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cyhyr · 3 years

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Whumpmas In July: "I Can't"

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Mizuki/Umino Iruka

WC: ~4990

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Notes: Deception, Drugging, Prison Break, Dissociation, Rough Oral Sex, Conditioning, Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Character Death, Triggers, Hair-pulling, Violence, Kidnapping

A/N: This story follows a Non-Linear Narrative, for the most part.

A sequel to “Secret”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

The day Umino Iruka walked into the clinic seeking therapy was the day Rikona changed her plans to fit her new narrative. Sure, she’d been next and available to take patients, standing right at the check-in desk as he filled out his paperwork; and normally, there was a day or two in-between registration and the first session, just so the team of psychiatrists and therapists could best review the potential case and match the best team with the patient. But none of that mattered. She was going to take Umino Iruka, and as soon as he finished filing his intake forms, she took the thin folder right out of Aiko’s hands.

“Right this way, Umino-sensei.”

“I prefer to be addressed with my given name,” he said on the walk to her office.

“Of course, Iruka-sensei. I’m Rikona.”

It’s so simple to establish a baseline with Umino. He wants to tell someone about his story, he wants to get better, but he doesn’t have the words for it and he doesn't know how to get there. She gently prompts him along, learning his past and keeping him from dissociating—she finds out in the first session that good is not a word Iruka can hear in certain contexts. She discovers trauma hidden in every corner of his life, coloring every interaction he’s had since he was eleven. She hears about Naruto and how Iruka’s as good as adopted him, even if the village won’t let it be official; and about Kakashi, the partner who suggested Iruka seek out counseling, yet forgoes his own mental health.

Really, it’s not hard to understand him.

So they have a couple of sessions and it’s working well. She’s getting to know him, while at the same time getting him to trust her and tell her more about his story.

But after only a few sessions, he is captured and tortured and she has to make a hospital visit when he's inevitably brought home—by none other than Hatake Kakashi. And of course, Hatake doesn’t leave his side throughout the hospital stay except for required psychiatric consults. Umino comes out the other side of his captivity with minor injuries and almost no backslide on his mental health progress.

Rikona gives herself much of the credit for that. To Hatake, she initially gives a modicum of a nod; he’s certainly present.

Iruka trips for the third time in almost as many minutes, and puts a palm to his temple. “Rikona-sensei, is there somewhere I can sit down for a moment?”

She looks back at him, brows raised. “Another dizzy spell?”

He nods.

Rikona leads him to a bench and lets him sit, guiding his head to rest in his palms, his elbows braced on his thighs. She had said that they were going to go straight to the Hokage Tower, but the hospital never felt this far away before. It feels like he’s been walking for over an hour.

“How much longer to the Tower?” he asks.

“Not too much,” she says. “Ten minutes.”

That. That doesn't sound right. The hospital is only a fifteen minute walk from the Tower. Why have they been walking for so long?

He lifts his head and looks around, but the wooded park they’re in looks like any other in Konoha. “Rikona-sensei, why are we in a park?”

“You asked for a little time to make sure the medication I gave you is in full effect before speaking to Tsunade-sama,” Rikona answers quickly. “Do you not remember?”

The world is still spinning. He carefully shakes his head before putting his head back down. “Are these dizzy spells also a side-effect?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You may have to just power through them.”

Iruka groans. “Okay, let’s keep going, then.”

Rikona offers her hand to help him stand, and her elbow to keep him steady as they walk.

The trees go by.

The sounds of the village fade away.

And then they find out that the Sato event traumatized Hatake. And honestly? She kept her cool in the meeting, but that night when she’s home, she has herself a good laugh. The man went and got himself traumatized over someone who he’s been manipulating for months, if not years? She’s not heard of a successful Reverse Stockholm syndrome; it’s hilarious.

But she also harbors a deep-set anger because it was under Hatake’s watch that Umino went and took that mission—he’s not an active field agent, shouldn’t be in the field, it should have never happened. It was under Hatake’s watch that the Sato incident occurred.

And then Umino talks about moving. And Rikona knows. This is the time. He’s asking for her advice, blushing as he talks about someday asking Hatake to move in together. But Hatake’s influence has been nothing positive and she knows exactly who Umino should be seeing instead.

She knows because she’s been covering for his usual therapist for over seven months and she’s a professional. She knows how to recognize abusers, manipulators. She can form an emotional connection with a carrot if it needs therapy—she’s good.

So when Mizuki tells her about his old boyfriend, this wonderful man he misses so dearly, who has never once visited him in prison; Rikona resolves to be the one to help this man, her patient, receive closure at the least—or reunite long lost lovers at best.

She knows she’s making the right decision. She knows Mizuki is good for Iruka. She knows because when she told him about what happened to Umino, she could hear his heart break.

“That’s why I never let Iruka take missions without me, see? Because I knew things like this could happen, and I care about him—Rikona, I care so very much—I could never have forgiven myself if something like this had happened to him while we were together.”

And no one can fake that tone, those heart-wrenching sobs, the tears, oh gods the tears.

Together they make a plan. And she’s so happy to help him, so happy that she’s essential to his reunion with Umino. Mizuki says it himself; without her, the plan could never be implemented. She even lets him write the first letter, so Umino can hear his words straight from his own hand.

And on her way out of the prison that day, she grabs a few forms, and some extra envelopes, and if one happens to be a request for a conjugal visit, well… Mizuki’s been alone for so long. The least Umino can do is reconsider.

...

(She didn’t know what that first letter said until Iruka-sensei brought it to her office, feeling like he could dissociate at any moment and experiencing a moderate anxiety attack. When she read it, she felt a sting of doubt, like maybe Mizuki wasn’t how she’d diagnosed him. But then she remembers Hatake, and how Mizuki says he changes things to fit his stories; and she realizes that this note must have been tampered with before it reached Iruka-sensei.)

The prison break for one goes like this.

It starts seven months prior, with the head psychiatrist for the hospital getting swamped with paperwork and a sudden flood of new patients, and it’s only her, Rikona, and one other therapist working the clinic lately. Tomi-sensei asks—practically begs—Rikona to take her prison shift on Fridays, that they’ll shut down the clinic except for emergencies. It’s only until further notice, only until Tomi-sensei can hire another psychiatrist, or at least another therapist.

When Rikona gets to the prison, the guard is wary at first—she'd already been there that week—but after a quick explanation he waves her through. She's been treating inmates in the East Wing for months prior, so she knows her way through security. But Tomi-sensei treats inmates in the West Wing. Three inmates, specifically.

The first she sees for an hour and a half. The first half hour is talk therapy, the last hour she oversees his electroconvulsive therapy. The second receives a cocktail of anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, a tranquilizer, and extra medicine to help with the side-effects of all these. Then, Rikona sits with them and talks for an hour. After that, she breaks for lunch. Finally, the third inmate of the West Wing; who receives one large dose of a mood stabilizer, and two hours of therapy.

Two hours a week, for seven months. Sometimes she stays later if the story he’s telling is particularly riveting, and she thinks that his telling of the story will help him.

But at the end of the day, she signs off on all three patients, carefully writing Tomi-sensei’s name in place of her own. Tomi trusts her judgement, and her conscience is clear. All three patients are steadily improving, some at slower paces, but improvement nonetheless. Rikona bills the hours in her own name, though; Tomi can take the credit for their health, but she needs to pay her mortgage.

So it’s easy to check out one of the East Wing prisoners for electroconvulsive therapy that Monday when she heads in. And she’s been working in the prison for years, so security knows her, and the East Wing prisoners are minimum security risks anyway—Rikona, thin and small as she is, picks an old woman to lead to therapy. And if the room for electroconvulsive therapy is in the West Wing, well security knows that Rikona knows her way around there, too.

The old woman is feeble, slow, gentle. The prison system broke her years ago. The poor thing doesn’t need to be shocked into submission. That’s not why Rikona brought her along.

There’s a seal she knows—the only advanced bit of chakra use she ever learned, before she determined that the shinobi way wasn’t her way—which can render a person invisible for a short time. She knows that the loss of his ability to mold chakra is very hard on Mizuki, and so when she leads the old woman into his cell and gives him the premade seal, she returns the grin he gives her.

“It’s time,” she says.

“You have him?”

“He’s all yours, Mizuki. You just have to promise to be careful. Whatever’s been done, he’s—”

“Rikona-sensei, I could never hurt him.” She presses the tag to his chest and he disappears.

She closes the door to the cell, leaving the woman in there alone, and walks away.

Confidently, she strides through the halls of the prison. She waves to the security personnel she knows. And then she gets back to the woman’s cell, and pushes another tag onto it—one to keep the door locked for good. They won’t be realizing that she’s gone for hours, if not days. They only use the flap at the bottom of the door to push her meals inside, and the tag leaves that part alone, she makes sure of it.

She toes it, just a little, just to be sure. It sways.

Rikona walks out the front doors, Mizuki a silent, invisible presence behind her.

Does she feel bad for lying to her client?

Gods, yes.

But it’s for his own good.

Hatake is a terrible, manipulative elitist. He doesn’t deserve someone like Iruka-sensei.

They’re five minutes from her home, a wooden cabin she maintains deep in the forests outside of the village. It’s there that the medication takes full effect and Iruka-sensei collapses. She’s so much smaller than him, and he’s heavier than he looks, but she pulls him onto her back and drags his feet along the ground and up the stone steps and into the house.

She’s careful, laying him down on the rug in front of the fireplace. It’s warm, so she doesn’t feel the need to start a fire. He’ll stay unconscious for a few hours, just until after sunset. She puts a blanket within reach, just in case he wakes up before they get back.

And then she leaves to collect Mizuki.

Kakashi doesn’t know how to explain it.

But something’s wrong.

There’s an odd scent in the air.

He had been heading to Iruka’s house, but he sighs and turns around to head back to the Tower. He’s still not going to take that mission, but he needs to talk to Tsunade.

Rikona watches as Mizuki strokes Iruka’s face tenderly. She’s making dinner in the kitchen and they’re laying side-by-side on the rug in front of the fireplace, now lit and warming the cabin. Her heart swells to see them together again after all this time, and she hopes that Hatake hasn’t poisoned Iruka-sensei’s memories so much that he can’t remember the good times he had with Mizuki.

They look good together.

Iruka-sensei hasn’t woken up yet, but she checked his vitals when they came back and he’s coming back to himself. They had pulled his vest and weapons off of him and set them on the couch once they got back, so he could lay more comfortably. He should wake any minute.

“A bad feeling?”

“A bad scent.”

“Like an intruder?”

“I don’t know. Very likely.”

Tsunade steeples her fingers. “Track it. Do not engage. Report back.”

Kakashi nods and turns to leave.

“It could be Akatsuki,” she warns. “Be careful.”

Kakashi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence.

This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t love.

Rikona can’t believe she was so thoroughly duped.

The pack at large doesn’t know the scent he’s trying to convey to them. All he can say to describe it is wrong and bad and that can describe any fucker who hits their partner or child, or any stall vendor who deliberately raises their prices for a certain kind of person, or—

“The ripe, rancid one?” Pakkun asks, growling.

And those are the words he’s been searching for, yes. The rest of the pack catches that same scent and readies themselves.

“That’s the one. What is it?”

“That’s the prisoner Iruka-Boss fought a while back, when the prison had that major breakout.”

Kakashi’s stomach flips and his spine chills.

Mizuki.

“You’re awake.”

Mizuki puts his hand over Iruka’s mouth to keep him from crying out, leans over and whispers in his ear, “You could never get away from me, don’t start trying now.” The tears glistening in the corners of his eyes shimmer in the firelight and he looks beautiful when he cries. Mizuki dips his head and kisses Iruka’s neck, relishing the whimper he receives.

He removes his hand, knowing he has Iruka’s obedience.

“You’re not real,” he mutters. “This isn’t real. It’s-It’s a side-effect. Of the m-medication.”

“Oh, baby, this isn’t a dream,” Mizuki lifts himself to hover over Iruka, pressing the length of his body along the tan one on the floor. “I’m here. I’m here to stay.” He shoves his knees in-between Iruka’s thighs and rolls his hips. “Hmm, missed this. Missed you. Did you miss me, too, baby?”

“Get off,” Iruka hisses.

Mizuki grins and presses his teeth to Iruka’s neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Kakashi sends half of the pack to find Iruka, and the rest follow Mizuki’s scent.

He goes to the prison; he needs to check himself. He needs Pakkun to be wrong.

The security personnel confirm that prisoner 834-769 is in his cell. Been there all morning. There’s no log of him being taken out. Kakashi doesn’t growl, but asks if someone can go down to the cell and give him visual confirmation.

“Chakra confirmation is sufficient when there’s no cause for alarm,” he’s told.

Chakra confirmation???

“The fucker has no ability to mold chakra! And there is cause for alarm,” he grits through his teeth. “My pack caught his scent outside. I need visual confirmation of his presence in his cell now.”

Security at least pretends to take him seriously. They send a team down to the West Wing and Kakashi considers following them.

And then a bone-chilling howl echoes outside, and Kakashi doesn’t care about visual confirmation. Because the howl is the one that says scent lost and it’s coming from Bull’s half of the pack, the half that’s supposed to find Iruka—

And if they lost his scent—

Kakashi bolts.

Rikona leaves them to reacquaint in the living room. She steps outside. The stew will be alright on its low heat, and the rice still has plenty of time left to steam.

The stars are nice. The moon is waning from full, and she pulls a throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. In the distance, she can hear wolves howling and smiles softly.

It’s such a nice night.

He can’t explain it. He doesn’t stop to try, to tell an ANBU patrol what he’s doing, or to find Gai or anyone else.

The look on the security guard’s face was enough. No one will believe him if he tells them that Mizuki has something to do with Iruka’s disappearance. Hell, no one will likely believe him if he tells them that Iruka’s missing. After the Sato incident—and his reaction afterwards; he can admit that he was being a little overprotective—no one will take him seriously.

Kakashi has to do this by instinct. He has the pack flanking him, leading him along the ripe, rancid scent. They understand without him explaining, thank the gods.

Iruka is pack. This knowledge is as an intrinsic part of him as his family name, as chidori, as his loyalty to Konoha. More than this, the deeper part of him recognizes Iruka as his and recognizes the reciprocal possession Iruka holds on his very being.

Whether he knows it or not, Iruka owns him.

Boss’s Boss, indeed.

Mizuki hears the door shut behind Rikona as she leaves. He puts his mouth over Iruka’s, and when his lips won’t part he pulls on Iruka’s hair knowing that it will force a gasp as well as remind Iruka whose he is. He pushes his tongue into Iruka’s mouth when it opens and rolls his hips faster. With his other hand—the one not busy with the hair—he reaches to his crotch and pulls down the front of his prison pants and frees his dick. He fights with Iruka’s pants, and then lowers those too and eventually grabs both of them together in his fist.

Iruka’s limp. That’s fine. He’s used to working with that.

Iruka winces into their kiss, muttering, “Stop.”

“None of that. You know better.”

Iruka turns away. “I said, stop.”

Mizuki lets go of his own dick and pinches Iruka’s, watching him wince and hold back tears and bite his bottom lip.

“You know I don’t like that word. You don’t get to tell me to stop.” He grabs them both and strokes. “There, isn’t that better?”

“No, please—I can’t—I don’t want—”

Mizuki pulls his hair harder, twists his fist in the strands, and Iruka relaxes and his eyes turn glassy and there he goes. Mizuki grins, bites at Iruka’s mouth, and says, “Beg me to touch you.”

The response comes like the last two and a half years never happened. “Touch me,” Iruka murmurs.

“Tell me you missed me.”

“Missed you, ‘Zuki.”

“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good.”

Kakashi runs through the forest behind the hospital and another sinking feeling hits his belly.

Rikona-sensei was supposed to be in charge of Iruka’s care.

But if Iruka’s missing.

Where’s Rikona-sensei?

“Pakkun.”

“Boss.”

“You know Iruka’s therapist?”

“Yeah. She went this way, too.”

Mizuki took them both. Fuck.

“Want to suck my cock, baby?”

Iruka comes back, just for a moment, just long enough to get the n sound of his answer. Mizuki tugs his hair again—training Iruka to become his personal little slut at the pull of his hair was the most brilliant idea Mizuki had ever had; he pats his own back every day he remembers the time he spent on it. And, damn it took time. Iruka never liked having his hair pulled, so the pain and the sex and his never-ending desire to please Mizuki combined together to make a perfect storm. And it still took months, almost a year, of hair-pulling and ordering Iruka around to condition him into the perfect whore.

And now, thanks to Rikona, he’s got that back.

He pulls himself up to the couch and sits, slides his pants to his thighs, and guides Iruka into position over his cock. There’s still tears on his lashes, and that’s just fucking perfect.

Mizuki’s been using his hand for over a year, and Tsubaki’s cunt before that.

Nothing compares to Iruka’s throat.

“Oh, good boy,” he groans as Iruka slides down over him. It’s tight, hot, wet—perfect—he put so much work into training this slut to take him and blow him right and two years isn’t enough time for Iruka to forget it seems, because he gets to slurping and tonguing and bobbing his head like he never left Mizuki’s legs.

Rikona stops in the doorway, blinking.

Iruka-sensei has dissociated. Mizuki seems to be aware of this, yet isn’t trying to get him to come back. In fact, he’s using Iruka-sensei’s mouth as-as—

She turns and goes back outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

She looks up at the night sky and suddenly the stars don’t feel so relaxing.

“My sweet, good boy, sucking me soo good. Look at you. Right where you belong.”

He remembers what he’s heard about Hatake from Rikona. What a joke. “As if blowing someone else could ever change who owns you.”

Iruka whimpers. Gods that sound fucking drives him crazy.

“Who owns you, baby?”

Iruka pulls off of him, just enough. “You, Mizuki.”

“Fuck, missed this.” He pushes Iruka back down, hits the back of his throat and keeps going. He takes Iruka’s hair in both hands and moves his head for him; Iruka isn’t going fast enough to get him off. This way, though, “You’re mine, baby. So good. Mine, mine, mine—FUCK!”

He shoots down Iruka’s throat.

The first time they did this, Iruka had spat it out. Mizuki made sure he never did that again. He knows that Iruka throws up later, once he comes back to himself; but whatever. Right now, he’s swallowing down Mizuki’s come, his throat working his pulsing cock and it feels great. He pulls back near the end of his orgasm, and lets the last pulses of come splash on Iruka’s lips and chin, watching it drip down his neck.

The tears are falling freely, but Iruka will stay on his knees until Mizuki tells him to get up. Fucking beautiful.

Why would Mizuki take both of them?

It doesn’t make sense.

Iruka, obviously. Mizuki’s had it out for Iruka since they were twelve, if not younger.

But why Rikona-sensei? If nothing else, he should have killed her. They should have found a body.

They still haven’t picked up on Iruka’s scent. There’s a third scent, but it’s muddled and weird and Kakashi can’t place it.

“Boss.”

“Akino.”

“Smoke, up ahead.”

“That’s where they are.”

He knows it in his bones. In his soul. He’d bet his life on it.

… He’s also betting Iruka’s life on it. The pack is already at top speed, but for this last sprint they all push just a little more.

Rikona walks off the porch and down the path. She’s reviewing the last four months of therapy sessions with Iruka-sensei in her head, and the last seven months with Mizuki, wondering where she went wrong. She hugs her arms tight to her body and watches her feet.

Hatake-san is an elitist. A genius, gifted child who advanced through the ranks too quickly and thinks too highly of himself. He’s Friend-Killer Kakashi, known for leaving a teammate for dead, for putting his own fist through the girl who loved him for the sake of a mission. He’s manipulative, and known for reading porn in public, and tampers with his partner’s mail, and-and-and—

She’s reaching.

She knows she’s reaching.

Oh gods, what has she done.

Kakashi watches Rikona stop on the path and begin to shake. He slides out of the tree silently beside her, and says, “Yo, Rikona-sensei.”

She gasps, startled. “Hatake—”

“Where’s Iruka?”

She points to the cabin behind her. “Please, I didn’t know. He lied to me.”

“Hmm?”

“He told me you were bad for him. He told me that he missed Iruka-sensei. He cried when I told him about Sato.” Rikona bites her lip. “How did he fake that? Did he fake that?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’ll turn myself in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kakashi says. He glares at her, exposing the sharingan for full threat. “If he’s hurt, you get hurt.”

“We should go to Water Country,” Mizuki sighs, slipping his dick back into Iruka’s mouth. “They’ve got good clubs out there. I could make a lot of coin selling the use of your throat.”

Iruka’s so far gone, so far down, he doesn’t even react.

“And with the ocean and all, your vomiting won’t be so off-putting each night.”

The door breaks open and a pack of mutts crash through the windows around him. Mizuki pulls out of Iruka’s mouth, reaches in Iruka’s weapon pouch beside him for a kunai. He may not have the ability to mold chakra anymore, but that doesn’t change how well a blade can slice through the delicate life beating in a person’s neck. Mizuki pulls Iruka to his lap and has him cover his body, pressing the kunai under his jaw.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns. Hatake stalks into view, coming around the couch. “I promise, I’ll kill him faster than you or your mutts can get to me.”

One hand on the kunai, the other around Iruka’s waist. He doesn’t even need to keep a hand in his hair now. Iruka’s his.

He put in the time.

He put in the effort.

He built Iruka.

He sneers at Hatake. “You and your mutts can leave.”

“Not without him.”

“Iruka? Tell Hatake to leave.”

“Please leave, Hatake-san.”

Oh, that was good. Like he was slapped, Hatake flinches; just barely, but Mizuki catches it. That was nice. Worth a reward.

“Good boy, baby,” Mizuki purrs. He bites Iruka’s shoulder, relishing the soft whimper.

He’s under. He’s so far under and Kakashi has to be careful or he won’t get Iruka back.

This wasn’t a warning Rikona gave him; that came from Tomi-sensei a few weeks back, when she heard about one of the dissociation episodes he’d experienced during the Sato incident. He can’t trust anything Rikona has ever told him now, but Tomi-sensei never had a hand in Iruka’s care and so is objective.

He motions for the pack to stand down.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Mizuki says. “Don’t leave. Just stay still.”

He takes the kunai away from Iruka’s neck and aims it at Kakashi.

He won’t hit him; Kakashi’s faster than anything he can throw. This is perfect. This is his chance.

He just has to be careful.

Iruka could still not come back if he’s not careful.

The bite of a blade against his neck is odd, but familiar. The slosh of come in his stomach is uncomfortable, but familiar. The taste of musk and come on his tongue is gross, but familiar.

Mizuki’s rumble against his back is nice and familiar.

Slipping into following Mizuki’s orders is simple. It’s easy.

The pain of his hair being pulled. The claustrophobic sensation of being boxed in as Mizuki hovers over him. Their bodies pressed together. His dick—pain—being stroked alongside Mizuki’s own length. It’s all familiar.

Falling is easy.

He can’t. He can’t handle being there anymore.

And then—

“Don’t move. Just stay still.”

The blade leaves his neck, and Iruka tracks it as Mizuki levels it at—

At—

Kakashi—

“Just sleep, dearest.”

“Please, Iruka, I wanna touch you please.”

“I like asking.”

“Please kiss me.”

“Hello, Love.”

“What do you need?”

“I will always come for you.”

“I will be wherever you want me to be.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Can I use the g-word tonight?”

“Hello, Love.”

And Iruka wakes up.

He reaches for the kunai out in front of him, disarms Mizuki and stands up out of his lap. He fights the vertigo, fights the chills chasing each other down his back and his arms.

He remembers the day he came home to Mizuki and Naruto, and how he put two kunai in him before kicking him out. He remembers the rage, seeing Naruto pull away from Mizuki like hot coals, remembers sending Naruto to hide in his own room because they had been in Naruto’s room; there was still a small blood stain on the floor of that apartment when he left, one he couldn’t clean up in time.

Mizuki can fuck with him all he’d like.

But he can’t fuck with Iruka’s family.

And maybe Mizuki couldn’t hit Kakashi with a kunai if he were point-blank. Maybe a thousand kunai couldn’t hit Kakashi if Mizuki were the one throwing them. It doesn’t matter.

Iruka’s been teaching Anatomy of a Kill and running disarming practicals for years. They can call him soft, and say his humanity is a weakness or a strength. He preaches the Will of Fire and he burns with it; he will protect that which is precious to him.

Naruto.

His own sanity.

Kakashi.

Whether or not it needs protecting, Iruka will be the shield.

He plunges the kunai into Mizuki’s chest, drags it through heart and liver, snapping ribs and muscle tissue as he goes, and settles the blade in Mizuki’s intestines. He stands over Mizuki as the life leaves his chest, gushing red and bloodying Iruka’s hands and clothes.

Mizuki’s eyes are dark with betrayal.

He whispers, “I will always own you.”

And then… and then he’s gone.

And Iruka breathes.

Gods.

I’m… I’m free.

#whumpmasinjuly #i can't #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

14 notes · View notes

arknights-imagines · 3 years

Note

May I ask for a romantic letter from Ch'en to an informant that she's secretly with?

From, Ch'en

Christmas Letter and Gift event

The last thing you were expecting to get delivered to your door near Christmas was a package from the L.G.D; of course, you were in fact working very closely with them - more specifically with Superintendent Ch’en - but you had already sent to her the intel and data she needed for this month. Typically, if Ch’en had any new tasks for you, she would send a messenger - never visiting you or sending you anything herself considering the circumstances you two were in. If she was seeing you or addressing you personally, then it was never about business affairs, it was just about you two.

But that's besides the point; your name as well as your address is written on the package, so it’s definitely meant for you. Assuming the package pertains to business affairs, you tuck it under your arm and hurry to find somewhere to sit in order to figure out what the delivery is for - after making yourself comfortable, you open the box up, confusion crossing your face as your eyes fall to its contents.

A manila envelope with the Lungmen coat-of-arms stamped onto it catches your attention immediately, as does the disclaimer written on it: ‘Classified letter. Please keep envelope sealed. Anyone who tampers with this letter unless authorized to will be required to answer directly to Madam Ch’en.’ You blink, obviously at a loss; why didn't you get any prior notice about a letter that seemed so important?

But then you open it up; and after you begin reading the neatly handwritten words on the stark white sheet of paper you find inside the envelope, a small smile paints your face and all your questions are answered.

--------------------

If anyone completely ignores the disclaimer on the envelope and ends up reading this, I’ll definitely lose my job. This is so impulsive of me to do. But...I’ve already committed, so that's that.

[Name], it’s Christmastime. Surely you’ve noticed that; hard not to. On holidays, families get together, friends have reunions, and couples spend time together. You and I, with our jobs and our work...well, I don’t think we’ll be doing any of that.

Usually I prefer it that way; I don't even remember the last time I took Christmas off. I worked during the Holidays, which probably doesn't surprise you. Sure, during Christmas season, I exercise and make time for myself, but nothing out of the ordinary. With no one to celebrate with, Christmas was just another day.

But now that you’re in my life, all of that has basically been thrown out the window.

I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’d take building snowmen or hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree with you over dealing with a pile of paperwork anyday. In fact, when I'm doing work, I'd rather be with you - I've been thinking like that almost 24/7 lately.

You mean more to me than you know; I’ve told you so many things no one else knows. With all that info you’ve got about me, you could probably get me fired on the spot in just a few sentences. And yet...I don't have any suspicions about you. When it comes to you, all my walls crumble and my guard disappears. The last time I was able to trust someone like this….was a long time ago.

I used to believe I didn't need any kind of partner in my life, especially not a romantic one. All my efforts and time go to Lungmen, and I had decided my life would be spent making myself better. But now when I think of the future...I think of you. How about that?

Our jobs get in the way of our personal lives, [name]; I thought I learned to live with that, but with you in the picture….I guess I really haven't. When the only contact I have with you for months outside of the hasty meet-ups we have on the weekends is sending you orders or receiving your intel, I get pretty exhausted.

Sometimes I wish we had met under different circumstances; met as Ch’en and [name] rather than superintendent and informant. Maybe then...things would be easier. Maybe then we could go on dates and celebrate Christmas together like a normal couple.

But this is what we got, so there's no point crying over it. And don't misunderstand me, I've ever regretted meeting you; but finding balance between being a lover and being superintendent isn't as easy as I thought it would be.

As your boss, your safety is my responsibility. But as your lover...so is your happiness. I want to make you happy [name]; seeing you happy gets me feeling all soft, so maybe it's self sabotage on my part, but that's besides the point. I don't know if I can promise that I’ll be the best girlfriend, or the best wife. I’ve never really thought about either of those things. But I’ll try my best for you; I’ll work harder every single day so that maybe someday, we can walk down the street holding hands and can get coffee or dinner without needing to worry about anything.

So...for Christmas, don’t send me any tacky gift. All I want is for you to bear me while I try to figure all this out.

That being said; something...I’ve been wanting to give you for a while should come with this letter. It might be careless, but take it. Think of it as a Christmas gift.

I have work to do, but if I manage to get it all done before Christmas, do you think we could meet? We could talk, or get something to eat; honestly? I don't care as long as I get to see you. With that gift I got you, I’m hoping seeing each other will be a lot easier for us from now on.

Have I really written this entire thing without tearing it into pieces and tossing it into the trash can? My heart is pounding out of my chest too…[name], you really will be the death of me.

This went on longer than I expected. Before someone interrupts me, I’ll just finish it up here. I love you, [name]. Sometimes things will get difficult - hah, sometimes maybe I’ll get difficult or maybe even you’ll get difficult, but I want this with you. I mean that. I know how cheesy and stupid that sounds, but don’t get too cheeky. I’m your boss before I’m your lover; so get back to work.

Ch’en

--------------------

After you finish reading the letter, your eyes are left filled with awe and your stomach flutters with butterflies. Ch’en wasn't bold in your relationship; but you understood why, you understood that she had to be that way. And so, considering all that's at risk, this letter was the last thing you were expecting.

Though your thoughts regarding the letter are still chasing each other around in your head, your eyes are drawn to the last thing inside the package - a cute little stuffed polar bear with a gift bow stuck on its head. You lift your brow; the stuffed toy is definitely adorable and a little amusing, but was that really it?

Of course not - you flip the bear over and notice there's a hole cut into its back. Careful not to mess up the stuffing or the fabric of the toy, you use your fingers to fish inside the hole; and from inside you pull a key and a folded slip of paper. You notice a tag is attached to the key; and though you’re a little lost at first, the purpose of the key becomes apparent after you read what's on the tag.

‘Ch’en’s address.’ The key isn't just any random key; it's a key to her apartment. Previously, she had been less than enthusiastic about you visiting her in such a personal place for obvious reasons linked to your jobs, but now it seemed that wasn't the case - well, considering she felt the need to hide it inside a plush toy, she’s clearly still practicing proper caution, but that isn't the point. The key is more than a key, it's a sign of trust, it's a sign of commitment; it's her best effort to show you how much she really wants to be with you - Ch’en really was trying her best for you, and it was more than you could’ve asked for.

You smile at the key and then at the stuffed bear before you read the words on the paper slip, which are written in Ch’en’s uniform penmanship, ‘Merry Christmas [name]. Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap your gift all fancy-like, so a gift bow is all you're getting.’ Your eyes shine with amusement that slowly morphs into warmth at the words that follow, ‘If you hadn't figured it out already...the real gift is the key. I'm being careless giving you something like this but…'

You can almost hear her soft sigh when the note comes to a pause, 'knowing you’ll be able to visit me whenever you feel lonely, knowing that I’ll be able to invite you over to stay the night or watch a movie with me, knowing that maybe you’ll be there to greet me after a long day at work...it all makes me happy. Almost disgustingly happy.’ You read the last line of the letter, and then you find yourself smiling down effusively at the little key in your palm, ‘I don't need anything for Christmas. [Name], with you, I’m already the happiest I’ve been in a long time.’

#i really like ch'ens character 🥺 i hope i did her justice!!#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights ch'en #arknights x reader #ch'en arknights #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #christmas event #imagine #imagines #writing

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haro-whumps · 4 years

Text

GW Worldbuilding

okay I know I answer all questions about my worldbuilding with a shrug emoji and a “idk man I just work here” but I’ve been thinking about it lately and so here’s what I’ve got.

Slaves are born into slavery, exclusively. There is no legal method for a free person to become a slave (and while kidnappings do happen, they’re rare, heavily pursued, and someone raised free is gonna be pretty fucking hard to pass off as a legitimate slave). There is also no legal method for a slave to become a free person. You are born a slave and you die a slave, and that is that.

If a child is sired by a free person but birthed by a slave, the child is a slave. If the child is sired by a slave and birthed by a free person, legally the child would be a slave, but it would be up to the birther to identify the sire. As such, a number of children sired by slaves do not actually wind up slaves themselves, their sires on their birth certificates simply labeled as “unknown.”

However! If a slave is birthed or sired by a slave’s owner, it becomes up to the owner’s discretion on whether or not the infant will become a slave, or if they will be officiated as a member of the owner’s household and legitimized as the owner’s child.

While there is no method for a slave to become free, there are a number of checks and balances set in place to ensure slaves’ safety and quality of life. This comes from two motives: firstly being that public outrage at the idea of keeping another human life bound and ensnared will decrease if there are stringent laws preventing mistreatment, and secondly because it’s my fantasy and I get to make it have a semi-functional government where the suffering of its body isn’t something that gets treated as a high score. All slaves are literate, and all are taught, during their government mandated training period (a minimum of ages 8-14, though many are enrolled prior to that age) how to report abuse to local authorities, as long as they can access some form of phone or internet-enabled electronic. Most free people do not actually know about the hotlines, and assume that the “random” checks that get made truly are random. Slaveowners are kept in a mild state of uncertain paranoia on when the inspections will happen, and as such are prompted to keep their punishments fitting and fair. The only thing they know will incite an inspection is if their slaves are not brought to a general practitioner for over a year, as that may indicate there is something to hide about the slave’s health.

A slave in a truly bad situation might run away. If they can make it to:

A place of worship

A library

An internet cafe

Most legal buildings

A community garden or city park (these are riskier since they do not have park rangers, and their owner may find them before an official does)

A national park (a safer bet, bur farther away in many cases)

A theater

A museum

A hospital

the slave can then call “Sanctuary” and the religious leader/librarian/cafe owner/judge/park ranger/stage manager/curator/etc becomes the legal interim of the slave until they can be officially handed over to the proper authorities. All of these slaves go directly to a hospital if not already in one. The slave’s previous owner becomes thoroughly scrutinized, and in almost all cases of runaways will lose their slave ownership licence, as well as any other chattel they are in possession of. Runaways are auctioned off with the cost of their combined medical and housing bills as the upper limit, as well as the buy price for those uninterested in the process of auctioning. Any expense not covered by the auction is eaten by the local governing body (which is further incentive to ensure that owners are not pushing their slaves to their breaking points in the first place).

The ability to purchase or sell slaves requires a slave ownership licence. The only way a slave may change hands without one is through the process of inheriting property. However, once the census and tax forms get sent out (And this universe has a much, much more efficient form of taxation than America does because again it’s my fantasy government and I can make the rules), those who have inherited chattel property will be strongly urged to acquire a licence, with lots of red tape and extra paperwork that will need filled out every single year in its absence. The process of acquiring a slave ownership licence is lengthy, with multiple background checks, income and expenditure financial spreadsheets, hypotheses regarding the future state of the owner’s finances, and a list of no less than twenty individual people that the agency will contact, of which at least twenty must vouch for the owner’s credibility and state, clearly and while recorded, that they believe the person in question will make a good slaveowner. There is a one-time cost that must be paid in-full, up front, that is obscenely expensive, multiple times as costly as the price of a slave. However, once the licence is issued, it does not need renewed and does not expire, excepting cases of abuse.

Most slaves are in fact content with their lives. They were raised for it, with specialized skillsets specific to the maintenance of a household and the pleasure of their owners, and very few people are willing to risk acting like Bethany did. Her deeds required 1. knowledge that it would, in fact, be the slaves to rat her out 2. a full confidence that they wouldn’t. She was careful, she was manipulative, she gaslit the hell out of all of them, and she warped their definition of what a “fair” punishment was, as well as what they “deserved.” Part of why the Guests liked coming over to play as much as they did was because they could do things to Bethany’s slaves that they knew their own would never tolerate (if they had their own, some didn’t).

Anyway I’m on fire so if you send in worldbuilding asks rn there’s a solid chance I might actually give you a real answer this time

#gw #worldbuilding #whump #slave whump #technical details of whump #mine #writing #sort of

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lantur · 4 years

Text

royai week 2020: day one, “letter”

summary: It’s a running joke in the office that even if Hawkeye were to be shot at her desk, she would put together a complete and professional memo, date, time, and subject line and all, before calling a medic for assistance. Re: Request for medical leave, effective immediately.

Or: Roy and Riza exchange a series of memos on November 18, 1910.

rated: e for everybody

tags: partial epistolary format, pre-canon

words: 3642 | read on ao3

Roy receives the invitation on the third Wednesday in November. It has been slipped in with several memos from Grumman’s office. The invitation to the annual Central Officers’ Ball is printed on the finest stationery he has ever seen - heavy ivory card-stock with golden trim and deep emerald green lettering. He takes in the details with a single glance. The last Saturday of December, at Central Command. Six in the evening. Formal attire. Dinner and dancing.

He has barely spent any time in Central since being posted to East City Command and promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. Frankly, it’s surprising that he even scored an invite. Grumman must have had something to do with it. In the midst of one of their chess games earlier this autumn, the Lieutenant General had been musing about some of the connections made at the Officers’ Ball some decades ago, and how helpful those connections were in advancing his career. Everything you want in life is a relationship away, Mustang, Grumman advised, before putting him in checkmate.

Roy smiles, folds the invitation in half, and tucks it back into its envelope.

He tears off a sheet of memo paper and begins to write.

Date: Nov. 18, 1910

Time: 3:15 PM

To: Hawkeye

From: Mustang

Re: Svensson (New Optain)

Reviewed Svensson peer interviews. You may strike him from the list due to reported issues with temperament. Proceed with followup on Nilson.

Postscript: Please clear your social calendar on the last Saturday of December.

Date: November 18, 1910

Time: 3:30 PM

To: Lt. Col. Mustang

From: Second Lt. Hawkeye

Re: Svensson (New Optain)

Svensson has been removed from the list of contenders. Nilson interviews are attached.

Postscript: Schedule is open on the last Saturday of December as requested, though I would not recommend attempting to interview a potential candidate so close to the New Year. Most individuals will be traveling to see family at that time.

Date: Nov. 18, 1910

Time: 4:30 PM

To: Hawkeye

From: Mustang

Re: Nilson

Nilson appears promising. Thank you for being proactive on completing these interviews and transcriptions in advance.

Postscript: We will not be attempting to interview Nilson on the twenty-sixth of December. You will be accompanying me to the annual Central Officers’ Ball. Expect to leave East City by late morning of the twenty-sixth. We’ll return on the morning of the twenty-seventh.

Date:

Time:

To:

From:

Re:

Lt. Col., you may have misunderstood the purpose of this event. The Central Officers’ Ball is a social event, not a professional meeting. The plus one that officers receive is intended to be filled by a spouse, partner, or date, not a member of one’s unit. I am sure that you will have no difficulty finding a suitable companion.

Roy throws a discreet glance over to Hawkeye’s desk. She’s sitting up straight, telephone held to her ear, undoubtedly making further inquiries about the next candidate on their list. The Second Lieutenant looks as calm and composed as ever, and had been perfectly collected while dropping off the memo at his desk. It’s all a sharp contradiction to the empty memo lines on the sheet before him.

Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye never leaves a memo line unfilled. Only Falman is as attentive to detail as she is. It’s not unusual for Hawkeye to chastise Breda and Havoc - not to mention him - for poorly composed or incomplete memos. The purpose of a memo is to share information, as well as to keep a record of communications, she has lectured them, a dozen times. If any fields are missing, you’re providing your fellow colleagues with an unclear picture of the situation and opening the door to any number of miscommunications. It’s a running joke in the office that even if Hawkeye were to be shot at her desk, she would put together a complete and professional memo, date, time, and subject line and all, before calling a medic for assistance. Re: Request for medical leave, effective immediately.

Roy twirls his pen through his fingers, and he can’t help but grin.

Date: Nov. 18, ‘10

Time: 5 PM

To: Hawkeye

From: Mustang

Re: Incomplete memorandum

Hawkeye, I regret that I must reprimand you for the memo that you delivered to my desk earlier this afternoon. Several fields were missing, including date, time, address information, and subject line. This could have opened the door to any number of miscommunications, or even provided your colleagues with an unclear picture of the situation.

Postscript: You said you would follow me “into hell” but you refuse to come with me to the Central Officer’s Ball? I’m not sure what that says about your conviction - or if you just think the ball will be worse than hell itself.

Hawkeye reads the memo at her desk and looks so momentarily wounded that Roy feels sorry for her. He grabs another sheet of memo paper, scribbles a few lines, and delivers it to her desk before she can even pick up a pen to respond to his first note.

Date:

Time:

To:

From:

Re: Disregard previous memo

A civilian would not be an appropriate companion for this event. It is a mission-critical operation, not a mere social engagement. I need somebody sharp and perceptive at my side to assist with evaluating the individuals we meet, most of whom will be members of senior staff. I require a second set of eyes to pick up on existing social networks and spot any opportunities for suitable connections that could help with my advancement. I can think of no better set of eyes than yours.

Date: November 18, 1910

Time: 5:15 PM

To: Lt. Col. Mustang

From: Second Lt. Hawkeye

Re: Incomplete memorandum

I extend my sincere apologies for the incomplete memorandum earlier this afternoon, Lt. Col. It will not happen again.

As the event on the twenty-sixth of December is mission-critical, I will be happy to accompany you. Any guidance that you can provide on dress code would be much appreciated.

Riza works steadily at her desk. Roy surveys her for a few long moments, resting the top of his pen against his chin thoughtfully.

She notices his scrutiny and deliberately angles her chair so that all he can see is the back of her head.

Date: 11-18-10

Time: 5:30 PM

To: Hawkeye

From: Mustang

Re: Dress code

Formal attire. Don’t fret too much about it. You’ll look stunning beautiful gorgeous nice no matter what you wear.

We’ll discuss further as we approach the operation.

Riza blushes faintly when she receives the memo. She folds it twice, into a tiny square, and then tucks it into her pocket, before proceeding to his desk and standing at attention. “Is that all for today, sir?”

Roy leans back in his chair and gives her his most disarming smile. Riza’s eyes narrow slightly. “You’re dismissed, Second Lieutenant. Enjoy your evening.”

Roy feels oddly cheerful for the rest of the night.

Date: December 25, 1910

Time: 11:15 AM

To: Hawkeye

From: Mustang

Re: Grumman meeting reschedule

Yes, you can go ahead and reschedule my meeting with Grumman to 2 PM today. We’ll push the Smith meeting back an hour.

Postscript: I’ll pick you up at your place at 11 AM tomorrow.

Date: December 25, 1910

Time: 11:30 AM

To: Lt. Col. Mustang

From: Second Lt. Hawkeye

Re: Grumman meeting schedule

The changes to your schedule have been made. Please be sure to review the files that Smith sent over prior to your meeting with him at four.

Postscript: Do you plan on driving? I can book train tickets for us today.

Date:

Time:

To:

From:

Re:

Yes, I plan on driving. You really didn’t have to look so alarmed when you read my earlier note. I’ll let you choose what we listen to on the radio, if that helps.

Date: December 25, 1910

Time: 12:30 PM

To: Lt. Col. Mustang

From: Second Lt. Hawkeye

Re: Tomorrow

I suppose it does, sir. I’ll bring coffee for the road.

Roy looks up from the memo and grins at Hawkeye. His Second Lieutenant gives the towering stack of paperwork on his desk a meaningful look, but her lips quirk up in a hint of a smile.

Riza is, uncharacteristically, two minutes late on the morning of the twenty-sixth. At two minutes past eleven, she emerges from the door of her apartment building, looking somewhat harried, carrying a canvas bag over her shoulder, a long garment bag slung over her arm, and a covered travel mug of coffee in each hand. She’s in civilian clothes, a gray skirt, knee-high boots, and a pink sweater, and Roy admires the look for a moment before he slides out of the driver’s seat to assist her. It’s bitterly cold outside, even with his overcoat, gloves, and scarf on.

“I’m sorry for my lateness, Lieutenant Colonel,” Riza says, the moment she sees him. “It’s just this stupid garment bag - it’s very unwieldy.”

“Two whole minutes, Hawkeye. It’s unforgivable. We’ll be late for the entire event, and blacklisted from all future occasions.” Roy relieves her of the coffee and opens the back door for her, allowing her to unload her canvas bag and the garment bag, which she folds carefully and places beside his neatly pressed dress uniform.

They settle in the front, taking a minute to sip their coffee in comfortable silence, curling their hands around the mugs for warmth. “No one makes coffee like you do.” Roy breathes in the steam, savoring the scent.

Riza shrugs modestly. “It’s just a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar stirred in with the cream, sir. There’s nothing to it.”

She’s eyeing the radio, set to the monotonous sounds of East City Public Radio, and Roy sighs. It’s an age-old battle between them, going back to a happier, simpler time, years ago, when they were both living under Berthold Hawkeye’s roof. “Go ahead and change it.”

Riza puts on a jazz station without argument. The roads between East City and Central are unusually empty today, and Roy delights in the ability to go fast, the music in the background, the scent of coffee lingering in the air, one of his two closest friends at his side. Even though she isn’t nearly as thrilled with the ability to drive fast as he is.

“What’s in the garment bag, Hawkeye?” Roy glances over at her. “I almost offered to come shopping with you. I thought I could pass on some of the sartorial insights I’ve learned after growing up with so many sisters, but then I realized that might be seen as inappropriate.”

“No, sir. You don’t say.”

Roy grins at the deadpan. “Insubordination, Second Lieutenant,” he replies, not meaning a word of it.

Riza settles herself into a more comfortable position in the passenger seat. “It’s a lovely dress, if I do say so myself, Lieutenant Colonel. Tangerine orange silk, sleeveless, fitted through the bodice to the knees, and flaring out from the knees to ankles. There’s a two-foot long train as well.”

Roy shoots his Second Lieutenant an appalled look, and she gives him a tiny, smug smile.

They book neighboring rooms at Central’s nicest hotel, just down the street from Central Command. It’s four by the time they check in, and they disappear into their own rooms at once to get ready. Roy takes a drink from the mini-bar in his room - just a small one, just to calm his nerves - before going through the routine of shaving, showering, getting dressed, slicking his hair back. By the time he’s finished, he can barely recognize the man in the mirror.

Roy leaves his room with the intention of finding Riza at the hotel bar for a pre-mission briefing. Instead, they both step out of their rooms at the same time, locking their doors behind them, and for a moment, Roy can’t do anything but stare. Finally, he recovers, raising an eyebrow at her. “Tangerine orange?”

Riza smooths her hands down the skirt of her dress somewhat self-consciously. It’s a silken fabric, high-necked, sleeveless, fitted close to her chest and waist, the skirt flaring out from the waist as it falls to the ground. It’s green - not the true Amestris green, but a dark, shimmering emerald green. The color is a striking contrast to her hair and her amber earrings. “Not quite,” she says. “It’s not too much?”

“Not at all. You look lovely, Hawkeye. You could be the First Lady of Amestris.”

The implication of the words hit him the second they leave his mouth. Thankfully, Riza misunderstands. She reaches for his arm, and then curls her hand into a fist, bringing it back to herself somewhat self-consciously. “You don’t think it’s overstepping for me to wear this color? I wouldn’t want to offend Mrs. Bradley.”

“Definitely not,” Roy insists. “Relax. I’ll buy you a drink at the bar to help ease your nerves. Now, come on. We have time for a quick pre-mission meeting before we head over to Central Command.”

The Central Officers’ Ball is exhausting. Roy becomes acquainted and re-acquainted with several dozen high-ranking officers stationed at bases across Amestris. He wears his most charming smile, engages in his wittiest repartee, and constantly watches and listens - not just to the officers he’s talking to, but the people in the vicinity. The Hero of Ishval, men and their wives say, over and over and over again, and his smile never falters.

He has surprisingly little time with Hawkeye. They socialize separately for most of the night - divide and conquer, he had told her, on their drive from East City to Central. Despite the crowds, Roy catches sight of her often, locked in a dance with this or that colonel or general, or conversing quietly with men he recognizes as adjutants of some of the Central Command senior staff. He’s mildly surprised to see that Hawkeye seems to be quite a hit with the younger officers and adjutants, and some of the not-so-young ones, either.

But it shouldn’t be a surprise. Riza has always been someone with intense focus, and when she trains those clear, lovely, amber-colored eyes on a man, listening to him in that calm, intent way she does, it must make him feel like the only man in the room.

Not that he would know.

Hawkeye’s looks certainly don’t hurt, either. Her dress, hair, jewelry, and cosmetics are quite a bit more understated than the other women in attendance, but she’s stunning, regardless. His eyes aren’t the only ones lingering on her tonight. But the other men aren’t her commanding officers, and Roy clears his throat, and finds a group of Brigadier Generals from Central Command to converse with.

Riza appears by his side at the next break in the music, and Roy politely excuses himself from the group. “How has your night been, Hawkeye?” he asks softly, leading her to a more quiet corner.

Riza glances up at him, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “It’s been very productive, sir. We’ll have a lot to discuss on the drive home.”

Roy can’t help but laugh. “You worked the room even better than I did. If I didn’t know it was you out there, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Riza accepts a glass from a passing waitress with a nod of thanks, and takes a sip of the champagne. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“What can I say, Second Lieutenant? You have certain advantages with this crowd that I don’t.”

“And what would those be, sir?” Riza asks, straight-faced.

“Oh, look, Hawkeye,” Roy says, suddenly very interested in the waiter moving past them. “Can I interest you in some canapes?”

The canapes are delicious. They share a savory biscotti, and when the orchestra resumes, Roy nods to the center of the ballroom. “It’s the last dance. Shall we?”

“I--” Riza hesitates, evidently taken by surprise. “I suppose that’s all right.”

Now, that’s the Riza Hawkeye he knows and--

Roy grins, and immediately suppresses the rest of the sentence. “Ah, Second Lieutenant.” He rests a hand over his heart, feigning injury. “The enthusiastic response that every man dreams of.”

Riza places her hand on his arm with a small, resigned sigh. It’s the same sound she makes when she looks him dead in the eye in the office after telling him to stop procrastinating on his work, and adds that she should be paid more. Roy leads her to the floor, and he takes her hand, placing his other hand on her back, as Riza rests her hand on his arm.

He realizes, too late, that this is the first time he’s touched her like this since the weeks immediately after Ishval.

Since you maimed her, his mind elaborates helpfully, and Roy fights the urge to wince.

He doesn’t feel the scars underneath the silken fabric of Riza’s dress. And it’s not like the fabric is thick. Over the past year, he’s wondered how the burns have healed, even though the ease of Riza’s movements, their natural grace, seem to indicate a complete recovery.

Roy glances down at her, worried, wondering if this is the reason she had hesitated to accept the offer to dance. If Riza is at all troubled, she shows no indication of it. Her hand is relaxed in his own, her expression calm. She looks genuinely at ease, for the first time tonight. They’re close enough that he can breathe in the scent of her hair. Vanilla, the same shampoo she has used for all the years he’s known her.

So Roy tries to appreciate the music, the lovely sounds of the forty-piece orchestra. He tries to glance around at the men surrounding them and identify which ones he and Riza hadn’t conversed with tonight. He tries to think about anything except how good and how right it feels to have his subordinate in his arms.

He can see the Fuhrer and his wife through the crowd. Fuhrer Bradley holds his wife close, resting his chin on top of her head. A rare, tender gesture, one that appears incongruous from such a fierce-looking man. A man who had signed off on the slaughter of the Ishvalan people. The First Lady is wearing a dress remarkably similar to Riza’s, though it’s violet and not dark green.

Even with the music, Roy can hear the soft swish of Riza’s skirt as they move. The warm glow of the low lamplight catches her hair, her eyes, her amber drop earrings.

“The green was a good choice,” Roy murmurs, even though he shouldn’t. Just like he shouldn’t imagine the two of them ten years from now, standing in the Fuhrer and the First Lady’s place.

“Thank you, sir.” Riza’s voice is barely audible.

There will be no extravagant holiday parties for them. His tenure as Fuhrer will last only as long as it takes to strip the power away from the military and hand it back to the people. If there’s any justice in this world, his tenure will end with a firing squad.

The music comes to an end, and they release one another’s hands.

They say their farewells, lingering to socialize a bit more with the potential new allies formed tonight. It’s midnight before they head back to their hotel, and they slump back against the wall of the elevator in exhaustion. Roy’s eyelids feel heavy, his head aches slightly, and he is overly conscious of Riza’s shoulder, a few inches from his own. He’s so used to seeing her shoulders covered by the dark blue wool of her uniform coat that it takes an effort not to stare whenever he sees her in civilian clothes.

It would be so easy to lean into her. He sees that Riza is tired too, in the sharp, impatient movements of her hands as she hitches up her skirt enough to pull off her high heels, right there in the elevator. But he doesn’t, just like he doesn’t stare at her legs.

“Questionable, Hawkeye,” Roy comments, as they make their way down the hall, back to their rooms. Riza’s steps don’t click on the marble floors as they have all night. “These floors may look spotless, but I wouldn’t want my bare feet all over them before getting into bed.”

“That’s what the soaking tub is for, sir,” Riza replies, and Roy is momentarily distracted by the mental image of her slipping off the ballgown, the emerald green silk falling to the floor.

They come to a stop in front of both of their rooms and turn to face one another. “Thank you, Second Lieutenant,” Roy says. “For accompanying me.”

“I was happy to do so, Lieutenant Colonel, despite my initial reluctance. I think we worked well together.”

“Do you want to come in, to discuss the connections we made tonight?” Roy asks, and he can’t bear to look her in the eyes. He stares at a spot just above her head instead. “I’ll mix you a drink.”

Riza looks at him steadily. She swallows, and Roy watches the movement of her throat, and imagines running his fingers through her hair, gently pulling her head back, kissing her neck. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.”

The worst thing, by far, is that he’s not imagining the reluctance in her voice.

“Of course.” Roy forces his most carefree smile. “Sleep well, Hawkeye.”

“You too, Lieutenant Colonel.”

They retreat into their separate rooms. Roy closes the door behind him, locks it, and leans against the door heavily. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing the impeccably slicked-back style, and all the breath leaves his body in a sigh.

He stays there, for a long while. He thinks of Riza, in her room. And finally, Roy makes his way to the mini-bar to pour himself a drink.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfic

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dreams-of-the-arcana · 4 years

Text

It’s finally here! Chapter 2 of the Spy AU (it rhymed so I had to). Still no title (suggestions greatly appreciated) or header art.

For Chapter 1:

Ft. @theroyalmage’s Emrys, Asra Alnazar, Portia Devorak, newcomer Godiva

We left off with Nadia Satrinava, the Prime Minister of Vesuvia, receiving a very suspicious note leading to a mystery visitor. Now we meet our surprise guest!

Chapter Two: Right Back At It

The common consensus amongst the members of the Vesuvian Secret Intelligence Agency, or VSIA, was that there was no such thing as a ‘normal’ day. How could there be? While other agencies drowned in weeks of paperwork and red tape, the VSIA agents moved rapidly and in the most intense situations.

So even getting the call that the Prime Minister had received a serious death threat wasn’t enough to make the agents blink.

Hidden away, the VSIA building stood tall and boring from the outside. A grey building in a sea of grey buildings made even worse with most of the floors boarded up. A small law firm operated on the second floor and a simple accountant set up on the fourth but that was just the beginning of this particular building.

Agent Emrys Trevellyan stretched and yawned as he strode across the white tiling towards the elevator. The receptionist offered a brief nod before turning back to her newspaper. Pulling back the rusted metal grate, Emrys entered the ancient looking elevator and tiredly put a blank keycard into the small slot at the bottom of the floor numbers. A small camera looking device popped out from seemingly nowhere and announced in an overly chipper voice.

“Look at the birdie!”

Emrys gave the camera a muted smile, as he had a thousand times before, and trained his eye on the lens.

“Welcome Agent Trevellyan”

The elevator began to descend.

Many years prior, the organization that would become the VSIA needed to find a suitable space for their operations. They had quite a few requirements.

“There must be space for expansion as our assignments grow. It must not draw attention to itself. Please no more moldy damp basements?”

Once the building was secured they decided to build underground rather than above. Though the space was absolutely covered in dehumidifiers and vitamin D lamps.

The elevator came to a stop and Emrys strolled through slowly towards his office. Other agents were already hurrying about, the VSIA maintained 24-hour Ops. Emrys reaches for his door, dreaming of hot coffee, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Emrys wanted so badly to keep walking but instead he faced the voice.

“I haven’t even been here for two minutes, Goldie.”

The woman in front of him was tall and impressive. Agent Godiva Köhler stood at 6’3” with wide hips, strong arms, golden brown skin, and most striking were her gold eyes. The vibrant intensity of her gaze earned her the nickname, Goldie.

Goldie had a way with getting information out of people without using any of the usual methods. Most other agents described it as “killing them with kindness”. She inspired other people to want to make her proud. It was terrifying.

Goldie just smiled and pointed to the note attached to Emrys’ door that he’d missed.

‘Please see me immediately - A’

Emrys pulled the note off of his door and gave it another once over with a narrowed, curious gaze.

"Must be important..." he trailed off before stifling a yawn and turning towards their boss' office.

“I know you just got back,” Goldie offered sympathetically. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t ask for you right away unless it was important.”

Emrys understood that and accepted it, he just still dreamed of the coffee machine in his office.

The Director’s office of a secret organization should probably call up images of professional, cold, and impersonal rooms with metal chairs and plain stately wooden desks but Director Alnazar took a different approach.

Upon entering, Emrys and Goldie immediately took in the calming smell of freshly made tea. Tapestries, paintings, and totems filled the room with color and even though there was a stately desk, Director Asra Alnazar was sitting on top of it.

Touchless screens sat around the Director as he worked through a world full of information using only gestures. Deep violet eyes took in everything and most of the agents joked that the Director could even see the future with those eyes.

“Ah, Emrys!” The look of concentration vanished and the Director stood up to greet the agent. Goldie waved and stepped back out.

“Good morning, Director.”

“Emrys, you know you can call me Asra.”

“And yet...”

“Fair enough. I apologize for calling you so soon after you got back. I heard you did an amazing job out in Nopal though!”

Asra smiled and led Emrys to a couple low cushions where a pot of tea waited. Emrys gladly took a cup with a small smile as the mild caffeine hit him. Asra took a moment too before beginning.

“I didn’t want to send you out at first, you’ve been gone for months but after today I knew I needed you for this,” Asra looked troubled. An unusual expression on the happy Director’s face. Emrys leaned in a bit more.

“You’re my best undercover agent though and I can’t be certain how long this assignment will take,” Asra warned.

“I can take it, Director. Just let me know.”

Asra smiled softly.

“I know you can... you’ve probably heard us mention ‘The Devil’ before.”

Emrys nodded. Many agents had worked tirelessly on uncovering as much as they could about the shadowy gang.

“Well it looks like they’re making a big move suddenly,” Asra sighed. “The Prime Minister received a death threat today and we believe it’s from them.”

Emrys’ eyes widened, so far The Devil had been involved in undercover deals like illegal fighting rings, human trafficking, or blackmail. They’d never threatened public officials so blatantly.

“Why do you believe it’s them, boss? They’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Because of Lucio Morgasson, the PM’s late husband. We’ve uncovered information that he was involved with The Devil before his accident. It appears he used his nightclubs to further The Devil’s agenda. Now that Lucio is gone, they might believe PM Satrinava knows something she shouldn’t. Lately, her own goals have been too close to hurting The Devil’s plans so she’s now a potentially a reasonable threat to them.”

Emrys took a moment to process everything he’d heard. Everyone in the VSIA had discussed Morgasson’s ‘accident’ in detail but held no suspicion his wife had anything to do with it. By all accounts, Nadia Satrinava had been a model citizen and PM with no idea the shady dealings her husband engaged in. To target her now too? Why?

Questions filled Emrys’ mind as Asra waited for him to comment.

“... What do you need from me?” Emrys finally asked.

“You’ll be inserted into PM Satrinava’s personal guard. I want eyes on her 24/7 until we have a handle on the situation.”

Asra pulled a file from beside him and passed it to Emrys.

“We have an agent already in posing as the PM’s personal secretary.”

Emrys opened the file to see Pasha Devorak’s smiling face, he smiled. Pasha was posing as “Portia Kocourek, 25-year-old personal secretary” and actually acting as Emrys’ handler.

“We have files on all of her staff and their contacts”

A large man with dark circles under his eyes and heavy features stared up. “Muriel Kokhuri, Vesuvian Secret Service, personal bodyguard to PM Satrinava.”

“He may look mean but Muriel and I grew up together. Just don’t mention the VSIA to him.”

A small woman with porcelain skin and brilliant blue eyes was next. “Andraste ‘Andi’ Ó Conail, public relations for PM Satrinava.” A small star sat by her name which Emrys mentioned to Asra. The Director quickly moved to refill their cups and shrugged it off with a simple “we want to recruit her” but wouldn’t say more.

The files went on as the two poured over the details. Finally, Asra checked the time and informed Emrys he had a meeting that day to introduce himself to the PM. They said their goodbyes and Emrys set out for the capitol building.

Questions still swirled around his mind but he focused on the task at hand. Upon entering he sought out Pasha’s cheerful face and gave her the slightest nod.

While Pasha reached out to the PM, Emrys took the time to drop into the closest chair. It really felt like a 100 years since he’d had a real break. Maybe after all this he would actually take a vacation? Use some of those days piling up behind his name.

“The Prime Minister will see you now, sir.”

Emrys nodded and stood back up, vacations would have to come later. Right now, he had a job to do.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana au #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfic au #arcana fanfic #andi the apprentice #cleo the apprentice #emrys trevellyan #kit hunter #portia devorak #pasha devorak #julian devorak #ilya devorak #lucio morgasson #nadia satrinava #muriel the mountain man #asra alnazar #godiva Köhler

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starkerisendgame · 5 years

Note

tony has to take care of peter after his parents pass. (tony is peters god dad and totally forgot because him and pete’s parents drifted over the years) peter is a total brat and tony passes it off as him coping with the deaths. after a few months peter goes over the top and tony decides he has had enough, and so rough smut happens and tony realizes that peter was being a brat cause he’s cock hungry

This is such an interesting concept! It certainly turned out longer than expected, but I loved writing this! Thank you

P.2 | P.3

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I thought I just heard you say ‘kid’, ‘guardian’ and my name in the same line” Tony mumbled, sitting up straighter and ignoring the pounding in his head to eye the professional looking woman over the rim of his glasses. She eyed him back, a flicker of annoyance breaking her expression before it smoothed and she cleared her throat.

“Mr. Stark. I understand this must be a difficult time for you, after losing a close friend. But according to a contract drafted in 2001, you and Richard Benjamin Parker came to a legal agreement that you would be named God-Father to Peter Parker, labelled as his legal guardian in the event the boy has no immediate family able to care for him”.

The contract she slides over states exactly that, with two neat and authentic signatures at the bottom of the sheet. One belongs to him, messy and clearly done when he was drunk. The other belongs to Richard, equally as chicken-scratched onto the paper. There’s some vague awareness in the back of his mind about this. But he’s not willing to allow it to the forefront of his brain.

“Legal guardian” he repeated, reaching for the tumbler of water and taking a sip, groaning as he set it down to massage his temples. Richard’s funeral had been the night prior, and the last thing Tony had expected was a lawyer at ass o’clock in the morning, accompanied by a contract and apparently, a whole human being.

She sighs, like he is single-handedly managing to get on every single on of her 7,000,000,000 nerves. “Yes, Mr. Stark. In the contract it states that you are to become the sole legal guardian of Peter in the event his immediate family is unable to provide adequate care for him-”

“Of course they can’t. They’re dead” he mutters, and he doesn’t have to look to know the glare she sends his way.

“This includes any capacity in which his care is required from health, financial and residential. The paperwork was filed yesterday morning. As of today, you are the legal guardian of Peter”.

Peter. Vaguely, Tony remembers a disconcertingly quiet bundle in a soft, blue blanket, held close to Mary’s chest. The $200 gift basket and the custom-knitted blanket and the share in stocks that Tony had gifted. Peter had been a large factor in he and Richard drifting apart. Richard was focused on building his family. Tony was focused on escaping his.

“Right” He huffed, sitting upright and pausing long enough to stop his vision swimming. He desperately scrambled for a coherent thought and she folded her hands neatly, eyeing him as though he were a ticking bomb. With the way his brain begun to ache, he felt like one.

“Fuck Richard and that vintage bourbon” he hissed, reaching to loosen his tie. She startled, linking at him owlishly as he snatched up the contract, scouring the words.

I, Anthony Edward Stark, swear….Legal guardianship in the event of….By the decree of Richard and Mary Parker….God-Father to Peter Parker….Until Peter Parker turns of legal age…Inheritance of Parker Developmental….

He cursed again, snatching open the drawer on his desk to pull out a flask. The whiskey burnt his throat and took with it the rest of the filthy words he wanted to spit.

He wasn’t angry. Not really. Richard had been his best friend at one time, and was still high in his regards. Drifting apart over the years due to different priorities in life had not lessened the respect they held for each other, and Tony still remembered that strange feeling that bloomed in his heart, looking down at the pink, sleeping baby in Richard’s arms.

Except…Over time, he had forgotten about his promise. About the contract, buried deep, somewhere in his own archives. He’d never expected it to bear fruit. Not even when Richard proposed it, eight glasses in and wild at the eyes. Even when it became a legal document and he was still tipsy as he scrawled out his name.

Richard was supposed to have lived, well past the age Peter would require a God-Parent. Tony flexed his arm, looked at the chunky watch on his wrist. A thought, and it would evolve into armour. A Gauntlet. Perhaps if he punched himself in the face hard enough this would all turn out to be a drunk, horrid dream.

“Mr. Stark?” The lawyer probed gently, and he looked up at her, clearing his throat and gesturing.

“The boy. Peter”. He couldn’t bring any other words out, but she seemed to understand.

“Peter is staying with a close family friend, May Leehart. She took him in the night Mr. and Mrs. Parker died. She was informed of the contract and Peter has also been told. He is packed and awaiting pick-up”. She said it so cooly, as if Peter were a parcel Tony had to collect.

He stewed in it for a moment, before he waved a hand at her. “I will require 12 hours to prepare”. He tipped his glasses again the way she raised a brow, his expression cold. She quickly adjusted, nodding.

“I will establish a pick-up time of 2000 hours, tomorrow. Will that suffice?” She asked, scribbling down on her notepad. Tony grunted in response. Fuck, Pepper was going to be so mad.

She was, as it turns out. But not for the reason Tony might have expected. Instead of being mad that he’d drunkenly signed up to be a parent, she was mad that he had forgotten he’d drunkenly signed up to be a parent. He scoffed, but could not argue.

Regardless, she helped him to arrange adjustment of the guest bedroom in his penthouse, clearing all the boxes of parts he had stacked there and establishing a double bed, nice furniture. He simply handed her a card, waving away her suggestions. He had no idea what teenagers liked these days, her guess was as good as his.

The room ended up themed in dark, molten reds and a burnished, fancy-looking shade of blue. Empty shelves line the wall and a small desk was set up near the window, already filled with stationary for Peter’s schoolwork.

Right. The kid was what…Fifteen? Sixteen? Tony shook his head as he slipped into the car, pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose. The roar of the engine helped to overtake his thoughts as he let JARVIS input the address he had been given, guiding him through the city. For all that Richard may have been wealthy, this family friend was clearly not. The apartment he pulled up outside of was in Queens, and not even ‘good’ Queens.

The block was drab, beige and like the type of place Tony might live if he wanted to commit suicide by infected rat bite. “J, eyes on the car” he murmured as he shut the doors.

Yes, Sir.

The building was no better on the inside, shabby and with harsh lighting. Sat on one of the benches along the wall, is a boy.

Thick, fluffy hair as dark as full cocoa chocolate is messy, hides his eyes. He’s pale, lithe and slender. Jeans hug his thighs and his shirt is a shade too tight. Tony stopped in the doorway, unsure. It was only the bags at the kid’s feet that gave him a clue.

“Peter?” The boy looked up, wiping hastily at his eyes. They’re dark and red, his cheeks stained. He’s been crying, a lot. The boy stood clumsily, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and approaching, arms folding defensively.

“Tony”. It’s abrupt, flat. Tony is so used to ‘Mr. Stark’ that it threw him for a moment, brows climbing. He let out an exhale, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“First name basis already. Look at us, we’re doing great” he chirped, leaning back a fraction to once-over the boy. He was…Attractive, he realised with a start. His face was still a little round with baby fat but he had a strong jawline coming through. Arched brows, creamy skin. He’s shorter than Tony by just a few inches.

Peter doesn’t respond verbally, but he does shoot an impressive scowl his way. But that’s okay. Tony can deal. Teenagers are meant to be stroppy and this one just lost his parents. He can abide by an attitude, for now. Stepping aside he held open the door to the building, making a mental note to grab a hand-wipe from the car. “J, trunk, please” he requests, allowing Peter to step past.

The car blares to life, the trunk popping open gently and lifting. Peter paused mid-step for a moment, before he continued, dumping his bag harshly into the trunk. The rest of his things are in boxes, already at the Tower. Happy had arranged pick-up earlier that day. All the kid has on him now is some clothes and personal effects.

“Music. Do you like music? Of course you like music, everyone does” Tony announced, lifting his own door and sliding in. Peter copied, slumping in his seat and clipping his belt in like someone on death-row. The only response Tony gets is a soft grunt, so he flicks on the music, AC/DC filling the uncomfortable, volatile silence. Leaning for the glovebox, he pulled a sanitary wipe and scrubbed his hands.

Peter didn’t say a word, not for the entire ride. But he did start crying somewhere along 29th. Tony elected to ignore it, gunning the car harder. If the kid wanted to display emotions, he could do that in the privacy of his own room. The closer they got to the Tower, the more Peter seemed to sink into his seat.

The sliding door to the base level vehicle elevator opened for them as they approached, and Peter’s head lifted, hands coming to wipe his eyes as he sat upright and blatantly stared. Tony couldn’t help the little smirk that graced his mouth. He knew the way that he felt, when his bots and his tech first worked. That flutter, low in his gut. The building climb of awe.

Peter glanced across at him and immediately scowled. “It’s not that cool” he muttered, looking away. Tony tipped his head, glancing almost sardonically across at the boy before he let go of the wheel, relaxing back. The car came to a gentle halt and clunked as the locking systems clamped onto the wheels.

The car twisted slowly on the rotating platform and Tony popped his door, stepping out and unbuttoning his jacket. He caught a glimpse of Peter’s wide eyes as the car turned, and then the boy stepped out of the car after him, stumbling a little. Tony stopped himself from reaching out to steady him, instead wandering to where he knew the door to the second floor would open.

Peter ambled after him, still a little wobbly and stopped besides him. “Hey, J. How’s the weather up there?” Tony asked, taking off his sunglasses. Instead of filtering through the comms piece at his ear, JARVIS’ voice filled the room around them.

“Clean and ready, with a light chance of Chinese takeout in the kitchen, Sir”. Peter spun, eyes wide as he looked around. Tony snickered softly, and sensed rather than saw the look of death Peter threw him.

“Oh, manners. Of course. Hey, J? Surprise, you’re an Uncle now. Peter Parker, JARVIS” he hummed, stepping off the podium as the door slid open. Peter had stopped, staring, but leapt out of the way when the car started up, steering itself past them and into an empty space.

“Mr. Parker. It is my pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the Stark Tower” JARVIS’ voice greeted softly, and Peter gave another unsubtle look around. “You will not find me in any true form, Mr. Parker. I am the brainchild of Mr. Stark. I am artificial intelligence and I am everywhere”.

Peter whipped around, staring accusingly at Tony. “So, what? You got an AI to spy on me? Creep” He muttered, wandering away to trace his fingertips down the bonnet of the Lamborghini. Tony snorted.

“You think I went through the trouble of coding and creating an entire AI just because I had some kid coming to stay? Egotistical, much? JARVIS was around before you were nut in Richard’s balls, kid. Besides. JARVIS knows when to look the other way” he winked, scooping up the bag Peter had abandoned and leading the way to the small flight of stairs that led to the penthouse.

Something dug into his hip within the bag and he subtly shifted, squeezing it closer. The unmistakable ridge of a dildo nudged at his side and he glanced down at the bag, raising a brow before looking over his shoulder. Peter was following, slowly. Stopping to stare longingly at each vehicle.

Huh. So there’s that.

He hopped the stairs lightly, tossing Peter’s bag onto the couch when he passed it and slipped behind the bar, reaching for a nice vintage. Pepper could scold him all she wanted. He was a father now. He deserved some damned wine. Peter came peeking around the corner a few moments later, eyes wide open as he looked around. Tony would admit, it was luxurious. While Richard and Mary hadn’t been poor, they hadn’t been on the same level as Tony and Parker Developmental was more a concept than a functioning business.

“You’re not old enough to drink, so. I think there’s some juice in the fridge. There should be. I sent Happy for groceries. I’m not sure what functioning people eat, so. Feel free to write a list” he rambled, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a long sip. Peter stared at him blankly for a moment before kicking off his shoes, leaving them in the doorway as he bypassed Tony and opened the fridge to glance inside. It was stuffed full of food. Vegetables, meat. Chocolate, fruit. Juices and milk and vitamin water.

“Where’s my room?” He asked instead, flicking the fridge shut and looking across at Tony, who pointed to a doorway as he turned. The door he pointed at was closed, sleek and white. Peter started for it and Tony strolled casually after him.

“Your door will unlock automatically, based on your genetic signature. But feel free to set a passcode. JARVIS will help” Tony informed, watching Peter’s startled glance back at him before he pushed the door open. The room was impressive. Tony hadn’t looked at it closely when Pepper sent him the files, but it was lighter than he’d expected. Looked completely different to a glorified storage room.

“A double?” Peter asked, turning in the doorway and leaning back against it as Tony stopped besides him. They were close like this, Tony’s side against Peter’s front. He turned, cocking a brow as he sipped his wine and leaned into Peter’s space a little.

“Luxury. And, who knows. When you’re old enough to know what sex is, maybe you might bring someone back” he shrugged gently. Peter’s breathing tripped over itself and he stared, lips parting as Tony turned away. “Don’t break anything and don’t touch anything important looking. JARVIS can play tour guide” he called over his shoulder, sauntering away towards his room. He needed to change. Maybe jerk off.

Peter watched his ass the entire way.

#Starker #IronSpider #Starker Fic #Starker AU #IronSpider Fic #Prompt Fills #IronSpider AU #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #Peter Parker x Tony Stark #Starker Request #Starker Prompt Fills #Starker Prompt #Starker Part One

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sweaterkittensahoy · 4 years

Photo

The story of Britton Bean started with finding her photo on the Humane Society website. It was April. We weren’t supposed to get a dog until July.

But. Those ears.

And she met all the requirements we had for a dog: Small (apartment management requires dogs under 20 pounds); female (to hopefully make it easier to become friends with the bestie’s dog; a rescue.

So, I posted this tweet, then frantically texted @whatsmyappeal, who was at work. Basically trying to talk myself out of going and meeting this dog. Because I knew. I just knew.

I mean. Those ears.

Here’s the thing about adopting a dog in PDX: If you adopt through the Humane Society, you have to move fast. Dogs and cats get adopted fantastically quickly in PDX. On average, dogs who pass behavioral tests and physical exams can be put up for adoption on Tuesday and gone by Wednesday. PDX is such a busy place for the Humane Society, that they take in a LOT of animals from neighboring states. It’s called the Second Chance Program. Animals from neighboring states who pass health and behavioral tests are sent to PDX so that shelters near-capacity can keep space open for animals that need more specialized care or simply more animals in general.

We’ll circle back to this in a second.

So, here’s this adorable, scared little girl up for adoption, and I’m trying desperately not to run out and grab her. We’re traveling in June and July; which is why we decided to wait until late July to even consider adoption. I had been looking at listings just to get a sense of how often small dogs came into the shelter. This was not the moment to adopt.

But. I knew she was ours. I just knew it.

I ended up calling the husband and laying out a plan. We’ll go and meet her. He gets final say in if we take her home. If she doesn’t feel like a good fit to him, we’ll wait. It’s important that we both want this dog.

We go. We fill out paperwork. We wait an hour. We go into the meeting room, and here she comes. She’s scared and nervy. Incredibly quiet. We find out she’s had a very, very exhausting week.

On Monday, she’d been found on the streets of Fresno.

On Tuesday, they’d put her on a truck to bring her to PDX.

On Wednesday, she’d been spayed.

And it was now Thursday, and we were meeting her.

Sean and I took a few minutes to discuss pros and cons: We couldn’t get a real sense of her overall personality at the moment because she was clearly terrified and exhausted. But we’ve always planned to adopt a rescue, so we’re well aware of issues we may have to overcome. What we had seen was promising. She was sweet and curious, if a bit shaky.

We took her home. On the drive there, we changed her name from Butterfly (named by the shelter) to Britton Bean. ‘Bean’ because she’s small and ‘Britton’ after my great-grandparents. They’d always been dog lovers and no one in the family had used the name elsewhere, and I think they’d have been delighted to find out our pup had their name.

We got her home, and put her inside, and she sniffed around for a couple of minutes, then spotted the couch and LEAPED onto it, rolling around and digging at it in clear excitement.

That answered our first question: She knew what a couch was. She probably hadn’t always been a stray.

A couple of hours later, we had answers to other questions: She knew how to walk on a leash. She liked belly rubs. I had no doubt that before she’d been found in Fresno, she’d been somebody’s pet.

For the next two weeks, she basically slept. Can’t say I blame her.

When she wasn’t sleeping, she was on watch. A few days after we got her, we took her for a car ride. She climbed right into Sean’s lap in the driver’s seat and stared out the window. She knew what a sweater was and liked to wear them. She knew to flop over to get her harness put on.

When they’d found her in Fresno, she’d clearly recently had puppies. But she was found alone, and the guess was that the puppies had been weaned, and she had been dumped. Frenso’s got a bad habit of that.

It didn’t make sense to me. She was two years old. If they’d only been using her for breeding, it seemed unlikely she’d be so good on a lease or want lap sits or know how to ride in a car. And while she was a bit skinny when we got her, she only had to put on a pound and a half to get back up to a good weight. Strays who have puppies tend to need to recover a lot more than that when they’re picked up by rescues. And if they’re lifelong strays, they don’t know how to walk on a leash or what lap sits are.

Looking at our girl and knowing what I knew of backyard breeders, I did some research, and I came to a conclusion. Our deer-headed, big-eared, long-bodied baby was a Chiweenie.

A Chiweenie is a “designer breed,” which is the nice way of saying someone got it into their head they had to further cute-ify dogs to their exact liking, and so they took a Dachshund and a Chihuahua and had them make babies. Now, where I come from, we’d call that a mutt, and there’d be an ad in the paper for free puppies. But since someone did it on purpose and gave it a cutesy nickname, puppies can cost up to $500 each. The fact that Bean was found on the streets with clear signs she’d had puppies but wasn’t skeletal? I’m pretty sure someone bred her specifically to sell her pups, and then dumped her when the pups were weaned.

But prior to that? I think she was someone’s beloved dog. Like I said, she knew what a couch was. She could walk on a leash. She was housebroken. She knew how to signal to go out. She knew what sweaters were and how to ride in the car.

I have a whole backstory of guesses of how she ended up at the Humane Society to come home with us, but I’ll skip that. Because what’s important isn’t where she was, it’s where she is, and that’s with us.

She is not without her challenges. She barks at nearly everything. She has separation anxiety (RIP living room blinds). We’re working on it. She crates well, thankfully, so we can keep her safe if we need to leave her alone, but we also have a dogsitter and try to take her with us on errands whenever possible.

What’s good is that while these things are issues, they’re improving. The barking is toning down in a lot of places, and her separation anxiety is getting less prominent. I work from home now, so when I leave the house, she seems to think I’ll never return. If Sean leaves for work, she’s fine. If he comes home after work, then leaves again, she gets a bit moody but does all right overall.

Even better is that the things we’re working on are changing. First, it was getting her to stop barking at every little thing. Now, it’s focusing on getting her to ignore other dogs walking by and getting her to stop threatening people dropping off mail and packages. But there’s a new twist: She barks for attention now. If we’re not giving her enough attention by her standards, she’ll come right up and bark at us. It is very, very annoying. But it’s also a good sign. She’s getting more comfortable, so she’s pushing boundaries to see what we do.

We do what we always do: We work with her, then praise her when she acts appropriately. She had to go one-on-one for training, but she did great. She loved it. The trainer thinks that she’ll never be super buddy-buddy with other dogs in general, but it’s a real possibility she’ll learn to ignore dogs on walks and maybe even be able to make a friend or two over time. We’re seeing her ability to ignore other dogs already, and that’s damn good for less than a year’s work.

She hates the cold, so we got her a warming stone for her couch nest, and the heating pad lives on her bed in front of the entertainment center. Her sweater collection grows almost every week, and she has three pairs of pajamas so far. She’s figured out that being out in the cold with the sun out is perfectly fine for a walk, but we’re still working on her accepting being out in the rain. She absolutely loathes the rain, but she’s a PNW girl now, so she has to deal. We don’t make her stay out longer than she needs to go to the bathroom if she doesn’t want to, and she has a little, fake grass patch on the porch so she can pee there in the middle of the night.

She’s clever as hell. You put a hunting dog and a rat-catcher in the same body, it’ll happen. It’s led to pooping in the house in the middle of the night because she’s discovered if she doesn’t shake off before she does it, we don’t wake up to see if she needs out.

She’s sweet as can be and loves treats. She also loves people once she’s gotten used to them, though she’ll still decide she needs to bark for five minutes when they visit. We took her to someone else’s house for Thanksgiving, and while she was overwhelmed at times, she mellowed during the night and was playing with her toy by the end of things.

She gets a Puppacino once a week and knows when it’s happening. Her tiny claws are stabby knives of death, but we can’t trim them super often because her quicks are so long. She plays with her toys for about ten minutes at a time, and if she really wants your attention, she’ll get in your lap, stand on her hind legs, and lick your nose.

She is a very good girl, and will likely live well into her teens. Right now, she’s curled on my lap to warm up her feet because we went for a walk. In a couple of hours, she’ll wake up and shake off and move back to the couch or come in and stare at me until I turn on the heating pad on her bed. If she doesn’t get her pill pocket at four, she’ll come and lick my nose.

#dog #britton bean #i am so in love with this asshole #you don't even know

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rochestergreekrestaurantssw-blog · 4 years

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Find the closest Wells Fargo in New Berlin

Find The nearest Wells Fargo and even ATM Locations in New Berlin, WI. Get Wells Fargo Bank locations and hours, solutions and driving directions.

Wells Fargo Bank in New Berlin, WI

Wells Fargo Bank, 16001 W Cleveland Ave New Berlin, WI 53151

Reviews

I use this branch to create one or two deposit per month, and I are actually doing this regarding the last several several weeks. Most everyone is extremely nice, although I actually went in today, and We was not too happy with the experience. I was initially on my telephone while I came into the bank, and even My spouse and i was met with by the rep. Typically I have a deposit slip completely ready, consider there was NO other clients in the lender, I travelled right to the teller window. Remember I actually was no longer about my phone call. The teller, though warm and friendly, found this need to let everyone know that "their" customers fill out put in slipping, and that clients according get frustrated when folks like me come into the bank unprepared. Reason us?! As I mentioned prior to, there was no a person in line. We furthermore have been doing this kind of for quite some time, and I experience like she would notice that I normally have anything prepared. As I was leaving, I got inquired if I wanted to analysis my accounts for the free ice cubes scraper. I explained that will We reviewed my company accounts within typically the last couple a few months, plus I made the necessary changes. I furthermore described i used to work at WF, and currently work in the industry, so I do not have much need for a review. No matter, she asked us from least two different occasions. Very annoying! I actually comprehend it is her task to produce everyone these gives, yet there is some sort of fine lie involving getting helpful and staying tricky. One girl guiding the teller line pointed out that will they have made some sort of few becomes the balances just lately, that has been helpful, nevertheless at this point My partner and i had enough. I would provide my phone variety as a result of move on together with my working day, but My partner and i don't think I am stopping in for a good evaluation or the ice scraper. I have recently been looking with regard to a reason to advance my personal accounts from WF, and even this just might possibly be the purpose I needed. If it was not necessarily for the free popcorn, I actually guess this experience may possibly have already been given a 1-star.

Wells Fargo 53214

Wells Fargo Bank, 6130 W National Ave West Allis, WI 53214

Reviews

Low-budget location with low spending budget help. Inadequate service, very long wait moments. Riffraff consumers as well. Apologies of which I am a purchaser in this article

Wells Fargo Bank Wauwatosa

Wells Fargo Bank, 2675 N Mayfair Rd Wauwatosa, WI 53226

Reviews

My partner and i found this bank inside search of a Medallion Trademark Guarantee stamp. This is a special trademark promise for the transfer of investments. It's some sort of step further than some sort of notary public, and definitely not just about every financial institution sometimes offers it. Required typically the stamp for some residence paperwork. I used the particular handy dandy Internet to help find who knows where that delivers this service, in addition to I actually found Wells Fargo. I actually called the branch best to me to make sure they do, indeed, have the stamp. I was initially told that just the Mayfair location in addition to the Mequon position offer you the stamp. So off I go, to often the Mayfair location. I got within and was quickly welcomed by Rashad, a person of the particular brokers. I told Rashad I actually needed a Medallion Personal Guarantee stamp. They informed me he's the consumer the fact that does it, but they need a few specific papers to carry out it. That indicates I have to run back home, grab often the reports I need and even come back. Since undesirable as it is, I need the stamp, therefore I go home together with come back with this proper paperwork. When We returned, Rashad sitting us in his business whilst he grabbed the brand, imprint from the vault. They requested my ID in addition to started out entering some information in to his computer. In this case we struck a snafu. Rashad states I'm certainly not in the personal computer. "Do you have an consideration with us? " Well, virtually no, We don't. That's whenever My spouse and i first learn that will, so that you can issue a new Medallion Unique Guarantee stamp, anyone have to have a free account with Wells Fargo no less than 60 days. Why did not they will tell me this kind of on the phone, when I called? Rashad felt terrible. I've already made only two trips here, and they can not even help everyone. So Rashad actually dived online and started off phoning around. Finally, the next standard bank he named stated that they would be able to help us. While My spouse and i don't bank on Bore holes Fargo, the customer services I received was first-rate! Rashad went above together with past by calling different banks for me.

Reviews

One WF business is much like the other, in terminology of services. However, My partner and i do have a pair of gripes about this location. One particular, the idea is sometimes hard to get around; when you are coming up northbound on the subject of Mayfair Road, an individual have to make the left turn at Heart Street and then help to make another remaining turn into the lot. Is actually, throughout drive times, it has the hard to make that still left turn into the lot, due to inconsiderate folks at the rear of the wheel, browsing brand eastbound on Center road to get through typically the intersection on Mayfair Route; otherwise, I guess you can take the opportunity and even make a U-turn after which enter from Mayfair Highway. Another gripe I have around this location is that there is just one single TELLER MACHINES and it can be a driveup office, outside. It really is not under an hang over or perhaps canopy, so you experience the weather. Nope, generally there is certainly not one TELLER MACHINES inside this kind of bank.

Reviews

This is definitely a large lobby model bank with comfy seat in the center. Tuesdays visit there was zero line on lunch moment. 2 tellers taking care of push through and table. workers was pleasant plus was able to help me check balance from my personal previous bank Wachovia. Since Water wells Fargo acquired Wachovia after the government-forced selling to be able to avoid a failure connected with Wachovia. The accounts had been merged just last thirty day period. so I have an abundance of new places to find assistance from the banks. I'm getting used to altering since Financial institution Florida seemed to be sold to Initial partnership and first unification had been sold to Wachovia. We still need to get back and find out what just about all the new services not to mention fees will be. I actually hope this is a change to get the better.

Reviews

I know regarding finance institutions and everything. Nevertheless the individuals that work with regard to them are just the rest of us trying to earn a living like everybody else. Thus with that being explained the tellers are very curteous and pleasant, likewise very efficient into their jobs.

Reviews

That is super annoying to help always have to withstand some sort of sales pitch regarding some product once We need to go for you to the teller to help deposit a check or receive some other service. I actually prefer to do business with a good small local traditional bank or perhaps credit union that will bring their money in the community. The consolidation of typically the banking industry is terrible news for America.

Wells Fargo Bank in 53233

Wells Fargo Bank, 735 W Wisconsin Ave Milwaukee 53233

Reviews

Staff members seemed genuinely happy, hola from anyone. I arrived to pay in since the portable software package limits deposits. Often the extended line of 6 changed fast all brokers ended up moving customers very instantly in fact happy from the particular end of the day. 4: thirty. They opened later with Fri 5: thirty? The particular complexes lobby is definitely roomy although I don't get precisely why the ceiling fans had been so dirty and consequently high it makes not any efficiency in which level. They should have drop down water lines if they want the fans to be useful.

Reviews

Always be advised, Water wells Fargo's credit card client assistance is definitely shipped to Philippines.. would seem unsafe to be writing this sort of secure information offshore...

Reviews

Brief service they had loads of clerks operating when I was inline was not in there for whole lot more then a couple of minutes on Feb 5th. All even though they possessed some sort of line.

Reviews

I'm unclear precisely why no one likes this Wells Fargo. I popped my checking and financial savings accounts here, and often the period of time that took in order to decide which types ended up right for me, then to open them, was best suited. I go there just about every various other week to be able to get rolls connected with quarters for laundry, simply no difficulties. Rarely ever wait, but I do as well head out right away in the particular AM. My partner and i go for you to this location due to the fact really the closest one to help me personally. The rest regarding my communication along with WF is via cell phone. They may 5 stars for me personally because they given excellent customer care, and I love that My partner and i can do everything via his or her app.

Reviews

Fast service they had an abundance of sales person working when I had been inline wasn't in right now there for more then 10 a few minutes on Friday. All even though they had a new range.

Wells Fargo Bank Milwaukee 53202

Wells Fargo Bank, 100 E Wisconsin Ave Milwaukee, WI 53202

Reviews

Might be really not the best to compare, although We feel becoming far more a enthusiast of this location as opposed to one down the road; generally mainly because I've gone to the other the small number of times intended for quarters and it's noonday noontide, meridian and they don't have any.: hcg diet plan This location is clean, this attendants are helpful plus efficient, and it's in the great accessible area. We have constantly been a enormous fan of Wells Fargo, and this also location is just what I'd anticipate a WF Bank to get.

Reviews

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Wells Fargo Bank

Really like WF! Why? Well, I actually started off having Norwest following My spouse and i got out of the Dark blue in 97, they possessed totally free checking and many people were offering free pink plastic piggy banks! After that I functioned from Beta Systems ended up all of us produced real-time information so that will later become on the web banking for many clients, certainly one of which was... WF. My partner and i standard bank online all often the time and such as particular attention I comes from becoming a long time consumer. My spouse and i even have the business trading accounts with them all.

Reviews

My partner and i had an issue that left me high and dry immediately after talking to buyer service (among various other departments) on the phone. While a previous ditch I went to that department and they not only straightened everything out, these people actually identified the concern. The Branch Director, Lead Teller and Personal Banker We dealt with were being every a pleasure to help deal with. These were all of extraordinarily helpful in addition to I couldn't ask for a lot more. They went way earlier mentioned and way beyond.

#Wells Fargo #Wells Fargo Bank #Wells Fargo Locations

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zecubexi-blog · 4 years

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Who Else Is Lying to Us About Cape Verde Visa?

https://pl.ivisa.com/cape-verde-visa

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| Using Cape Verde Visa If you're searching for hotels with chic interiors and a great deal more, you've come to the proper location. Be smart once you are traveling on foot. Don't expect quick service as if you may experience at home.

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It is crucial to think about the variety of entries for a couple explanations. Even though you can already incorporate your business during the process, for instance, its operation is hardly worthwhile as a result of high import and export taxes. The category of people who will come across such services extremely useful is families with children who wish to visit Canada together.

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Things You Won't Like About Cape Verde Visa and Things You Will It's important to be certain that you have adequate medical travel insurance in place prior to your trip, and that means you're covered in case anything unfortunate happens. The bite isn't particularly dangerous to humans whom are extremely healthy. While hiking, you may also pass their huge coffee plantation that I can say the very best coffee I've tasted, ever!

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Please be aware, that only the quick stay visa is going to be processed by our system. You ought to make sure that you have at least 6 months validity on your passport, and that is going to want to cover the duration of your stay. Unfortunately, you'll have to buy a visa on arrival.

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wolfpawn · 5 years

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When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 42

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

Thomas watched as Charlotte placed their son in his bassinet beside their bed. “Will he be alright?” He asked worried, looking at their son who was still awake but quietly looking around.

“Why would he not be? He is simply resting,” she soothed. “Go deal with that paperwork of yours, we are just here.”

“I…” Thomas said nothing before walking out of the room. Charlotte shook her head slightly before continuing ready and tidy the room. A few minutes later she was interrupted by Thomas who walked back into the room, his hands full of paperwork. “I can do this here,” was all he stated before looking around.

Charlotte said nothing but walked over to the vanity table where resided her jewelry and removed them so to make room for his paperwork. She took some of it from him and placed it on the table for him. When she turned slightly again, he was looking at her with intensity that made her feel almost uncomfortable. “What is it?”

“How did I get you?”

“Your sister badgered you to do it for my money and I permitted it because of my own ulterior motives against her.”

The brutal honesty of her reply almost startled Thomas. “If I had approached you, as simply myself with no badgering by Lucille, would you have even entertained the thought me?”

“With or without my prior knowledge of your past?”

“Both.”

“With, no, never. Without, yes.” Thomas looked hurt. “I would have been incredibly stupid, more stupid than people think me to be were I to have been willing to come to a decrepit old house with a man to have had four previous wives and he to be only the age that you are and no sign of them since, but of course, not many know such. Would you have treated me as you did without motive and if I had not acted as though I had the intelligence of a gnat?” She asked.

Thomas shook his head. “If you had been as you truly are, I would never have had the confidence to even have attempted to introduce myself to you,” He confessed. “I could never attempt to have thought myself worthy of speaking to a woman as strong or as beautiful as you.”

Charlotte gave a small but loving smile before putting her hand to his cheek. “You are the first person outside of Edward and Cordelia to make me truly love them wholeheartedly. You have given me a happiness I thought was not possible for me, to give me our little son. I never thought I would know such an honour, all I knew before you was tragedy.”

“What about…?”

It took Charlotte a moment to realise Thomas was referring to William Hamilton. “William was over a good decade my senior and saw me as pleasant and plenty young wife to give him his heirs but love would more than likely never have even been possible, he had a woman he loved dearly but she was not to be his, she was too lowly to be his, he had to marry well. He was honest with me on this and even said that after I gave him a son or two, he would want her to bear him a child also but he would do what was expected first and foremost and had me under no false pretences. As I stated before, I saw a chance for Edward to progress to a better life and with his honesty in this matter also, I knew it to be my best chance of not ending up in a bad situation.”

Thomas's face was one of shock. “You never...why did you not say this before?”

“Because before, I had to play the grieving widow,” she explained. “I was saddened by his passing, he was a nice man, but I was not who he wanted and I will never speak ill of him, he never once hurt me and spoke to me as a person with respect and even said that should I seek happiness elsewhere, just give him his heirs and my life was mine.”

“So you never loved him?”

“In a way, yes, I did. But not as you may think. A different love.” Thomas nodded slightly. “Is that why you are uncomfortable referencing him because you are envious of some idea that I may have cared for him in some manner?” Thomas said nothing. “Against my better judgement, I have only ever loved you, Thomas Sharpe and I fear that does not seem set to change any time in the near future.”

“I hope not.”

Charlotte was about to respond when she realised Thomas was focusing on the bassinet. She watched as he went over and looked down at their son, worried by the expression on his face which was unreadable. “Thomas?” He did not respond. “Thomas?” He looked at her after the second calling, slightly startled. “Are you alright?”

“I thought he was crying.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, he didn't.” She walked over. “He seems to be dozing.” They watched as their son fought sleep valiantly, shaking his head slightly to stop himself falling asleep but sleep won out in the end and his eyes fell shut. “He did not cry.”

“I must be overtired and hearing things,” Thomas dismissed.

“Get some rest,” Charlotte encouraged. “You watched over us last night.”

“I have to get this paperwork done.” He eyed the work beside him.

“Is there anything I can assist with?”

At first, Thomas was going to decline his wife, but on her offer to remain and knowing that she took interest in the mines and assisting him however possible with it, he thought it an apt opportunity to have her with him, to show further attention to her, for fear she would see him as pushing her away again when he only so recently got her back. “It is dull, I have to state but I really could do with it being organised.”

“Tell me what needs doing.” Charlotte asked.

An hour later, the room was in piles of paperwork, all neatly stacked and Charlotte organising them and filing them accordingly. She had went to the nursery several times with loads of paper and even brought down more to organise in Thomas's presence. Blake looked apprehensively at the door every time she left but refused to leave his newest master/his self-appointed charge. He would give a whine and look at Thomas as though indignant at not being given an explanation before waiting patiently for her to return.

Thomas left his completed paperwork to one side and watched his wife organise it in moments. “I did not think there was so much of it,” he confessed, rubbing his neck. He watched curiously as Charlotte placed the papers she had been dealing with in its folder and walked back to her husband, rubbing his shoulders before he groaned as she alleviated the ache in his muscles. “Lottie…”

She toyed playfully with some of his hair that had ceased to be tamed by his grooming regime. “I had not been aware you had so much either. But dealing with it alone is not good for you and though you are a meticulous man, your organisational skills with regards your paperwork requires some fine tuning.”

“Lucille usually dealt with that,” Thomas replied awkwardly.

“Well, that is of no use now. I had best get a formal system in place for this for you but... well, hello sleepyhead.” Charlotte became distracted by Thomas Jr looking around him curiously. On hearing his mother's voice, he looked around for her shadowy figure. “Give me a moment to ready myself.”

“I will take him up.” Thomas rose to his feet and walked over to the bassinet and scooped his son into his arms. For a moment Thomas Jr gave the impression he was preparing to cry, but on inhaling his father's scent, he settled and again started grabbing at his father's lapel. Thomas looked at his son's small hand and the sheer exertion he was using to try and hold onto his father. “I have you.” He knew Thomas Jr had no inkling what was being said to him but he spoke in a soft voice all the same.

“Keep onto him for a moment, I need to get more linen,” Charlotte requested before leaving the room, leaving Thomas completely alone with their son, a daunting and terrifying experience for the man.

After ten minutes, he wondered where she was and walked, with Thomas Jr in his arms, to the hallway. Worried something had happened her, he walked forward. “Lottie?” He looked around.

“Thomas, I am with Lucille.” She informed him from Lucille's room.

Thomas walked to the doorway worriedly. “What is it?”

“She is just having issues with some food, I need to clean her up before I do any more.” Charlotte informed him, her tone calm and relaxed.

Lucille had been focusing her attention of Charlotte, and to her now far less rotund stomach before looking to her brother, and more specifically, the bundle in his arms. She grunted at him.

“She's lucid.” Thomas realised. “Get back.”

“She's tied tight. We obviously risked a lot last night.” Charlotte went tidying Lucille's hair after cleaning spat up food from it but she noted the manner in which she focused on Thomas and Thomas Jr. After a moment, she looked at Charlotte again, her eyes not as hate-filled as they usually were. “What?” She glanced at Thomas and the baby. “A boy, four days old, Thomas Jr, his father's double.” There was a small whine from Lucille at that, and to Charlotte's bewilderment, a pleading look on her face. Charlotte frowned before looking at Thomas and their son l, then back to Lucille, who was focusing on the baby. She rose to her feet and walked over to Thomas who seemed wary. “Give him to me.”

Thomas's brow furrowed before he realised what she was doing. “No,” he pulled Thomas Jr closer to him. “No, we cannot let her near him.”

“She is tied and you can hold the opiate if you'd like, but please, give him to me, Thomas.” The look on Charlotte's face was one of certainty and part of Thomas wanted to trust it, the other part recalled Lucille's brutal nature, as well as her actions against the child they had created, he shook his head and held his son against him, not wanting the same fate to befall a second of his children. “Thomas, trust me, please?”

“She will hurt him.”

“She cannot.”

Thomas looked at Lucille for a moment, he also noted the odd look on her face. He sighed but handed Thomas Jr to his mother. “Stay here.” He ordered before walking over to Lucille and checking every strap twice as well as checking for any form of weapon on her person. His touches were cold and clinical, a far cry from their past behaviours together. Satisfied that she had no form of weapon in her reach and that she could not reach one even if she did, he looked her in the eye with a firmness and coldness she had never experienced from her beloved brother before. “If you dare harm either of them, I will drown you in the clay vats myself.” He snarled.

Lucille's face went pale, her eyes widened and her nostrils flared at his words before he walked out of the room for a moment. Charlotte remained in her position by the door, knowing where he was going and what he was acquiring. Upon his return, Thomas had his sleeves rolled up and a syringe filled in hand.

“Is that not more than usual?” Charlotte questioned.

“It's double,” her husband informed her, looking his sister in the eye as he spoke.

“Thomas, you know what Edward stated, too much….”

“Will stop her heart, I am aware but if she were to risk to you or Thomas, I will do it, in a heartbeat.” He swore.

Seeing Thomas's defensiveness of her and their son, Charlotte merely nodded and walked forward slowly. She sat close to the bed where Lucille focused intently at the contents of her arms. She gently turned the bundle so to reveal the contents of the blankets to her invalid of a sister-in-law before showing her Thomas's little face, one of curious intrigue. When she looked up again, she was startled, yet not completely surprised to see Lucille's eyes well with tears before they fell, the hate she held her brother and his wife in not visible as she stared at the baby, her eyes filled with a peculiar form of affection.

Gently, Charlotte moved so she could bring her son close to his aunt so she could see him properly. The entire time, Thomas stood close by, completely unhappy with the manner in which Charlotte was risking herself and Thomas Jr but also startled by the adoration in his sister's face. It shocked him beyond words to see her focused on the baby, when all she wanted for a time was to kill him. When Charlotte moved him away, she became upset.

“He requires feeding and changing.” Was all she said before leaving the room.

Thomas watched her leave before looking at Lucille at the guilty look on her face. “Nothing rights the wrongs of our past, Lucille. I can never change what occurred but I will not fail to pay heed again. Not when my son and my wife require me so. This is my chance to be better than I was.” He walked over and took her arm to put the needle in, Lucille silently pleading for him not to do it. “I wish it did not have to be this way. But I have to protect them from you.” He felt remorse as he pressed the plunger of the syringe down until it got to half way down the liquid that filled it before pulling it out again and looking at his sister as she fell into the delirium of the drug before checking the straps again and leaving her. Looking around, wondering what was causing his son to cry so shrilly. When he entered his bedroom, he was startled to see Thomas was not crying, merely suckling contently from his mother's exposed breast.

“Are you alright, Thomas?”

“I...Yes,” his tone was filled with his uncertainty but he smiled lovingly at her. “When he is finished feeding, I think we should go and read for a time, bring him to your art room perhaps?”

Charlotte barely thought for a moment. “But it will be cold in there.”

“I had Margaret put on the fire earlier.”

With an elated smile, Charlotte nodded and waited for Thomas Jr to finish feeding so they could do that.

Three days later, close to ten in the night, Charlotte and Thomas were relaxing as he continued to gently read the words of Blake as seemed to be becoming their new tradition, the canine namesake of the poet asleep beside them, Thomas Jr in his bassinet as Charlotte enjoyed her husband's low timbre voice as he eloquently spoke the words in front of him. When Blake shot up, his ears forward and alert, facing the room door, Thomas looked to Charlotte, who seemed almost fearful.

“Stay here and protect Thomas,” he ordered before he walked towards the hallway and to the top of the stairwell, glancing into Lucille's room as he passed to see his sister still very much asleep, as she had been an hour earlier when he had went to the bathroom. When he got to the top of the stairwell, he was startled to see Mrs Phillips rushing towards him looking somewhat confused with Mrs Davies, Edward's housekeeper, behind her. “Mrs Phillips?”

“Sir…. I…” Mrs Phillips began but then Mrs Davies walked past her.

“I must speak with Lady Sharpe this instant, Sir. It is of the highest urgency.” She pleaded, though if he was honest, Thomas did not think she would have been inclined to take no for an answer.

“She is up here, come this way,” He instructed, leading Mrs Davies down the hallway, the housekeeper following without delay. “Lottie?”

Charlotte came to the door looking somewhat worried before seeing Mrs Davies and becoming all the more worried. “What is afoot?” She inquired.

“Lady Sharpe, I know it is a late hour but I must speak with you immediately.”

“Regarding?”

“Edward, he...I think him about to harm himself.”

Charlotte's attempt to not display sibling ties to the doctor fell immediately at the mention of such words. “Thomas…”

Thomas turned to see a confused Mrs Phillips nearby. “Mrs Phillips, have Parson ready the bigger carriage, immediately.” He ordered.

Tags: @ilovekingt @wolfsmom1 @lokilover9 @sigridlaufeyson @perpetual-fangirl @texmexdarling @whovianwookie86-captainxev

#When Ghosts Come For Us #chapter 4 #Thomas Sharpe #Lucille Sharpe #crimson peak story #crimson peak

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adoptiondoctors-blog · 5 years

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International & Domestic Adoption Agencies In U.S.A | Foster Care Adoption

If you're thinking About adopting in the state of US, then you have come to the ideal location. In Adoptiondoctors.com, we'd love to support you on your journey and are supplying this guide to help you understand the vital facts about adopting in your state.

If you choose to Build your family through adoption, then step one is deciding which type of adoption is right for you. There are 3 types of adoption to pick from: international, national, and foster adoption. A few of the requirements are exactly the same for every type, although there are several important differences. To choose which program is right for you, look through the requirements for every type of application and explore which adoption scenario is a good match for your loved ones. For some, the need for a baby leads them to select national adoption. For many others, they want to build a household quickly and decide to adopt a sibling group through foster care. However, others have an interest in building their family through an international adoption application. Whatever your selection, your travel will be unique. Before beginning, make sure to find the right adoption agency or adoption lawyer that can make certain you follow all of the legal steps needed to complete an adoption in U.S.

Requirements for Adoption in U.S

Before you start your Entrance in U.S, you'll have to be sure that you meet the state's requirements. Each state has different rules about what they require to their parents, so it is important to understand whether you meet those standards before starting the process. In U.S, there is no specific minimum age for becoming a parent, even though most agencies require that you're at least 21 to embrace. You can be married or single to adopt, although married couples will need to adopt jointly. In addition, agencies are going to have their own prerequisites for adoption, related to marital status, age, or income which are exceptional for your service.

All families who Pursue adoption in U.S should go through a house study to be able to complete their adoption procedure. A home study is a written report that includes details about your family and can be done by a licensed adoption agency or caseworker. A home study report includes information about your background, family, children, home, occupation, marital status, financial advice, and any other items required by your adoption agency. Your caseworker may also do a home inspection and may require outside references. You may also be asked to have a doctor fill out information on your wellbeing history.

Although there are not any Specific income needs to embrace, you do you need to make certain that you get a secure house with the space to add a young child. You'll also need to receive a background check in order to adopt in U.S. Those who've been convicted of a homicide, assault, drug abuse, sexual assault, or any other crime that would endanger kids, cannot adopt in U.S.

Domestic Adoption in U.S

When you Adopt a child from the U.S with a licensed adoption agency or lawyer, it is referred to as a national adoption, or even a private infant adoption. Besides your own state's requirements, adoption agencies have their own set of prerequisites which you need to meet. That is why it's important to choose your adoption agency carefully, attend an introductory interview, look through their site, and get an informational package to find out what your particular agency requires. Some agencies will ask that you take additional courses on adoption or parenting in order to prepare for the placement of a child in your house.

When Picking an agency, don't just think about the lowest priced one. Oftentimes, agencies with a lower fee do not supply all the very same services, and you might end up paying for additional adoption professionals on the way. Compare solutions provided along with the cost. The exact same goes when comparing an adoption lawyer with a professional agency. Lawyers provide all the needed legal guidance but do not supply a home study, nor the education, instruction, and guidance needed to finish the steps of the process. Regardless of which professional you choose, all of adoptions in U.S require you to pass a fingerprint and background check.

Domestic Adoption in U.S also expects you will need to discover a match with an expectant parent who's choosing adoption for their child. Our parent profiles really are a great place to meet with a birth parent, to showcase your family pictures, and to demonstrate your journey to adoption. Some adoption agencies operate with expectant birth moms and will show your profile for a potential match.

In U.S, You are permitted to use an adoption facilitator, which is a company who will suit you with a birth parent for a fee. Although this is not allowed in all countries, in U.S it's lawful, and also the facilitators do not need to be registered. Advertising to your adoption in U.S can be allowed. But keep in mind that sometimes the best method to find a birth parent match is by spreading the word that you're adopting. Family and friend connections will occasionally open a door to adoption and might provide a valuable match with a birth parent.

If You're From another country and want to adopt a kid from U.S, you will need to be sure that you are after the Interstate Compact for the Placement of Children which gives specific instructions about the best way to take kids in the adoption or foster care procedure across state lines. You'll need to make sure that your adoption agency or lawyer is after these guidelines.

Another Thing to consider is whether you will pay for birth parent expenditures. You are legally allowed to provide for the birth parents' expenses as long as they pertain to legal and living expenses. U.S doesn't specify what these expenses are in their state statutes. Check with your adoption agency or lawyer before providing birth parent expenses, in addition to how long you are permitted to supply these expenses.

Those who Go through domestic adoption may also wish to determine how much contact they need their kids to have with their birth parents after the adoption is finalized. This is referred to as an open adoption. Many birth parents want some contact with their biological children, but the level of openness that you have is up to you and the birth parents. Some desire regular updates through pictures and letters. Other birth parents want more contact, including visitation or exchanging personal contact info. You will want to discuss your open adoption connection with your child's birth parents prior to the birth parents sign consent forms, so there will not be any mistakes or civil actions taken against you personally. For adoption in U.S, open adoption contact agreements are legally enforceable.

Foster Adoption in U.S

Foster Adoption is the expression used for embracing a child out of foster care. At this time, there are hundreds of children in foster care that are waiting for their forever families across the United States.

To begin The process of foster adoption, it is important to know some of the requirements involved and the way the foster care system works. The objective of foster care is reunification with parents. Oftentimes, the kid has been removed from their biological parent's home for a temporary time period. In this time, the parent is anticipated to remediate the situation so that the child can go back to your own parents. In some cases, a child can't return home and parental rights are relinquished. That child then becomes available for adoption. If you are fostering that kid and are interested in adoption, you will likely get the first chance to adopt the kid.

Before You obtain your foster care license, you will need to meet U.S's needs for foster parents. Just like domestic adoption, you'll complete background checks to reveal whether you've been convicted of any crimes or child abuse. You will need to verify you could provide a safe home for a child. Though you don't have to keep a specific income level to be a foster parent, then it's essential to be in a position to financially support a child. Most important, you need to extend a child in foster care of nurturing and love in a safe, secure environment.

Additionally you Have to attend foster care pre-service training. This can help prepare you for parenting a child with a few special challenges. Once you have completed your pre-service training and all of the prerequisites for foster care licensing, you are going to have the ability to bring a child in your home. If that child becomes available for adoption, then you'll be able to proceed with the next step of your adoption journey.

Waiting children have been Also available through the state. These children are available for adoption because their civic rights have already been relinquished. Frequently waiting kids are elderly, are from a sibling group, or might have particular needs. You can look in photolistings of waiting children to find out if any are available from U.S or other states. For both domestic and boost adoptions, finalization takes at least six months.

Understanding Adoption Consent

Understanding Consent a part of this adoption travel. For a child to become embraced, they must have their civic rights . For a national adoption, birth parents can sign consent forms 48 hours following the arrival of a child. When it's through an agency adoption, the birth parent has to be offered three hours of counselling and an attorney. Consent is closing once signed along with the agency approves unless the birth parent can prove it's not the kid's best interest. Through foster care, a parent might have their rights . Once parental rights are relinquished, you can start the process of paperwork for a boost adoption.

U.S also Includes a putative father registry. This registry allows men to file for paternity for a child born out of wedlock. It also informs them concerning any adoption event. Prior to your adoption is finalized, your attorney will check to find out whether paternity has been established and if consent from the birth father is needed. You will find additional specifics covered here about the birth dad's process of establishing paternity.

International Adoption at U.S

Those Hopeful adoptive parents in the process of adopting internationally will initiate the process much the same manner as national and foster adoptions. You will complete a home study for an adoption agency licensed to do international adoptions. They'll come into your hous e and gather background information on you and your loved ones. It's important to obtain an adoption agency that is licensed to do international adoptions for your specific country, due to the requirement of the Universal Accreditation Act, which requires all adoption agencies finish certification based on federal standards.

International Adoptions are not the same as national adoptions since you not only have to satisfy the criteria of your condition but also the requirements of the country you are adopting from. Depending upon the nation, there may be additional requirements regarding your age, marital status, health, and financial circumstance. You will also need to submit an intercountry adoption eligibility so as to prove that you're entitled to adopt from that nation. As soon as you've finished all of the paperwork for your own international adoption, you'll submit your adoption dossier and finished home study.

Traveling is Another factor when adopting internationally. Some states need you to travel to the country to pick up your child, while some require a temporary residency there. Some countries do not require traveling at all. If this is a problem for your loved ones, you may wish to choose a nation with the travel parameters which fit your family situation. Traveling expenses and fees are ordinarily a separate fee from the agency fees and country fees, so bear this in mind while you plan for the adoption expenses.

Most Countries will have you finalize the adoption in your children's birth country. If you return to U.S, you can apply to your child's birth certificate.

Whether You choose foster, domestic, or international adoption in U.S, it is very good to Connect with others on precisely the exact same journey. Combine our parent forum to Receive the support you need.

#international adoption #foster care adoption #Adoption medical clinics #Adoption medicine #Domestic adoption #Adoption clinics #adopt a baby #adoption agencies #Adopt #Adoption consultations #Adoption articles #Orphan doctor

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 6 years

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Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 34: Vows

Summary: Nearly a year, Genevieve and Jack have been together; their big day is finally here.

AN: Thank you for being patient!

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Awaking alone after almost a year of the opposite was a strange feeling. Genevieve stretched languidly in the unfamiliar bed. Once up and out, which took a few seconds contemplation, she rehearsed her physiotherapy. The culmination of months of work. She was unsure about whether she should rehearse her walk a little more lest she push herself too far.

Then her sister arrived and the calm was broken.

“Why haven’t you come down for breakfast yet?” Lilly squeaked, “Big day!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Genevieve mumbled, longing to collapse back into bed. Later, she remembered the one lump in the mattress directly underneath her back and the desire faded.

A hearty breakfast was laid out across the table. Genevieve didn’t think she could stomach it. There was a hint of sickness in her stomach for a last minute invite had gone out and she’d been somewhat regretting it since she dropped it through the post box slot. No mention of it was discussed with Jack, something she was regretting even more. But at least she would find out the result in a few hours. Fucking hell, a few hours.

Felt like longer as she ate, washed herself and slipped into her freshly washed dressing gown. Lilly could be heard downstairs with her son and husband, chaperoning them about to go

Genevieve did her own hair and makeup. Her “bridal” team was merely a formality, the women of the immediate families. They were getting ready downstairs at her request. But that didn’t stop them from occasionally poking their head around the door and squeaking something before dashing back downstairs to relate to the crew what her current status was. The only assistance she required was getting dressed. The dress was tighter than before but not so much for it to become uncomfortable. The issue was the buttons that lined her spine. Her mother helped her out there and Genevieve spent the next few minutes thinking about Jack without distraction.

He was in a small hotel function room with the few chairs in rows already filled with the guests, stood at the makeshift altar with his best mate Farrier and his brother Toby at his side. This was something he’d thought about briefly in his early RAF days, marrying Farrier in near matching suits. But now that couldn’t be further from what he wanted.

“Fifteen minutes, still time to make a break for it,” Toby whispered.

“So you can have Ginny? No chance,” Jack let out a laugh.

“Damn, you saw through my cunning plan,” Toby snapped his fingers before leaning in to whisper, “How’d you know she’s not already waiting for me in the car?”

“Helluva woman,” Farrier broke in and the two men glanced at him, “Marrying helluva guy. You’d be ridiculous if you thought one of these kids would leave the other at the altar.”

“You mean the collapsible table,” Toby snarked as Jack flushed at the compliment before busying himself with his mother sat in the front row.

“Eh, same difference,” Toby shrugged.

A collapsible table, no bridesmaids or over the top procession, just their nearest and dearest watching the ceremony and coming for the wedding breakfast. Simple, limited attention, despite Cora’s best attempts to “give them the wedding they deserved” which might have featured doves and fireworks. All that was missing was the bride.

She was nearly outside, tightly gripping the bouquet in the back seat of the car that was stuck in mild traffic. The end of today couldn’t come sooner.

Finally, Tony parked the car in his reserved spot, outside the hotel. He skipped around to open the door for her. She stepped out, feeling the heat of late July prickle her legs. Thank goodness she wasn’t in heels.

“God, I’m gonna fall over,” Genevieve muttered as she glanced at her cane left in the backseat of the car.

“I’m here, pickle,” Tony took her arm, perfect father of the bride, “Squeeze if you need more support.”

“Hello, Aunty Gem,” James beamed at her with shining cleanliness. It disgusted them both so Genevieve tousled his hair a little. Lilly sighed at this but passed James the box with rings in them, ushering him after his father.

“He just wanted to say hello,” She excused, swallowing before she finished, “I don’t think I’ll have to kick Jack. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, so do you,” Genevieve tried not to duck her head with the compliment, “Is everyone in? Uh, I don’t suppose you’ve seen an old man and his son come by. You wouldn’t know them.”

“No, why?”

Genevieve restrained a sigh. Of course they wouldn’t be coming. An invitation and the first letter in three years explaining all was not enough to convince two strangers to be at the wedding.

“Just wondering, don’t worry.”

That disappointment was replaced by the worry she assured others about, a spike of anxiety, one that also met with Jack. He stopped talking to the notary when James trotted down the aisle, clutching a small box and singing loudly that “they’re coming”. Lilly then quickly entered, repeating what her son had said before taking her seat beside her mother. An unorthodox beginning to the ceremony but that was the way with him and Genevieve.

His back was where she would appear and it stayed that way as he heard the door open. But he couldn’t stand it much longer and risked a peek for the first time in a day – that might have been a year. Jack wasn’t surprised, but still felt the full impact, that she looked so utterly radiant. In a dress that was simply a sleeveless, white polka dot version of his favourite and she was so far away – a whole twenty five feet. When she started moving towards him, his hand came over the right side of his face before pressing into his cheek to hide his tears. It didn’t work at all. Then he saw her left hand holding her cane, the last time that her finger would be bare, and he was gone, crushing his sobs and his laughter into his palm then closing it into a fist.

Very nearly did Genevieve fall to the same fate. She knew that Jack wasn’t going to be in his RAF uniform and thank goodness because he was so much more attractive in a kilt. The hand that occupied the bouquet was looped through her father’s arm; she had nothing to hide her smile behind. It only made her more beautiful.

After what seemed like hours, Genevieve reached the altar and, out of her bouquet, she pulled out a folded hankie. A wave of murmured laughter rolled through the room, Jack joining in as it was passed it to him.

“Thanks, love,” He dabbed his eyes dry.

Genevieve bit her lip which did nothing to hide her smirk, “Don’t mention it.”

With his tears mopped away, Jack tucked the hankie up his sleeve and the notary began the service. Genevieve kept checking Jack in the corner of her eye. It was hard to look away from such a vision. Occasionally she caught him looking too and they shared a smile.

If there were any objections to the ceremony, everyone held their peace – apart from Toby, who conveniently cleared his throat after this was made known. Proceeding, the notary signalled for James to bring the rings to her. He did so with immense pride. His smile looked as though it would fall from his face as he passed them over. Genevieve and Jack shared that respect as they each recited the vows with their names inserted to that chain of words. Jack went first and he beamed at finally learning Genevieve’s middle name, then came Genevieve who already knew his from grilling him about the subject months before.

A new ring sat on their left hands and it was with bubbling giddiness that such words were spoke: “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Already, Genevieve had her arms around Jack’s neck so all that was needed was a gentle dip of Jack’s head for them to seal the deal. Clapping from around the room echoed into the distance as they pulled away and smiled at one another.

“Hello, husband,” Genevieve whispered, rubbing her nose against his before cutting off his reply with: “Do you have any briefs on? I’ve wanted to ask since I saw the kilt.”

“Well,” Jack raised a brow with what was meant to be a smirk but ended up being a gleeful grin, “You’re not supposed to. It’s tradition.”

“Really?” Genevieve said disbelievingly, yet she was still smiling.

Jack’s glow shifted from dusty pink to fuchsia, “No scants under these petticoats.”

The pair giggled like children at the thought of going commando and kissed again.

“You bought the cottage then?” Tony asked. Genevieve naturally rolled her eyes because of his tone. Even on her wedding day, he was interrogating her partner. Still, it couldn’t be helped and he wouldn’t sway her mind or heart.

“Yes, we managed to get that set of paperwork sorted out before this one,” Jack patted her hand in her lap and brushed his fingertips over her ring.

Ethel then jumped in, “So no honeymoon?”

“No honeymoon, but plenty of time off to ourselves, plenty of furniture to build,” Genevieve sighed, causing the table to snicker. In all honesty, spending time setting up their house to however they wanted, alone, was a perfect honeymoon in her eyes.

Dinner arrived and everyone continued conversation between mouthfuls. Genevieve and Jack barely parted contact, their hands returning to one another as if the rings were magnet and iron. Not that Jack would have minded if they were because a fad during the war, popularised by the absence from loved ones, meant that he could wear this token of affection and commitment. He could not be happier to wear one.

Despite holding prior knowledge of minimal speeches being a part of this ceremony, Farrier finished his dinner, downed his drink, then launched into his retelling of, when he first met him in RAF training, Collins being a skinny little bastard with knobbly knocking knees and a naïve smile that would not see the light of day once he started drill work.

Feeling the tranquilising effects of the alcohol, Genevieve pushed back her chair and leant over to Jack, “I need a quick break.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jack asked, throwing a glance at Farrier finally taking a seat.

“No thanks, you stay,” Genevieve assured.

She then excused herself from the table and those seated at it, heading over to the back garden’s entrance. Passing the notary leaving the function room opposite, Genevieve stepped outside. It was a pleasant little section enclosed in the centre of the building and completely empty. Stretching her arms upwards, Genevieve linked her fingers and cracked her knuckles upwards with a deep inhale. The smell of the flowers dotted about in pots soothed any other anxiety she felt in that moment.

“Sorry we’re late.”

Genevieve turned to the voice and saw Mr Dawson removing his hat with a smile as he finished, “I saw you heading out here. Thought I’d catch you.”

A little stunned and almost lost for words, Genevieve nodded. Then she found those words: “No worries. We’re just having drinks, would you like to join us?”

“No thank you. I’m driving. I don’t trust Peter with my car just yet.”

“Peter?” Then the man himself appeared as if he were waiting to be named dropped before making an appearance. Of course he wasn’t still wearing the red jumper she’d seen him in six years ago. He was dressed in a casual suit like his father, minus the hat, and he looked so much older.

“I should slap you for not writing back, you cheeky bastard,” She joked. Luckily, Peter saw the levity in her statement and his body language slacked into relaxation.

“How are you both?” She continued, “Still sailing?”

“Try and stop us, every weekend.” Peter looked to his dad to see if he had any input on the small talk. But Mr Dawson was looking indoors, through a window. Jack was rocking back and forth with laughter in his chair at something Karen had said across the table. Genevieve could see that no one else thought it so funny and that Jack didn’t care about that.

“I can go get him,” Genevieve offered but Mr Dawson cut her off.

“No, that’s alright.”

There were tears in the old man’s eyes and Genevieve suddenly remembered that Jack was RAF like Mr Dawson’s eldest son. She felt rather stupid for not recalling this sooner and fidgeted with her hands. Filling the silence, Peter cleared his throat.

“We can’t stay. We just wanted to come and say congratulations,” He tugged on his coat sleeve before stepping forward and offering his hand for her to shake. Instead, Genevieve opened her arms for a hug and Peter graciously accepted, though he had to bend over a little bit.

“You got taller, I swear,” She mumbled over his shoulder forgetting that he was only a few years younger than her.

“Skinnier, actually,” and there was a hint of a smile on his face when he pulled back.

“Yeah, well, make sure you eat your crusts,” Genevieve quoted her sister’s mantra to James, “Get some hairs on your chest.”

The smile widened as he backed away, moving towards the reception. Mr Dawson and Genevieve followed, a few feet behind him so that they could talk too.

“He rather fancied you,” Mr Dawson muttered with a sly smile.

“I won’t say anything,” Genevieve promised, “Is he alright though?”

“He’s doing very well.” Mr Dawson halted, looking like he was struggling to say something. Genevieve kept the silence a little longer to let him figure it out. Slowly he took Genevieve’s left hand in his then gave it a careful pat.

“I’m glad that, if anyone was to survive the war, it was you two.”

Suddenly swamped with the possibility of crying, something she vowed not to do, Genevieve swallowed thickly, “You too. Thank you for coming.”

She walked with him through the reception and out the front, Peter at the far right side of the street where they were parked. Staying by the door, Genevieve watched them climb in. She didn’t notice Jack joining her side until he tapped her shoulder.

“You alright, love?”

“Just waving a guest off,” She said quietly. Jack followed her line of sight, brows furrowed until he saw Mr Dawson place his hat back on his head before getting into his car. The couple stared with one astonished expression and one of tearful happiness as the car pulled out and drove past their venue, honking the horn with an arm out the window waving at them.

“Let’s go back to our reception,” Genevieve said, taking his hand and leading the flabbergasted Jack indoors.

The rest of the day was a blur. At some point, Genevieve picked out a rosebud, free of thorns, from her bouquet and tucked it behind Jack’s ear. He was a little tipsy on the fact that it was his wedding – and the champagne that his brother Toby had ordered. He was giggling at James who was screwing up his face in disgust after a sip. The cake arrived and naturally Jack and Genevieve tossed each other pieces of cake into their respective mouths as opposed to smashing a piece onto their cheek. Farrier was all for that however and did it to both of them. James was about to join in but then the in-laws intervened, preventing an all out food fight.

“Sweet like you,” Jack had said after kissing off some of the icing from Genevieve’s cheeks. So naturally, she licked his cheek in return.

The families dispersed once the cake was doled out and the newlyweds were shown to their room by the concierge who had brought their single bag up earlier for them. It was a beautiful room. A double bed in the centre, an en-suite to the side, it was lavish with plump pillows, oak furniture that all matched, and lit up with a soft yellow glow from lamps dotted about. Money well spent, even if it was just one night.

“So, I suggest we take all the complimentary shampoos and soaps and biscuits,” Genevieve took off one of her shoes and sighed in the relief she felt, free from its pinching grasp. Once the other shoe was off, she flopped on the bed and sighed again, smiling broadly at Jack who was lingering in the doorway, undoing his tie after hanging up his jacket.

“Come here, you,” She beckoned with a pat on the space beside her.

Doggedly, Jack quickly kicked off his shoes and tugged off his hose. He landed next to Genevieve with a little leap onto the bed. Her hand curled around to cup his face that was smiling back at her, especially as he felt the new addition of her wedding ring comfort his skin. She then wriggled closer, her cheek snuggled into his shoulder.

After tracing across her arm for a few moments quietude, Jack rested his hand atop hers and said softly, “I can only think of one instance where you’ve been more beautiful than you are now.”

“Oh yeah?” Genevieve said teasingly although her cheeks alerted Jack that she was flattered at such a remark. He hummed to draw it out a little before he decided to finish his thought.

“When I saw you for the first time after the war was over,” He said as his chest swelled with remembering their intense and joyous reunion, his smile aching on his face, “A sight for sore eyes if there ever was one. It felt like that again, when I saw you at the end of the aisle.”

For once, Genevieve didn’t tell him to shut up. Instead she pushed up and kissed him, short but sweet. She then sat up but kept her back to him, talking over her shoulder:

“Help me out of this please? I want to lie down comfortably with my husband.”

Jack let out an eager giggle, hoping that she would catch on that he liked when she called him “her husband”. Such a lovely title he never thought he would be appointed and yet here he was, helping his wife out of her wedding attire. Well. He was trying to help anyway.

“I love the polka dots but God there’s so many buttons!” He grunted, fingers fumbling over them in an attempt to release her.

“I know, it’s ridiculous,” Genevieve groaned, “There should be a hook on the dressing table.”

There was and it aided Jack in popping them out. Jack tensed as the dress slacked, contrasting with Genevieve’s sigh of relief. It wasn’t a very tight bodice but movement was heavily restricted in such a device. The sigh was clearly held in from the moment she put it on. The sigh was also very obvious in displaying the comfort she found with Jack. They shared baths, for goodness sake.

Jack suddenly leapt for the drawer, “Wait!” Then he yanked out an envelope, “Vows!”

Neither of them wanted to disclose these vows; they were personal and their families did not have to be witness for these vows to mean something. So they decided to include them in the wedding but when they were alone. Now.

Dress still holding most of its position against her body, Genevieve retrieved her own envelope from the plant pot and dusted off the soil that clung to it.

“You wanna go first or me?”

“You go first.”

Shuffling on his feet, Jack cleared his throat then spoke, “You make me so much better with your awful taste in tea and your quips so I vow to celebrate you every day, in ups and downs and whatever direction you feel you’re going, I’ll be there take make us the ultimate team.”

Then he said at a quicker pace, “I also vow to dance with you at least once a week because I know you secretly love it.”

Genevieve shook her head as it dropped, hiding the eye roll in sheepishness, “You cheated; we said one each.”

“I know but I can’t really pin down how I wanna treasure you in one single vow. You’re lucky that was the only two.”

Wrinkling her nose at him, Genevieve rubbed it against Jack’s that was screwed up in solidarity, “I love it, and I love you.”

“I love you too. Your turn!”

She copied his technique and coughed to ease the lump in her throat then started reading off the paper, “Something you told me a few months ago: ‘you are my normal.’ You do not know how much those words mean to me. It wasn’t really the moment I knew I loved you for there are plenty of those. It was the moment where I knew you were the one for me; you were as committed as I was in spite of everything. I vow to make you feel as safe and as loved as I did when you told me that, because you are my normal too.”

There were no words to say back to that. All Jack could muster was hugging Genevieve tightly. Their breathing synced up, grips loosened, emotions settling down, the couple found themselves swaying. It was a first dance they could both get behind. Until Jack started humming a nauseatingly familiar tune that made Genevieve laugh more as he spun her out with a dramatic flair.

“We have a radio!” She reminded him, “Not that I don’t appreciate your gorgeous vocal chords.”

“Ok, first song that plays will be our song.” Once in agreement, Jack side-stepped to the wireless and switched it on. After fiddling with the tuner for a few seconds, Genevieve sighed loudly whilst Jack beamed as the very same song began to play.

“I didn’t even plan that!” Jack squeaked with excitement, drawing back to his wife and offering his hand, “May I have the pleasure of the first dance with you?”

“You may,” Genevieve said with a sigh that was meant to come across as reluctant due to the song choice. However, it appeared more whimsical as if she was about to be swept off her feet. She settled for that; it was more accurate to how she felt.

Their foreheads connected as Genevieve placed her hands on Jack’s shoulders, his already on her waist. Kisses intermingled with soft laughter. A hand swept through Jack’s hair and Genevieve’s fingers then curled underneath the bootlace that held her old tags, toying with the knot that rested below the back of his hairline. His were still hanging around her neck. Her fingertips grazed the nape of his neck caused Jack to shiver with delight for at the back of his mind, near those fingertips, lingered a reminder of the final tradition of a wedding: the first evening together as husband and wife.

It was as if Genevieve could read his thoughts for she touched his face tenderly with concern in her expression and he leant into it, eyes closing at her gentle palm on his cheek

“You know we don’t have to do anything tonight. I know you love me and you know I love you. It’s not the be all and end all.”

“I know,” Jack said with a hint of relief as he opened his eyes, “But I want to. Do you want to?”

“I do too.”

“I-” He was cut off by Genevieve’s stomach gurgling loudly and she went a darker shade of pink as he commented: “Hungry?”

They giggled as Genevieve’s tummy gurgled some more to answer for her. She didn’t have to say it was nerves; they already knew that. To shut him up, Genevieve leaned over, switched off the wireless.

“Are you alright?” She asked. She needed to hear that he was alright, especially since he started staring past her for a moment.

“Sorry,” Jack excused when he came back to Earth, shaking his head a little. A strand of hair fell into his forehead as a memory of December came to mind. He fidgeted with the scratching material of his kilt as he glanced at the bed then back to Genevieve. There was a nervous laugh with his next sentence: “I only know what I’m doing in theory.”

“I’m with you there,” Genevieve said, taking his hands away from the wool.

It wasn’t that Jack expected her to be a virgin too but he was still a tad surprised at their shared experience, “So you’ve never…”

She shook her head, “No, not with a man.”

Ah. Jack nodded, accepting the connotations of that revelation, “That’s ok; I’ve never done it with a man either.”

The pair burst into giggles and suddenly it occurred to them that this didn’t have to be such a serious affair like every eavesdropped conversation or snippet of gossip had told them. It could be whatever they wanted. And all tension dropped from their bodies.

Leaning his forehead back against hers with an uncontrollable smile, his voice teeming with joy, Jack said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” She replied, punctuating her words with kisses, “So. Damn. Much.”

Lightheaded, Jack reciprocated. He tried to pull off his waistcoat, but he did so with such haste that he ended up getting his elbow stuck where his arm once was. Genevieve didn’t realise for a bit, simply petting his hair to placate his eagerness, but then she caught sight of his half T-Rex impression and start laughing again.

“You can slow down, my love,” She helped him out of his predicament, “Can’t rush these things.”

“I’m just excited,” Jack said, sounding ever so slightly out of breath.

“Me too.” Genevieve found herself experiencing the same symptoms as Jack started to unbutton his shirt, placing a hand on his chest as she continued, “But we have all night. All week.” Jack nodded, understanding what she meant. Honestly, he didn’t want to rush either. So he kissed her again, more gentle, appreciating the present moment where Genevieve was touching the sliver of skin available from his shirt’s now plunging neckline.

Taking a deep breath, Genevieve pulled away and held up the hook between their faces, “Now, get me out of this dress.”

Everything Tag: @tomgcsglasses and @scottishlowden

Dunkirk Tag: @lowdenglynnstyles, @kgcurtis30, @carneylowdenwhitehead, @theres-no-paradise, @blondeeee-e, @luleraina, @starryrevelations and @orphan-with-a-stutter

Jack Lowden Tag: @musicallisto, @adriennelenoir, @lowdensnose, @from-the-clouds, @johannalauraaa and @lowdenfanpage

Complementary Tag: @you-are-the-first-dream, @disneydirectioner, @lavidademarimar, @sweetsugarhoneyfics and @prettyboytgc

#collins imagine #collins series #collins x oc #collins dunkirk #collins x reader #jack lowden #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden series #jack lowden x oc #jack lowden x reader #my writing #dunkirk #dunkirk series #dunkirk imagine #wc: 1k-#r: female #complementary

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tinotter81 · 2 years

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Visitor Visa Utility

A pal, relative, travel industry skilled, or one other third party may submit the required information to EVUS in your behalf. You are responsible for the truthfulness and accuracy of all info submitted in your behalf. B class visas are visas for basic enterprise and vacationer travel to the United States. The Chinese diplomatic missions in New Zealand reserve the best to interpret, amend and change the Chinese Visa necessities in accordance with the legal guidelines and regulations of the People's Republic of China. We additionally reserve the right to evaluate, delay, refuse and cancel your visa without providing specific reasons. In particular individual circumstances, the validity of a visa, size of stay and number of entries are decided on a case-by-case basis. The Chinese diplomatic missions in New Zealand usually are not liable for any monetary losses resulting from any of the above scenarios. It is extremely beneficial that vacationers fill and submit the EVUS on-line type no less than seventy two hours earlier than departure. Though most purposes are permitted within minutes, some circumstances take longer to screen. To avoid delays, it's best to enroll upfront as Chinese citizens can't enter the United States without an approved EVUS. Itseasy Passport & Visa With it, you'll be able to journey to Beijing, Shanghai, Xian, Guilin and more cities crossing totally different provinces, enter and exit by way of any port. Judge you purpose of visiting, and select probably the most acceptable visa class to apply, e.g. China L Visa is for tour, M Visa is for enterprise, Z visa is for work in China. Travel Visa Pro is a registered hand-carry service with the united states Dept of State Bureau of Consular Affairs Passport Services. Travel Visa Pro supplies form completion and courier companies based on your input and Dept of State and overseas consulates/embassies’ directions, however does not provide authorized recommendation. If you overstay your visa’s duration of stay, you could be denied service by resorts, airports and prepare stations, as properly as face fines and detention. Apply for a ten-year a quantity of entry visa, helpful for repeated journey, or journeys to Hong Kong or Macau with returns to China. Obtain a visa prior to arrival and have a passport with a minimum of six months' validity remaining. The lack of both will lead to a nice and immediate deportation. If you propose to enter North Korea, learn the North Korea Travel Advisory. I am presently in mainland China, my work visa will expire at the finish of the month, because I am ready for my new passport to be prepared for decide up, at the American Embassy in Shanghai.So proper now, I am on a brief passport. Would I be able to go to Macau to apply for a brand new work visa for mainland China. It’s potential to use for a Chinese visa in Hong Kong or Macau, but possibly for shorter duration of stay in contrast with making use of from your personal home country. If you've an ID card or long-term visa there, it might facilitate the appliance. Applicants are suggested to submit their visa purposes a month before their intended departure date. Submit your passport, utility type, and other supporting paperwork to the VAC, Consulate or Embassy. Issued to those who intend to go to their relations who're foreigners working or learning in China, or to those that intend to go to China for different non-public matters. Find under a full record of the nations whose residents do not require a visa to journey to Taiwan. Browse the list below and uncover if a visa on arrival for Taiwan is out there out of your country of origin. In order to apply for an eVisa to attend such events, the applicant must first get hold of an e-code from a number group in Taiwan, which they need to then provide on the online kind. Additionally, candidates from a few other territories in Asia are only able to able to acquire a business eVisa if they've a advice from the local Taiwan External Trade Development Council. Once the traveler submits the form and it's accurately processed, a replica of the permitted eVisa for Taiwan might be despatched to the traveler’s e-mail address. China Travel Requirements In 2022 If you decide you need to become a Chinese citizen, you’ll need the government to approve you as a everlasting resident first. In order to use for everlasting residency, you should meet at least one of many residency necessities. The tourist visa, or L Visa, is for anybody who needs to visit China for touring and sightseeing. If you’re contemplating shifting to China, taking a visit there as a tourist is an efficient way to help you decide if you would like to stay there for an prolonged time frame. Once you send money to China, consider using a cash conversion service like Wise to keep away from unfair trade rates. There's a small transparent charge, and when your money is transformed from one currency to a different, you’ll get the real exchange rate . Seeing because the common supply is four working days you'll have to continue paying to remain in a lodge until your visa arrives. There is the choice to use the specific or rush delivery but these also include a cost so, both means, it can get expensive. While in Hong Kong you'll also be making use of in individual so the service fees could also be much less. It’s also attainable that certain visa agencies in Hong Kong will help you out with itineraries or won’t even require that you've lodge bookings or exit flights in place. The good factor about utilizing an company is the elimination of trouble and time. It’s not absolutely necessary, but they do exist as a service for vacationers. If you need to stay longer than that , you’ll need to use for a correct visa. You must apply on your visa earlier than the commencing performance date indicated on the Approval and you'll be allowed to perform only throughout the period of time indicated in the Approval. A distinction must be drawn between applicants applying from their home nation and people making use of from within China, as the appliance processes and the required documents differ for each. The Governments of the United States and China entered into an association on a reciprocal foundation, to problem customer visas with 10-year validity. This could additionally be a great possibility for you if the permitted length is inadequate to cover your journey. You should go to the local exit and entry administration to apply for this extension. You may also should pay a further charge for an extension. Each embassy's discover differed in wording, but typically, foreigners from sure international locations who've been fully vaccinated with Chinese vaccines require fewer documents to apply for visas. They are additionally allowed into the country for more reasons — although tourism just isn't certainly one of them. I’m working on applying for a 10-year visa and am hoping you can assist. Journey Prepared Hub If you wish to stay on travel.state.gov, click the "cancel" message. Make two copies of all your journey documents in case of emergency, and leave one with a trusted friend or relative. Enroll in theSmart Traveler Enrollment Program to obtain security messages and make it easier to find you in an emergency. Traffic can be chaotic and largely unregulated and the rate of accidents, including fatal accidents, is amongst the best in the world. As cruise restarts are on the horizon, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has beneficial that each one future cruise passengers and cruise receive the COVID-19 vaccine when it is available to them. Currently, Australia has had almost 30,000 circumstances of coronavirus and over 900 individuals have died. The country began lifting its lockdown in early June when cases have been nonetheless rising. Brazil has recorded over thirteen million confirmed cases of coronavirus and over 260,000 folks have died. You will need to have a sound visa to exit China and you have to depart China earlier than the expiration of the listed duration of keep. If you intend to work in China, remember to obtain the correct visa. Working in China isn't permissible on a scholar or tourist visa, and may result in detention, criminal expenses and deportation. Work Visa Necessities In China Unless in any other case specified, a visa holder might enter China at any time prior to expiry of validity , as lengthy as the entries granted on the visa haven't been used up. According to bilateral agreements, citizens of some countries (List of Agreements on Mutual Visa Exemption between the P.R. China and Foreign Countries.doc) holding appropriate passports could enter China and not using a visa. Turkey can get hold of a visa on arrival to Taiwan without charge for a stay of up to 30 days. Alternatively, they may enter Taiwan with their non-ROC passports without prior authorization if additionally having nationalities of a visa exempt country. A long-term residence (type F-2) or permanent residence (type F-5) Certificate of Alien Registration issued by South Korea. ROC nationals with family registration in Taiwan are utilized a separate ordinance often recognized as Measures for the Control of Chinese Citizens Traveling to or from the Region of Taiwan. Each embassy's discover differed in wording, however generally, foreigners from sure countries who've been absolutely vaccinated with Chinese vaccines require fewer paperwork to use for visas. They are also allowed into the nation for extra causes — although tourism just isn't one of them. With just under 3 months left of faculty, they are recommending I go to HK and apply for a multi-entry vacationer visa. Moreover, “work” takes place if a foreigner with a overseas labor contract and overseas supply of remuneration is engaged in work-like activities for three months or more, in accordance with theLabor Department ordercited above. As mentioned above, R visas will be issued to international high-level skills that China needs and to specialized talents which are urgently needed because of short provide. 台胞證 don’t adopt a provision in the draft laws (art. 22) that might have exempted minors underneath age 16 from the medical exam. For instance, Beijing doesn’t require a medical examination from applicants beneath age 18. In the case of a international national seeking entry to China, other legal guidelines or laws prohibit entry. Visitor Visastourism, Study Chinese Language, Business U.S. embassies and consulates help practically 200,000 Americans each year who're victims of crime, accident, or sickness, or whose loved ones must contact them in an emergency. Although it's unlikely, ought to natural catastrophe, terrorism, or civil unrest strike throughout your international travel, the nearest U.S. embassy or consulate would be your supply of help and knowledge. By registering your journey, you assist the embassy or consulate locate you when you might need them essentially the most. It will tremendously useful when you had multiple worldwide traveling data. A copy of both parent’s (or legal guardian’s) ID must also be supplied. ETS will charge a charge of $50.00 to complete the appliance types. The letter should indicate the total name, date of birth and passport variety of the applicant. The letter must bear the signature of the inviting contact in China and the corporate seal. A letter from the company in the us stating the aim and period of the journey and that the company will deal with all of the monetary bills of the applicant through the intended stay in China. I went to Xi’an and Beijing last November for 9 days and I only spent about 600 dollars for everything together with airfare from Manila. I know somebody who solely have about a thousand dollars in his bank account and received accredited. Confirmed round-trip tickets will actually help you enhance your application approval because it offers them guarantee that the visitor will return. Hi I wish to ask if its potential to enter Shenzhen coming from hong kong and getting the visa on arrival. If you don’t have old passports or you could have misplaced your old passports, ensure you state it on Item 3.7 of the application form. Non-US passport purposes could expertise longer processing time within the Embassy. Applicants who've previously held China visas are required to submit the passport containing these visas, along with the current passport. Applicants should present proof of residency that shows their name and current street address. This can embody a duplicate of their valid driver’s license or authorities issued photograph ID. More particulars on the applying process and the required paperwork might be offered in a response e mail from the Chinese consulate. Fortunately, this doesn’t mean that Chinese travelers should go queue at the Tanzanian embassy and fill out lengthy paperwork. Customer Visa Utility For foreign citizens who want to reside completely within the United States. For travel to the United States on a temporary basis, together with tourism, temporary employment, study and exchange. In common, travel is at present restricted each to and from Kuwait. Citizens and residents of the nation are suggested towards making journeys overseas. Kuwait has launched a model new system for residents to achieve authorization to travel through the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic. The information requested on this type is collected under the Immigration and Nationality Act, as amended, eight U.S.C. §§ 1101, 1103, 1201, and 1255. You’ll want info similar to your local embassy and DS-160 application confirmation page. Consular officers can now waive the in-person interview requirement for people renewing a visa that has expired inside the last 48 months. Previously, only those applicants whose non-immigrant visa expired inside 24 months had been eligible for an interview waiver. This new policy might be in impact via December 31, 2021. Visa candidates must nonetheless meet sure criteria to be eligible for the interview waiver, and waivers are solely granted at the discretion of the consular officer. In September, the Department of Justice launched a new postal system for re-entry visas to “improve efficiency”. Customers with urgent travel wants were informed they could make an emergency on-line appointment for a re-entry visa and their application would be dealt with within 24 hours. The on-line system also stays in place for folks renewing their permission to stay in Ireland. The on-line applications might be permitted only for candidates in extraordinary conditions with emergency travel needs, e.g., journey related to a serious sickness or death in the household. Fees might be utilized for visa processing, which begin from €80 for a single journey visa to €160 for an emergency visa. The Swiss representation reserves the right to adapt the amounts of the charges at any time in relation to trade rate fluctuations. You cannot apply for a short-stay Swiss visa from a rustic in which you're at present on a visa. A foreign citizen on a permanent/temporary residence permit in the country from where you're making use of. You might be spending an equal amount of days in each nation, however you will enter the Schengen Zone via Switzerland. Momentary Visa Candidates Must Show Nonimmigrant Intent Subtypes of this visa are T-2 (issued to spouses of T-1), T-3 (issued to kids of T-1), T-4 (issued to oldsters of T-1 under the age of 21), and T-5 (issued to single siblings beneath the age of 18 of T-1 who's beneath 21). A variety of guests overstay the maximum period of allowed keep on their B-1/B-2 status after entered the us on their B-1/B-2 visas. The Department of Homeland Security publishes annual reports that record the number of violations by passengers who arrive via air and sea. I’ve been told by an Immigration Officer that the monthly earnings option can now not be used for a Marriage Visa, since my Embassy stopped issuing letters. I can present a Thai Bank Statement, letter from the Bank, and letter/statement from my UK Pension Provider. Seems that these paperwork usually are not acceptable and I must go down the four hundred,000 Baht route. This information explains what U.S. nonimmigrant visas are and who needs to get yet one more extensively. We also describe the several types of U.S. nonimmigrant visas and the application process step-by-step. The selection of nonimmigrant visas embrace B-1/B-2 visas for visitors, C-1/D Visas for crewmen, F Visas for college students, H visas for employment and J visas for change guests. Each visa has its personal respective criteria and application process. Keep in mind that in case you have immigrant intent and also you nonetheless apply for non immigrant visa, it is thought-about misrepresentation and may result in a everlasting bar from entry into the United States.

#台胞證

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