While you’re still wallowing in euphoria, Leona has already turned you back on track by the shoulders before one hand slid down to your waist, rubbing them slowly with his thumb while pulling you closer and you wanted to scream right there and then due to the intimacy. All your thoughts and feelings unorganised resulting in mindless babbles and fake coughs. “We- yes, I- right. That way.”
Unsurprisingly, Leona wanted more from you. So, like the bastard he is, he leaned down close enough to murmur in your ear. “Hm? Didn’t quite catch ya.” He lets out a hearty laugh at your small flinch before— hey, oi, you’re fainting!?
#leona kingscholar x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#leona kingscholar#twisted wonderland#female reader
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Hello!
I just want to say that I have no idea how I even came up with this but I’ll like to have your thoughts and opinions on it. Thank for listening.
So here it is: Primus or the other Original Primes possesses Optimus.
Like when it was discovered that the Earth was Unicron and the Team had to find a way to stop him for awakening, Primus or The Primes grind out what Optimus was gonna do and were like “NOPE! NOT GONNA LET OUT SON/LITTLE BROTHER DO THIS!” And like possesses him through the Matrix.
The Matrix was used to communicate to the Primus and The Primes, so why not it like do something like this too just for kicks.
Examples Include: Big Sister Solus possessing her little brother from doing something dangerous while she and Wheeljack create this big hammer to just knock Unicron out. I feel like Solus and Wheeljack would be like the bestest friends.
And that’s all. I’ll like to have your thoughts on this.
Thank you and I hope you have a great day!
This is literally one of the best ideas ever, so thank you for gifting me with it. Now excuse me while I write until my fingers hurt.
Guardian Angels
The Matrix is ancient and capable of not just forging Primes, but connecting the Primes of old to the current one. Primus himself was too old and far too out of touch to interact with his chosen, so the burden fell to the Primes long since gone from the living realm. Of course they were largely limited in their ability to intervene, only capable of whispering knowledge and wisdom during times of need in the beginning.
During the height of the war there were moments were Optimus found his attacks guided by grace he knew not to be his own, however those were few and far between, often coming when times were dire. Aside from those small moments, the Primes that resided within their realm kept out of the affairs of the living, only soothing and guiding gently when required for the sake of their brother. However upon Optimus's arrival to earth and the subsequent issues that came from that, they became more active.
Even then as a general rule they tried to not act, but there were just some cases where they couldn't help it.
The scraplet incident that ended with Optimus and Arcee stuck in the Arctic led to Prima temporarily taking partial control of the frame of his younger brother. It wasn't much, but with Prima's touch Optimus's frame was kept from sustaining serious damage until help could arrive. During that time he did nothing but mutter assurances to his freezing brother, doing his best to distract Optimus from the chill that froze the energon in his fuel lines.
The moments where the human children were in harms way often ended with Onyx taking up a place beside Optimus when it came to control. They worked together, often with Optimus not even realizing it to get the children away from Decepticon attackers. It wasn't obvious to others, but the way in which Optimus moved and his heightened senses when Onyx offered his aid spoke loud enough for anyone looking carefully to note something was off.
Solus made her appearance whenever there was a particular threat to Optimus that he was ignoring. Unlike her brothers, she was not gentle when she took control, often ripping it away from Optimus to get him away from whatever near lethal situation he was marching into with that stoic resolve she both loved and hated. Usually this meant having the team retreat, but when pressed she was not afraid to pick up the nearest hammer shaped object to beat the scrap out of whatever the threat was on her brother's behalf.
The other Primes occasionally gave their input or offered their assistance when something caught there interest, but it was never as often as Prima and Solus. Quintus was fond of making himself known whenever Optimus studied the happening and creatures of Earth. He worked alongside Optimus as a second mind, increasing Optimus's processing speed drastically when studying that particular subject matter. Micronus offered light hearted commentary now and then, sometimes taking partial control to lessen the tension around base with a joke that fit well enough with Optimus's personality to not seem too out of the ordinary. Liege didn't do too much largely because the other Primes did not allow it, but when he was offered an opportunity, he helped Optimus see through lies and spin half truths of his own for his team when required.
Optimus for his part allowed the possession without complaint. It was odd at first and rather jarring when Solus stripped control from him, but the Primes were his siblings. They protected him and guided him, even going so far as to take upon themselves some of his pains when it became too much. Sometimes he would even willingly offer them full control of his frame so that he could mentally rest while they kept things in order. While it was never stated outright, the team and most of the Autobots were well aware that whatever else was living in the Matrix sometimes made an appearance but "it's fine, Optimus will come back soon enough".
Of course this rather rare event of the Primes taking control was completely thrown out the window after Unicron began to wake. At that point they watched on in horror as Optimus stood against he avatars of the Unmaker himself and then rushed to his aid the moment the avatar took a swing at him. Their combined wrath led to all of them scrambling for control, each trying to lash out and fill Optimus with what power they could before Megatron launched his attack and eliminated the avatar.
Megatron offered his aid, but by that point all the Primes were in such distress that Optimus was shoved back until Prima could wrestle his way to the front and take control.
Megatron: His blood flows through my veins! I can lead you to him!
Optimus/Prima: You would lead us there, but how can we be certain you will not betray us?
Megatron: You want to save this world and I wish to rule it. Neither of us will get what we want if Unicron wakes. So until this common threat is annihilated, does it not make sense to combine our strength?
Optimus/Prima: ... You will guide us, but we will see to the success of this mission.
Upon returning to base the Primes kept up their control for a while before Optimus made his displeasure known. None wanted to back off, but Optimus was there brother, and so they adhered to his wishes thinking he had a plan. He most certainly did have a plan, one that the moment they deciphered what it was led to Solus putting her pede down and refusing to let it be.
It took a moment, but as soon as Optimus began offering the key to vector sigma to Jack, Solus snatched control away and shoved the key right back where it belonged. The team were startled, the children were concerned, and Megatron was left in complete confusion as Solus put her hands on her hips and loudly proclaimed her beliefs.
Optimus/Solus: No! We are not doing this!
Megatron: Don't tell me you are backing out now Prime.
Optimus/Solus: Not at all, but I will not allow my dear brother to go forward with his foolish plan. We have fought the Unmaker before with blade and blaster, there is no need for him to risk it all in this manner.
Bulkhead: Optimus, are you alright-?
Optimus/Solus: Oh, he's not here right now. Don't worry though, I am just as competent.
There was little for the team to do as Solus marched over to Ratchet' workspace and forged herself a hammer from what materials she had available. All the while Megatron and the team watched on in ever growing confusion as she finished and waved it triumphantly. The team didn't stop her when she took those able to fight down into Earth's core, nor did they stop her when she took a wild swing at Megatron the moment they entered Unicron's spark chamber. The Warlord was sent sprawling, and with the collective aid of the rest of the Primes, she was able to use the power of the Primes and channel it through her makeshift hammer to once again seal the chaos god with yet another swing.
Not a spark knew what to do when standing proudly was Optimus Prime, or rather whoever was inhabiting his body with a hammer that really shouldn't have been able to do half the scrap it had. Megatron didn't even bother trying to pick a fight and booked it. The team simply stared for a while until Optimus dropped like a box of rocks and came back to awareness groggy and exhausted muttering something about "Solus" and "his plan being totally viable".
Questions were forced to wait as Optimus recharged for a solid week afterwards and was too exhausted to think right for nearly an additional week after the matter.
#maccadam#transformers#transformers prime#optimus prime#team prime#megatron#the thirteen primes#possession#the ghostly primes are bored and want to help their baby brother out#he may be an adult#but older sibling habits die hard
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A few minutes more (Pt16)
Synopsis: You and Carlos had crossed paths more than you thought was possible over a short weekend but time was not on your side. A love story that’s about the slow burn and companionship built connection, and how sometimes right place wrong time is the best of the available options
Author Note: Same as the previous part, there is the mention of covid in the early stages, story part in March 2020.
Length:~4.6k
Warnings: covid mention
Previous parts: Link to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15
Part 16
Carlos’ racing schedule and commitments picked up as Melbourne approached, him being distracted in calls but still putting the effort to be present. The remarks of ‘so many days to go’ and ‘can’t wait to see you’ picked up in frequency the closer you got to March. But with it also increased the anxiety. You were lucky you never really had to worry about it but the world affairs were bleeding into your mental resolve for the first time you could remember. You tried the push the news from your mind not allowing yourself to read the breaking story and choosing instead to remain ignorant to protect your own mental health. Was this a long term solution, no, but you just wanted to make it to March and you’ll worry about the virus that keeps coming up in conversation afterwards.
Carlos and you had planned on a call the week prior that you would fly into his hometown on the Thursday after work, then spend two days with you before a family Saturday night dinner introducing you to his parents where you and him were to stay the night and Sunday night, you and Carlos flying out Monday morning, you back to the UK and him to Melbourne.
The Wednesday before your weekend in Spain the mood was exceptionally uneasy across the office, many people opting to stay away from work with the news of this new respiratory illness making its way across Europe. Your work was encouraging people to only work in the office if required, with many already working a hybrid model to account for the cross timezone projects your team often were engaged with.
Your boss was hesitant to approve your leave to Spain with the news of everything picking up, it seeming worse than a regular flu that emerged every winter. You appeased them however, letting them know that you were bringing your laptop with you in case the worse was to happen and you had to stay a few extra days, you could always work from your hotel. You checked in with your team Wednesday morning but in seeing everyone was working from home you decided to pull a sick day to get your flight changed a day early to surprise Carlos.
You had expected changing your flight would have been difficult last minute but there were plenty of spare seats, people in the UK weary of the news coming out of Spain and Italy, with many apparently cancelling their trips. Arriving at the airport for your flight on Wednesday night you noticed how much everything had changed in a few short months; everyone was wearing face masks, some even with gloves. The nerves were heightened from the regular type you see at the terminal, people trying to keep their distance from each other. Maybe ignoring the news hadn’t been the best idea you told yourself as you stepped in to purchase a face mask and bottle of hand sanitiser before waiting at your gate.
Carlos had finalised your plans and schedule, you had messaged him saying you had the ok to travel, him sending through the itinerary he had meticulously prepared. you. You checked it one more time before boarding to see if he had made any last minute changes to the google doc and seeing it all the same, switched your phone to flight mode and tried to calm yourself for the flight.
You had timed your flight with him so that you wouldn’t miss your regular call with him. So when Carlos answered he wouldn’t expect or notice anything different until you showed him the surprise.
When Carlos’ phone rang on Wednesday night he was playing his dad in a game of chess. Normally the family rules of no phones during play was strictly enforced but as your name lit up the screen showing you were calling exactly at 7pm like normal , Carlos senior resigned that his son would be lost to him for the next hour, allowing him to look up potential moves to win the session.
“Hi Carlos, how was your day?” You tried to sound calm but you noticed the excitement seeping out in your voice.
“Hello, my day was good” Carlos started him launching into his activities as he walked out of the living room to the veranda. Carlos continued talking for a while him not allowing you to get a word in. You had intended on telling him straight out but Carlos was on a role, you decided to move the phone away from your face standing in front of the baggage carousel holding the phone out just wide enough so that your screen showed the “arrivals” sign in the background. You checked the time and waited to see how long it would take Carlos to notice you weren’t at home like you were meant to be.
He talked for another 6 minutes before he noticed, he was pacing around the backyard not focusing on the phone but where he was walking.
You saw his face scrunch slightly as you saw him take in where you were standing.
He had organised you to fly in Thursday after work, a reminder set on his phone to pick you up as soon as you had landed but he saw you standing at an arrivals today.
“YN is today Thursday? Did I miss your flight I thought I had set alarms?”
You laughed at this
“Nope, it’s Wednesday and guess who changed their flight to Wednesday?” You smiled the cheesiest grin when you saw the pieces click into place on Carlos’ face.
“Are you telling me you’re in Madrid, you’ve been here this entire call?”
Carlos was shocked but surprised in a good way
“I was going to but then I didn’t wasn’t to interrupt”
“YN come on you could be in my arms already, what terminal are you at I’m getting you now”
You replied with where you were sending him a pin of your location to help.
Carlos didn’t bother getting changed he swiped keys from the front door and called out to his parents he will be back soon, before driving much too fast to the airport.
The airport was quieter than Carlos expected it to be. Normally he’d have to queue to get into the pick up bays but there were only a few taxis and shuttle buses. Carlos like you had an uneasy feeling about what was happening and traffic is usually the sign something was amiss. Both he and his family had been checking the news everyday, with all of their career’s dependent upon travel they all wanted to know as much as they could, then finding information helped quell stress instead of induce it like the news did for you.
News coming in was influx with contradicting messages. It was safe to travel one day, the next it wasn’t, the next it was ok to travel as long as you hadn’t been in Asia. What was constant though was that in checking the restrictions and government guidance both of your plans were still allowed for now. So Carlos, entering the airport arrivals and seeing you with your suitcase confirmed it was safe enough for you to be here and that was all he cared about.
He pulled into the 15 minute bay, car still running, handbrake on, threw the door open and scooped you up in his arms. His hug was tight and lifted your feet a good foot off of the floor spinning you around quickly. You went to bend you head down to kiss him but he whispered to you.
“Not here” Letting you go and picking up your suitcase and hoisting it into the boot of his car.
When you were back on the road it was then Carlos unstoppered his excitement.
“You’re here early! Why didn’t you tell me!”
“Surprise” was all you said laughing at Carlos. He had surprised you and now you had returned the favour, seeing him that happy was worth it and you were glad you had changed his meticulous plans
“I haven’t called the hotel to change the booking but I was hoping that I could just stay with you tonight?” you said trying to sound casual.
“Of course YN plus with all the news going about I know I’d feel more comfortable with you in our home instead of in town”
“About that, I haven’t really read too much into things, how bad are they? I didn’t want to psyche myself out of the trip so I haven’t really caught up on everything” Caught up on anything you should have said.
Carlos knew travelling made you nervous, so he started at the beginning, the trip wasn’t too long back to his house and he tried to catch you up on the important details before he arrived home. The news Carlos conveyed across was not good, you maybe should have listened to your boss and seen the warning signs in his hesitancy when you brought up your trip, too late now, you were here.
Carlos lived outside the city centre, tucked away in what you would have called the suburbs, roads lined with leafy trees that looked like they had been there for decades , houses tucked behind greenery and the road front. The neighbourhood was starkly different to the built up area where your apartment was, it was closer in resemblance to suburbs back home but you couldn’t think of any of your childhood friends houses that had this much space between them and their neighbours.
“Welcome home” Carlos said quietly as he turned into a narrow driveway that was hidden behind an unkempt hedge with a large automatic wrought iron gate. As the gate pulled to the side, Carlos drove slowly up a dimly lit driveway, leading downhill. His family home was midway along a hillside, a sprawling and surprisingly modern home, a little out of place with the ancient overgrown trees and gardens. You weren’t expecting something so new and something so large, you understood that Carlos was well off but for some reason that hasn’t registered that his family was well off too. Carlos had stopped the car outside a closed garage and made to remove your bags, you standing up hesitantly taken aback by his home.
Carlos sensing your apprehension, tried to loosen one shoulder with a squeeze of his hand “It looks bigger than it is” with a wink led towards the wide wooden front door.
Carlos was a liar. What greeted you was large open space with walls made out of smooth polished concrete, walls laid out in subtle parque. You could hear noise coming from further inside the depths and Carlos let go of your bags by the front door and made to lift your handbag from your shoulder to leave it out if the way.
He took your hand and led the way. You knew that in surprising him it would mean a sooner than planned meeting his parents but the risk and anxiety attached with that did not outweigh how much you missed Carlos. So you swallowed, and took a deep breathe ready to put on a brave face in front of two people Carlos cared about deeply.
Carlos senior had seen pictures of you before. Carlos junior, when he had the chance had shown his dad the pictures of your trip away and any updates you sent through, so he was not surprised but the person standing by his son’s side. Carlos’ mother however did not know what to expect of his son’s source of happiness. She had been trying for months to get a morsel of information out of her husband and son but neither had slipped up.
**********
Carlos senior looked up from the chessboard at the sound of the pair of footsteps stopping. But instead of looking at his son and partner, directed his attention to his wife. Reyes took in a shallow breathe at the woman standing by her son’s side. She was stunning, in a way that was wholly complimentary to Carlos. Where he was calm and reserved this woman was confident and self-assured , strong in her posture conveying her attempt at standing up to this power play instead of hiding behind Carlos like his other girlfriends had. This woman unlike her son, had her emotions open to everyone, Reyes could see the love pouring out of her in the very way she was holding her son’s hand to the way that she had slightly angled in her body to him not straight on. These mannerisms reminded Reyes of a younger her when she had fallen in love with Carlos senior. In those days there weren’t many pictures of them together but she would have bet that if she someone had taken a picture when she first met her parent in-laws and compared it to the image in front of her they would have almost been identical.
Although this young lady in front of her reminded her of a younger self, she physically looked nothing like Carlos’ mother. Where Reyes and her daughters were angular with long lines and delicate features, the woman in Carlos’ arms was soft and supple hiding the strength Reyes had captured in your stance. Finally Reyes thought, someone who cares about who Carlos for who he is not who Carlos shows himself as. In the few short seconds that had passed, Reyes had decided regardless of what happened tonight, this woman was perfect for her son and she would do everything in her power to help Carlos hold onto her.
Carlos senior was not surprised by the intake of his wife’s breathe but the flicker of emotion that she had let slip was tucked away as quickly as it flashed across her stoic features, if he hadn’t been looking he would have missed it but the slip in her mask was all he needed to see. His role for the night would be supportive father, he didn’t need to be concerned or the convincing husband, his wife had already decided on her own.
As close as Carlos was with his father, he was his mother’s son. The two men may be spitting images of each other but Carlos junior and Reyes were one in the same. Both stubborn as they come but their stubbornness and conviction was very early misplaced.
Carlos senior stood up from his chess game, “You must be YN, welcome to Spain, we are very lucky to have you here with us” ending his greeting with a warm smile as he made his way to his wife placing an arm around her back. “I’m Carlos and this is my wife Reyes” Reyes moved her head to the side and broke into a smile that crinkled her eyes in the same way as her sons.
“Welcome to our home, Carlos show her around I’m sure she wants to freshen up before we talk some more”.
At his mother’s direction he started to lead you both back to the long corridor behind you before you had a chance to introduce yourself. Twisting back to Carlos’ parents you called back “Lovely to meet you!”
In a family full of travellers there was nothing worse than keeping the plane on you so there was an easy understanding when the young couple walked away from the older one.
Carlos guided you with his hand loosely against the small of your back pointing out along the way various rooms and their purposes before he stopped at the end of a passage hand hovering above the handle. You didn’t need Carlos to say that this was his room, the belongings inside told you what you needed to know. Everything was neatly laid out, bed made with a nondescript off white bed spread, helmets and trophies covering the shelves that were floor to ceiling along all the walls, bar the bay window that showed an amber lit patio.
All the things were Carlos’ but you got the distinct feeling that he didn’t use this room very much. Carlos had hovered by the door, waiting to follow you in to add commentary to your inspection of his childhood bedroom. He only stayed here when he had dinner at his parents’ house. Most of his time he stayed at his apartment in the town centre, with his work schedule so busy, when he was signed to McLaren he purchased a small home for himself to save on the commute time. That and all of his siblings had moved out with their partners, he didn’t want to be the sole focus of his parent’s attention, staying amongst his teen trophies that he was still their little boy and not an adult.
Your suspicions were confirmed with all awards and trophies dated prior to 2015. The pictures of Carlos smiling back to you was maybe 10 years younger than the one who stood at your back. Youthfulness evident with his toothy smiles and crinkled eyes on podiums and in the arms of his cousins and friends. The harshness of the world hadn’t touched him yet. The Carlos in the photos you had seen in your search had a clipped smile never touching his soul. You saw just how much your companion had changed over the years, and it sadden you how quickly he had to grow a tough exterior.
You had circled through the room before Carlos spoke up.
“I don’t stay here very often but when I do it’s as I left it” He wasn’t embarrassed by saying it, Carlos was proud of his upbringing, why would he be ashamed of his childhood even if it was a shell to what you would have experienced.
“Will you be staying here tonight?” You tenderly raised. As much as this room was nostalgia, staying in Carlos’ childhood bed at his parent’s house was not what you felt comfortable with.
Carlos saw the question you had hidden in the one you asked. “I will be yes, I’ve set up the guest room for you already”. Carlos in his anticipation had set up your room well ahead of time, his anxiety not letting his mind rest until he had done so the prior weekend.
He took your hand and directed you back the way you both had come, sliding open a glass door leading you out onto the patio towards a smooth path that mirrored the one at the houses entrance.
What you had thought was a backyard shed was actually a granny flat, and one much larger than you had initially sized up. It was more akin to a small townhouse, two stories with large worn stone bricks only broken by a few narrow windows. An old creeper plant of sorts had crawled up one of the walls with sparse leaves smattering the searching vines.
Carlos twisted a narrow door knob, lightly pushing the door open. Inside it was like stepping back in time, a worn paved floor stretched in front with a small wooden table covered in a transparent plastic cover with two chair pushed in the centre of the room, the left had an L shaped kitchen with a seventies narrow metal sink and sun worn scalloped lace curtains. The right of the room was a sitting area with dark brown fabric couches with laced doilies placed at the head rest area of each. The chairs were facing a stone fireplace with a narrow charred looking iron grate placed on the hearth.
“My parents bought the house when they were married this was where they lived until they built the main house. They lived here until I was born as there is only one bedroom they finally decided they needed more space.”
Carlos had fond memories of this small home, many a summer his grandparents had stayed here, memories tied to helping his grandmother cook with him standing on a chair by the sink, playing cards with his grandfather at the table , or trying to play toy cars with the grout patterns between the tiles on the floor.
“My grandparents used to stay here until recently but now we take them to their home after they visit as they aren’t as young as they used to be. They prefer the comfort.”
You could picture a little Carlos running around the place stirring up trouble , a cheeky boyish smile greeting anyone who could him red handed.
You hadn’t noticed that tucked behind the main door was a smaller sliding wooden door which housed a narrow winding iron staircase, a concrete trough and narrow worn wooden bench with rain boots tucked in pairs neatly beneath.
Carlos had switched on a hanging lamp and started to make his way upstairs. Two rooms were up here , a bedroom and a bathroom with of which matched the theme of downstairs save a new looking bed and renovated bathroom. Not quite as the seventies as the main area but more 90s but still a pleasant reminder that although Carlos and his family were well off, much more than you at this point could comprehend, were still appreciative of where they had come from, knowing that it was through hard work and sacrifice the reason for their current comforts.
Carlos was nervous that you wouldn’t like staying here, if you had protested or he had picked up on discomfort he would have offered for you to stay at his apartment, but he hoped that you would stay here, forming new memories alongside to the backdrop of his cherished ones from when he was little.
Carlos sat next to where you had placed yourself on the bed, “Just wait until you see the sun rose over those hills, you’ll love it”. You agreed with him, already In love with how candid Carlos was, knowing that what he said would solidify the fairy tale.
Dinner was an easy affair, Carlos parents were very similar to your own, fiercely protective of their son proving to be a united front in assessing you. Their facade although welcoming and kind staying in place for the evening, never slipping regardless of how much charm Carlos and yourself plied on.
You made a note to try again on the morning to see if they liked you tomorrow knowing that gaining their approval meant more to Carlos than you. His parents not liking you would crush Carlos so for his sake you would try again. But also told yourself that with the charm you wouldn’t bend over backwards and change yourself for them. You would for Carlos to make him happy as he would for you but it was the two of you together, not you dating his parents.
Carlos could see you becoming disheartened as dinner progressed to coffee. You had graciously helped clean up and prepare the hot drinks trying to see if Carlos’ mother would soften. But the warm parents who greeted you were still tucked away. So you had quieted as the night went, teaming it with yawns and hazy eyes trying to get them to see that it was time to call it for the night at which Carlos finally caught on close to one in the morning . Carlos excused the two of you collecting your bags front the front door and carrying them out to where you were staying. He ran through only how to run the hot water system before a final kiss goodnight. You didn’t hesitate turning for a warm shower and the night, wishing sleep bring you better luck tomorrow with getting his parents approval.
Unlike what you had assumed that Carlos’ parents disliked you, what had actually happened was a poorly executed plan in protective parents farce. While the two of you were touring the Sainz home, Reyes and Carlos senior had discussed tactics of how to approach the new lady in their sons life.
Reyes saw herself so clearly in you and whispered to her husband to follow her lead for the night. Carlos senior though apprehensive, did as his wife said, switching from his warm personality to one of protective father. It hurt him seeing his son slowly get confused as the night progressed. Questioning where were the parents on all of the arranged dinner dates and who had they replaced them with. Carlos senior however saw that as his son grew disappointed , you did too but still kept trying. It was the determination Reyes had been trying to seek out, and with you preparing coffee had been a crucial piece of the puzzle. For Reyes it was about familial respect as well as love. Her son could live whoever he wanted but if they were rude and improper she would try to get Carlos to see and to sway her son from his decision.
As Reyes had hoped, you had offered to help, never stepping on her toes a check in Reyes box. Tomorrow would be the second part of the puzzle, if her son could respect their wishes for the night. It didn’t matter to Carlos senior where the two of you stayed, you were both adults and educated not to be rash, but Reyes had only a few rules, one of which no sex while staying with the parents. She hoped Carlos could remember when they had could his older sister with her now fiancée and the verbal telling off Blanca had received. If Carlos could remember that for tonight then she was happy for the two of you with her blessing, time would tell in the morning.
Reyes excused herself for the night as her son re-entered the living room, clicking the back door shut from the encroaching chill.
Carlos, still confused nodded to his mother good night before taking a seat next to his father. They sat in silence waiting until the sound of water through the pipes started from the front end of the house signalling that their conversation wouldn’t be interrupted.
“I’m going to say this only once” Carlos senior was not acknowledging his son but maintained his stare into the dark gardens, his voice soft as if aware that if his wife caught him he’d be in serious trouble.
“You have both mine and your mother’s approval , she is all we want for you. You look at her like I looked at your mother when we first met.”
Carlos felt himself exhale a breath he hadn’t been conscious of holding.
“Your mother loves you very much but you know how she can be, she’ll let in YN, be patient son , the hard part is done.”
Carlos went to interject but his father continued “Your mother knows that if she missteps she will lose you, she will not do so , history will not repeat”
His father was alluding to his parents relationship with his maternal grandmother and the pain of that lost relationship that happened when Reyes introduced Carlos senior all those years ago, the catalyst for them living in the countryside away from her family to show that her decision which Carlos senior was lifelong and serious
Carlos senior glanced at his son and saw the confusion still there, they hadn’t spoken about his grandmother before so he didn’t know the story but he picked up the pieces enough to know that even though his mother looked like she wasn’t making an effort, she was actually doing as much as she could.
Carlos junior didn’t know it but as his parents were tucked in for the night, his mother whispered to his father “He’s finally found his person.” Before turning over and dozing. Carlos senior couldn’t help but agree happy at last that his family was now whole.
Link to Part 17
#f1 imagine#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz jr imagine#carlos sainz jr x reader#carlos sainz jr x you#carlos sainz x reader
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i wish i had some kind of convincing theory of political change, especially on the like 'world scale'.
my country 'the UK' is implicated in what is happening in Gaza. both historically for its role in overseeing Mandatory Palestine that led to the creation of the state of Israel, and presently for our economic integration (especially arms sales) and diplomatic positioning as a geopolitical ally. for that reason, it feels like actions here ought to be able to do something to push the direction of what happens out in Palestine - more so than if I lived in another country.
turnout at London's pro-Palestine marches is broadly declining from the looks of things. from the peak around 800k a month ago, now the organisers report around 150k - still sizable but a decline of about 80%. and like, I kind of get why: we marched, the politicians held a vote which came down decisively against calling for a ceasefire, they made some mouth noises about humanitarian this and that, Suella Braverman got booted for stirring the pot too much, fucking David Cameron of all people crawled out of the woodwork to get sent over there for some reason, and meanwhile as you know there was a ceasefire for about a week (to which the UK was at best irrelevant and at worst an obstacle) and then the massacre picked right up where it left off.
newsworthy events that provoke this kind of protest response have a kind of half-life - when the news is 'more of the same', and there doesn't seem to be much avenue to do anything about it, people will gradually resign themselves to the situation. other things will come up in their life, going on apparently ineffectual marches feels like less of a priority. the government's strategy with this, like most large protests, was essentially 'they can't do anything to us, let it blow over' and it seems to be working out for them.
what may yet come about is increased membership in groups like Palestine Action who are using sacrificial tactics, mostly aiming to make Israeli weapons manufacturer Elbit Systems unable to operate in the UK through actions that intentionally end in arrest and sometimes imprisonment. they've had some success there.
still. supposing they continue to find success, and eventually Elbit fully shuts down its remaining 10 sites in the UK. would that alone meaningfully reduce the military capacity of the occupation? maybe not much, but we could hope that if similar successes were found in other countries, and it came with a broader shift towards divestment, it might become significantly less viable to operate as an aggressive ethnostate or suppress insurgencies and so on. perhaps even 'end of apartheid' style dramatic change to the structure of the state(s) in the Levant might end up being possible, eventually.
what's the timescale on that? i have no fucking idea, but it's surely at least a lot longer than the time it will take for the situation in Gaza to resolve to either a semi-permanent ceasefire, full-on annexation, or escalation into a bigger, messier war.
which brings me back round to the question of like, what can be meaningfully done from here, in the role of some bitch in the critical industry of "making videogames", to try to stop the massacre that's playing out right now? what dominoes can i push that will result in net fewer deaths from bombing and starvation?
i've ended up writing fairly often to my politician, who's (in the justifying narrative of representative democracy) supposed to be my vector for political action, with the most persuasive rhetoric I can muster. today she writes back a boilerplate response to say what she's been doing about arms sales to Israel - speaking up briefly in a debate about arms exports seemingly the most concrete thing. so far as i can tell nothing much changed as a result: lots of politicians made speeches, the government spokesperson gave a fairly predictable reply. this is pretty much what I expected, I don't really expect results from a liberal politician, but it's not a lot of effort to spend on maintaining the pressure.
obviously, if it was so easy to stop this conflict that a 31-year-old game developer in London could do it, it wouldn't still be happening. maybe there isn't an answer. at the same time like - the logic is pretty clear: genocide is up there as one of the worst possible things. the Gaza genocide certainly isn't the only one happening right now, but it is the one which my country is most actively supporting. it seems indisputable that if there is an action that would help to curtail a genocide, I am obliged to find it.
i've seen articles say that Israel is 'losing the war', which is in some senses true in that their ostensible objective is essentially impossible, diplomatic sentiment has shifted pretty hard against them around the world, dropping all those bombs is really expensive, and Hamas seem to have stayed pretty well hidden from them. this could totally end in another embarassing failure for their image of safety and military strength, which will probably make the money really sad for a while. their 'victory' - in terms of annexation or depopulation of Gaza - would still be a big mess they're not well equipped to handle, and it might be a step towards state failure.
but the bulk of palestinians in gaza are also 'losing the war' in the very concrete sense they've had their houses blown up and they're sitting in a freezing refugee camp about the size of a postage stamp, hoping the Americans get cold feet and Israel runs out of bombs before they find out if they'll die of cholera or shrapnel. 'the insurgency wins as long as they do not lose' may be true - Israel fails to achieve their objective as long as Hamas, or some inevitable successor insurgency, can fight another day and delay Israel's 'normalisation' in diplomacy - but goddamn is that a pyrrhic 'victory'. if I was a palestinian in Gaza, maybe I'd accept the logic of that tradeoff and put my faith in the only people who seem to be able to stand up to the ones bombing me, I don't fucking know. regardless it's a catastrophic (and repeated) failure of this world system that anyone is left choosing between slow annihilation or a strategic hecatomb.
so what's left to do, fucken... post through it? "what did you do to resist the gaza genocide of 2023" "oh i made some real angry posts on my tumblr blog and walked with a cardboard sign in London, England, 2200 miles away from Palestine" lol get real! that's pathetic!
basically i feel very powerless here. there's a lot of exhortation to do something about this, but I am not sure what the something that should be done is. I guess that's the reality of like... trying to go against the gradient of power, the enemy lays out the field and you do what little you can to find some fault line to exploit. but there's this persistent nagging feeling that like, there must be something I'm missing here, that this is somehow 'on me', and if I was smarter or braver - or more willing to burn my life down as a sacrifice and abandon the people who depend on me - I'd have more capacity to save peoples' lives in Palestine. that's a delusion of grandeur. but 'there is nothing I can really do that matters, I just have to witness the horror or turn away' is the easy cop-out, and I don't trust it either.
the left in this country is really weak. because it's so weak, whenever shit like this happens, it is not in a position to do fuck all about it. even recognising that problem, I also know I'm not much of a movement-builder. I'm trying to get involved in shit again - in my own capacity, not as a satellite of my ex - but my perpetually-exhausted adhd ass is not someone you want trying to run an org, it would be a disaster. but there must be some optimal niche I can fill right? some duty that is mine to fulfil in the great project of bringing about the good future? I can't seem to let go of this feeling, that I'm being derelict in my responsibility to use the tools and talents I've been given by chance, but I can't figure out what exactly that responsibility is and how to know when I've finally met it.
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Law & Order, FBI, Grey’s Anatomy and 9-1-1: Lone Star fans are set to be able to enjoy some new episodes of their favorite shows in the 2023-24 broadcast season after the WGA and the AMPTP struck a tentative deal that would end the writers strike.
While the actors strike still needs to be resolved and the writers deal still needs to be voted on and ratified, there is optimism that the majority of network dramas and comedies will be able to launch in the new year. Deadline spoke to a group of network execs, who said that by and large it will take drama series eight to 10 weeks to be back up and running and six to eight weeks for comedies.
If writers can get back to their desks around the beginning of October, which is likely given that there’s a suggestion that the WGA might vote to lift the strike restraining order as soon as the end of this week, execs agree that dramas can be back on air early to mid-March. This applies mostly to procedurals such as the One Chicago franchise, The Rookie, NCIS and The Cleaning Lady — essentially series without too many special effects.
This would mean shooting to begin around Thanksgiving. Shoot weeks also could increase from five days a week to six and many could keep working through the end of the year, rather than following the “private school” schedule that sees many break for Christmas much earlier in December. This also depends on when (and if) SAG-AFTRA closes a deal with the AMPTP. Execs suggest that for these dates to work, the actors union would have to be back and ready to work in mid-November. Other believe that it’s more realistic to start shooting in January.
#911 lone star#writers strike#actors strike#wga strike#wga deal#sag aftra strike#sposts#wga#sag aftra#grey's anatomy#law & order#one chicago#the rookie#ncis#the cleaning lady#ls misc
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(aqui esta el articulo en español de CPIPR)
(link to english articule from washington post)
[image ID: the first image is a picture of a road on one of puerto ricos forrested mountains with the headline "Más personas muerten en Puerto Rico mientras el sistema de salud se desmorona." The subheading reading "Pese a las vacunas y a la disponibilidad de medicamentos para el COVID-19, en 2022 murieron 35,400 personas en el Isla, la mayor cifra de los últimos 20 años."
the second image is an overhead shot of various graves located in Puerto Rico, with the headline reading "More people are dying in Puerto Rico as its healthcare system crumbles." The subheading reads "Islanders died of chronic conditions and COVID-19 in 2022 at numbers that surpassed even Hurricane Maria's toll." : end ID]
Excerpt from The Washington Post Article:
AGUAS BUENAS, Puerto Rico — In a purple house along a narrow road in Puerto Rico’s Central Mountain Range, Margarita Gómez Falcón’s breathing suddenly grew labored one March evening. She called an ambulance and began a grim two-hour wait for paramedics to arrive.
Health services across this self-governing island have been deteriorating for years, contributing to a surge in deaths that reached historic proportions in 2022, an investigation by The Washington Post and Puerto Rico’s Center for Investigative Journalism has found.
[....]
The case of Gómez Falcón, 67, underscores the many ways a faltering medical system has contributed to elevated death rates.
[...]
Aguas Buenas, a small, working-class town in the central highlands, had one working ambulance for its 25,000 people when Gómez Falcón called for help, so dispatchers sent a private one that had trouble finding her home in the town’s winding back roads.
[...]
Puerto Rico, with a population of 3.3 million people, experienced more than 35,400 deaths last year. That’s nearly 3,300 more than researchers would ordinarily expect based on historic patterns, according to a statistical analysis by The Post and Puerto Rico’s Center for Investigative Journalism (CPI).
This “excess mortality” — a term scientists use to describe unusually high death counts from natural disasters, disease outbreaks or other factors — resulted in part from a covid spike early last year that killed more than 2,300 people, health data shows.
[...]
The recent jump in mortality is the latest warning sign that years of natural disasters and financial crises have taken a deadly toll.
[...]
“It’s been nearly six years since Maria, and nothing has been resolved,” said Nereida Meléndez‚ a community activist in Aguas Buenas. “Here there are bridges that no one has done anything for. There are damaged highways no one has done anything to fix. Here one says, ‘What about that money they sent us? Where is it? What are they doing with it?’”
[...]
Puerto Rico’s public health system was once the envy of the Caribbean. Then-Gov. Pedro Rosselló privatized it in the 1990s, in what became known as “La Reforma.” Most government-owned hospitals were sold in an effort to control costs and streamline operations. But the opposite took place: By 2006, Puerto Rico’s economy tanked and public debt ballooned[.]
Puerto Rico's healthcare system is crumbling (alongside many other public utilities - one notable such example is the powergrid, as many of you have probably heard about recently due to the massive wave of protests against LUMA the current private company in charge of maintaining it) due to lack of resources and support. This is a crisis that has been building for decades due to many factors, such as the installment of an unelected board of overseers who have control of the puerto rican economy due to the enactment of. PROMESA in 2016, the enactment of ACT 60, a bill that incentivizes wealthy mainland U.S. citizens to move to Puerto Rico due to the increased tax breaks they will recieve that include a 100% tax exemption from Puerto Rico income taxes on: dividends, interest, short-term and long-term capital gains, and an exemption from the local and state property taxes equal to 75%, the withholding of emercency aid and support after natural disasters (the most notable example being the absolutely horrendus response to Hurricane Maria, that ended with the then Governor, Ricky Rosselló, resigning from his position after his sexist, racist, and homophic Telegram messages that included disparaging remarks about the victims of Hurricane Maria were leaked.)
This also includes the contiuned privitization of all aspects of puerto rican life, including the attempt to privatize the public beaches, lakes, canals, and parks in 2020, and the attempt to privatize the Taíno Caguana Ceremonial Indigenous Heritage Center in April 2023, though these are only two of many many many examples.
#zenith.txt#puerto rico#boriken#boricua#puertorico#puertorriqueños#im not sure how to end this post other than support puerto rican independence NOW
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President Trump Special Counsel “Election Interference Case” in DC Suspended Indefinitely
February 2, 2024
In the ridiculous federal election interference case in D.C., President Trump’s attorneys argued to the DC Circuit appellate court that President Trump holds inherent constitutional immunity. In essence, because President Trump was acquitted by the Senate of claims he incited or instigated the January 6, 2021, events, lawyers arguing under the constitution that only impeached and removed presidents can be criminally prosecuted.
From the Comments:
The initial 3-judge panel of the court has taken up the appeal, and all subsequent lower court activity was suspended until the constitutional issue is resolved. Again, if President Trump does not have immunity, then all preceding and future presidents can be criminally prosecuted for any/all events and decisions while holding office. This is a core issue, and the DC Circuit Court of Appeals has to tread very carefully with these ramifications at the forefront.
The decision of the 3-judge panel could also be followed by a full en-banc review by all judges in the circuit. Then, depending on their decision, it could -likely will- go even higher to the U.S. Supreme Court. All of this takes time, and the initial 3-judge appeals court have not provided any hints on their timeline.
Apparently, as a consequence, the entire trial of the case has been removed from the lower DC court docket. The removal took place within the last few days, and the Washington Post noticed the removal. This removal means the timing of the case, if at all, is completely unknown now.
WASHINGTON – Former president Donald Trump’s March 4 trial date on charges of plotting to overturn the results of the 2020 election has been dropped from the public calendar of the federal court in Washington, a sign of what has long been anticipated — that his claim of presidential immunity from criminal prosecution would delay his trial while it remains on appeal.
The change did not appear on the official criminal case docket before U.S. District Judge Tanya S. Chutkan, who has made clear since Trump filed his appeal on Dec. 7 that all trial deadlines would be suspended while he challenges the case. On appeal, Trump is arguing that the government does not have authority under the Constitution to bring charges against him for actions he took while president after the 2020 election through the Jan. 6, 2021. (read more)
In addition to the challenges within these core issues, the Lawfare approach by Jack Smith, Mary McCord and Andrew Weissmann, faces multiple additional hurdles. These are all issues that surface when Lawfare, the application of twisted legal theory intended to manipulate public opinion, runs into the reality of ever-increasing scrutiny from courts.
Combine these fraudulent legal theories with the reality that President Trump’s status is almost certainly “presumptive presidential nominee” in the eyes of the entire judicial branch, and things change. The pretending justification for the Lawfare claims now hit the non-pretending and visible reality of political intent.
The judicial scrutiny gets even more focused, and the explanations demanded as justifications to target President Trump increase. As the calendar of the November election gets closer Jack, Mary and Andrew will have to rely on ideologically aligned black robes to maintain their Lawfare pretense. Some of the robes will not be comfortable with the demands of Jack, Mary and Andrew.
Some of the robes may not pretend, and that poses a problem for Jack, Mary and Andrew.
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Extract: Don’t you want to know how they died?
Extract on the subject of the march across Helcaraxe for @march-of-the-noldor
As I received positive responses for the previous reblog of The Bitterest North for this event, I thought there might be interest in an extract from the fic that inspired that drabble and that I had referred to.
Characters: all OFCs (Fingolfinian Noldo, Feanorian Noldo, Sinda)
Warnings: see extract title: very much what it says on the tin.
Erien survives the Ice and arrives in Mithrim. Her only surviving family member, this side of Valinor, is in the Feanorian camp. Some time before the leaders have resolved their differences, Erien receives messages and other things, carried to her by a Sinda...
From the POV of the Feanorian cousin, with a little more context to explain the setting of this dialogue.
-
Naurthoniel halted in the shadow of an oak at the edge of the clearing. Huntress took another step, noticed at once that Naurthoniel was not following her and turned to look at her questioningly. On the other side of the stream, near the edge, stood a tall lonely figure, waiting. The fitful starlight illuminated her just enough for Naurthoniel to be certain of her identity.
She had come as arranged—Erien, her second cousin once-removed, her closest remaining relative in the Fingolfinian camp. And she had come alone. It was unlikely that she had not told anyone at all who she was going to meet, Naurthoniel thought. But whoever she had told, they had let her come alone. There could have been the High Lord Fingolfin himself out there, waiting to reduce her to cinders in his wrath. There could have been—far more likely—a troop of guards waiting to drag her into the Fingolfinian camp and before the authorities. But apparently there was not.
Slowly, she went down into the hollow, Huntress following now. When they came to the stream, Naurthoniel walked straight into it without remembering to take off her shoes. She shrugged slightly, when she realized, and just went on, under Erien’s unmoving gaze.
As Naurthoniel approached, she could see—with increasing clarity—how gaunt that rigid figure was: the hollow cheeks, the dark rings under her eyes, the bony hands. She came closer and saw that, in more prosperous days, what Erien was wearing they would both have called rags, barely fit for outdoor work in the shed or in the byre. She came up out of the water and could go no further.
She took off her tall basket and sank down behind it—like a propitiatory offering, like a shield wall.
‘I brought some more things’, she whispered. ‘I thought you might want other things than food, but I wasn’t sure what was needed.’
She began fumbling with the familiar fastenings, but now she was all thumbs.
‘Don’t you want to know how they died?’ her cousin asked. Her voice was clear, almost unemotional.
Naurthoniel shrank down over her basket like a hare under a stooping falcon. In the pouch at her belt burnt the letter, the anxious message that she had sent to the one person in the Fingolfinian camp that she had been confident was still talking to her—if only to scold her within an inch of her life. Huntress had returned it to her and, when she had unfolded it, she had read the words, in cramped letters squeezed into the blank space that remained underneath her signature:
Elvea is dead. So are Ninde and Rusco. Erien
‘If you want to tell me’, Naurthoniel whispered now.
‘Ninde died almost as soon as we started the Crossing’, began Erien, as if reciting a well-rehearsed list. ‘She slipped on the ice, fell into the icy water and her heart stopped.
‘Elvea broke her leg, twisting it in a crevasse. Out there—no warmth, no light, hardly any food—the break refused to heal. We pulled her along with us, limping arm in arm or dragging her on an improvised sled, but she became convinced she was slowing us down too much and, when we lay down to rest, she managed to hide from us. We looked for her all round about, but in the dark we could not find her.’
‘Rusco almost lived to see the moonrise. But he kept crying for his mother—and most kinds of food I could find him out there he refused to eat. I woke up beside him and he was dead, already frozen stiff. I was so exhausted I had not felt it when he died.’
Naurthoniel lifted her head and said; ‘You must not blame yourself.’
‘No’, said Erien distantly, ‘I’m not the one who must blame herself.'
Naurthoniel shrank down again, cowering over her basket. If anyone had asked her, at any time, whether she wished to leave her relatives and friends behind in Araman, she would have said no. That being so, there must have been a point she had missed—there must have been several points at which she ought to have raised her voice in protest, rebelled, taken a stance, put her foot down. And she had failed to do so.
You would have thought they would have been obvious—those moments at which she ought to have firmly said No—but looking back on events, they had not been. What her memory of leaving Valinor and Araman showed her was a great deal of confusion and uncertainty, a jumble of moments of unsuspected courage and unsuspected cowardice—and the sudden sharp shock with which she found herself staring at the smoking wreckage drifting in the shallows and knew herself twice separated from her kin--those she had left in Tirion and from those she had left in Araman. She ought to have seen that coming, surely—she must have, at least hours earlier than that. It was ridiculous, self-serving, yes, patently untrue—and yet that was how she remembered it: herself in the middle of a knot of four or five friends, staring at the charcoaled hulls in dumb-founded silence.
She bowed her head and pushed her basket forward across the ground until it rested at Erien’s feet. Then she gathered herself, rose up and turned to go.
‘Narye’, said Erien—and when Naurthoniel looked back, her face looked more animated, alive.
‘Tell me, Narye’, Erien asked, ‘is it dangerous what you do—for you?’
We are all in danger, together, every single one of us, thought Naurthoniel. But what Erien clearly meant was: danger from Feanorians, if she was discovered carrying food around the lake.
She shrugged.
-
Possibly of interest: This was part of a challenge response, an early attempt to write a plotty fic that would pass the Bechdel test.
The rest of the fic is here.
Thank you very much for running this event; perhaps I can write something new for it later.
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Lesson 20.5
Author's Note: So, season two. A great follow up to season one as far as I am concerned. However, there is one issue that I have with the original version, which is that Diavolo (and to a lesser extent Solomon) keeps very important information away from MC until the last possible second. For those who have gone through the season, you'll know what I'm talking about.
So, the reason for this "half-lesson" is so that I can resolve this issue that I have with the original season. Obviously, you do not have to accept this into your personal canon if you don't want to.
With that out of the way, the half-lesson is below the cut.
Diavolo
It's been a rather boring day. There's been so much paperwork that has needed my attention that Barbatos has practically chained me to my office chair so that I can complete it in a timely fashion. Don't worry; I told him to do everything in his power to make sure I didn't get distracted. Plus, he has provided food and drink at reasonable intervals, and he has instructed me to stretch every so often.
So, when Barbatos enters my office, I think nothing of it. However, that changes quickly when he states,
"My lord, you might want to hear this." Before I have a chance to reply, he pulls out his D.D.D. and taps his screen a few times. Once he's done, a voice message begins playing.
Hi, Barbatos. This is MC. I'm not sure if you'll get this message, given that I'm in an entirely different realm, but if you do, please call me back as soon as possible. There are catastrophic things happening in the human world, and I think I might be causing them.
"I take it that MC trumps paperwork?" I ask. Barbatos nods his head. Wordlessly, he taps his screen a couple more times, and soon I can hear ringing emanating from the phone.
"Would it be offensive for me to say 'thank god'?" MC asks from the other end of the line.
"Not in this context, no," Barbatos answers. "You are on speaker."
"Who's with you?"
"I am," I respond. "Barbatos and I are in my office."
"I see," MC replies. "I know you and I aren't exactly on the best of terms, but I really need your help. I figured you were busy, hence why I called Barbatos."
"Just doing paperwork. So, what exactly is going on?" MC sighs.
"I've been having nightmares. They don't allow me to get much rest. I feel like a zombie."
"What are they about?" Barbatos asks.
"I don't know for sure, since I'm not able to see much other than bright flashes of light. I always end up feeling enraged during these nightmares, and there's a lot of yelling that occurs."
"That doesn't sound pleasant," I tell MC.
"At first, I thought that maybe it was a side effect of medicine I've been taking, but then I've noticed a pattern. There's been an increase of natural disasters that have occurred in the human world. On the days that those disasters get reported, I've had that nightmare the previous night."
"Forgive me for saying this, MC, but that could just be coincidence," Barbatos states.
"Not when it's happened over 50 times. I've kept track. I have three notebooks full."
"Of just events in the human world?"
"Not exactly. There's plenty of nights that I've had that exact dream, but nothing gets reported. So, initially I had your reaction, but then I realized that there are two other realms that could be affected as well." Barbatos and I exchange glances. There has been an uptick in unexplained phenomena that has been occurring in the Devildom recently. In fact, that's what a fair chunk of this paperwork is about.
"Do you have those notebooks near you?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Do you have dates written down?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. I'm going to give you some dates, and I want you to tell me if they're in your notebook. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Februrary seventh." Paper rustling.
"Yes."
"March twenty-sixth."
"Yes."
"April twelfth."
"Yes." Barbatos' eyes widen, which concerns me. He's usually the more composed one.
"September first." More paper rustling.
"Yes."
"October eighteenth."
"Yes."
"Okay." I pause, unsure how to proceed. "MC, this is serious." Several seconds of silence.
"Alright," MC finally responds. It almost sounds like they're trying not to cry. "I see. Well." More silence. "I know that Devildom history is much better documented than what's up here, so maybe either one of you can tell me if there's ever been someone like me before."
"No," Barbatos quickly answers. "Humans have had connections with angels and demons for millennia, but those connections have always been separate until now. If a human is involved with angels, then they don't mix with demons, and vise versa. You are the only one that I'm aware of that has both angel and demon marks on your body. That's the first thing that sets you apart.
"The second thing is the source of your pact marks. There have certainly been humans that have pacts with a lot more demons than you, but usually those pacts are with lower level demons. If they do have pacts with demons in our position, it's usually with one or two. Three's usually a stretch, but it has happened. In those situations, however, the human doesn't survive much past the date that the third pact is made. Their body is simply too weak to handle that much power.
"Before you, the only human that I thought might have been able to survive that many pacts would be Solomon, but everyone else has their reservations, hence why he only has two pacts with higher-level demons: myself and Asmodeus.
"You are the first human in our history that has pacts with all seven Avatars, and you've managed to remain intact. That suggests an immense amount of power that has never been documented in a human before. You could very well be creating an instability in the fabric of the universe that is causing these things to happen."
"Thanks, Barbatos," MC snidely remarks.
"I apologize," I tell MC. "Barbatos can be rather blunt at times." I briefly pause. "Here's what we'll do: I'll have Barbatos reach out to Solomon and tell him to pick you up. Your first stop will actually be to the Celestial Realm to investigate if similar events are occuring up there that are happening in our realms and that match any of your missing dates."
"And how exactly are we going to get up there?"
"Simeon. I leave that responsibility to Solomon. He should be smart enough to know that he needs to talk to him first. The three of you will probably rendezvous somewhere close to you."
"What about Luke? When he finds out that Simeon is meeting up with me, he'll want to tag along."
"Leave that to Simeon. He's basically the boy's guardian; I'm sure he'll come up with a reasonable story."
"True. So, I'm assuming we're going to the Devildom once we're done in the Celestial Realm?"
"Yes. All four of you. It'll raise less suspicion. We'll figure out our next steps once you arrive."
"Please don't tell the brothers about this," MC instructs. "It'll only make things worse."
"You have my word."
#obey me shall we date#obey me mc#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me brothers#obey me satan#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me side characters#obey me simeon#obey me diavolo#obey me belphie#obey me barbatos#obey me belphegor#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me solomon#obey me lord diavolo#obey me luke
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"These transgenders are trying to spread their agenda to trans the kids!"
"The vaccines are turning the kids gay! It's their agenda!"
No no, let me explain; you got it backwards. The older generation doesn't change the younger generation. That's not how the world works. The younger generation always changes the world.
Stonewall? That whole spark that started pride? That wasn't the 1910's and 20's kids marching to show the world "we're here, we're queer, get over it" to make the 30's and 40's kids gay. It was the 30's and 40's kids having enough of the world being shitty to them in their 20's and 30's that they stood up and just said "we deserve to be gay", ie, happy, and aimed to make the older generation recognize they could be homosexual or bisexual too if they wanted.
So no, the 80's, 90's, 2000's kids aren't trying to turn kids gay. We're trying to turn more of our generation and the older generation that started this gayer. More trans. More queer. It's not about children, it's about the generations older than them. It always has been.
The power of the world lies in the hands of 40 - 70 year olds. And if there is upset about the generation the older generations actions sowed? There's none more upset than the generation that has been subjected to the results of the repeated incompetence of the generation before them. A lacking response to a deadly global pandemic, a continued lacking response to a deadly global endemic virus known to cause neurological problems, conspiracy theories that absolve others of life endangering action, market crashes, repeated recessions, inflation without a rise in pay, impossibly high living expenses, increasing intolerance and discrimination, and the cherry atop all of this? A manufactured panic around a minority that makes up less than 1% of the population as a distraction from all of that. The pandemic had people living in conditions worse than the great depression, and many still haven't escaped that. Banks are going bankrupt, and the people 40 - 70 in power are shouting the biggest issue is something that was resolved decades ago.
We're not making kids queer, we're trying to make an older generation in power more tolerant so the kids can live in a less perilous, more accepting world. That's the agenda.
#talisidekick#talisidekick things#rant#2slgbtqia+#2slgbtqia#lgbtqia+#lgbtqia#lgbtq+#lgbtq#lgbt+#lgbt#transgender#trans#queer#literally had someone say the two quoted lines to me and my response was “the agenda is to be queer with a reasonable standard of living”#but I felt this needed flushing out.
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According to Liz Hume, the executive director of Alliance for Peacebuilding last year, “When women are part of the peace process, [those peace outcomes] are 35 percent more likely to last beyond 15 years,"
Another study indicated that including women in peacebuilding efforts increases the probability of ending violence by 24% because they
"bring a more comprehensive peace plan to the negotiating table by addressing societal needs rather than solely focusing on what will make the warring parties happy.”
One of the crucial movements in the peace space in Israel/Palestine now is the historic partnership between Women Wage Peace and Women of the Sun; the latter organization was founded in the summer of 2021, and is comprised of Palestinian women working for peace in the West Bank and Gaza. Women Wage Peace was founded after the Gaza war of 2014, is comprised of Jewish and Arab women who live inside the State of Israel, and has the two primary objectives of 1) Getting Israeli/Palestinian peace negotiations going (and to eventually achieve a "bilaterally acceptable political agreement") and 2) guaranteeing that women are part of the negotiation process
WWP and WotS write in their partnership pact:
After over 100 years of conflict which for the most part was managed by men, Israeli and Palestinian women say “enough”…Our shared goal is what unites us and motivates us to dedication, persistence and determination. The responsibility we feel for the future of our children enables us to move forward despite the difficulties.
In fact, heartbreakingly—only three days before Hamas’ brutal attack on October 7th of this year, Women Wage Peace and Women of the Sun held a joint march from Jerusalem’s Museum of Tolerance to a promenade with a view of the Old City.
Then, Reem Hajajr, a founder of Women of the Sun, said,
“more and more women join the movement, women who want to protect their children and prevent them from being the next victim....We started out as a movement with a few lone women and now we are thousands from the West Bank and Gaza. We no longer take the back seat and are determined to act persistently to end the cycle of bloodshed and to achieve freedom and a just, honorable life for Palestinian and Israeli children.”
She said those words exactly two weeks ago.
And so many wails, so many tears ago.
More tears than can be counted.
One of Women Wage Peace’s founders, Vivian Silver, is one of the 150 or more people that were kidnapped by Hamas, as well. I can’t not mention that. May she and all of the other captives be returned swiftly and safely.
May no other innocent lives be lost. Not one more.
May there be an end to the bloodshed soon.
May this be the last moment of horror before the creation of a new, whole tomorrow for everyone.
May everyone be safe.
Women Wage Peace’s statement on October 15th said, in part:
For 9 years since the end of “Operation Protective Edge”, we, Jewish and Arab mothers have been telling the leadership in Israel – enough! We must turn every stone in order to reach a political solution. This is our obligation for the future of our children. This is our obligation to both Israeli and Palestinian children. They deserve a future of security and freedom, not a future of death, war and destruction.
More wars, bombings, assassinations, arrests and a never-ending cycle of bloodshed will not allow us and our children to live here as normal people. All conflicts in the world have been resolved by peace agreements….
Every mother, Jewish and Arab, gives birth to her children to see them grow and flourish and not to bury them.
That’s why, even today, amidst the pain and the feeling that the belief in peace has collapsed, we extend a hand in peace to the mothers of Gaza and the West Bank.
We mothers, together with women from all over the world, must unite to stop this.
(continue reading)
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Next month, Russian President Vladimir Putin will stage a carefully managed, entirely undemocratic presidential election. The recent death of Russia’s best-known opposition politician, Alexei Navalny, in a penal colony is not the first time that a public figure opposed to Putin has died. Indeed, every prominent opposition figure—including Boris Nemtsov, Vladimir Kara-Murza, and so many others—has been imprisoned, poisoned, murdered, or forced into exile abroad, and the election’s outcome is already assured.
Russian autocracy has crossed a point of no return. What began as a flawed but aspiring democracy in the early 1990s has morphed into a vicious regime that attacks its neighbors, stifles expression at home, silences opposition voices, and imprisons or assassinates those who dare to speak up.
It is high time for governments, parliaments, and nongovernmental organizations around the world to unequivocally declare Russia’s upcoming election unlawful and its preordained victor an illegitimate president.
In 2020, the Russian Duma decided to amend the country’s constitution without a single no vote, extending term limits to allow Putin to stay in power until 2036. The European Parliament, while falling short of declaring Putin illegitimate, resolved in 2021 that “the EU should condemn any attempt by President Putin to remain in office beyond the end of his current and final presidential mandate on 7 May 2024.” The 2020 constitutional change had been “illegally enacted,” the EU parliamentarians found.
But the paramount reason for not recognizing the results of the March elections is the fact that the vote will be held in the occupied Ukrainian territories that have been unlawfully annexed by Russia. Recognizing the legitimacy of elections held in occupied Ukraine—where Putin’s troops appear to have committed the most horrid war crimes in 21st-century Europe—would contribute to the creeping international recognition of Russia’s annexation of these territories.
Unfortunately, there is ample precedent for the world doing the wrong thing. There was little international response to Russia’s illegal annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the subsequent Russian presidential elections held in occupied Ukraine in 2018, with the exception of a few symbolic Western sanctions in 2014 that were little more than a slap on Putin’s wrist. The lack of a robust reaction in the past helped pave the way for the full-scale invasion in 2022 by showing Putin that he had little to fear from the West. Further acquiescence now will set a dangerous precedent, emboldening autocrats everywhere.
Beyond being an authoritarian dictator with a mandate based on illegitimate elections, Putin stands accused of war crimes. In 2023, the International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant based on the unlawful deportation of Ukrainian children to Russia. An alleged war criminal should not be considered legitimate by Western democracies.
For all these reasons, Putin should take his rightful place alongside authoritarian strongmen such as Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe, Syria’s Bashar al-Assad, and Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro.
After the latter was declared illegitimate by many Western countries, including the United States and members of the European Union, his country was placed under new diplomatic and economic sanctions. Washington imposed an embargo on Venezuelan oil exports, froze state-owned assets, and pressured non-U.S. firms to suspend transactions with Venezuela. In part due to these sanctions—and in part due to its own economic mismanagement—the country experienced the largest economic contraction in modern Latin American history and the sixth-largest contraction ever recorded globally.
After being declared an illegitimate dictator by the United States and other countries in 2008, Mugabe also faced increased condemnation for human rights abuses and election fraud. The European Union and the United States imposed sanctions, including travel bans and asset freezes, on Mugabe and his close associates. This significantly affected Zimbabwe’s economy and international relations, contributing to the its prolonged economic crisis.
Syria’s Assad has been considered illegitimate by many Western countries, particularly after the 2011 outbreak of the Syrian civil war. The regime has been subject to numerous sanctions by the United States and the European Union, significantly impacting its economic and diplomatic ties. And in Egypt, the regime of then-President Hosni Mubarak was ultimately deemed illegitimate by much of the international community, including many Western countries, following his suppression of the 2011 Egyptian Revolution. This led to his resignation and a period of significant political upheaval in Egypt.
Russia has, of course, been placed under significant Western sanctions since 2022, but these are far from perfect. On the contrary, the Kremlin has been highly successful in circumventing Western sanctions on its petroleum exports; it has also been successful at evading Western export controls and continues to use Western components to build the missiles and drones that rain death on Ukrainian cities. Officially recognizing Putin as an illegitimate leader based on an illegal election could be the catalyst for the world to get serious about tightening these sanctions.
The Council of Europe has shown the way by taking the first step. In October 2023, the council’s Parliamentary Assembly passed a resolution that calls on member states to “recognise Vladimir Putin as illegitimate after the end of his current presidential term and to cease all contact with him, exception for humanitarian contact and in the pursuit of peace.”
In the event of his reelection, the resolution says, Putin should be denied recognition as president, and contact with his apparatus should be refused—except for negotiations aimed at achieving peace. Western democratic governments and international institutions should follow the assembly’s step.
History shows that declaring a despotic leader illegitimate is more than a symbolic act; it can trigger real change. It is time for Western democracies to call the Russian regime out for what it is.
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From the Earth to Air: Worm Full Moon in Libra
Monday, March 25th will see the emergence of a Libra Worm Full Moon. The Worm Full Moon derives its name from a time, in Native American traditions, prior to Spring when the earth grows softer and warmer, urging earthworms to throw off their casts or skins, adds nutrients to the soil urging plants to grow. there will be an Eclipse, penumbral lunar eclipse.
Penumbral eclipse the light of the moon becomes slightly dimmer.The penumbral eclipse will only be visible to the night side of Earth; Northern Europe East Asia, Australia, Africa, North America and South America. The lunar eclipse will finish at 5:33 a.m. ET
Because this eclipse affects the Moon, governor of unconsciousness, your impulses and desires may be very present in your thoughts. As it is in the sign of Libra, your needs in terms of relationships and partnerships may play a direct part of your thoughts and consciousness
The fact that it is Libra moon, a sign ruled by Venus, will make it somewhat easier to deal while as the airy nature of Libra works contray to the moon's watery nature. Lunar Transits last about 3 days.
Libra, whose ruling planet is Venus, is a sign that seeks personal understand and self-enlightenment through interactions with others. Diplomats of the Zodiac, it is an air sign devoted to compatibility and companionship. At its best, Libra is observant, adaptive and attentive. At their worst, Libra can be self-indulgent, superficial and indecisive.
The Moon is the planet responsible for needs. Whether you require nurturing, feeding and emotional security (things which the moon governs), the Moon represents how you pursue, receive and maintain those needs. The full Moon’s increases our demands for those needs, urging us to acquire them in the most direct way.
The Libra Full Moon focuses upon matters related to the Moon but in a way that is balanced and detached. As it is an airy moon or a moon influenced by an air sign, it is can be at odds with the often watery, emotional nature of the Moon. So, if in the next three days you might find yourself balancing your own concerns and those of loved ones. Do you need to feed yourself or others? Do you need more emotional connect with or less? These are issues which may arise at this time.
Full moons are good times for initiating or launching of projects. The waxing energy tends to promote and nurture such activities. It also provides numerous ways to achieve likely success. At this time, you’ll be directed to endeavors concerning those who you care about most and ask to work that which does not serve either of you.
Libra, the moon may ask that you state your needs most directly. While it may not be the most comfortable thing, try. Operating with honesty and genuineness may prove both cathartic and refreshing to you and those you love.
Aries, this is a time to consider the needs of your of partners and significant others. What are they saying? What might they have to say? Listening closely to your intimates may be the most important thing you can do at this time.
Cancer and Capricorn, you may be asked to endeavor to resolve some matter will benefit you and loved ones. Engaging in the matter may invite difficulty, but the time you devote to the challenge may offer great benefits for some long-standing need related to you and those you most care about most.
The emergence of the Worm Moon should help you make necessary adjustments and changes for you and loved ones. Let the Libra Full moon show you the light of balance
Aeion is a professional astrologer and tarot card reader with 30+ years of experience. His approach is based in the belief that divination should be in employed to enhance ones' life experiences, not to predetermine them. Let Astrology and Tarot be your tools for better living
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actuallysara
2h ago
2023-24 Broadcast Season Saved After WGA Deal: Here Is When Scripted Series Will Return, Why Some May Be Held & Others Canceled
Law & Order, FBI, Grey’s Anatomy and 9-1-1: Lone Star fans are set to be able to enjoy some new episodes of their favorite shows in the 2023
DEADLINE|PETER WHITE
Law & Order, FBI, Grey’s Anatomy and 9-1-1: Lone Star fans are set to be able to enjoy some new episodes of their favorite shows in the 2023-24 broadcast season after the WGA and the AMPTP struck a tentative deal that would end the writers strike.
While the actors strike still needs to be resolved and the writers deal still needs to be voted on and ratified, there is optimism that the majority of network dramas and comedies will be able to launch in the new year. Deadline spoke to a group of network execs, who said that by and large it will take drama series eight to 10 weeks to be back up and running and six to eight weeks for comedies.
If writers can get back to their desks around the beginning of October, which is likely given that there’s a suggestion that the WGA might vote to lift the strike restraining order as soon as the end of this week, execs agree that dramas can be back on air early to mid-March. This applies mostly to procedurals such as the One Chicago franchise, The Rookie, NCIS and The Cleaning Lady — essentially series without too many special effects.
This would mean shooting to begin around Thanksgiving. Shoot weeks also could increase from five days a week to six and many could keep working through the end of the year, rather than following the “private school” schedule that sees many break for Christmas much earlier in December. This also depends on when (and if) SAG-AFTRA closes a deal with the AMPTP. Execs suggest that for these dates to work, the actors union would have to be back and ready to work in mid-November. Other believe that it’s more realistic to start shooting in January.
#911 lone star#writers strike#actors strike#wga strike#wga deal#sag aftra strike#sposts#wga#sag aftra#grey's anatomy#law & order#one chicago#the rookie#ncis#the cleaning lady#ls misc
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