#civil services study material

[ojankians8800]

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[ojankians]

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[vajiraoiasacademy]

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[no-passaran]

Spain lied about not selling weapons to Israel.

Even after October 7th, Spain has sold more than 1 million € of weapons to Israel. Norway and Finland make it possible.

In January, Spain made headlines word-wide when the government's Minister of Exteriors, José Manuel Albares (PSOE), claimed in Congress and later again in a radio interview that Spain had stopped selling weapons to Israel ever since October 7th. Israel's intensification of violence in Gaza following October 7th meant that, on top of decades of apartheid and ethnic cleansing, between October 7th and January 23rd Israel had already killed 28,000 people and forced 2 million out of their home. In this context, many people were demanding their governments stop arming and funding the genocide of the Palestinian people, and here on Tumblr and other social media sites like Twitter I think we all saw the many posts praising the Spanish government for this.

Well, it turns out it was a lie.

According to Albares, "Since October 7th there are no more weapons exportations [from Spain] to Israel". But in November alone, Spain exported weapons to Israel for 987,000€, as was published on the Spanish Government's official website dedicated to exterior commerce (Comex). A researcher from Centre Delàs (an independent centre for peace studies) found it and published it, and it has also been verified by newspapers such as elDiario.es.

This 987,000€ worth of weapons in November was not the only ammunition that Spain has sent to Israel in 2023. In 2023, Spain exported a total of 1.48 million € in war material to Israel.

All of the weapons sent in November come from the factory of Nammo Palencia (Castilla y León), a corporation that is 50% property of the Government of Norway and 50% owned by a public Finnish business. However, even if the owners are foreigners, the ammunition was sent from Spain and thus it had to be authorized by the an organism of the Spanish Government named Junta Interministerial de Defensa y Doble Uso, whose deliberations on whether a weapons exportation is accepted or denied are kept secret. The only cases where they have denied exporting weapons to Israel have been when they thought that Israel would re-sell these weapons to the Philippines.

Spain has had a close relation with Israel for years. As published by the Spanish Government, Spain has sold 20 million € of weapons to Israel between 2012 and 2022. Spain also buys weapons and military software from Israel (for example, the Spanish Intelligence Service has been using the Israeli software Pegasus to illegally spy on Catalan activists, journalists, politicians and civil society members and their relatives to attack the Catalan independence movement), and Spain has continued buying from Israel and allocating defense contracts to Israel even after the October 7th attacks. It is very difficult to track the concessions of public contracts such as buying weapons, but some contracts have been known. For example, on November 24th 2023, Spain bought 287.5 million € of missiles from Israel. This is not unusual: between 2011 and 2021, it is publicly known that Spain bought war material from Israel for at least 268 million €, but experts say that the real number could be two or three times as much.

Spain has also continued allocating concessions to Israel. For example, on December 15th 2023 Spain allocated a contract worth over 576 million € to Israel for a rocket launcher programme. On November 22nd, Spain allocated another another Israeli company to provide missiles for 237 million € at the same time as the Spanish army bought Israeli inhibitors for 1.4 million €. The very next day, November 23rd, Spain signed another military allocation to Israel for 82,600€. The following week, Spain signed yet another allocation with a different Israeli military corporation for 3.7 million €.

Spain also allows Israeli weapon manufacturing companies to produce weapons through their branches located in Spain. This way, Israeli weapons make their way to markets with which Israel doesn't have diplomatic ties but Spain does, like Saudi Arabia. And since Spain is a member of NATO, Israeli weapons produced in Spain are approved according to NATO standards and access it easily. In the same way, these Israeli weapons manufacturers also access European Union defense funds through their branches in Spain. (source).

As I said, I saw a lot of positive posts around when Albares said Spain was going to embargo, but I haven't seen any post about how they didn't do it. I also (personally) haven't seen anything on international media, and barely anything on Spanish media, which is already busy with the PSOE covid material corruption scandal. So I share this in the hope of helping put pressure on Spain to cut all ties with Israel immediately.

SHAME ON EVERYONE WHO GIVES ISRAEL THE MATERIAL AND MONEY THAT WILL BE USED TO MASSACRE THE PALESTINIAN PEOPLE. SHAME ON SPAIN, NORWAY, AND FINLAND.

[joktaacademychandigarh]

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[ojaankians09]

[infocoverage]

UPSC 2023 Civil Services Exam Details, Important Dates, Study Material

UPSC 2023 Civil Services Exam Details, Important Dates, Study Material

UPSC 2023 Civil Services Exam Details, Important Dates, Study Material: The Indian Civil Services Examination is India’s most challenging entrance exam, where fewer applicants crack. But as a result, it guarantees that there is a goal that everyone wants to aim for. UPSC 2023 Civil Services Exam Details, Important Dates, Study Material The higher civil services of the Government of India include…

[amanufacturedheaven]

Rare Language Learning: Polari

If you have ever used the words:

- Naff

- Butch

- Camp

You have unknowingly been speaking the sociolect known as Polari, the language of queer people primarily used in the 30s to the 70s. Polari is now an endangered language, as labelled by the University of Cambridge

Something of note: Many resources out there imply (or state) that Polari was a language invented and used solely by white cis gay men, which is decidedly untrue. Many words of Polari come from drag culture, lesbians, and the Romani people and their language. The use of ‘the language of British gay men’ may be a more palatable title to the general public, but it is not to me. I did my best to curate a variety of resources, but unfortunately much of queer history has been lost many more decades than I’ve been alive, if you have any other resources for studying Polari I would love to read them, message me or leave a link in the replies.

Articles

Learn Polari, the Secret Language of the Gays ⚢ Out Magazine

Polari: The code language gay men used to survive ⚢ BBC

Polari and the Hidden History of Gay Seafarers ⚢ National Museums Liverpool

The Story of Polari, Britain’s Secret Gay Language ⚢ Fabulosa!

Polari People ⚢ Fabulosa!

Polari: a language born from prejudice ⚢ Englishpanish

The secretive gay language that gave LGBTQ people a voice ⚢ GAYTIMES

A brief history of Polari: the curious after-life of the dead language for gay men ⚢ The Conversation

Study Material

The Polari Bible ⚢ Internet Archive

Fantabulosa: A Dictionary of Polari and Gay Slang ⚢ Internet Archive

Sociolinguistics / Polari ⚢ StudySmarter

FlashCards ⚢ Quizlet

New Polari Translator ⚢ LingoJam

Polari: A sociohistorical study of the life and decline of a secret language. ⚢ Dissertation, University of Manchester

Polari: a language born from prejudice ⚢ Englishpanish

Simon Bowkett: a short blog in Polari for LGBT+ History Month ⚢ Civil Service LGBT+ Network

[prima-materia-ttrpg]

Alchemy and Magic

Well it's about time I talked about the core idea of the setting. There are a few different kinds of magic that exist in Prima Materia, all of which stem from some mastery over the titular substance that makes up everything. I'm mostly going to be talking about Alchemy because it's the main form of magic that most players will be coming into contact with, but there are several disciplines that exist.

Gods like Patek do magic innately, they've mastered the art of pulling prima materia from the fabric of the universe and willing it into what they wish. Some people can also do magic innately, usually with the help of something else: Vessels have a quirk of their soul that attracts certain metaphysical beings able to live there, and often offer their services to the Vessel as 'rent'. Magi use alchemical roots (I'll explain those in a bit) to inject themselves with prima materia and sling crude elemental spells with their will. Some animals evolved patterns in their skin or incorporate alchemically conductive metals to do certain spells, like the Urd trees in the western forests of Falbhia that can grow up to 1000-1200 meters tall because their bark grows in such a pattern that channels magic to make them lighter than they would be otherwise.

But, the primary way people on Patek tap into magic is with alchemy.

Alchemy in the modern setting is a field of study and scientific undertaking, though cultures on Patek have been practicing alchemy in various forms since the dawn of civilization. All that's needed for a basic alchemical spell are its components; a sigil, a root, and a focus. A root is made from an alchemically conductive material, and etched into the root is a sigil. Some cultures also raise the sigil from the material, though since metallurgy has developed that's been more rare. The focus is also made of an alchemically conductive material, and is shaped in such a way that the raw energy from the sigil and root are funneled in a particular way to get the desired effect. A root and a focus are also not usually distinct parts in most places on Patek, as utilitarian spells are used constantly. Some examples of these spells are clay carvings that emit an odor to lure certain animals, and Koura nets laced with silver whose shapes cause them to emit warmth for particularly cold nights or latitudes. People on the Atiyeret peninsula have been making magic bowls for thousands of years, meant to capture a person's soul after they die and place them in a mausoleum with the rest of their family; something that warrants its own blog post later.

Outside of its nearly infinite utilitarian uses, there are of course military ones. The military use of alchemical spells goes almost as far back as the utilitarian uses, and is just as varied. The Entari create staffs from Urdwood and carve them with sigils, allowing their priests and knights to call down lightning or create strong winds as they will. The Narud in Makeret incorporate sigils into their bows to make them stronger, and most industrial nations have alchemical weaponry such as guns that create flying spikes of ice and cannons that create and spew greek fire. In the past, some alchemists have captured angry ghosts and bound them to machines for war, though this is largely frowned upon and the people who did it are known in history as the world's villains.

Military things are not the only effects under alchemy's purview of course. There are sigils made to accelerate tissue growth for healing, though not without side effects. There are also sigils used explicitly for the making of tinctures which have various effects, such as imbuing strength unto the imbiber. Industrial nations have factories that make near-instant acting healing tinctures like any other medicine out of aqua vitae, honey, activated charcoal, and the effect imbued by the proprietary sigilry they use. There are even some alchemical power plants that use sigilry and machinery to make electricity, though sigils that make electricity directly can be finicky so most of them create power by boiling water.

How do players interact with this though?

Well, there is the Alchemist profession which is the most obvious, but mechanically, alchemy hasn't been entirely written. There's a skeleton for it, involving grades of quality for material and certain shapes and sigils that a player can use to make various different spells. The goal is to put the player in a sandbox and let them build whatever they want within the limitations of what their character can do and the materials available.

There are four distinct kinds of alchemist, and alchemists aren't the only ones who can use alchemy. There are Dunamists, who are more akin to chemists and make things like alchemist's fire and dynamite. Homunculists create constructs that can do a wide variety of tasks, or memorize lists and instructions to repeat back to you. Eternalists are just Humonculists without borders; instead of making a body they dig one up, and some may become obsessed with the idea of immortality. Philosophists are the most in-line with what alchemists are in the real world, they make alchemical spells and tinctures, and try to complete the "final work," the pinnacle of alchemical prowess to philosophists, the creation of the philosopher's stone. State alchemists in Eastern Atiyeret know the recipe and use it to great effect, but that's a heavily guarded secret.

Players who want to be alchemists can go down one of those four paths, or mix and match different philosophies, perhaps in an attempt to create something like a Golem with sigilry on its arms to spray water on burning buildings, or acid on foes.

Anyway. I need to go back to reworking ranged combat. Thank you for reading all this, next week is up to chance. I want to write the species highlight for humans, but we shall see, it depends on if I can playtest ranged combat this week.

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 17] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 4k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

Chapter 17 - Sinking

You’ve been on pins and needles all day: tapping your foot under your desk, shuffling in your seat, fidgeting with papers. Bradley is coming back today. Your boss shoots you an annoyed look from across the conference room.

Tucking your hands under your legs like you’re back in primary school, you will yourself to sit still and listen to the presentation. If only it wasn’t so boring. Your mind wanders of its own accord to places more interesting.

Emboldened by Bradley’s reaction to the lingerie set you bought last time, you picked up another set to welcome him back—this time in black. You even splurged on matching garter belt and stockings.

Ok, is it insane to wear a skirt and stockings in January in D.C when you’re taking public transport?

Very much so. But you are also very much convinced it’s going to be worth it.

You idly wonder if Bradley will change into regular clothes before he comes to pick you up, or if you get to see him in uniform again. God, you hope it’s the latter.

Sometimes you think back to that first time you saw him again, when he pretty much materialized in your office in that khaki uniform. God, you were so angry then, but now that you have distance from the situation, it’s Bradley in that uniform that still sticks out.

A little bit too much on some nights.

You rub your thighs together unconsciously.

“Miss Williams, what is your perspective?”

Eh?

Oh.

Uhm.

The presentation.

Right.

“I think…,” You pause for a second, licking your suddenly dry lips. “…I think it’s pretty solid, but it would benefit from more specific cases studies. It’s a little abstract in its current form.”

Goddammit Bradley. He’s causing you trouble when he hasn’t even made landfall yet. You seriously glance at your watch. Another hour at least until his ship comes in.

You see your boss nodding as he takes notes. Good, so it was the right things to say. Birch better not be onto you—the last thing you need at this point is another talking to about professional conduct.

Riks has been out of your hair mercifully, at least after you threatened to file an official complaint for his digging around into your personal life, through Seresin no less.

That meeting was… something else. You are usually not one to get nervous giggles, being well practiced at keeping a straight face. But Birch, strained, in a deadly serious tone told Riks:

“Whatever lieutenant Bradshaw and Miss Williams get up to in their free time is their business, and I would be incredibly grateful if it stays that way.”

He paused, face pained, before continuing: “It’s neither the purpose nor goal of this department to uncover every roll in the hay service men or women have.”

“We’d need to double the Pentagon budget for just that.” Birch concludes under his breath.

He probably didn’t mean for you to hear him. But you were so embarrassed you could barely contain your laughter, tears filling your eyes. It wasn’t a funny situation in the least.

Just so so awkward.

You check your watch again. It’s barely lunchtime. The discussion in the room is still ongoing. No, but for real, how much is there to discuss about ammo logistics in during the Civil War? You half expect you’d be bored to tears even if you weren’t passionately hoping time would hurry the fuck up already.

Ah, finally. As you gather your things from the table, one of the presenters comes up to you.

“Miss Williams—would you mind sharing your notes from the presentation? I’m sure it will be incredibly useful.”

“Ah, yeah -” You would mind, actually. You would mind on the account that you didn’t actually take any notes and that the page in your notebook you had in front of you is full of mindless squiggles and doodles.

“I’ve given you all my feedback verbally just now, my notes don’t really add more to that.” You smile apologetically.

Before the presenter opens his mouth again, you interject: “Also, I have terrible handwriting, sorry!”

Clutching your notebook to your chest, you leg it out of the room. Jesus. You really know how to embarrass yourself well. Mercifully, you can hide in your office for the rest of the day to work on the reports for the Senate committee. That should tide you over to the end of the day.

Hah.

It’s not even 4:30 yet, and you’re pacing around your office like a caged tiger. You cannot even pretend to focus on your work anymore. If you have another coffee, you are pretty sure your heart is going to explode out of your chest.

God. You should have driven down to Virginia Beach despite Bradley’s protests. At least you’d be doing something more useful with your time than… pacing and daydreaming.

Your bag is already packed, your winter coat hanging from your desk chair. Bradley texted you when he disembarked and let you know he was on his was. You know he’ll text you once he’s parked, but, ugh, everything is taking too long today.

When your phone buzzes, you have your coat already half-way on before you see it’s just an email. You sink back into your chair, the momentum sending your chair spinning. Letting it turn you around, you idly wonder how many turns would equal one minute.

Oh Christ, enough already. You are acting like a teenager. Not even when you had your first crush at 14 were this hopeless, and if you were, that memory has fortunately been lost to time. To you. Probably not your sister, though.

Shrugging your coat back off, you grab one of the folders on the pile at the corner of your desk. Tapping your pen against the paper with more force than strictly necessary, you will yourself to start reading.

You are a goddamn adult, and you get paid to do this shit.

The last vestiges of your self-discipline burn out in the 45 minutes before your phone buzzes again. The moment you spot Bradley’s name on the display, with the simple message you’ve been waiting for all day—just “here”—you practically fly out of your office, coat unbuttoned, scarf loosely hanging from your neck and bag still open, slamming the door loudly behind you in your hurry. At the elevator, you push the button in rapid succession, trying to speed up the machine.

Calm.

You can’t run through the fucking Pentagon like a crazed woman.

Be professional.

Vaulting yourself into the empty elevator, you feel like there’s electricity coursing through your veins. It’s a nervous energy that been building in you all week—every breath a little bit closer to this moment.

It’s misty outside today—the fog you saw that morning still hasn’t cleared up as you look over the throng of people leaving the Pentagon at the end of the day. You join the too slow for your liking moving mass, trying to peer over the heads to see the exit to no avail.

You can’t very well push through.

The glass door finally come into view. Between people dispersing towards the parking bays and public transport, you see one figure cut through the mist, walking towards the Pentagon.

Your heart knows it’s Bradley before your head catches up, launching you forward, your feet moving by their own accord as you burst through the exit. The heels of your shoes echo against the stone pavement as loudly as your heart is beating in your ears, while your still unbuttoned coat flies behind you.

Bradley, in his dress blues, navy wool overcoat and white cap on his head, is walking down the pathway head held high, gait purposeful, every bit a Naval officer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

He’s so close.

The moment your eyes lock, he comes to a standstill, reaching out to you. Your momentum propels you forward straight into his waiting arms, where he catches your body easily and lifts you straight off the ground in a twirl, your bag forgotten at your feet. Your arms lock around his neck as you let out a surprised yelp, which he easily cuts off with a heated kiss.

Bradley’s lips taste of the wonderful winter cold as you melt into him.

“God, I’ve missed everything about you.” You mumble against his lips. His warm skin through the biting cold, the smell of his cologne, the brush of his neat mustache against your face. Catching Bradley’s mouth in another searing kiss, telling him more than words ever could, his grip on you tightens.

Breathless, Bradley sets you back down on your feet. You drink in every part of him as your fingers skim through the short hair on the back of his head. His cap is askew on his head, as he breathes heavily, his eyes searching over you, like he can’t believe you are really here.

Slowly, you press another kiss on his lips, as if to assure him and yourself that this is actually real.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He breathes so softly, you feel it more against your skin than that you hear it.

You giggle as you run your hands down the front of his coat, the dark wool soft under your fingers. He grabs your hand and presses a quick kiss against your fingertips.

“Let me take you home, darlin’,” Bradley’s murmurs in your ear, his voice has a delicious raw edge to it. “I’ve had to miss you for far too long.”

Nodding eagerly, you pull away long enough to retrieve your bag from the ground. A shiver overtakes you as you suddenly notice how cold it is now you’re not pressed up against Bradley anymore. As sharp as ever, he is already a step ahead of you and buttons up your coat with nimble fingers, wrapping your scarf around your neck.

It’s only now, that you actually manage to get your bearings again a little bit, you hear the oohs and aaws from passerby’s. Normally you would want the ground to swallow you whole for making such a spectacle, but today? You cannot find it in yourself to care, too wrapped in Bradley.

“Son, you better fix that cover.” A gruff voice comes from your right. No, okay, maybe you do care a little bit about your boss witnessing this. Birch is determinedly starting in front of him as he passes you.

“You have an admiral incoming on my six.” He adds, not sparing you another look.

“Yes sir, right away, sir.” Bradley choruses with practiced ease, as he moves his cap back into a respectable position on his head. You chuckle an apology, but Bradley just shoots you that winning smile of his.

“Let’s go sweetheart.” He says simply, as he presses a kiss against your forehead and takes your hand.

His large hand is warm against your already cold fingers as you start making your way to the visitor’s parking bay. You wrap your free hand around Bradley’s arm, leaning against him as you walk.

As you arrive at his car, you automatically turn to the passenger’s seat. With a mischievous grin pulls Bradley, you back to face him, his lips ghosting over your jaw. You run your fingers over the lapels of his coat as you sigh at the sensation of his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“I’m kind of tired from the trip, darlin’,” He murmurs, sending shivers down your spine. With a soft jingle, Bradley pulls out his car keys from his pocket and presses them into your hand. “Why don’t you drive us?”

“Really?” You ask, strangely breathless. Bradley just hums in response as your fingers wrap around the keys.

“I’ll even let you play Taylor Swift.” He adds, and you can just hear the mirth in his voice.

“That—that -,” You splutter. “Was my sister’s music.” “Of course.” Bradley chuckles. “That’s why you know all the words so well.”

“I’ll make you regret that offer.”

“Try me, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley’s brain has been in a state of short-circuit since you flew into his arms. No scenario he had imagined tasted quite as sweet as that first kiss when he saw you again. Climbing into the driver’s seat of his car and adjusting it made your skirt ride up, and Bradley caught sight of what he was pretty sure was the top of a stocking.

Fuck.

He strongly considered pulling you out of the driver’s seat into his lap and fuck you right there in the parking lot.

The drive home was torture, and Bradley couldn’t keep his hands off you for more than 10 seconds— tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your hand as you reached for the gear shift, running his hand up your leg—bad idea.

Shit, he could feel the line of your garter belt through the fabric of your skirt, teasing against the palm of his hand as your leg moved, manipulating the gas pedal.

The small smirk gracing your lips betrayed that you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

It’s on your couch, with you straddling him, your fingers threaded deliciously painfully in his hair as you roll your hips at a tortuously slow pace, Bradley is pretty sure his brain is just completely giving out.

He runs his hands blindly over your body, squeezing your flesh and looking into your eyes. Your hair loose, face flushed, pupils blown by desire, you look back down on him as you ride him in that agonizing pace you’ve set.

From almost falling through the front door, pulling at each other’s clothes in a heated frenzy, and tripping over your shoes, the raging fire in you both was unstoppable. The lingerie set you had specially bought ended up somewhere in the maelstrom of clothes left in your path from the door. It doesn’t even matter.

You pushed him onto your couch as he was sliding your panties down your hips, eyes raking over your form. You drank him in. There was no need for words as you sank down on him, gasping in delight as you stretched around his length. Bradley threw his head back, eyes scrunched close, cursing under his breath.

It was like the raging fire spread into smoldering embers from the moment you connected.

Now you want to savor every moment and every touch. You need it. The intimacy you have been craving, the touch you have been missing, you want to drown yourself in him.

Bradley’s fingers skim down from your throat, over your collarbone, just ghosting over your nipple—tearing a moan from you—down your stomach, pressing his thumb against your clit, drawing slow circles.

Your hips stutter, desperately trying to increase the friction.

“Bradley - please-,” You plead incoherently between gasps and moans. His mouth is on your nipple, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh. It’s sending your senses into overdrive, spurring your movements on, muscles tensing.

“Fuck darlin’, you’re so tight.” Bradley grinds out. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock—you are close. Just a bit more. Your movements are turning erratic. Bradley grabs your hip with his free hand, bucking against you.

“Don - don’t stop - please, Bradley…”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you moaning his name like that, with those eyes full of lust, riding him within an inch of his life. Selfishly, he doesn’t want you to look like that for anyone else ever again. He wants your eyes only on him.

Your lids start fluttering as your movements start stuttering more and more—Bradley can feel how close you are. He tightens his grip on you, setting a relentless pace, his thumb increasing the pressure on your clit.

“Cum for me darlin’,” He gasps. “Show me what I’ve missed.”

His words alone would be enough to have you come undone. His voice, so warm, so close after those cold months, feels like sliding into a hot bath, relaxing every nerve in your wound body. It pushes you to release, head lolling back in pure ecstasy, his name caught in your throat.

Bradley catches your body as it tips back, pulling you against his chest.

“Fuck.” You bring out weakly, breathing heavily. But Bradley doesn’t give you very long to restart your brain, effortlessly flipping you on your back and hitching your leg over his shoulder. Dazed, you squeal in delight, giggling as he presses kiss after kiss against your calf.

“How much did you miss me, darlin’?” He asks between kisses.

“So - so much.” You breathe.

“I can’t hear you, sweetheart.” He says with a devilish smirk on his face as he drags the tip of his cock along your slick pussy lips, teasing against your sensitive clit. You moan without abandon.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” You choke out. “Everything about you.”

“Tell me.” Bradley demands as his lips latch onto a ticklish spot in the hollow of your knee.

Words start falling from your mouth—you’re not even sure you’re making sense—it’s almost a stream of consciousness.

“I - I’ve missed you from the minute you left,” Your breath hitches as Bradley gently bites down on your thigh. “It feels empty without you here. The bed is cold. I want you to kiss me awake…”

“Just kiss?” Bradley asks, as he nudges the tip of his cock against your entrance. You suck in a breath before a giggle bursts from your lips.

“Do you really need a full report when you have me in this state already?”

“I happen to know you are very thorough, Miss Williams.” Bradley smirks.

“I’ll write you a list later if you so desire, lieutenant.” You shoot back, still half-dazed, grasping for him. “But you’re stalling—how much did you really miss m-”

Bradley laughs and finally fully slides into you in one fluid move, effectively cutting you off. Setting a punishing pace that makes you see stars, Bradley easily wipes every last thought from your brain. Suddenly slowing down and bending over to you, filling you to the hilt, he whispers:

“For the record, I missed you so much it hurt.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are moments when you actually stop and think, usually at a quiet moment at work. It’s actually insane how quickly you fall into a comfortable routine with Bradley, the relationship growing steadily. He has two weeks before he needs to report back on base, and in the meantime, he seems to revel in essentially playing house with you.

As you get ready for work in the morning, Bradley makes you coffee. When you tell him he should make most of his free time and sleep in more often, he just shrugs:

“Making most of my time is spending it with you.”

Some days he drives you to work and picks you up at the end of the day.

Without fail, your heart feels like it’s about to burst when you see his Bronco parked in the visitor’s bay.

Well, some aspects of your relationship are growing.

Bradley is still incredibly guarded when it comes to his family. When you ask about his trip to Nevada to see captain Mitchell, he talks about tinkering on Mitchell’s plane in the workshop, but never anything deeper about what they talked about.

Maybe it’s incredibly private—all Bradley has mentioned is that he’s known Mitchell since childhood. How or why? When you actually gather the courage to ask, Bradley just ignores the question and changes the subject.

You conceal how much that hurts you—because it shouldn’t. It’s none of your business. Selfishly, you want to know Bradley better than anyone in the world.

But you need to really accept that it’s his choice how much he really wants to share about himself. No matter how unfair it feels.

You start talking about your own family less, feeling like you’re oversharing. Again, Bradley probably is just not that family-oriented and might just be humoring you. There is no sense in dwelling on these things, you admonish yourself.

Realistically, how long have you been dating? You haven’t even broken the 6-month mark yet, and he was deployed for three of those. And there will be more deployments, more time spend apart. You need to stop your brain from spinning and take things as they come.

It’s another one of those winter days when the sun doesn’t even get up from bed, and from dawn till dusk there are just monochrome gray skies, like it’s perpetual twilight. The air is bitingly cold, stinging every bit of skin not covered. You practically skip to the parked Bronco, seeing Bradley’s silhouette through the driver’s side window.

Climbing into the passenger’s seat, he greets you with an immediate kiss.

“You spoil me.” You smile at him. “What am I going to do with myself once you’re back in Virginia Beach?”

“You’ll drive yourself, which you are perfectly capable off.” Bradley grins back. “But in the meantime, let me take care of you.”

“Can we stop by the store?” You ask as you buckle up and Bradley turns the engine on. “I think we’re running low on a few things.”

It’s not terribly busy on the road, and it’s a short trip to the store. Preoccupied with finding the right playlist on your phone with your cold fingers, you only spot the car in front of you suddenly swerve wildly in your periphery.

You snap your head up, but the words on your tongue die the second the back of the Bronco suddenly slips violently to the right. Black ice. Your head cracks against the door. A million curses fly through your scrambled brain, but there are more important things.

“Keep steady! Don’t counter-steer!” Your voice is high with panic. You’ve slipped on black ice before, just never in D.C and never when you weren’t the one driving.

Bradley is loudly cursing, trying to get the car under control. You are so full of adrenaline, time seems to have slowed down.

You see Bradley in hyper focus, knuckles white against the steering wheel as he shifts down, slowing the vehicle down. In reality, the slip takes only seconds and as the Bronco regains grip on the tarmac.

Your head is pounding from knocking against the window and sheer stress.

“Darlin’, are you ok?” Bradley looks at you from the corner of his eye—his voice is steady, like he’s completely unshaken. On the other hand, you look terrified—eyes wide, white as a sheet and breath coming out in short, panicked bursts. He pulls into a side street and parks.

Heart clenching, he reaches out to you. “Sweetheart, are you hurt?”

Mutely, you shake your head, biting your lip, trying to steady your breathing. Bradley simply reaches out to you, hand caressing your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“Ye- yeah.” You force out, leaning your head into his palm, kissing it. “I… I don’t even know what came over me.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you continue words falling out of your mouth like a waterfall.

“It’s not the first time I’ve slipped on black ice in a vehicle, it just never happened to me as a passenger, but you’re a goddamn fighter pilot, of course your reflexes are amazing, and you keep your cool… like, what am I even worried about?”

You try to smile, but the corner of your mouth just shakes.

Bradley leans in and lightly kisses you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I trust you.” You reply, voice still lightly shaking. “And sorry for backseat driving.” You add in attempt to joke.

Bradley just chuckles in response, but he is sure of one thing. He doesn’t want to ever want to see that terrified look on your face again. It has already burned itself in his brain along with your panicked voice.

That night when you are in bed, you already in deep sleep, Bradley wraps himself around your naked form, pressing light kisses against the column of your neck. Every time he closes his eyes, your face flashed before his mind’s eye. Smiling, blushing, frowning as you think, sleepy in the morning —but it always ends up morphing into wide-eyed terror.

He spent the evening trying to scrub the look from his mind, filling his vision with your blushing, love struck face, mouth open as he had you cum for him over and over again.

Bradley sighs dejectedly.

Another one for the collection.

[note]I have this problem that I think of all the plot beats I want to put in one chapter and then I always end up overwriting so much that I pretty much always have add another chapter to the plan. Again, this was supposed to be five chapters lmao.

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[visit-new-york]

The Williamsburg Bridge continues to serve as a symbol of progress, connectivity, and resilience in the heart of New York City. Its enduring presence and multifaceted importance make it a cherished and celebrated landmark in the city's history and culture.

Commemorative Events: Periodically, the Williamsburg Bridge is the focal point for events commemorating significant milestones, historical anniversaries, or community celebrations. These events bring together residents, visitors, and local organizations to celebrate the bridge's significance.

Sustainability Initiatives: In alignment with broader sustainability efforts in New York City, there has been a growing emphasis on making the Williamsburg Bridge more environmentally friendly. This includes exploring ways to reduce energy consumption for lighting and implementing eco-friendly practices in maintenance and construction.

Connecting Communities: The bridge serves as more than just a physical connection; it also connects the people and communities on either side of the East River. It has played a role in shaping the identities and cultural exchanges between Manhattan's Lower East Side and Brooklyn's Williamsburg neighborhood.

Educational Tours: Educational tours and programs often feature the Williamsburg Bridge as a case study in civil engineering and architectural history. Students and enthusiasts can learn about its construction, design, and ongoing maintenance.

Transportation Innovation: As transportation technology evolves, discussions have arisen about how the Williamsburg Bridge can adapt to accommodate new forms of mobility, such as electric scooters and shared transportation services, to meet the changing needs of city residents.

Civic Engagement: The bridge has been a platform for civic engagement and public demonstrations. Throughout its history, it has been the site of protests, marches, and gatherings where people come together to advocate for various causes and express their views.

Architectural Photography: The bridge's striking architectural features, including its towers, suspension cables, and intricate details, have made it a subject of interest for architectural photographers and enthusiasts.

Resilience Planning: In the face of climate change and extreme weather events, city planners are increasingly focused on ensuring the resilience of critical infrastructure like the Williamsburg Bridge. Measures are being explored to fortify it against rising sea levels and potential storm surges.

Continued Innovation: Engineers and architects continue to explore innovative methods and materials to extend the lifespan of the Williamsburg Bridge and ensure its safety for generations to come.

Artistic Inspiration: Beyond being a subject for photographers, the Williamsburg Bridge has also inspired artists and writers. It has appeared in literature, paintings, and other creative works, often serving as a symbol of urban life and aspiration.

Historical Preservation Efforts: Preservationists and historians have worked diligently to ensure the bridge's historical integrity is maintained. This includes efforts to protect and restore the bridge's architectural features, which are essential for its designation as a historic landmark.

Economic Benefits: The Williamsburg Bridge has played a significant role in facilitating commerce and trade between Brooklyn and Manhattan. It has supported businesses, industries, and economic growth in both boroughs, contributing to the overall prosperity of the city.

Educational Resources: The bridge serves as an educational resource for schools, universities, and institutions interested in studying urban infrastructure, transportation systems, and architectural history. It offers valuable insights into engineering and design principles.

Public Art Installations: Occasionally, the bridge has hosted public art installations that interact with its architecture and surroundings. These installations often engage the public in unique ways and spark discussions about art and urban spaces.

Ceremonial and Parades: The Williamsburg Bridge has been a route for various parades, processions, and ceremonial events, including the annual New York City Marathon, which crosses the bridge as part of its course.

Bridging Communities: The bridge has been a symbol of unity and connection between Manhattan and Brooklyn, fostering cultural exchanges and collaborations between the two boroughs.

Film and Television: The Williamsburg Bridge has appeared in numerous films and television shows, contributing to its recognition worldwide. It has been featured in a range of genres, from dramas to action movies.

International Recognition: The Williamsburg Bridge's iconic design and historical significance have led to its recognition on the international stage, with tourists from around the world coming to see and photograph the bridge.

Transportation Network Integration: As part of New York City's extensive transportation network, the Williamsburg Bridge connects to a vast network of roads, highways, subways, and buses, enabling easy access to various parts of the city and the metropolitan area.

The Williamsburg Bridge remains a cherished icon of New York City, symbolizing its history, diversity, and unwavering spirit. Its enduring presence and cultural significance continue to shape the city's landscape and the lives of those who call it home.

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Vajirao IAS Academy: Best Civil Services Coaching in Delhi with Experienced Faculty

When it comes to preparing for the Civil Services Examination, choosing the right coaching institute is crucial. Vajirao IAS Academy stands out as the best civil services coaching in Delhi with experienced faculty, offering a comprehensive and structured approach to UPSC preparation.

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[girlactionfigure]

The Irish Schindler: Mary Elmes

Hid children in the trunk of her car.

Mary Elmes was an Irish aid worker who saved over 200 Jewish children during the Holocaust by smuggling them across the Pyrenees mountain range.

Born in Cork, Ireland in 1908, Mary was a talented student who studied French and Spanish Literature at Trinity College, Dublin. She received a scholarship to further her studies at the London School of Economics. In 1937, Mary gave up her promising career in academia to become a volunteer aid worker and help refugees fleeing the Spanish Civil War. She traveled over the Pyrenee Mountains from Spain into France, and helped procure food and educational materials for homeless Spanish children. After the war, the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC), a Quaker humanitarian group, sent Mary to Almeria, Spain to work in a children’s hospital there. After the outbreak of World War II in 1939, Mary was evacuated and sent to help out at the AFSC headquarters in Perpignan, France.

When the Nazis invaded France in 1940, Jews were targeted by the Gestapo and French police. Many of them fled to Southern France and Mary went with them and worked with the American Friends Service Committee caring for refugee children. In 1942, the Nazis started rounding up Jews en masse for deportation to Auschwitz. Mary immediately took action. She smuggled children in the trunk of her car to safety in the Pyrenees. From there, she connected them to an underground network that evacuated them to safety.

Making so many trips to and from the mountains, Mary came under suspicion, and in 1943 she was arrested by the Nazis and charged with espionage. Because Mary was an Irish citizen working for an American organization, the Irish consul in Washington intervened and was able to get her released. Her family begged her to leave France, but she refused to abandon the refugees who needed her help, and continued her aid work in France until the war ended.

Mary married a French man and had two children. She never told them of her wartime heroism. When asked about her imprisonment, she said, “Oh, we all had to suffer some inconveniences in those days!” The French government offered her its highest honor, the Legion d’Honneur, but Mary humbly declined.

She died in 2002, at age 94, never having been publicly recognized for her bravery.

Mary’s incredible story only came to light in 2012, when Professor Ronald Friend, one of the hundreds of Jewish children Mary saved, nominated her as a Righteous Among the Nations. Her family was reluctant, as Mary never wanted any attention for her wartime activities, but they finally agreed. Mary is the only Irish person to be recognized as a Righteous Gentile by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem.

For saving the lives of hundreds of Jewish children at great risk to herself, we honor Mary Elmes as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[joktaacademychandigarh]

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The Best HAS Coaching Institute in Himachal Pradesh is regarded as Jokta Academy. The academy is renowned for its top-notch instruction, thorough study guides, and knowledgeable teachers. The finest coaching facility in Himachal Pradesh for HAS exam preparation is Jokta Academy, for a variety of reasons.

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