#press rappel

[ws-01-elena]

Things had unfortunately gotten busy. With the release in the prisoners the monitoring of hybrids became a bit difficult. Plus the escape of one of the rat subjects. It was nothing she couldn’t handle! Just take a few notes here and there then deliver them to the office.

Elena had a few files to drop off for review. Just basic information from the genetics department. Every tap of her paw pads against the floor felt too loud in the quiet halls. Her ears twitched in an attempt to hear something.

It was always a little off-putting. The price to pay for perfection, she assumed.

As she reached the door to the file room she noticed it cracked open. The lights in the room were off and the blinds shut. Ref flags rung out in Elena’s mind. Tightening her hold on the papers in her hand she slowly opened the door to a figure rummaging through some of the cabinets.

“Hello? Who are you? Do you have authorization to be here?”

#presse-papiers rappels #Deuxième partie #une conversation amicale

[tommykinardkink]

This is a first that Buck has been waiting for with a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation. Because that's what happens when you date someone, right? At some point, if things go well, you'll see them naked.

And it's not like Buck's never seen another cock before, okay? He watches porn, he's been in the locker room at the station or whatever.

But this is different. This isn't just some random dick slip at the gym. It’s Tommy.

And Tommy's really big.

They’re lying pressed together on the too-small couch, Buck half on top of Tommy to accommodate the both of them. The movie they’d been watching is playing softly in the background, both of them having forgotten about it when one heated kiss had turned into two, three, his hands slipping up beneath Tommy’s Henley while Tommy’s fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweats. And then, in a moment of reckless want, Buck had pulled back enough to free Tommy from the confines of his jeans.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Only now, Buck finds that he can't move, throat dry as he stares down at the length of Tommy's cock.

"Evan." He jumps a little when he feels Tommy's fingers thread through his hair, using the gentle grip to force him to meet Tommy's gaze. Tommy's brows are pulled together, lips turned down in a worried frown.

"You know you don't have to do this, right? There’s no rush."

"Yeah, I-I know. I want to." It belatedly occurs to him that maybe Tommy isn't ready for this—he thinks about teeth and suddenly isn't sure he'd want someone with no blowjob experience near his junk either—and he hurriedly begins to back pedal. "Unless you don't want—"

He doesn't get much further than that, Tommy pulling him up further to press a hungry kiss to his parted lips. It's a welcome distraction, and Buck feels his own cock throb in response, his hips thrusting infinitesimally against Tommy's thigh.

But it doesn't get much further than that before Tommy breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Buck's and breathing heavily.

"There is nothing I want more than to have your hands on me," he says, voice rough.

"Then let me do this for you. Please?"

"Fuck." He watches the way Tommy's throat works before he answers in a shaky voice, "Y-yeah. Okay."

Seeing Tommy look so wrecked when they haven't even started yet bolsters Buck's confidence some as he turns his attention back to Tommy's cock. It's long and so thick. Now probably isn't the best time, but Buck allows himself a moment to study it. The vein running up the length of the shaft, the way the foreskin has pulled back from the sensitive head, his balls hanging full and heavy between his legs...

Buck's mouth waters.

Steeling himself—C'mon, Buck, you rappelled onto a capsized cruise ship from a helicopter in the middle of a hurricane, get it together—he reaches out to take Tommy in hand.

He isn’t sure what he'd been expecting. It's a dick. He's got one of those and he's jerked off plenty. Brow furrowed in concentration, he gave an experimental stroke.

Above him, Tommy hisses. Okay, yeah, that is not encouraging. Buck peeks up at him, only to find Tommy staring at him intensely, his chest already heaving.

Huh.

"You like that?" Buck asks, a teasing grin curving his mouth as he pumps Tommy again, slow and easy.

"Christ, Evan." A muscle in Tommy's jaw jumps and he draws in a deep breath through his nose. "Do that again."

The bite of command in Tommy's voice makes him shiver. He does as he's told despite the awkward angle, his eyes darting between Tommy's expression and the tip of his cock is beaded with precum. Feeling daring, Buck rubs his thumb over the droplet, spreading it out over the sensitive head.

Tommy's hips buck into his hand.

Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

Buck laughs, twisting around to settle himself between Tommy's legs, the shaft only inches away from Buck's mouth. He bites his lip, hesitating, before deciding to just go for it. Holding Tommy's gaze, he leans in to brush a featherlight kiss on the underside of Tommy's cock.

His reaction doesn't disappoint. He curses loudly, hands winding back into Buck's hair and tightening almost to the point of pain. They've only just begun, and already Tommy's control is threatening to fracture.

He's beautiful.

Buck's not feeling brave enough to take Tommy into his mouth, not yet, but it's almost better like this. This way, he gets to watch Tommy's head thrashing against the arm of the couch, see the way his body strains towards the pleasure. Buck jerks Tommy off, rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock and through the precum accumulating there. With every second, his movements slowly gain confidence as Tommy gets closer to the edge. He categorises the other man's every reaction, filing it all away for the next time they do this.

Jesus, he's already desperate for next time.

"Evan, please, I—"

"What do you need, babe? C'mon, tell me."

But Tommy does something even better. He releases his hold on Buck's hair and reaches down to wrap one hand around Buck's, guiding his movements. Buck's breath catches as Tommy's fingers squeeze his, jerking Tommy's cock harder and rougher and—

"Fuck."

Tommy's body tenses for an endless moment before he breaks. Ropes of cum shoot up Tommy's belly and chest, and a few errant drops land on Buck's face. The sounds he makes as he comes undone, the helpless grunts and shudders that wrack his body are so fucking hot, that Buck has no choice but to get up onto his knees to give himself room to reach for his own cock. Tommy's come slicks the way for Buck's hand as he works the shaft

Tommy stares at him with hazy eyes, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. Christ, he's so gorgeous like this, utterly debauched with his flushed cheeks and come splattered skin.

And Buck's just going to add to it. It's that thought that tips him over the edge. His orgasm rolls through him, taking his breath away as his own come paints Tommy's abdomen. And all the while, Tommy watches him, dark eyes warm and gentle and hungry for something Buck can't quite put a name to.

His knees give out under him, and he falls forward in a boneless heap, narrowly avoiding elbowing Tommy in the ribs. Tommy lets out a little ooof as he bears Buck's weight.

"Wow," Buck says after a brief, breathless silence.

“Yeah.” Tommy runs a shaky hand up and down his back, and Buck arches into the touch like a cat. He feels his eyes drifting shut, a bone deep satisfaction beginning to lull him to sleep.

“… go shower,” Tommy’s saying from somewhere above him. Buck frowns and burrows closer into his body. It’s gonna take a friggin’ crane to get him to move now.

“Evan.” A quiet sigh. “I know you can hear me.”

“Hng.”

The sound of his laugh makes Buck smile against Tommy’s skin. The hand that had been rubbing his back moves back up into his hair. Buck can’t hold back a shiver at the sensation of Tommy’s nails scratching at his scalp.

“C’mon,” he coaxes. “If you get up now, I’ll even wash your hair for you.”

That gets Buck’s attention. He lifts his head to squint at Tommy.

“Promise?”

Tommy’s smile makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s an expression that never fails to give Buck butterflies.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I promise.”

#i had fun with this #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #911 abc #my writing

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hi! Sorry, I'm new here 😊 congrats on your follower milestone!!

May I please request prompts 17 and 34 with my beloved Sergeant, Hunter? 🥰🥰

Thank you so much! Looking forward to seeing what you come up with 💜

@photogirl894 Hello love,

I know I said I'd probably wouldn't have time today, but turns out I had enough time to write this one out quickly. I hope you like it. I actually quite enjoyed this one.

Love oo,

Too Close

Warnings: Explosions, blaster fire, falling from a height, injuries, blood, shrapnel, medical procedure, angst, fluff, comfort, hurt. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Italics - Flashback

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter let out a sigh of relief as you both made it on board the Marauder. His eyes flitted over to your face, you were still unconscious, knocked out from the loss of blood, you’d be stirring soon according to Tech, but it wasn’t making his anxiety calm down. He couldn’t help wondering if there was something he could’ve done differently.

The fog from the explosions, dust and debris was getting beyond bearable, you couldn’t stop coughing as you hid behind the cargo crate. Your helmet had been shattered when you smashed it against the ground when your rappelling cable broke. Thankfully it was only when you were eight feet from the ground, but it could’ve been much worse than a broken helmet. 

Of course, it didn’t help that you were stuck hiding behind the crate with Hunter, because a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in your thigh, and was doing little to hamper the loss of blood. They always tell you to leave the shrapnel in, until you saw a medic, but at this point, you’d be lucky to just see the next twenty minutes. 

You pushed down hard on the wound, Hunter’s bandana doing little to help as he tried to wrap it around your thigh. 

“Hunter, leave me” you shouted over the explosions and blaster fire. These Separatist droids weren’t backing down. 

“Stop talking, it’ll make you pass out faster.”

“Hunter please!” You grabbed the lip of his chest plate and got him to look at you, “I can’t see you dying. So please, go!”

“I’m not dying and neither are you so stop distracting me and press on the wound!” His hand engulfed your thigh pressing down hard, stopping the trickle of blood that had pooled under your thigh. 

Before you could speak another rain of debris showered over you, Hunter pulled you under him as he shielded you with his torso. “Please… I can’t … I can’t see you get hurt because of me.” You pleaded to the man who held your heart and soul, your eyes welled up with tears as you looked at him, “Please, Hunt …”

His eyes widened, it was a nickname you reserved for him only during your quiet time together, only in the privacy of your quarters did you ever call him Hunt. You must have been in a really bad shape if his nickname slipped through your lips. 

“No! Listen, I don't care what happens to me. I'm not leaving you." He pressed his helmeted forehead against yours, as his now bloodied glove caressed your cheek, “I won’t. Now stay alive and stay awake. That’s all you have to do, Tech will get us out of here. So DON’T DIE ON ME! THAT’S AN ORDER SOLDIER!”

You chuckled at his demeanour, loving him all the more, “Yes, sir!” You saluted. 

He chuckled and focused back on the droids in front of him. He sent another ping to Tech, time was running out, he needed to get you to a medical facility soon. 

His eyes glanced back over to you, you were starting to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, as they looked around the Marauder for him, he gripped your hand, “Easy, easy. You’re safe.” His soft tone calmed you down. 

You squeezed his hand, as you looked him over, “Injuries?”

Hunter closed his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine. Tech stopped the bleeding on your thigh and removed the shrapnel. We’re heading to a medical frigate now, you’ll be as good as new in a few days.” His hand reached up as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand.

“You didn’t leave.”

“I couldn’t.”

“But you could’ve been…”

“If you die, I’ll die right beside you. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

You looked at him with a loving smile, and full of adoration in your eyes.

“What?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, as you looked at him smiling softly, “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me.” You pressed a kiss to his fingers, “And that I love you.”

“I love you. But don’t ever do that to me again.” Tears welled up in his eyes, “I thought I was going to lose you out there…” his tone shifted as his breathing trembled, “I can’t lose you cyar’ika. I … I can’t …”

“Shhh, come here” You motioned for him to rest his head on your shoulder, as you hugged him close. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been injured but it certainly had been the closest you’ve ever been to shaking hands with death. You both held each other close, reminding each other you were still there. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

#star wars #450 follower celebration #Star Wars fic roulette #SW Fic Roulette #450 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION #Follower Celebration #Star Wars Fic Roulette #Fic Roulette #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #starwars #pick your character #pick your prompt #the clone wars #the Mandalorian #Andor #Book of Boba Fett #original trilogy #Obi-wan #Ahsoka #The Bad Batch #star wars prequels #star wars sequel trilogy #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #bad batch hunter

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Satisfaction

Summary:

Selina had not been a little girl who dreamed of white dresses. The marriage of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne, from Selina's POV. For @audreycritter and @frownyalfred

Selina had not been a little girl who dreamed of white dresses. She had not filled her idle musings with bouquets of flowers and tiny cakes. Her interest in diamonds had always been professional, not personal, waxing and waning in sync with whatever artificial value the De Beers were enforcing in the moment. A wedding had never been on her list of goals, a marriage even less so. She had craved luxury, security, independence, autonomy. Nothing she had seen as a child, watching forgotten in a corner, nor as an adult, peering through the windows of strangers, had indicated that marriage could be anything more than a gilded cage at best, an end to all she guarded fiercely at worst.

And yet here she was.

Selina had been determined to be present and fully engaged in the consequences of her decision. She had made this choice, herself, fully and of her own free will, and yet the muscle memory of her soul twitched, threatening flight at the first suggestion of a trap. If she detached herself, she risked reacting instinctively, spirit engaging in the gaps where the will faltered. So she had cataloged each moment, each sensation, carefully, a discreet notation in her mental dossier, a bespoke placard hung alongside the framed piece—the feel of her dress being zipped into place, velvet and lace pressed to skin; the clouded smell of the roses in the bower over her head, their blossoms full and heavy; the whirr of insects beneath the stringed quartet that beckoned her down the aisle.

It still felt like a dream. Selina felt herself doubled, reverberant in mind and body. She was present, present, present, and yet outside herself, forever echoing outward with a ringing ripple of awe. She smiled at all the right moments, true and real, and noted the faces that reflected their joy back from the seats on the lawn. She marveled at herself from afar. She spoke her vows, repeating solemn phrases of partnership, devotion, binding loyalty, and meant them even as her insides quivered. She heard them as if from someone else’s lips.

She was getting married.

She was getting married.

She was married.

Selina Renée Kyle, the Wayne silent but wrapped around her heart like silk, a band on her left hand and a kiss pressed to her lips. Married.

Bruce, as always, was her bolt, her fixed point as she swung through space. He had taken her hand in his at the altar and kept it through the ceremony, the vows, the walk back down the aisle, and the final round of photos that followed, letting go only briefly to sign the license. The prolonged touch might have felt restrictive, but instead it felt like the final check on her lines before rappelling through a skylight, that superstitious tug and the feedback of an anchor point that would not fail. He held her aloft.

Their rehearsal dinner had been small, intimate, restricted to the cherished few that knew who was truly getting married the following evening. Bruce, to Selina’s surprise, had chafed against the wedding pageantry his status demanded and had made a bid for the ceremony to mirror the dinner, held before no more than a handful of witnesses.

“You and me,” he had said, words breathed into the side of her neck. “The kids. Alfred. That’s all we need.”

Selina knew better.

Read the full fic on AO3

#batfic #my fic #fanfic #batcat #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batfam #my first and probably only ship fic #(tbh I don't have a DC fic but I do have Opinions on allowing Bruce Wayne to love and be loved dagnabit)

[denaliwrites]

Tales of Daring

Scrooge McDuck x GN!Reader

Summary: Scrooge catches you in his Money Bin.

Soundtrack: DuckTales Theme by Felicia Barton

Requests: Open!

Warnings: I... I'm so... I don't even know what to put here. What the fuck, man. What did I do to deserve this?

"It's not every day I catch a thief red-handed," a Scottish voice purred from behind you. You hadn't even heard him effortlessly dive into the seemingly infinite pile of gold that you'd had to rappel into, and now he had you at a disadvantage. What were you supposed to do with that?

Well, you certainly wouldn't beg for mercy. It was exactly what the old coot wanted, and you couldn't give him that.

"It's not every day a thief makes it out of your Money Bin with a pretty penny to show for it," you replied, holding up a giant, glinting ruby. Light bounced off it, sending scattered shards of red all over the room. One lit up the grin on your bill.

"Tha's a bit more than a pretty penny, wouldn't ye say?" he asked. You heard some coins shift behind you, signaling his moving closer to you.

Your grin grew just a fraction.

"To you, I'd think it's little more than a pretty trinket, wouldn't you say?" you teased, shooting him a look. He didn't seem as amused by your twist on his words as you were. No matter. "Would you really miss this little token, Scrooge?"

You watched as he shivered at the way you said his name. His eyes bounced around the bin contemplatively in an attempt to play off the reaction he'd had to you. "I know all the coins and gems and trinkets in this bin as if they were my own children. Of course I'd miss it."

"Then it should bring you some comfort, shouldn't it, that it's going to a good home?"

"I hardly think bein' sold on the Black Market for a wad of cash is 'goin' to a good home.'"

You feigned offense, laying a hand dramatically over your heart. "Scrooge! I'm hurt you'd think so poorly of me. Of course it's not going to the Black Market. It's going to a very reputable buyer. Hired me to steal it from you and everything."

"How much is 'e payin' ye, then?" Scrooge asked.

Now it was your turn to shiver -- though the one that danced down your spine was a bit more... anticipatory in nature. "Not nearly as much as the ruby is worth," you confessed lightly. "But we both know I never was one to back down from a challenge."

He was suddenly on you, his hands pinning yours behind you while his chest pressed flush against your back. A gentle shushing whisper blew past your ear before he spoke, "And how goes yer little challenge, eh? Would ye consider it successful?"

You shot a look back to him, along with a grin. "Well, I got your attention, didn't I? I'd call that a win."

He grunted in amusement before shifting his hands so that one was still holding you by the wrists, while the other delicately plucked the ruby from your grasp.

He held it up within your line of sight, twisting it so the lights bouncing off it danced along the walls. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, though even as he spoke of it, his eyes were on you.

"You're not so bad yourself," you purred.

He unceremoniously threw the ruby back into the sea of gold with a sigh, then released you with a grunt that seemed a lot less amused than before. "Same time next week?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Off ye pop, then. I've got a meetin' in ten..."

#scrooge mcduck x reader #scrooge mcduck x you #ducktales x reader #ducktales fic #ducktales fanfiction #david tennant #woo-oo!

[mactavishwritings]

An Old Siren Song

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Angst/Fluff

TW: Violence, Gunshot Wound, Blood, Death Mention, No Death though!

You're injuried on a mission early in you and ghost careers' and it affects him even 6 years later

word count: 1321

The wind bit your cheeks as you stood on the top of the roof, looking through a pair of night vision googles. You watched Sergeant Simon Riley, your closest friend, take down three guards before looking in your general direction.

"Looking super cool there, Ghosty." You smiled into your comm. You watched Simon shake his head before continuing on. The mission was simple; Simon and his ground team would take down any guards on the ground and second floors, while you rappelled down to a window to meet Ghost to be let in. You would then hack into the terrorist's computer to see where the next weapons trade would be.

You secured your rope around your waist before slowly making your way down the building as Simon entered the building. "Coming down now. Confirm when nearby Ghost." You whispered as you got closer to the meet point. You stayed close to the side to make sure your cover wasn't blown.

A familiar skull mask moved into the hall and took down the remaining guard. You smiled and moved onto the sides of the window, motioning to Simon to let you in. "Hurry the fuck up, I'm gonna freeze my tits off." He shook his head and laughed. He was about to say something when you felt something piece through your neck. You gasped loudly and fell forward towards the window, having lost your footing. The unseen guards below you shout something in an unknown language and Ghost quickly opened the window. He pulled you into the building.

"Sergeant? Ghost? RILEY? COPY?" You could hear your commanding Lieutenant shouting at Simon over his comms. You tried to speak, to ask Simon how it looked, but a fluid filled your throat. You desperately grabbed at his vest, trying to communicate with him the fear, panic, and pain you felt. Simon pressed down hard on your wound while his team surrounded the two of you, after killing the rest of the guards and gathering whatever information they could without your skills.

"Sir, it's Siren. She's been hit! Need med and evac now!" Simon sounded frantic. You knew it must've looked fucked if even Simon was panicking. He picked you up and started carrying you out of the building to the evac location. The fiery pain from the wound warmed whatever the snow froze. You looked up at Simon and tried to talked, but all that came out was raspy, gasps. He looked down and shook his head, "don't try. It'll fuck up whatever's left of your vocal cords."

The Helo touched down and a medic was quick to jump out. Simon placed you back down on your feet, but quickly supported you when your knees gave out. Your eyes rolled back and the medic gasped. "How much blood did she lose?" Simon looked at them and shook his head. "A lot. C'mon pretty girl, stay with us." The two helped you into the helo and it took off.

You were rushed off as soon as you touched down. Simon tried to keep up, but the guilt washed over him. If he had just let you in and not fucked around, you wouldn't be fighting a gunshot wound in surgery. After the mission, he had planned on getting asking you out for drinks and maybe a date, but that clearly wasn't going to happen now. He was the reason you'll never talk again. You were going to blame him.

6 years had passed and you had to relearn everything. The thing they don't tell you about vocal cord surgery is the physical therapy that follows. 4 years of it. You felt like a toddler and you certainly talked like one. That night was also the last tine you had heard or seen Simon. You had hoped he was waiting for you by your bedside, but the nurse told you he left. You were upset for a while, but you moved on. You had to and you didn't blame him at all. You knew it wasn't his fault. There was no way he would know.

After getting all the clearance from your doctors, you forced yourself back into your work and trained harder than ever before. Your efforts did not go unnoticed and soon you were recruited by the CIA. You quickly rose the ranks and became the CIA's best hacker.

"Siren, thank you for joining us. Let's go over the details." Kate Laswell, your chief, smiled at you and you returned it. You took the tablet in your hands and started scrolling over the details. "Hassan Zyani." You muttered.

"He's in Mexico?" You looked up at Laswell and she nodded. "We're going to be teaming up with a special task force this time. 141. They've been hot on Zyani's tail so teaming up is our best bet. This is Captain John Price. Price this is (Y/N) 'Siren' (L/N)."

You smiled at the man standing beside Laswell. You shook his hand and he looked you over. "Siren. Name's familiar. We met before?" You shook your head and noted the British accent. "No sir. Only met a couple Brits before." The three of you laughed and Price nodded. "Well, how about you meet the rest of my team and we finish this debrief?"

As the three of you walked through the halls, you adjusted the black turtle neck that covered the large scar on your throat. You had the turtle neck tucked into a pair of blue jeans and you had on a pair of brown heeled boots that clicked with each step. Your focus was on your tablet when your the conference room.

"Right lads! We got some CIA ladies so play nice!" Price said before you and Laswell entered the room. "This is Kate Laswell and Siren." As you stepped in, your eyes immediately fell onto a familiar skull mask.

Ghost felt his heart stop. You lived. Holy shit. You were the infamous CIA hacker. Of course you were. Ghost sat up and cleared his throat. You smiled softly at him. "Sim-"

"Ghost. Lieutenant Ghost."

"Right. My apologies Lieutenant." You laughed. Your eyes were soft, seeing your best friend for the first time in 6 years. Your eyes shifted to the other two boys.

"Well I need that story later. I'm Soap. Nice to meet ya." Soap stood and shook your hand. Gaz then introduced himself to you. You sat down with Laswell across from the 141 and Price went over the mission details.

"And this is were Siren comes in. She will hack into each lock and gate, gaining you all access to the cells." Laswell said casually.

Soap leaned forward and looked at you with wide eyes. "You can do that?!" You giggled and noddled, grabbing your tablet. You stood and walked over to the map of the abandoned prison.

"There are 4 electronic locks here, here, here, and here. I can use satellite to locate and hack into the actual pin pad. From there, it's a basic hack." You shrugged. "I've hacked harder things...like Hassan's personal phone." You smiled sweetly and Price whipped around to look at you and then Laswell, who looked at him smugly.

"You have your muscle men. I have my Siren."

After the meeting, you collected your items before walking out of the conference room. You didn't get to far before you felt a hand grab your elbow. "(Y/N)." Ghost spoke softly.

You turned around and the smile came back onto your face. "Lieutenant. I'm proud of you! I know how much you wanted to rank up." You immediately said. Ghost's shoulder's dropped and his eyes softened.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad? Simon...Don't tell me you haven't talked to me since then because you blamed yourself. There's no way you would've know!" You gasped out. His hand reached out and gently pulled down your turtle neck to reveal the scar. Your hand gently squeezed his wrist and you smiled. "I could've prevented it. I shouldn't have fucked around."

Ghost let his head drop to your shoulder and you caught him, wrapping your arms around him. You could feel the weight of the guilt and trauma he had been carrying around. You knew you couldn't lift it all, but you could support it so it wouldn't weigh him down so much.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #mw2 x reader #mw2 #ghost #simon 'ghost' riley #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #x reader #cod x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost imagine #ghost angst #ghost fluff #simon riley imagine #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff

[elodiecsu]

Ce matin nous déjeunons après avoir déposer les enfants.

Puis canapé ou je m’allonge en mettant mes pieds sur tes jambes, tu es assis .

Tu masse pieds , jambes, cuisses, mes seins.

Te voilà sur moi , entre mes cuisses, ta bouche sur mon cou , une protubérance presse mon entrejambe.

Tu enlèves ton sweat-shirt, sors mes seins de mon soutif et les lèches.

Tes fesses sont précieuses dans mes mains et mon bassin gigote contre ton pantalon.

Tu sors ta verge par ta braguette, je n’ai pas le temp de la saisir que tu ecarte mon body et remonte ma robe .

Un missionnaire de père et mère s’en suit puis affaler , jambe sur tes épaules, ta verge est maintenant une queue large qui me fait couiner comme une amante .

Cette queue devient une bite affamée qui s’engouffre dans mon petit trou en me rappelant que tu dois te vider, telle est ton devoir de féconder.

Tu m’embrasse, referme ta braguette , ta verge et toi doivent aller en ville .

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirty-three

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: i love this part so muchhh enjoyy

masterlist

“What if I say no, Brekker?” It was mere posturing, Matthias knew that. The time for protest had long passed. They were already jogging down the gentle slope of the embassy roof toward the druskelle sector, Wylan panting from exertion, Jesper loping along with ease, and Brekker keeping pace despite his crooked gait and lack of cane. Y/N had never wished more in her life than right now to have been born a Healer.

“What if I don’t give you this last bit of myself and my honor?” Matthias continued.

“You will, Helvar. Nina is on her way to the White Island right now. Are you really going to leave her stranded?” questioned Kaz.

“You presume a great deal.”

“Seems like the perfect amount to me,” Y/N snipped.

“These are the law courts, right?” Jesper said as they raced over the roof, catching glimpses of the elegant courtyards below, each built around a burbling fountain and dotted with rustling ice willows. “I guess if you’re going to be sentenced to death, this isn’t a bad place for it.”

“Water everywhere,” said Wylan. “Do the fountains symbolize Djel?”

“The wellspring,” mused Y/N, “where all sins are washed clean.”

“Or where they drown you and make you confess,” Wylan said.

Jesper snorted. “Wylan, your thoughts have taken a very dark turn. I fear the Dregs have been a bad influence.”

They used a doubled segment of rope and the grappling hook to cross to the roof of the druskelle sector. Wylan had to be looped into a sling, but Jesper, Kaz, and Y/N moved easily across the rope, hand over hand, with unnerving speed. Matthias approached with more caution, and though he didn’t show it, he did not like the way the rope creaked and bowed with his weight.

The others pulled him onto the stone of the druskelle roof, and as Matthias stood, he was struck by a wave of vertigo. More than any place in the Ice Court, more than any place in the world, this place felt like home to him. But it was home turned on its head, his life viewed at the wrong angle.

Y/N on the other side of Kaz, stood with her fists clenched. This was the home for all the druskelle and wolves who sought to kill her kind. The home of the men she was raised to view as monsters. In the distance, she could hear the wolves barking and yapping in their kennel by the gatehouse.

Kaz secured another coil of rope to the roof’s edge and prepared to rappel down to the shore.

“You know what to do,” he said to Jesper and Wylan. “Eleven bells and not before.”

“When have I ever been early?” asked Jesper.

Kaz braced himself for the descent and vanished over the side. Matthias waited for Y/N to scale down first before he lowered himself.

The shore surrounding the ice moat was little more than a slender, slippery rind of white stone. Kaz perched there, pressed against the wall and frowning at the moat.

“How do we cross? I don’t see anything.”

“Because you are not worthy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “We’re also not nearsighted. There’s nothing there.”

Matthias began edging along the wall, running a hand over the stone at hip level. “On Hringkalla the druskelle finish our initiation,” he said. “we go from aspirant to novice druskelle in the ceremony at the sacred ash.”

“Where the tree talks to you.” Y/N scoffed.

Matthias nearly rolled his eyes, “It’s where we hope to hear the voice of Djel. But that’s the final step. First, we have to cross the ice moat undetected. If we are judged worthy, Djel shows us the path.”

It took Matthias two passes along the wall before his fingers found the carved lines of a wolf. He rested his hand there briefly, feeling the traditions that connected him to the order of druskelle, as old as the Ice Court itself.

“Here,” he said.

Kaz shuffled over and squinted across the moat. He leaned out and Matthias yanked him back.

He pointed over to the guard tower on top of the wall surrounding the White Island. “They’ll see you,” he said. “Use this.”

He scraped his hand along the wall and his palm came away white. The night of his intuition, Matthias had rubbed his clothes and hair with the same chalky powder. Camouflaged from the view of the guards in their tower, he’d crossed the slender path to the island to meet his brothers.

Now he, Kaz, and Y/n did the same, though the other two noticed Kaz slip his gloves away first.

Matthias stepped onto the secret bridge, then heard Kaz and Y/N hiss and curse under their breath when the icy water brushed at their ankles.

“Chilly, Brekker?”

“If only we had time for a swim. Get moving.”

Despite his taunts to Kaz, by the time they were halfway to the island. Matthias’ feet had gone almost completely numb, and he was keenly aware of the guard towers high above the moat. Druskelle would have come this way earlier tonight. He’d never heard of any aspirant being spotted or shot at on the bridge, but anything was possible.

“All this way to be a witchhunter?” Kaz said from behind him. “The Dregs need a better initiation.”

“This is only one part of Hringkalla.”

“Yes, I know, then a tree tells you the secret handshake.”

“I feel sorry for you, Brekker. There is nothing you hold scared in your life.”

There was a long pause, and Y/N thought Kaz wasn’t going to answer at all before he finally spoke up. “You’re wrong.”

The outer wall of the White Island loomed up before them, covered in a rippling pattern of scales. It took a moment to locate the ridge of scales that hid the gate. Only a short while ago, druskelle would have been gathered in this niche of the wall to welcome their new brothers ashore, but now it was empty, the iron grating chained. Kaz made quick work of the lock, and soon they were in a slender passage that would lead them to the gardens that backed the barracks of the royal guard.

“Were you always good at locks?”

“No.”

“How did you learn?”

“The way you learn anything. Take it apart.”

“And the magic tricks?”

Kaz snorted. “So you don’t think I’m a demon anymore?”

“I know you’re a demon, but your tricks are human.”

“Some people see a magic trick and say, ‘Impossible!’ They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it in ten minutes. Other people ask how it worked. They go home, get into bed, toss, and turn, wondering how it was done. It takes them a good night’s sleep to forget all about it. And then there are the ones who stay awake all night, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind.”

“You love trickery.”

“I love puzzles. Trickery just happens to be my native tongue.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at both boys, fighting the urge to smack them over the head.

“The gardens, right?” She looked at Matthias for confirmation. “We follow them to the ballroom. Let’s go, we haven’t the time to waste.”

Puzzles and magic tricks weren’t something Y/N has had the leisure to waste time and ponder how those things are done. Not at least since she was a child. Her heart clenched at the sharp reminder of the life that was stolen from her and the life she was made for.

Just as they were about to emerge from the passage, two guards rounded the corner—both in black and silver druskelle uniforms, both carrying rifles.

“Perjenger!” one of them shouted in surprise. Prisoners. “Sten!”

Without thinking, Matthias said, “Desjenet, Djel comenden!” Stand down, Djel wills it so. They were the words of a druskelle commanding officer, and he delivered them with all the authority he’d ever learned to muster.

Kaz quickly noticed the heat radiating from Y/N’s hands and motioned for her to stand down as Matthias grabbed the first soldier’s rifle and head-butted him hard. The druskelle collapsed. Kaz slammed into the other soldier, knocking him over. The druskelle kept hold of his rifle, but Kaz slipped behind him and brought his forearm across the soldier’s throat, applying pressure until the soldier’s eyes flickered shut, and his head fell forward as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Kaz rolled the body off of him and stood.

The heavy reality of the situation settled over Matthias and Y/N followed quickly. Kaz hadn’t picked up a rifle. Matthias had a gun in his hands, and Kaz Brekker was unarmed. Tension filled the air and the former druskelle fell into contemplation. The Inferni shot Kaz a questioning look and only received a shake of his head.

“Helvar.”

Y/N’s stern tone snapped him out of his thoughts and he lowered his weapon.

A faint smile touched Kaz’s lips. “I wasn’t sure what you’d do if it came down to this.”

“Neither was I,” Matthias admitted. Kaz lifted a brow, and the truth struck Matthias with the force of a blow. “It was a test. You chose not to pick up the rifle.”

“I needed to be sure you were really with us. All of us. And I have an Inferni on my side, who do you think would win this match?”

“How did you know I wouldn’t shoot?”

“Because, Matthias, you stink of decency.”

“You’re mad.”

“Do you know the secret to gambling, Helvar?” Kaz brought his good foot down on the butt of the fallen soldier’s rifle. The gun flipped up causing Y/N to smirk. He’d had it in his hands and pointed at Matthias in the space of a breath. He’d never been in any danger at all. “Cheat. Now let’s clean up and get into these uniforms. We have a party to go to.”

“One day you’ll run out of tricks, demjin.”

Y/N walked past him swiftly. “You better hope it’s not today.”

~*~

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @skittleabyss @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #ellora.writes

[navibluebees]

Lyle with his Chubby Human Female SO

Please read before interacting.

He was his super flirty self as usual, accidentally bumping into you in the chow hall. He steadied you with a hand on your back and apologized but you couldn't look in his eyes, being so nervous.

He chuckled and set you on your way, giving a silly little wave as he walked off. He kept meeting you at meal times, watching the way a blush made its way across your skin. He'd offer to carry your tray if you had your hands full with paperwork you needed to read through.

Someone teased you about having a thing for aliens, he heard it from across the room, strode over to them and he got in their face, shielding you behind him. "And what's it to you? Scram."

His ears went back when he felt your hand on his arm, smiling up at him in thanks.

He loves your curves. Loves every bit of you. Oof. Him with a chubby girlfriend just makes so much sense.

Likes to be near you, loves to tease you but is so weak for your love for him.

He loves to bring you around the other recoms to show you off and ends up screwing himself because he can't stop all the possessive feelings bubbling up in him if the others flirt with you.

Likes to take you to the indoor climbing wall and will help you get into the harness, yanking it tighter and pulling you closer before helping you up. Likes to stop you before you rappel to the bottom and catch you in his arms. Definitely enjoys everyone watching you guys and will take full advantage claiming you with kisses and affection in front of them.

Loves keeping you in his lap, the way your thighs cover his and he will keep an arm around your waist and shift you to rest on his knee while he's eating or chatting with the other recoms.

Will play with your hair while you read and if it's long enough, he attempts to braid it. It'll look really bad at first lmao

Likes to take you out on his banshee idk I feel like he named it Rocky Balboa or something like that. Uses every excuse to hold you tight so he will swoop through the air and keep a tight grip at your waist.

Is a total softie when you get him small gifts. "I thought of you." He just wants to be looooveeeeddd. <3

NSFW Below

Was a bit nervous your first time together. Afraid to hurt you and held you the whole time while you reassured him it was okay. Almost came right when he was fully seated in you and barely managed to hold off.

Loves when you're on top and he can grip your hips, watching you ride him. Even better if it's reversed and he will absolutely dig his fingers into your thighs, carefully shifting to his knees and pulling you back against him.

Will snake an arm up your front and press his palm to your sternum, chin tucked over your shoulder as he thrusts up into you.

Loves any kind of bath with you and after shivering when you braid his hair over his queue and trembling weakly when the tendrils meet your fingertips.

Weak when you bite at his ears and will keep his tail around your leg as he holds you up against him, your legs around his waist

100% says goodbye to your tits before you put on your clothes in the morning. (It's giving Schmidt when he thinks Cece is getting a breast reduction. He loves them that much.) "Bye ladies, see you tonight." Followed by gentle kisses and caresses and you barely managing to pull yourself from bed.

Will spend the night curled up around you and sometimes still in you, gripping you tightly.

Loves when you toss your legs across his lap and he presses a strong thumb to the arch of your foot, getting a moan or a giggle or both (just depending on how ticklish you are there)

***

Taglist:

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #avatar the way of water #lyle wainfleet smut #lyle wainfleet fluff

[togrowoldinv]

Your Adventurous Girl

Florence Pugh x Reader

You and Flo watch her episode of Running Wild together.

Note: This is a fluffy and soft little fic. If you haven’t seen her ep of the show yet, I highly recommend it. It’s so cute and funny! I hope you enjoy this one!

Florence Pugh Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When Florence told you she was going to be on Running Wild with Bear Grylls, she was practically jumping up and down with excitement. You knew she always had an adventurous side, and you were so happy that she got to experience it.

But you were also nervous about her facing the dangerous terrain. She promised to call you as soon as she was finished, and she stayed true to her word. You remember answering the phone and listening to her go on and on about her adventure.

Florence told you more about it once she got home, but it isn’t until now that you have seen the footage. You’re watching the episode with her. It makes you laugh how Florence keeps pausing and telling you more about the trek.

“Oh, wait this is my favorite part!” Florence says. She turns up the tv and snuggles into your side.

You watch as she ties a knot to scale down a 75-foot waterfall. Although you clearly know it goes well, your heart quickens, and you get nervous watching her. Florence notices you starting to breathe heavier.

“Are you alright, darling?” she asks you.

“Yeah, it’s just scary to watch,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the screen, and then quietly add, “I know it’s silly considering you’re clearly fine and here with me right now.”

“No, I think it’s sweet,” Florence says.

When you shake your head, Flo softly runs her hand over the side of your cheek and gets your attention. You look at her to see her wearing her signature frown.

“Don’t be embarrassed that you care so much for me, my love. You want to know what I was thinking about while I was rappelling down there?” Florence asks. You nod. “I was thinking about how much I wanted to get home to you. I knew they wouldn’t let me get hurt, but in my mind, I was still worried about staying alive for you.”

“Oh, Flossie,” you say. You lean forward and kiss her frown away. She smiles before she presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then slightly pulls away.

“We don’t have to watch anymore if you don’t want to,” she says.

“No, it’s okay. I’d like to see you jump out of that plane. You were so excited when you called me that day,” you say.

Her smile rivals the brightest stars, and you can’t help but kiss her one more time before turning back to the tv. You watch as she successfully finishes the challenges and gets to the extraction point.

“You’re so adorable,” you tell her as you see her getting so excited to parachute out of the plane.

“Thank you, baby. Maybe next time you could come with me?” Florence suggests.

“To skydive? No thanks,” you say with a laugh.

“No?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” you say seriously and Florence giggles.  

“I love you, y/n,” Florence responds.

“I love you too, Flo.”

You wrap your arm around her, and Florence snuggles into your side once again. Your hand runs through her soft, now blonde again and getting longer, hair and she sighs against you contentedly. You really love your adventurous girl.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @idkwhygregg @be-missed @mythosphere-x @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @laaurrel @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @flosbelova @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @ggrangerdanger @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @whitemanshoe19 @peanutbutterprincess @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @kacka84 @sammi1642 @itsyourgirlmalise @jujuu23 @hb8301 @the-night-owl-blr @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @harleysincairo @rach2602 @lovelyy-moonlight @wandas-slut-heart @natblackwidow2

#florence pugh x reader #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh comfort #florence pugh #running wild bear grylls #i love you flo

[ws-01-elena]

Elena stood outside of her office, looking around for WB18. Aside from the interactions on Tumblr, the account being a requirement for some reason, she hasn’t actually interacted with her fellow workers. It was exciting! WB18 seemed nice and would make a good first connection into her new position.

Previously being focused on waiting she was distracted by a tulip next to her door, a little red tulip. How lovely! Elena didn’t know who left it- but she hoped to thank them for the flower. It would be nice as a little office decoration.

In her moment of distraction Elena paid no attention to who was coming or leaving the office department.

[ - @number1investigator ]

#presse-papiers rappels #MyCoworker.Detective

[ladyniniane]

Snippets of my current WIPs

I was tagged by @lilias42 and @mwezina to post a snippet of my current WIP. Thank you✨!

-Marya has just discovered that a long lifespan comes with her powers and that she may live for centuries, unchanged.

Le rebord de la baignoire appuyait sur le bas de la nuque de Marya en un rappel constant de ses inquiétudes. L’eau remua lorsqu’elle s’agita, un clapotement rompit le silence. Alanguie, masquée par un paravent de vapeur, elle avait perdu la mesure du temps. Si cela se trouvait, une éternité avait passé. Ce qui était tout à fait approprié, quand on y pensait. Ses mains en coupe recueillirent le liquide. L'eau fila entre ses doigts. Les années couleraient désormais ainsi. Elle remplit de nouveau ses paumes avant de les vider. Un siècle. Puis deux. Puis trois. Puis quatre.

The edge of the bath pressed against the back of Marya's neck as a constant reminder of her worries. The water stirred as she moved, and a splash broke the silence. Languid, masked by a screen of steam, she had lost track of time. If anything, an eternity had passed. Which was quite appropriate, when you thought about it. Her cupped hands scooped up the liquid. The water trickled through her fingers. From now on, the years would flow like this. She filled her palms again before emptying them. A century. Then two. Then three. Then four.

-Here is a snippet of my untitled Fire Emblem Three Houses WIP. It's a sequel to my main project, expanding the story of a secondary character. Here, Ismene has just joined house Gautier as an apprentice physician and she's meeting with the margravine for the first time.

Orsolya lui fit signe d’approcher. Ismène prit d’abord son pouls. Ses gestes étaient précis mais légers et jamais intrusifs. S'approcher de la margravine lui fit oublier sa réserve. Elle était dans son élément. Sa concentration et son professionnalisme invitaient sa patiente à lui faire confiance malgré son manque supposé d'expérience. Les jambes de la margravine n’avaient rien d’anormal. Peut-être était-ce une douleur circulatoire ? (...) Orsolya haussa un sourcil.   — Êtes-vous vraiment une apprentie ou avez-vous déjà exercé ?   — J’ai déjà pratiqué avec mon maître à la campagne, ma dame. 

Orsolya beckoned her to come closer. Ismène began by taking her pulse. Her gestures were precise but light, never intrusive. Approaching the margravine made her forget her reserve. She was in her element. Her concentration and professionalism encouraged her patient to trust her, despite her potential lack of experience. There was nothing wrong with the margravine's legs. Perhaps it was circulatory pain? (…) Orsolya raised an eyebrow. -Are you really an apprentice or have you practised before? -I used to practise with my master in my home village, my lady.

I tag @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @queenfredegund, @lumeha, @intricatecaprice, @tockamybeloved @sinniel and whoever wants to do it!

#tags #écriture #shadow and bone #sab fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse ocs #oc creators #oc fanfiction #fire emblem three houses #fe3h oc #fe3h fanfic #fire emblem oc #ismene #marya #my ocs

[nietp]

4 octobre 2023 | Par Mathieu Dejean

Alors que la gauche a noué des liens historiques avec la cause arménienne, son soutien au Haut-Karabagh s’est fait plus discret et tardif que celui de la droite, qui instrumentalise la situation au profit de la théorie du choc des civilisations. 

Le désarroi, la peine et une colère sourde. Ces sentiments mêlés animent les personnes issues de la diaspora arménienne et leurs soutiens depuis l’offensive éclair de l’armée azerbaïdjanaise dans le Haut-Karabagh le 19 septembre. Face à cette épuration ethnique comparable à un « génocide sans fin », selon les mots de l’historien Vincent Duclert, le constat d’une désaffection politique de la gauche se surajoute : « La situation, c’est que la gauche est timide dans sa réaction, malgré le fait que c’est une épuration ethnique », résume le sociologue Razmig Keucheyan, proche de La France insoumise (LFI).

Le philosophe Pierre Tevanian abonde dans ce sens au moyen d’une question lancinante : « Pourquoi la gauche n’a-t-elle pas répondu, ni formellement ni par un changement de ligne, alors qu’on alerte dans le désert depuis au moins trois ans ? » En 2020, après la guerre lancée par l’Azerbaïdjan contre les Arméniens du Haut-Karabagh, il cosignait une tribune dénonçant le « silence de la gauche occidentale ». Il se désole aujourd’hui du peu d’impact qu’elle a eu : « S’il y a ce faible écho, c’est que les relais dans les partis, les syndicats et dans le mouvement social anti-impérialiste manquent cruellement. Ce sont eux qui font que, par moments, un soutien populaire arrive à se faire entendre. »

La solidarité avec le peuple arménien fait pourtant partie de l’histoire longue de la gauche. Aujourd’hui encore, des socialistes citent le discours de Jean Jaurès à l’Assemblée nationale en 1886, dans lequel il dénonçait déjà une « guerre d’extermination » contre les Arméniens. Ils omettent toutefois de rappeler que sa position était, déjà, loin de faire consensus : « S’il était aussi éloquent, c’est qu’il se heurtait à une realpolitik majoritaire dans les rangs de la droite et de la gauche de l’époque. Le point de vue adverse était dominant dans la grande presse », pointe Pierre Tevanian.

Une femme tient un drapeau arménien lors d'un rassemblement appelant à la paix, organisé par le CCAF (Conseil de coordination des organisations arméniennes de France) à Paris, le 15 septembre 2022. © Photo AFP

L’histoire du Parti communiste français (PCF) a aussi été marquée par le sacrifice du résistant Missak Manouchian, dont le groupe des Francs-tireurs et partisans – celui dépeint par la fameuse « Affiche rouge » – a été exécuté en 1944. Le cinéaste Robert Guédiguian, soutien indéfectible de la cause arménienne, en a tiré le film L’Armée du crime en 2009 : « On vénérait L’Affiche rouge quand j’étais petit. Avant le poème d’Aragon, avant la chanson de Ferré, avant mon film, les gens les plus au courant étaient les militants du PCF », note-t-il. Le PCF a d’ailleurs reconnu la République de l’Artsakh (Haut-Karabagh) en 2019, et préconise la protection de la population arménienne dans la région.

L’affinité entre l’idée de gauche et la cause arménienne s’est encore renforcée dans la foulée du cinquantenaire du génocide arménien, en 1965, qui a coïncidé avec l’ébullition pré-Mai-68. « Ce contexte socio-historique explique que les partis de gauche ont, beaucoup plus que la droite, accompagné les revendications arméniennes, explique Pierre Tevanian. Il y avait un mouvement social fort, une gauche dans l’opposition mais en expansion, et qui essayait par tous les moyens de se connecter aux mouvements sociaux. En 1981, Mitterrand est porteur des revendications des groupes dominés. »

L'« affiche rouge »

Dans les principaux foyers d’implantation de la diaspora arménienne – l’axe Paris-Rhône-Alpes-Bouches-du-Rhône, avec un crochet par Alfortville (Val-de-Marne) –, les collectivités territoriales socialistes ou communistes ont ainsi tissé des liens durables. En 2012, François Hollande avait tenu un meeting commun à Alfortville avec la Fédération révolutionnaire arménienne (membre de l’Internationale socialiste), qui appelait la communauté arménienne à se mobiliser pour lui.

Une défaite métapolitique

Pourtant le réveil de la gauche sur la situation dans le Haut-Karabagh, indépendamment de quelques individualités, a été timoré et tardif, au point de désespérer des membres de la diaspora. « On le ressent comme une vraie injustice, réagit ainsi Loris Toufanian, militant du mouvement Charjoum, en faveur des luttes d’émancipation arméniennes. Quand on prend une seconde de recul, il s’agit d’un peuple qui décrète son indépendance, qui s’affranchit de la domination coloniale du panturquisme, c’est le programme de la gauche depuis 150 ans, et pourtant, a-t-on vu en nombre des organisations de gauche dire : “Vive la résistance arménienne”, ou “panturquisme = fascisme” ? Non. » 

Pour expliquer ce délitement, beaucoup constatent d’abord une défaite métapolitique : la droite et l’extrême droite se sont emparées du sujet et bénéficient d’une plus grande couverture médiatique. « À longueur de journée, la défense des chrétiens d’Orient est instrumentalisée sur CNews à des fins de politiques internes à la France – l’opposition entre les bons immigrés intégrés chrétiens et les autres », analyse Razmig Keucheyan.

« L’extrême droite transpose dans le Caucase des questions qu’elle veut mettre à l’agenda en France », abonde la sociologue Marie Sonnette-Manouguian, ce qui explique que le sujet soit potentiellement devenu « radioactif » pour une partie de la gauche. « Le moteur du conflit est pourtant impérialiste : c’est l’expansion turque au détriment des peuples les plus faibles. En ce sens, ça devrait être porté par la gauche », ajoute-t-elle. 

Les mots de la droite et de l’extrême droite déterminent en effet fortement le débat public, participant ainsi à la marginalisation de la gauche. « Depuis 2019, au Sénat, on s’est entendu, on a fait deux résolutions, posé deux questions au gouvernement, mais comment faire partager un point de vue aux médias sur ce que nous disaient les Arméniens ? », s’interroge, impuissant, le sénateur socialiste Gilbert-Luc Devinaz, président du groupe d’amitié France-Arménie, ​​qui admet marcher sur des œufs lorsqu’il doit signer des textes en commun avec le sénateur Les Républicains Bruno Retailleau sur cette question. 

L’internationalisme n’est pas toujours une évidence comme il l’était pour des générations plus anciennes.

Clémentine Autain, députée LFI

La députée de La France insoumise (LFI) Clémentine Autain, qui fait partie des personnalités engagées sur le sujet, le constate aussi : « Il y a deux visions qui s’affrontent dans la défense du peuple arménien. Une vision de choc des civilisations promue par l’extrême droite et une vision humaniste reposant sur les principes du droit international. Il faudrait que notre voix recouvre la leur. » 

Encore faut-il pour cela que les directions d’organisations s’en emparent et fassent du bruit médiatique en dépit des vents hostiles. Jusqu’à présent, des personnalités ont pris position. L’eurodéputée écologiste Marie Toussaint plaide ainsi pour « des sanctions économiques et commerciales à l’égard d’Aliyev » : « On l’a fait pour la Russie, on peut le faire pour l’Azerbaïdjan. Si on veut être cohérent, il faut dénoncer l’accord gazier et envoyer des observateurs européens sur le sol arménien », détaille-t-elle, regrettant « une forme de reddition de l’Union européenne ».

La sénatrice socialiste du Val-de-Marne Laurence Rossignol défend, elle, la création d’un « comité de soutien exigeant la libération des prisonniers politiques » et l’envoi de fonds à l’Arménie pour l’aider à accueillir les 100 000 réfugié·es.

Des réfugiées à Kornidzor, première ville arménienne après la frontière, le 24 septembre 2023. © Photo Alex Lourie / REDUX via REA

Mais les partis de gauche eux-mêmes se sont souvent contentés de communiqués et de rassemblements tardifs qui n’ont rencontré qu’un faible écho. L’action de la maire socialiste de Paris, Anne Hidalgo, qui a projeté un documentaire le 3 octobre au Conseil de Paris, décryptant l’influence de l’Azerbaïdjan en Europe – La Caviar connection –, pointant au passage l’implication de son adversaire Rachida Dati comme relais d’influence de Bakou, a détonné dans ce paysage. De même que le déplacement en Arménie du député insoumis Sébastien Delogu (dont le père est d’origine arménienne), d’où il a dénoncé un soutien « trop timide et trop tardif » de la France.

Et si Jean-Luc Mélenchon a condamné sur X le 7 septembre le « blocus criminel infligé aux Arméniens du Haut-Karabakh », puis a réagi à l’agression azérie « en vue d’un nettoyage ethnique » le 19 septembre – tout comme le groupe parlementaire LFI –, l’action de solidarité envers les Arméniens reste limitée. L’affaiblissement numérique des vieux partis de gauche, PS et PCF, où le soutien aux Arméniens est le plus ancré historiquement, n’aide pas à l’extension de la mobilisation.

« D’une manière globale, je trouve que l’international est de moins en moins présent dans les discours de gauche. Chez les jeunes générations, l’internationalisme n’est pas toujours une évidence comme il l’était pour des générations plus anciennes », analyse Clémentine Autain.

À lire aussiAu Haut-Karabagh, « une entreprise de destruction humaine »

« Dans les années 1970-1980, les Arméniens pouvaient être perçus à gauche comme un cas particulier de lutte anticoloniale, au même titre que les Kurdes. Cet imaginaire anti-impérialiste, tiers-mondiste, de lutte de libération, s’est affaibli à gauche. Les Arméniens ont fait les frais de cet affaiblissement », analyse Razmig Keucheyan. « La gauche française est très franco-française, il n’y a pas d’exception arménienne. On bute sur le fait que la France en général et la gauche en particulier n’est pas universaliste dans les faits, dans la manière de distribuer ses engagements », juge aussi Pierre Tevanian. 

Tout cela participe à instaurer un sentiment de manque de la part de la gauche. Ce sentiment taraude Robert Guédiguian, qui voit l’extrême droite monter au créneau : « J’ai du mal à côtoyer dans ce combat-là Zemmour, Pécresse et Wauquiez, trois personnes qui se sont rendues là-bas », relate le cinéaste. « Ce n’est pas une fatalité. Il faut créer de la confiance, des idées partagées. Ce n’est pas une guerre des civilisations. Les Arméniens veulent vivre en paix, et pas être la pointe avancée des croisades de Philippe de Villiers, Jean-Christophe Buisson et Sylvain Tesson », conclut Razmig Keucheyan. 

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Depuis le 7 janvier 2023 notre confrère et ami Mortaza Behboudi est emprisonné en Afghanistan, dans les prisons talibanes.

Nous ne l’oublions pas et réclamons sa libération.

En savoir plus

Au Haut-Karabagh, « une entreprise de destruction humaine »Par Joseph Confavreux

 Voir les 83 commentaires

[homomenhommes]

saga: SOUMISSION / DOMINATION 34

le client n°2 de Jean (30 ans musclé monté 26 x 6,5) dont j'avais mis la femme à niveau (cf. soumission 11) m'avait demandé la dernière fois où je lui avais amené Jean de lui trouver un peu de temps pour lui et sa femme. Maintenant que tout se passait bien coté vagin, il aimerait tenter la sodomie. Il avait commencé par des annilingus en " dérapant " des cunnilingus mais qu'il n'avait pas été plus loin qu'un massage externe de son anus. L'idée m'amusait en plus de la rétribution de ma prestation, nous avons fixé un soir en semaine (mes WE sont trop chargés !!). ;Avec l'accord de Marc, j'arrivais vers 19h chez eux. La femme, en robe légère, m'accueillit d'un baisé sur le coin de la bouche et me glissa tout bas " merci, depuis notre rencontre, je jouis à chaque fois ! ". nous entrons au salon, son mari nous y attend, en jeans et polo. Je pose mon casque sur une commode et comme il me dit de me mettre à l'aise, je m'extirpe de ma combi moto et me retrouve en shorty moulant et T-shirt. Il me tend un verre et nous trinquons au sexe.

Comme je fini mon verre, sa femme se colle à moi, me roule une pelle et sa main sur ma bite, elle la masse pour la faire grossir. Son mari, lui, se plaque dans mon dos et je sens au travers du tissus sa grosse pine gonflée contre mes fesses. Je passe ma main en arrière et presse le barreau qui déforme sa braguette. Etant le moins vêtu (je le pensais avant de mettre ma main sous la robe), je me retrouve rapidement avec le shorty sur les chevilles et ma bite aspirée par la meuf.

Je remarque que de ce coté là, elle s'est bien amélioré et je le dis à son mari. Il me dit qu'avec une pratique matin et soir, c'est normal que ce soit mieux. Le jeans contre la peau nue de mes fesses me gratte un peu. Je défais le ceinturon et les boutons de la braguette pour faire tomber le fut à ses pieds. Il le jette sur le coté et se recolle à moi, sa batte de base ball droite entre mes fesses, le gland sur mes reins. Je tourne la tête et lui rappelle tout bas que c'est sa meuf qu'on va sodomiser et non moi ! Il bouge et se place derrière sa meuf qui continue à me piper à genoux devant moi. Il la relève à 4 pattes et retrousse sa robe. Comme elle ne portait pas de culotte, il lui met direct deux doigts dans la chatte et les ressort bien mouillés. Sous cette pratique, elle gémit tout en gardant ma queue dans sa bouche. il recommence et bientôt un 3ème doigt rejoint les deux autres.

Avant de la sauter lui même, il me propose gentiment de l'enfiler. J'accepte, ça va faire longtemps que j'ai mis ma bite dans un vagin ! Je m'enkpote et la pénètre. Elle est brûlante et mouillée. Je rentre sans problème mes 20cm. Le rodage quelle subit avec les 26cm de son mec lui a bien allongé le vagin. Je ne sens même pas le col de l'utérus comme la dernière fois ou j'avais été obligé de pousser pour faire entrer mes 3 derniers cm.

Par contre je suis bien serré entre les parois, et ne me sent pas " flottant " comme dans le vagin de la mère de Jean. Comme le mari me dit de rester au fond, il ordonne à sa meuf de " presser ". Je ne m'interroge pas longtemps sur la signification de ce terme. Rapidement je ressent sur toute la longueur de ma bite une compression puis un relâchement et cela recommence.

Elle me masse la bite avec son vagin ! j'en reviens pas c'est kiffant ! Son mari qui avait pris ma place dans la bouche de sa meuf, me regarde en souriant et me demande comment je trouve cela. Je lui répond que c'est bon ! il me dira plus tard, en aparté, que c'est Jean qui en contactant son anus sur sa bite lui a donné l'idée. Je reprend le contrôle en commençant à la limer. Je lui demande que lorsque je suis sorti, elle compresse son vagin pour que je sois obligé de forcer pour entrer.

Elle fait cela et ça devient bon de lui limer la chatte. Son mec me dit que pour cela elle se muscle sur un gode très fin(3cm de diamètre) qu'il a trouvé dans un sex shop. Je lui dis que c'est intéressant. Je lui cède ma place. Il entre alors dans sa femme qui souffle quand même à se prendre la grosse bite de son mari. Je me penche au dessus d'elle pour bien voir la bite entrer de toute sa longueur dans le vagin. Au deux tiers, il vrille un peu du bassin pour que le gland repousse le col de l'utérus et qu'il puisse entrer les derniers cm.

Arrivé au fond, il lui laisse le temps de s'habituer au nouveau volume puis ressort totalement avant d'y retourner sans finasser. Ses coups de reins soulève sa femme et me l'enfonce encore plus sur ma bite. Au 4ème coup, j'ai mon gland dans sa gorge. Elle s'étrangle car c'est sa première gorge profonde ! je lui pousse la tête en arrière pour que ça entre plus facile et elle finit par s'y faire. Comme son mec fait une pause, bien ancré au fond de son vagin, elle me repousse et se tourne vers lui pour l'engueuler. Que c'est une brute et qu'elle s'est défoncé la gorge sur ma bite ! Il rit et lui dit que finalement ça devait le faire puisque après elle a pas arrêté de me bouffer entier. Je confirme. Nous échangeons encore nos places et je me réimplante dans son vagin. Il lui faut quelques instants de contraction pour que je sente à nouveau un début de compression. Je ne fait que 5cm de diamètre par rapport aux 6,5 de son mari ;qui doivent bien faire 7cm à la base. Son mec lui bâillonne la bouche de sa pine essayant de faire entrer son gland derrière sa glotte. Je lui crache sur le trou du cul et lui masse l'oignon de mes deux pouces. Elle gémit, je continu et doucement je lui ouvre le trou. Nous nous coordonnons son mari et moi pour l'enfoncer en même temps, c'est amusant à faire. Je continu mon massage anal et mon pouce droit fini par entrer gentiment. J'alterne pouce droit pouce gauche rapidement. Je ramasse de sa lubrification vaginale sur ma bite quand elle ressort pour lubrifier plus efficacement son anus. Je continu malgré des gémissement n'exprimant pas forcement son accord. Le mari lui m'encourage tout en matant la progression.

Bientôt mes deux pouces sont ensemble dans son trou. J'ai forcé mais moins que pour certains mecs ! je sens sous mes doigts l'anus s'assouplir et accepter de mieux en mieux l'écartement. Les pouces bien enfoncés, je joue un peu de l'élasticité du sphincter. Je sens au travers des parois mes doigts le long de ma bite enfoui en elle. Son mari, impatient, me dit de l'enculer. Elle émet un non étouffé par le gland qui a fini par passer dans sa gorge. Il me dit de pas l ;"écouter, que si on l'avait laissé faire, il ne pourrait toujours pas la baiser correctement ! Je me range à son avis, modifie mon angle d'attaque et avec une bonne poussée, je lui perfore le cul avec ma bite.

Comme le mec lui a mis son gland au plus profond de sa gorge (il reste quand même bien 6/7 cm dehors), elle ne peut plus me dire non. J'investi son anus. Je me sens bien serré mais la progression reste assez facile et son sphincter s'ouvre sans beaucoup de difficulté. De mes doigts je récupère dans sa chatte son lubrifiant naturel et m'en badigeonne le sexe après l'avoir sorti totalement puis je le lui remet dans le cul. Son mari l'ayant laissé respirer, elle se redresse et nous traite d'obsédés sexuels ! C'est pas une insulte puisque c'est la vérité et que nous ne nous en cachons pas ! ;Je lui demande si elle a mal. Elle me dit que la première pénétration à été un peu dure mais que ça va.

Je lui propose alors de s'exciter sur son mec en même temps. Elle me demande comment. Je demande à son mari de se coucher sur le dos et à elle de le chevaucher. Quand ils sont en place, je la plaque sur le torse de son mec et agenouillé entre ses cuisses, je me replante dans son cul.

La double pénétration lui arrache des gémissements ce coup ci de plaisir ! ce n'est que lorsque je suis bien au fond que nous commençons à la faire coulisser sur nos sexes. Serré dans son boyau, je sens la bite de son mari et surtout son gland tout contre mon sexe. Le mec me dit que c'est une sensation phénoménale. Le frottement de nos deux glands lors des va et vient le fait triquer à fond.

La sensation est telle que nous jouissons tous les trois ensemble. Ses contractions vaginales et anales nous traient les couilles et quand son mari lui rempli la chatte je jute dans ma Kpote. ;Elle se relève, nos bites encore bandées claques sur nos abdos. Elle se jette sur son mari et lui pompe le dard englué de sperme. Il me dit en souriant que depuis mon premier passage elle avait pris goût à son sperme et qu'elle ne manquait pas d'en avaler le maximum. Je les félicite tous les deux d'être arrivés à ça. Comme je vois qu'elle arrive à maintenir son mari raide, je lui plante trois doigts dans l'oignon pour éviter qu'il se referme trop vite et du pouce je lui titille le clitoris. Elle gigote dans ma main. A l'occasion, je lui mets l'auriculaire en plus et commence à la travailler en largeur. Son mec ne débande pas, je lui propose d'essayer le nouveau passage. Elle s'affole, refuse, la taille imposante du sexe de son mari lui fait peur. Alors que tout allait bien , le grain de sable ! Nous essayons de la convaincre mais elle refuse prétextant l'impossibilité à un cul de se prendre une pareille bite. J'ai beau lui dire que certains mecs s'en prenne encore plus gros, elle ne me croit pas. Elle m'énerve la minette ! Je dis a son mari de se remettre sur le dos. Je vais chercher un tube de lubrifiant et du poppers dans ma combi et me prépare le cul. Rapidement je me détend et me place 3 doigts dans l'anus.

Elle ne dit plus rien et me regarde faire avec étonnement. ; Bien lubrifié du fion, j'enkpote son mec, ajoute une méga dose de gel dessus et je l'enjambe et me retrouve comme elle tout à l'heure. Je place son gland contre mon anus, je sniffe rapidement des deux narines et dans les secondes qui suivent, alors que je ressent une bouffée de chaleur, je m'enfonce d'un coup sec son gland. Elle pousse un cri se surprise. Je me remet une dose de poppers et bien parti, je m'assois lentement sur la bite de son mec. Elle est tellement absorbée par le fait que je réussisse à m'enfiler une bite de ce diamètre qu'elle a oublié que nous sommes dans un rapport sexuel homo ! Il est mieux monté qu'Eric, même si ce n'est pas de beaucoup, les cm à ce stade ça compte triple !!

Je me redose en poppers et commence à me limer. J'apostrophe la meuf en lui demandant si elle croit toujours que c'est impossible. Son mec, lui est ravi et apprécie mon anus. Je me relève et lui dis de prendre ma place. Excité par le spectacle elle se place. Je lui tartine le cul d'une bonne couche de gel et en lui enfonçant le tube, en vide une parti dans ses boyaux. Placé derrière eux, je tiens la bite verticale et place le gland à l'entrée du cul. Je pose mes mains sur ses hanches et appui dessus. L'anus déjà bien rodé par le passage de mon sexe et mes doigts s'ouvre et absorbe le gland. Jusque là tout va bien le gland n'es pas plus large que ma bite. Je lui dis qu'elle a pris le gland. Elle me dit le savoir, qu'elle est blonde mais pas idiote et qu'elle le sent bien dans son derrière. Je me venge aussitôt en appuyant un peu plus fort et lui fait prendre au moins 5cm d'un coup. Je lui fait sniffer du poppers et même si l'effet est moins probant sur les meufs, elle réagit et j'en profite pour ajouter encore 5 cm. Son mari a tendu ses bras et ses mains pétrissent ses seins, roulant les tétons entre ses doigts. Je passe une main devant elle et lui pince le clito. Elle sursaute, sort 3cm de son mec pour en reprendre 6 au retour ! Maintenant elle a pris au moins 50% de son mec dans le cul. Comme je rebande, je me déplace et enjambe à mon tour son mec, tout en restant debout pour lui mettre mon gland devant ses lèvres.

Elle me suce, je mets mes mains sur sa tête et la tirant vers moi, enfonce mon gland dans sa gorge. Ma poussée la fait s'asseoir un peu plus. Les mains de son mari ont glissées des seins aux hanches et c'est lui qui maintenant maîtrise l'intromission. Impatient, il appui une dernière fois un peu trop fort et si il entre presque totalement, la douleur lui fait me recracher en criant.

Je m'agenouille et glissant ma tête sur les abdos du mecs, réussis à prendre le clitoris entre mes lèvres et à le stimuler. Le souffle de la meuf s'accélère, le plaisir revient. Quand son mec la sent réceptive, il commence doucement à la relever. Je le stoppe quand il arrive au gland. Si il sort totalement il ne pourra y retourner. Je re graisse la hampe pour faciliter la réintroduction. Je me redresse et tête son sein droit alors que mes doigts remplacent ma bouche sur son clitoris.

Elle jouit soudain sans que nous nous y attendions. Elle sursaute sur la bite de son mec qui gueule tellement elle le serre. Un dernier sursaut et elle décule et s'écroule sur le torse de son mec. Ça l'achève et il jute dans son dos. Je me branle deux trois fois et mon sperme rejoint le sien.

Nous restons bien 20mn sur le dos cotes à cotes étendus sur le tapis à reprendre nos esprits. Son mari et moi émergeons les premiers, il la couvre d'un plaid et nous allons nous doucher. Douche simple, sereine où nous nous rendons service quand au savonnage mais pas plus. Il faut dire que la séance nous a bien vidé. Il me remercie d'avoir fait ce qu'il fallait pour décider sa meuf à franchir le pas. Je lui dis en plaisantant a moitié que mon anus risquait de s'en souvenir quelques temps.

Quand nous retournons au salon, nous trouvons sa meuf endormie roulée dans le plaid. Je me rhabille retrouvant difficilement mon shorty. J'enfile ma combi quand il me tend mon enveloppe. Il me dit avoir ajouté pour mon " sacrifice personnel ". je le remercie et la glisse dans une poche de poitrine, ne lui faisant pas l'injure de compter devant lui.

C'est arrivé à la maison que je compte. Il avait tout simplement doublé la somme prévue ! J'aime les gens qui savent la valeur des choses ! à qui on est pas obligé de tout dire. Je l'appelle dans la foulée pour le remercier et lui demander comment va sa femme. Il me dit que sa meuf l'a remercié pour cette soirée et qu'il se demande si cela ne valait pas plus encore que ce qu'il m'avait donné ! et il me dit qu'il ajustera cela la prochaine fois.

JARDINIER

+

[mr-m-murdock]

Will there be any more OPF flashbacks? Maybe their mission days or where R is badass? The series could've been a black widow prequel!

| natasha x reader | only pretty faces |

warnings: violence, blood, yuck, mentions of sex

a/n: im doing this because I love you anon. crawling back into the light on my stomach because of u. sorry it's bad

"Ten seconds," says the handler, snug in your ear. The wall presses to your spine, obstinate and immovable and cold. The elevator doors scrape open at the end of the hall around the corner, and three sets of footfalls whisper against the deep carpet.

The first shadow falls around the corner and the man steps within inches of your pistol muzzle. He takes the bullet in the temple and his brains fling themselves at your hands and face. You break the second man's larynx with your elbow and he staggers backwards, wheezing, as you shoot the third in the heart. Blood on the back of your hand.

The second man tries to speak, a hand up in your face as a silent plea. You break his wrist, wrench his arm sideways and shoot him in the eye.

Three men in five seconds. It's almost a personal record.

You're smearing blood on the second man's white shirt as you rifle through his suit pocket, but it doesn't matter. No one will find them for days. You extract his wallet, stand and make for the window.

It's a long drop down. You hook your wire to your belt and the sill and lever yourself backwards. You step off the edge.

The wind chills the blood on your face as you fall, feet to the wall, face to the sky. The wire rappels out with a high keen.

"Completion approved. Out," says the handler, and the line cuts off with a crack in your ear. Your heels hit the concrete half a second later: they really do trust your competence, to cut your feed before the extraction is complete. You detract the wire and it comes soaring down towards you like a snake flung through the air. You tuck the wallet away and turn towards the street.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

She's waiting for you at the writing desk, one foot up on the chair and her chin on her knee. She tilts her head at you when you walk in and shut the door behind you.

"Bed," she says instantly.

You point to your face. "Blood," you reply. Natalia raises her eyebrows at you.

"Get on the bed before I fuck you against the door."

"Wouldn't be averse," you say. A flicker of amusement: so small, minuscule on her indecipherable face. You bask in your knowledge. She breaks only for you.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

There's blood on the sheets when you're done: yours, this time. Natalia's nails are mean.

Now she's tracing her name on your stomach with the tips of her fingers, not a sharp edge in sight. "Can you feel that?" she asks. "What am I writing?"

"You're branding me," you say, looking down at her. She's smiling, lips red and parted like an open wound. You kiss her, one hand in her hair. You're entangled in her, always will be. "I'm yours," you say into her teeth.

"I know."

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

She's so fast. So graceful. So brutally, cruelly efficient. You track her through the scope of the rifle, your finger a hair away from tripping the trigger. She knows you're watching, excited by the track of a bullet as she slaughters her way across the concrete prison yard. It's making her show off.

"Do you need me?" you ask, as the prisoners flank her.

"No," she replies, breathlessness turning the feed into a crackle. She snaps the neck of a man twice her size and shoves his body into the gathering mass.

"You do need me," you tease. "Come on, Nata. Say the word."

"I need you to shut up," she says. She flings a knife that rips through two throats and impales a third in the chest.

"That was hot," you say.

You see a prisoner rise from the ground right by her foot and grab at her leg: on instinct, furious instinct, you whip the rifle to the left and fire. He slumps back, dead. The thrill of it wires you, and with a small adjustment, you aim and fire again. Again.

The prisoners drop around her like ripe pears from a tree, your invisible presence infuriating them. Eventually, Natalia stands alone, breathing hard, bloody from head to toe. She raises her face in your direction, pale like the surface of the moon.

"Love you," you say.

"You're gonna pay for that."

"For stealing your thunder?"

"My thunder is fine. You grazed me." She grabs her arm illustratively.

"Liar." You both know you can't miss. But your grinning against the cold stock of your rifle, still.

Natalia starts for the heavy door across the courtyard, her walk silent and purposeful. "When have I ever lied to you?" she asks

You laugh. "You lie in your sleep. You'd lie to me in death."

"Untrue," she replies. You hear the sound of her fingers against the keypad, imagine the blood smeared across her gloves and over her mean fingernails. "Where you go, I go. When you die, I die. You're mine, remember?"

"My romantic," you say, and you shoot the guard on the other side as the door springs open. This time, you graze her on purpose.

requests | masterlist

notes: I still have 10 requests from about July time onwards, so if you requested something and it's not been done, I haven't deleted it - if that gives you any hope at all

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar  @maggieromanov  @transbi-spidey @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @mellxa @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624  @strangegardentaco  @phantomvael @lorsstar1st  @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @picnicmic   @smalls-words @lainjupi  @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115  @natblackwidow2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok  @thorya22  @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout

#natasha romanoff x reader #m answers #natasha romanoff #fanfiction #marvel #fic! #natfic! #only pretty faces #anon cuties

[havaforever]

L'ENLEVEMENT - Le film Rapito du réalisateur italien Marco Bellocchio a été projeté à la 76ème édition du Festival de Cannes, plongeant le public au cœur de l'affaire Mortara. Il offre une immersion captivante dans l'Italie du XIXe siècle et soulève des questionnements profonds sur la liberté religieuse, l'identité et la tolérance.

Le film retrace le destin extraordinaire d'Edgardo Mortara qui a suscité une vive émotion dans toute l'Italie du XIXe siècle. Les autorités sont venues chez ses parents un soir de juin 1858 et leur ont donné vingt-quatre heures pour leur remettre leur enfant. Cette intervention a été réalisée sur ordre du pape, après la révélation du baptême secret de l'enfant.

Face à cette décision implacable, les parents d'Edgardo ont tenté de comprendre et de faire valoir leurs arguments. Ils ont rapidement découvert qu’une ancienne servante catholique était à l'origine de cette trahison. Malheureusement, dans l'État pontifical de Bologne, toute discussion était vaine et les autorités ne laissaient place à aucun compromis.

En raison de son baptême, Edgardo est considéré comme un apostat et il lui est donc impossible de vivre au sein d'une famille juive. Selon les croyances de l'époque, seule l'Église peut le sauver et le protéger spirituellement. L'inquisiteur de Bologne organise donc son placement dans une maison des catéchumènes, un institut fermé destiné à la conversion au catholicisme des jeunes juifs, musulmans et chrétiens non catholiques.

L'affaire Mortara, bien qu'exceptionnelle, n'est pas un cas isolé. Lors de la conférence de presse qui a suivi la première du film, le réalisateur a révélé que de nombreux autres enlèvements et conversions forcées ont eu lieu depuis le XVIe siècle. En effet, les familles juives étaient contraintes d'employer des servantes catholiques pendant le shabbat et celles-ci se chargeaient secrètement de baptiser les petits enfants juifs dans le but de les "sauver". Cette pratique était soutenue par les autorités religieuses catholiques au nom de Dieu. Au cours du procès, la servante a d’ailleurs affirmé avoir baptisé le petit Edgardo alors qu'il était malade et qu'elle le croyait mourant, dans l'espoir de le sauver des limbes, conformément à la croyance répandue à l'époque.

Ces conversions secrètes étaient utilisées comme moyen de pression par les autorités pour inciter les familles juives à se convertir au catholicisme afin de récupérer leurs enfants. Une alternative farouchement rejetée par la famille Mortara, qui refusait de choisir entre leur enfant et leur religion.

Rapito va bien au-delà d'un simple drame historique, il rappelle l'importance de la liberté religieuse et soulève des questions profondes sur l'identité, la foi et la tolérance.

Rapito explore avec minutie le thème de l'emprise à travers l'histoire bouleversante de ce jeune enfant soudain plongé dans les préceptes de la religion catholique. Dès son arrivée dans sa nouvelle demeure, Edgardo reçoit un conseil d'un autre garçon, lui indiquant qu'il doit se comporter de manière exemplaire s'il souhaite rapidement retrouver sa famille. Cependant, ce conseil se révèle être un piège, donnant l'illusion d'une conversion heureuse, alors qu'en réalité, il renforce la décision des autorités papales de le tenir éloigné de sa famille. Parallèlement, un processus d'endoctrinement se met en place, basé sur l'enfermement et la culpabilisation.

Un autre élément remarquable de cette histoire est la trajectoire d'Edgardo Mortara lui-même. Malgré l'épreuve incommensurable qu'il a vécue, il deviendra prêtre et restera un fervent catholique jusqu'à sa mort, restant à distance de sa famille, essayant même de la convertir au catholicisme. Marco Bellocchio a mis en évidence les contradictions d'Edgardo Mortara et la souffrance qui en découle. Il utilise habilement le mystère qui entoure la psychologie du personnage tout au long du film.

Est-ce qu'il fait semblant ? Est-ce qu'il agit par réflexe de protection ou est-il victime du syndrome de Stockholm ? Tout au long du récit, le personnage fascine et suscite des questionnements.

L'histoire d'Edgardo Mortara est exceptionnelle à bien des égards, notamment par sa médiatisation. Ses parents ont lutté sans relâche contre les autorités pontificales pour récupérer leur enfant, mobilisant la presse libérale qui en a fait un scandale national. Elle est devenue un symbole de résistance face à l'inquisition, renforçant ainsi la position inflexible du pape Pie IX, déterminé à appliquer strictement les dogmes religieux et à préserver son pouvoir. Marco Bellocchio souligne que cette affaire a pris une dimension "politique", en soulignant son lien avec la "dislocation de l'État pontifical" à l'époque.

Ce contexte historique, étroitement lié à l'affaire Mortara, se reflète dans la structure du film, qui s'appuie sur trois moments clés : l'enlèvement en 1858, le procès en 1860 rendu possible par l'arrivée des nationalistes au pouvoir à Bologne, et enfin, la conquête de Rome en 1870.

L'affaire Mortara est devenue célèbre et a posé un casse-tête pour le pape Pie IX et son principal conseiller, le cardinal Antonelli. Face à la pression publique et aux pétitions incessantes de la communauté juive réclamant le retour d'Edgardo, le pape, a simplement publié son édit : "Non possumus" (Nous ne pouvons pas).

Ce n'est qu'en 1859, lorsque l'armée italienne renverse la domination papale à Bologne, qu'un nouvel espoir surgit avec un procès contre Felletti, l’inquisiteur. Malheureusement, il est disculpé et l'avocat répond sèchement à Momolo, désespéré de ramener Edgardo à la maison, que cela ne sera possible que lorsque Rome sera prise.

Marco Bellocchio a découvert le destin d'Edgardo Mortara dans un livre de Vittorio Messori, un auteur catholique et conservateur qui défendait les raisons justifiant la séparation de l'enfant de sa famille par le pape. Cette affaire hautement médiatisée a suscité des passions déchaînées et a donné lieu à de nombreux récits, parfois contradictoires, parmi lesquels il a fallu faire le tri. Lors de la conférence de presse, Marco Bellocchio, le réalisateur, et Susanna Nicchiarelli, la coscénariste ont déclaré avoir eu la chance de travailler sur les sources directes de l'affaire Mortara, notamment les dépositions du procès, dont celle de Mariana Mortara, la mère, qui a décrit en détail les événements relatés dans la première partie du film, tels que l'arrivée des policiers et leur demande du nom des enfants. Cette richesse d'informations a permis de sélectionner parmi de nombreux éléments réels. Cependant, il restait à imaginer l'intimité des personnages, un aspect pour lequel très peu d'informations étaient disponibles.

Le film documente de près les circonstances de l'enlèvement d'Edgardo et les premiers efforts pour le ramener. Malgré son jeune âge, Sala a brillamment incarné le personnage, même s'il n'a probablement pas pleinement saisi l'importance du film en raison de sa jeune expérience de vie. Le réalisateur estime avoir fait un choix judicieux en sélectionnant cet acteur très jeune, qui a su apporter une profondeur émotionnelle remarquable à son interprétation. Il souligne également que Sala, n'ayant jamais mis les pieds dans une église et étant dépourvu des contraintes d’une éducation catholique, sans être non plus juif, et a pu puiser dans une profondeur intérieure pour incarner le personnage.

Marco Bellocchio a révélé que Steven Spielberg avait également prévu de réaliser un film sur l'affaire Mortara et avait même commencé à repérer des lieux en Italie. Cependant, il a finalement abandonné le projet, ouvrant ainsi la voie à Bellocchio et son équipe, ce qui est préférable, le film devant être tourné par des italiens et en langue italienne.

NOTE 17/20 - En plus de susciter une réflexion intense et captivante sur l'univers des religieux, la croyance et ses modalités d'adhésion, Rapito plonge le public au cœur d'un épisode bouleversant de l'histoire italienne.

Les performances exceptionnelles des acteurs donnent vie aux personnages avec une intensité émotionnelle palpable. L'esthétique soignée du film s'inspire des grands maîtres de la peinture pré-impressionniste italienne et française, tel Eugène Delacroix.

Les décors minutieusement reconstitués, les costumes somptueux et les couleurs vives et contrastées créent une atmosphère visuelle captivante, transportant le spectateur dans un univers saisissant de réalité.

#Cinéma #L'ENLEVEMENT #Rapito #italie #religion #catholicisme #17