#Higher ranks in Army

[manasastuff-blog]

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[brother-emperors]

thoughts on love rivals cleopatra and marcus antonius?

I thought they were a famous love team

[mercless]

🔪 and what if i just copy/pasted dreadnova talon into odyssey and was finally at peace

[leafatlaw]

oh no, who could have seen thsi coming ? (this is the fifth betryal in this series)

[gothamcityneedsme]

I love Akiras honest joy about this. Like. Everyone is happy but Akira is so cerebral about his happiness. Hes like. YES! CHAOS!

And finally. Finishing off Blasted with this line from Kiyoharu. Its left murky because like. Kiyoharu is a little loopy and the people view both him and Akira as leader sort of? But even Akira defers to Kiyoharu. So it was uncertain how Kiyoharu saw Akira, and then this line at the end clears it up. He sees Akiras potential too. Probably knows he a little of a figurehead

[sapientiiae]

@dullweapons asked: ❛ you can call me whatever you want, baby. ❜ some more smutty memes

Few soldiers seemed willing to spar or train with Zelda, and she was uncertain whether it was because of her fighting capabilities or because of her status as the Princess of Hyrule. Despite the fact it was her responsibility to assist in training the troops as leader of the Hyrulean Army, the soldiers only ever seemed to go against her one on one if it was mandatory or they were new and overly confident in their abilities. 

Ray, however, always seemed to be an anomaly. 

Given his strength and impressive fighting abilities, he’d quickly risen through the ranks to become one of the captains of Hyrule’s army. And unlike the soldiers both below and above his status, he was always ready for a fight. Her abilities, position in the army, and status as Hyrule’s princess had never once deterred him from facing her in combat, and even her rank would not keep her from admitting he’d bested her on more than one occasion.

Yes, the man was skilled with a sword, and she had no doubt he would continue to rise through the ranks. His fighting was unlike anything she’d witnessed before, and he’d proven his ability to keep up with both herself and Impa, the General of the Hyrulean Forces. 

But perhaps it wasn’t the best time to dwell on such thoughts, given she was actually engaged in combat with him at this exact moment. He’d just managed to evade one of her best maneuvers and knock her legs from out beneath her in the same sweep, her breath shuddering in her lungs. 

“Damn you, Ray,” she’d groaned, swiftly rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself back onto her feet. Had the fall hurt? More than she’d cared to admit, but she could dwell on the pain after they were finished with their challenge. For now, she needed to keep her mind focused on his moves if she wanted any chance of beating him. “You—you—“ Any name she’d intended to fling at him evaporated from her tongue as she’d struggled to catch her breath, gripping tighter onto her rapier. 

“You can call me whatever you want, baby.”

The taunt lit a new fire within her, searing down her veins as she sucked in a breath and spun on the ball of her foot, dodging his next strike and pivoting around him until her rapier now glinted at his throat. “Ray, are you flirting with me? Bold when it is my rapier that rests at your throat.” 

[gremlingottoosilly]

Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it. 

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support. 

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed. 

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me. 

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you? 

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable. 

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts. 

— Dismissed. 

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want. 

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem. 

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances. 

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect. 

— Sir? Is everything alright? 

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator. 

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t. 

— I thought you’d heard me the first time. 

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now? 

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away? 

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja? 

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you. 

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow. 

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable. 

— You forgot the milk. 

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk. 

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics. 

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty. 

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir. 

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here. 

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office. 

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise. 

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen. 

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay. 

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees. 

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already. 

— Ja. Bra is next. 

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger. 

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though. 

— Braves Mädchen…good girl. 

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target. 

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples. 

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window. 

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen? 

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you. 

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life. 

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation. 

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel? 

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language. 

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him. 

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest. 

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop. 

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide. 

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges. 

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat. 

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created. 

— How do you feel? 

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less. 

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles. 

— My pleasure, Schatzen. 

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain. 

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all. 

[jakubrozalski]

'Zygmunt and Zośka'

Ewka joined the "Zośka" battalion before the outbreak of the uprising, together with her beloved Tomasz. She met Tomek in the Grey Ranks two years ago, they participated in many reconnaissance and sabotage missions together.  They both welcomed information about the planned uprising with excitement and euphoria. Those moments seem so distant now... The uprising has been going on for a month now...  Tomek is gone. All she has left are memories of long walks by the Vistula and those short moments together when they felt free and happy, despite the horror surrounding them. Now, with a Colt M1911 in her hand, which she received from one of the "Cichociemny" fighting in the Old Town, she is waiting for the Germans assault, leaning on Zygmunt statue, her last sanctuary, last support. They will both fall today, the old king Zygmunt and brave Ewa from the Zośka battalion. -

Exactly 80 years ago, 1 August 1944 at 5:00 p.m. the Warsaw Uprising broke out. The Uprising was supposed to last a few days at most, but it did last sixty-three days and claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. Directly, of course, it was aimed to liberate Warsaw from the occupation of the falling German Reich, but indirectly and politically (as part of Operation 'Burza') was aimed against the USSR and Stalin's plans. This was also one of the reasons for its calamity and the help ( of the Red Army ) that never came. It was definitely too optimistic for the Polish underground resistance command to count on any help from Stalin, whose plans concerning Poland were known and who, as a vindictive and unforgiving person - in my personal opinion - certainly wanted to take revenge for the 1920 and his personal defeat.

There is no doubt, however, that it was an uprising of brave young women and men, full of high ideals, passion and dreams of a free homeland, who wanted to feel a little freedom, self-agency and relief, but also to take revenge after 5 years of terror and occupation. Very tragic and beautiful at the same time. It is to them that I wanted to pay tribute and honor their memory. 

I also observe with great concern and sadness what is happening in the world currently. Not even 100 years have passed since the apocalypse of WWII and the world is again full of divisions, tension, polarization, violence and hatred... For this reason I believe it is worth remembering and reminding about history, to try to stop it from repeating itself, over and over again...  Honor and glory to the heroes who fought for freedom and higher values ​​against evil. Work process: https://jrozalski.com/projects/QKmkRd

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

⚔️ MWII (2022) Character Ages (as of 2022) ⚔️

I was on a character age brainrot back in January and now It's back because of @angelsarewatching so I'm gonna go ahead and post this on Tumblr. Tell me what you think tho and discussions are open!

🐑 Gen. Shepherd - Around late 50s, Pushing 64. I searched it up and apparently, the mandatory retirement age for all general officers is 62, in some cases 64. But if he got into the recommendation list after Brigadier General (O-7), it's allowed to be more than 62. He's a Lt. Gen, so that's O-9. Also, Glenn Morshower (Shepherd's actor) is 64 so let's go with that.

🧠 Laswell - 47-ish. At MOST 55. (Rya Khilstedt is 52. AMAZING BEAUTIFUL SHOW -STOPPING)

🚁 Nikolai - 45 as well. I would go with 48 though.

🪦 Graves - 40. He gives Texan cowboy energy. I just know he's an old dude and is actually older than the rest of the gang.

🛖 Alejandro and 🦂 Valeria - 37. Maybe 38. I don't know at what age someone could make the rank Colonel 'cause that's quite high up the ladder. (They might as well be older than Price. Shit, they might be 40.)

🚬 Price - 37 (Canon) c. 1985.

🐎Rudy - 36. He's been close with Alejandro for 20 years now. Assuming they're bestest of friends and knew each other even before military, Rudy would be around 36/37 as well.

💀 Ghost - 35 or lower. As far as I know, lieutenants are usually young, unless he enlists first before a few years later he went to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (RMAS). OR. His preference and efficiency of working alone are far better for use on the battlefield. The higher you are in the ranks, the more soldiers you are responsible for. So the higher-ups might purposefully don't promote him (and he prefers and agrees to it as well) so that he can continue working alone rather than leading a squad. He surely can lead a team, but he's better at doing shit alone. Crazy theory but hey, it's fiction.

🦿Alex - 35 (Alex was a Delta Force until 2013. Assuming he's around 26 when he finally goes to the CIA, that means he's around 32yo in 2019 and 35yo in 2022)'

🔭 Hadir - 33/34 (Canon) 1986/1987. I’m choosing 34 tho since in the ‘Hometown’ mission he was almost a teenager.

☀️ Farah - 30 (Canon) January 12th 1990.

🧢 Gaz - 26 (Canon). The bio says he enlisted in the British Army in 2014. Assuming Gaz finished high school first, he must’ve enlisted when he was 18yo. That means he was 23yo in MW19 and 26yo in MW22. 

🧼 Soap - 26 (Canon). He’s canonically the youngest one in Task Force 141. The bio mentioned that his cousin is in SAS and he often time visits the base. Setting aside the fact that the cousin brought a fucking kid to a top-secret base, lil’ Johnny must’ve been like “I DON’T WANNA GO TO SCHOOL I WANT TO BE AN SAS SOLDIER” and he canonically LIED about his age. Apparently, he went in when he was 16 but got caught several times, until finally when he was 18 he got in. 

--

That's it folks! Tell me what you think (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal Guards

Royals have multiple layers of servants but there is no set of servants most important that their protection. Royalty are never without some kind of protection and palaces are usually guarded to the teeth. So how do we write royal security. This is for @jamie-ties-writing

Recruitment

Royal guards aren't just any person plucked from the street and put into a uniform. They are usually recruited from within the royal army, from within particular regiments across the army (a mixture of calvary, naval, artillery, infantry). The Royal Guard is usually made of of multiple regiments, not just a single one. These regiments would share and rotate duties. The British Royal family are currently guarded by the Coldstream Regiment, Welsh Guards, Grenadier Guards among others. Royal guards will be selected for their skill, sometimes their birth (they may be chosen if they rank higher socially) and of course, loyalty to the Crown. Royal guards were intended to be a show of force, strength, Majesty so they were usually impressive specimens meant to instill some power to their monarch.

Duties

A royal guard's first order of business is the protection of the family. They may have sentry duty around the palace, guarding doors or patrolling palace grounds or corridors. A Royal Guard may be assigned to one member only but most likely they will rotate through the family as needed. Of course, a royal can request a guard to always be assigned to them if they want. They may escort their charge of the day to their engagements. If assigned a certain royal to protect, they would tail them throughout the day. A royal guard may even perform ceremonial duties such as the changing of the guard or riding in coronations or state funerals. A royal guard is expected to remain vigilant but never speak of what they see, they are meant to keep an ear out for threats but never repeat whatever is said, they are expected at all times to uphold a professional countenance and respect protocol. They will be expected to give their lives if needed, and be loyal to the last.

Rank

Royal guards are a military division and rank is a part of their lives. Their supreme commander would he the monarch first but there would be an appointed commander. Depending on how you want to write Royal Guards, each regiment would have it's own captain and leaders. Of course, not all regiments may adhere to the same ranks but this would be a basic outline for you to follow.

Colonel: Colonels actually have no duties, they are more an honourary figurehead. Many members of the royal family would have a regiment to be colonel of. This usually requires nothing more than a ceremonial role, the wearing of the uniform while inspecting the troops for example.

Captain: The Commander of the regiment. They would undertake managerial duties, issuing commands from the monarch, assigning duties, approving the induction of new guards into the Household Division. The Captain would decide who would guard which member of the royal family.

Lieutenant: The Second in command. They will assume command if the Captain is not available. They would take on a large portion of duties and aid the Captain.

Sergeant: The sergeant would be next in command.

Guardsman: The lowest rank. They will have the least experience but usually the most duties. They would be the ones patrolling and standing sentry.

Uniform

Of course, no royal guard is complete without their uniform. Royal guards would have to stand out, especially in ceremonial duties. This uniform would be distinctive, not only because it is a great honour for anybody to be named to the guard but also as mentioned above, to add a layer of might to those they protect.

Notable Royal Guard Units

Dahomey Mino (the inspiration of Black Panther's Dora Milaje)

The Praetorian Guard

The Imperial Guard of Napoleon

The Imperial German Bodyguard

Varangian Guard

Swiss Guards

The Kheshig

The Janissary

The Imperial Guards of Tsarist Russia

The Cossack Guard

Guardia Real

Coldstream Guards

Irish Guards

Welsh Guards

Grenadier Guards

Medjay of Ancient Egypt

Al-Ḥars al-Malakī as-Suʿūdī

Compagnie des Carabiniers du Prince

Thahan Raksa Phra Ong

[apas-95]

Every successful revolutionary movement must posses in its vanguard not only a fighting army, but also an army of labour.

The fighting army is an armed body of the vanguard party, tasked with carrying out political work. The army of labour consists of the class-conscious, active revolutionaries engaged not in warfighting, but production. During higher stages of revolution, this may entail running wartime industry and infrastructure, but in early stages has much more in common and with unionisation tactics, and is done in connection with labour unions themselves.

Further, all revolutionary fighting armies must also be, in some part, productive armies, armies of labour (so as to maintain themselves, build up their own base areas and infrastructure, etc). While revolutionary movements possessing only armies of labour (in the case of more backwards organisations), is common; the counterpart, of supposed revolutionary movements with a dedicated political corps but absolutely zero connection to the masses (and therby no army of labour), is tending to become equally as common.

The immediate task of the proletarian vanguard, in such a deteriorated political environment, is not just training with guns or spending the weekend "innawoods". It is, principally, building up the ranks of the army of labour to such a degree that they can politically support a fighting army when the time for one comes about.

[opencommunion]

"A December investigation by Israeli newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth revealed that Israel implemented against its own civilians captured on 7 October a version of its Hannibal directive: Israel used overwhelming lethal force even at the risk of killing Israelis along with their Palestinian captors, in order to avoid leaving them alive to be held captive in Gaza, and to avoid having to pay a steep political price for their return. Although Israel’s application of the Hannibal directive was widespread on 7 October, its implementation at the Cohen home stands out because more captives were killed there than in any other single structure on that day. One high-ranking Israeli officer called the army’s actions there an 'exponential Hannibal.' ... In late December the ranking officer who led Israel’s reconquest of the kibbutz – 99th Infantry Division commander and then commander-in-waiting of the Gaza Division, Brig. Gen. Barak Hiram – admitted to The New York Times that he ordered an Israeli tank to fire shells at the house, though he knew there were still-living Israeli captives inside. 'Break in, even at the cost of civilian casualties,' Hiram recalled ordering the tank commander. ... It is unlikely that the Israeli army will either fully endorse his explanations of the 'mass Hannibal' incident at Pessi Cohen’s house, or reveal all it knows about what really happened there on 7 October, because to do so would force it to undercut a pillar of Israeli propaganda about the events of that day: that Hamas heartlessly executed Israeli babies – a lie promoted by Hiram, but first invented by the commander of the Israeli army’s home front national rescue unit, Colonel Golan Vach.

... The day after Vach invented the lie of eight burned babies at the Pessi Cohen house, Yasmin Porat retold her survival story to the Israeli press, this time to Kan radio. Again she explained how she and a group of Israelis that included no small children were violently captured by Hamas and held hostage at Pessi Cohen’s home, but thereafter treated humanely and neither executed nor harmed in any other way. ... Colonel Golan Vach’s new allegations of 19 and even 23 Israeli civilians murdered by Hamas at the Cohen home created a serious problem for General Hiram, who had ordered the tank shelling. Vach’s tallies of the number of Israeli civilians killed there were up to 50 percent higher than the correct figures repeatedly reported by Yasmin Porat, who survived the bloodbath. Worse yet, Vach had introduced eight infants into the death toll – babies who had never existed. Hiram then had no choice but to alter his rendition of events, inflating the figures he had divulged to the Israeli news outlet Walla two weeks earlier. ... Hiram’s numerous lies about the battle at the Be’eri home of Pessi Cohen were apparently attempts to shield himself from the consequences of his command decisions. ... It is likely that Hiram’s main motive for lying about the events at Be’eri was to avoid repercussions for ending the lives of Israeli civilians in one of the most ghastly ways imaginable, burning them to death. ... Army rescue chief Colonel Golan Vach, however, who only arrived at Be’eri hours after those decisive tank shells were shot, did not lie about the battle out of loyalty to Hiram. Rather, he had his own motive for spinning Israel’s military failures into anti-Semitic atrocity tales: to manufacture consent for Israel’s utter annihilation of the Gaza Strip.

... Because of his stature and reputation, Israel’s national rescue chief Golan Vach was believed by reporters and editors all over the world, who published his bald-faced lies about Palestinians decapitating and burning to death Israeli babies on 7 October, even without any evidence. ... If they had only dismissed his gaslighting and done their due diligence, those same media outlets would have found plenty of evidence in the public domain of Vach’s desire 'to clear this region' of Palestinians without regard for 'human rights' from well before that date."

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason _ Part 2

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Chaos AU]

*Note: I got a name for the AU!! Mana Chaos!! A bit random, but I just went with it. Here’s part 2 since the part one blew up.

Part 1 — Part 2 (here)

“Have a safe trip, Personnel 002.”

“Be safe, please.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Don’t let your guard down.”

As you expected everyone was treating you like you were the one going into a war zone and not the S-Rank Hunter that was doing the country a favour. You internally sighed while you maintained an expressionless face to all those around you bidding farewell or wishing you luck and safety. 

Honestly speaking, you were the safest person in the building, if not, in the world with the amount of Shadow soldiers Jinwoo has put into your shadow for your protection. Just the other day, you were furiously protected by none other than Beru, one of Jinwoo’s strongest general grade or was it higher? You can’t recall and Jinwoo did explain to you once, but your system overloaded and didn’t catch much.

Concerning how those soldiers came to be, it was simple. To raise them from the dead. With every battle, Jinwoo grows stronger and stronger, hence why you privately dubbed him a National Level Hunter. His army of Shadows could practically cover the entire country two or three times, maybe even more. Even give Thomas a run for his money, if they ever meet each other in a battle. It would be distaterous so you rather not come to it.

This is why you didn’t want Jinwoo in the facility at all. He has perfect control over his emotions and high morals if you don’t cross his line. He was overall peaceful even with his vast strength and power. Unlike Thomas, he was tamed and very very well-behaved, to put it simply. You had tried to get your seniors or higher-ups and colleague to understand, but they all brushed it aside, saying an S-Rank belongs here and under surveillance. 

Once, they agreed to observe Jinwoo’s tamed nature, to stop your insistence. However, it turned out horribly. You watched from the surveillance room when your unconvinced party enter Jinwoo’s cell. It all appeared normal until the straitjacket was removed from him and he started lashing out. The guards immediately tried to subdue him and rescue the innocent group from the clushes of the raging Hunter.

A chill ran down your spine as you froze up while the room darkened, an echoy whispered in your ear, “I heard you wanted to kick me out. So cold of you, really. I would have behaved if you had a work-life balance, but you are always in this insufferable building, so I have to decline.”

“You could have just told me…” You voice only came out as a mere mutter, but Jinwoo heard it loud and clear. Whatever controlled and peaceful image you have of Jinwoo gone to the drains, never to be recovered in that moment. Like anyone else, you were afraid. Not for yourself, but for those around you.

A dark chuckle rang and you felt like you were in his shadowy embrace with a weight lunched over from the back of your head down to your spine. “That was an option, but I wanted to show you my opposition to your idea. This was the best way I’ve come up with. Plus, it shows everyone here that you aren’t replaceable.” The weight was gone and the room returned to normal with his words beckoning you to him, “So come and calm me down, Personnel 002.”

Looking out the transport vehicle, you saw the streets practically empty apart from the guards stationed from place to place. You grimaced at the fearful citizens that no doubt went indoors or hid in their homes at the news. 

Whenever an S-Rank is let out of their cell into the streets, be it for fresh air or raiding an impossible dungeon for the country, the public would get news of it and warn the citizens to stay away from the gate and advised to remain indoors while the mentioned locations or roads would be purposefully used to transport the Hunter directly to the site. 

Bringing an S-Rank to an A-Rank gate or higher alone was practically giving them a death sentence. It was the government and people’s way of telling the strong Hunters to control themselves or they would die hourably in the raid while protecting their country. 

A case of such an instance was the Jeju Island Raid. An S-Rank dungeon that have failed for 4 times before an alliance was formed between the Japanese S-Rank and Korean S-Rank. The Japanese Government sent their strongest to offer support, but mostly to get rid of them because they have grown too powerful and influential. With the <Outrage Incident>, they couldn’t afford to take any chances. 

That raid had the most S-Rank Hunters in the same place, fighting the same battle. Originally, Jinwoo wasn’t present and you were with him in his cell doing paperwork while he watched the news. As sudden as it came, Jinwoo demanded to go there to help his fellow S-Rank Hunters from total annihilation. 

When you saw the murderous ant, you knew Jinwoo wanted to add him into his army. You did wonder if the people above would want help, since it was a sure-fire way to rid the S-Rank Hunters but when again without the S-Rank, who would clear the harder gates? This stupid EMI system and all the cautiousness of frightened people. 

In the end, Jinwoo’s wish was granted and you were also sent to the front lines in case Jinwoo went haywire. As drugs and medicine was proven ineffective to Jinwoo, the next best thing was you, since he held you in high regard. Not only did Jinwoo get his new soldier, who was later placed as your bodyguard, but he also somehow managed to control the other surviving S-Rank Hunters. 

What happened after was Jinwoo showing his dominance over the other S-Ranks in Korea and making himself at the top of the food chain. He’s stay mild and controlled because he wanted to. Not because you people —the public and the government— could control him. 

The vehicle stopped and your door was opened from the outside, a guard nodded and welcomed you while you got out. Your eyes looked over to the gigantic gate. 

“Feels like a date, doesn’t it?” Jinwoo’s voice brought your attention to him. Dressed in a causal manner, a shirt and pants, plus a long coat to complete his look, his stuck to his dark theme. You were quite used to him in a straitjacket that everytime he was dressed normally, you were always spellbound. He chuckled and ruffled your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re looking good.” You looked away to the side, a faint blush over your cheeks. There was no use fangirling in secret when Beru or some other soldiers would report back to him and he’d have a field day the next time you visit him. You might as well be honest and tell him now to get over it.

Now it was Jinwoo’s turn to freeze up and chuckle. “Thanks.”

Amidst the careful atmosphere, you sense the guards around you two on edge with Jinwoo’s freedom to do anything and his power unrestraint. Better enter the gate before they act out of fear and trigger some ridiculous conflict. “Let’s go, do you need any gear?”

“I only need you by my side.” Jinwoo returned back to his smooth and cheeky self, smiling down at you with a soft look in his eyes. 

You physically and mentally controlled yourself so that you don’t faint from his words, reminding yourself repeatedly that you two were in public. It was hard for you to defend yourself against these attacks of his when he wasn’t in his usual dull look in the EMI. He is one handsome man. “Just say we can go…”

Jinwoo extended his hand to you and waited for you to put your hand in his, essentially you’d be putting your life in his hands because once you pass through the gate, he was your only lifeline to return in one piece. You did so without hesitation, Jinwoo will never allow harm to you and never let you out of his sight so long as he lives. You could feel the nervous and anxious glances from the guards scattered around the site from your nonchalant actions.

With a hum, Jinwoo gripped your hand in his and lead you into the gate where only he and you would be without any other humans. Truly as he said, it’d be a date where he and you could be your true selves.

“Come forth.” Jinwoo summoned his army who all appeared at his command, all kneeled and bowed their heads to him. “Like usual.” His eyes glowed a purple hue, “Leave the boss to me.”

So began the massacre while Jinwoo walked you through it all. The first time it happened, you were beyond terrified for you only knew Jinwoo was a capable S-Rank and shouldn’t be underestimated. That was the first time you’ve seen his army’s might and power. Compared to him, you and all the others in the EMI were ants, mere insects. 

How you managed to capture Jinwoo’s eyes was beyond you, but you were a lucky person to be favoured by him, to some extent. Soon, you didn’t mind Jinwoo’s little favouritism and childish acts to get you into his cell. You looked forward to it. He accepted you for who you are and given you a place, a special irreplaceable place in the world and in his heart. 

For all he has done for you, you wanted to return something for him. You even asked the soldiers in your shadow to keep it a secret from him so it was a grand surprise for him. The Jeju Island Raid that he singlehandedly cleared, you brought the island under his name with your wealth. With the help of the Shadows, you made the island habitable once more and invited some special people to live on it. 

Your hand squeezed his as you looked up to him, he momentarily took his eyes off the battlefield and stared into your eyes. “Yes?”

A rare smile spread on your face, your inner self becoming giddy and expectant of Jinwoo’s reaction. “Do you want to see your family? I’ve offered them a place to live away from all the criticism and pressure from the government and public. They’ve also been wanting to see you too, face to face.”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened. The moment he was reevaluated, he was sent to the EMI building in Korea, he was treated like an object rather than a human being. He could have lashed out, but his family was on the line and while he could use his Shadows to protect him so he has freedom, that only puts a target on his back. By then, people would want him dead for sure. 

The only solance he found in his darkness was you. The you who found out his secret and kept it to yourself, even wanting to give him back his freedom for your security, but he wanted to stay by your side instead. He thought that’s all he needed, but one day, you connected him with his family while in his cell and let him have his moment with them. 

From time to time, you’d call his family and have a video call to let him and his beloved mother and sister chat together while you work in the corner with music playing in your headphones connected to your other device to give him privacy. A luxury he never could have with the protocols of EMI.

He was grateful for all you’ve done for him. Genuinely and absolutely. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Note: I seriously did NOT think there would be another part. You guys liked part 1 a lot and I have no idea why. Welp, here's part 2. Not sure about a part 3, but I'll see how this one goes. Enjoy~!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (these are the people from Part 1's comment section)

@stupendouspizzacomputer @xiannars

[fluentmoviequoter]

It's Commander, Sergeant

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Army-FBI!reader

Summary: After years of thinking about Tim Bradford, you meet him again during a riot in Los Angeles. When he learns you outrank him, he falls... hard.

Warnings: incorrect Army terminology and actions, depiction of riots, fluff! a couple Call of Duty references. Also, I grew up ten minutes from Fort Rucker, so I'm allowed to trash talk it.

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

When you joined the Army immediately after graduation, you didn’t expect it to become a career. What surprised you more was meeting Tim Bradford. You only met him once, but he stayed with you, a firm and commanding yet protective and loyal personality that was impossible to forget. Now, years later, you continue to think about him occasionally, hoping he’s doing well and happy. He inspired you to work through the ranks and do something more meaningful than just obeying as you’re told. Not that being a soldier and taking orders is unimportant, as you’ve explained to the troops you are now Master Sergeant of. Personally, you felt a calling to do more.

“Master Sergeant, Sergeant Major Riley is here to see you,” a soldier says, standing at attention in your doorway.

“I’ll be right out to meet him. Thank you, Private,” you reply kindly.

You are a different kind of Master Sergeant, unwilling to act higher than the men and women who answer to you. Your respect for others, regardless of rank, has made you a favorite on base.

“No need. Is now a good time?” Riley asks, taking the Private’s place.

“Of course. What can I do for you, Sergeant Major Riley?”

“There’s a developing situation in Los Angeles. If you and your team are up for it, I’d like to send you in to help.”

“Los Angeles? Who has jurisdiction?”

Riley chuckles, shaking his head, as he says, “I knew that would be your first question. Not ‘what’s the situation?’ because that’s boring, right?”

“Something like that, sir.”

“The LAPD called in military reinforcements for an out-of-control rioting issue.”

“When do we leave?”

“1700 hours. Tell your troops.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s everyone enjoying US Army Garrison Italy?” you ask your team, composed of twenty of the best soldiers.

“The men- the view is beautiful, Master Sergeant,” one of the female soldiers says.

“I’d have to agree. But we’re heading back to the States. There’s a riot issue in Los Angeles and they’ve called for the best to come in and help.”

“Riot control? Now, we’re talkin’, ma’am!”

“Los Angeles, California?” someone asks.

“What other Los Angeles is there, man?” a second voice replies.

You clear your throat, and everyone in the room snaps to attention. Smiling, you nod and confirm that your destination is Los Angeles, California.

“We leave at 1700 sharp. Helos are standing by. And before you ask, no, I don’t know when or if we’ll be back. LAPD is running point on this - listen closely, we are assisting. This is about the safety of US citizens. Not proving grounds or a test to become a Ranger. They’re calling the shots, but you still answer to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” your team yells together.

“Then let’s get out there and protect our home.”

As you leave, someone whispers, “I’m gonna miss Italy.”

You agree, but your job is about more than the view from the base. As you pack to return to California, you wonder if you’ll ever be back to Italy.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Master Sergeant. Thank you for coming so quickly. I am Sergeant Wade Grey, I’m Watch Commander of the LAPD Mid-Wilshire division,” Grey introduces, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Tell us where you need us, and we’ll be there.”

“We’ve got six teams out there right now, covering what we consider the biggest targets, but I’ll get you in touch with my lead Sergeant.”

“Is he in the field? We’d be happy to meet him where he is and take his direction from there.”

Wade sighs, a relieved smile appearing on his face. “You’re the best person in the state right now, Master Sergeant. He’s at the Wilshire Federal Building, the intersection of Wilshire and the 405. We’re running short on equipment, but we can get you transport.”

“Oh, we’ve got a ride. And, Sergeant Grey, feel free to drop the formalities,” you offer before telling him your first name.

“Only if you call me Wade,” he replies. “Wait- don’t tell me you have an APC parked outside my station.”

“We don’t. We have an M113 APC, a light tank, and six more vehicles waiting for a destination. You called for riot control, and we’re going to control some riots.”

“If you ever get tired of the Army, the LAPD would be happy to have you.”

“Unless you can offer me a station in Italy and as many armored vehicles as I can drive, I think I’m happy where I am.”

“Fort Irwin is scenic.”

You walk backward as you exit the office, tilting your head to the side as you consider. “Italian oceanside or California desert. Guess which I’m picking?”

“Good luck out there.”

“Thank you, sir- Wade.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The moment you jump off the side of the APC, two LAPD officers rush to you and your group of four soldiers. Splitting your team into five groups and sending one to join each of the LAPD squadrons seemed to be the best option. One of your team members introduces you to an officer, who nods and ushers you to follow him.

“Master Sergeant, this is LAPD Sergeant-“

“Bradford?”

Tim tilts his chin, his eyes the only part of his face you can see past his helmet and shield. You’d know him anywhere after countless nights of thinking of him and being inspired by him.

“Have we met, Master Sergeant?” he asks, his voice raised over the crowd gathering on Wilshire Boulevard.

Someone throws a flaming bottle of alcohol toward the steps of the building, and you motion for your team to push the crowd back.

“Later, Sergeant Bradford. Care to tell me what’s going on?” you ask.

“LA courts decided to take a bunch of cases back to trial, deal with overcrowding, standard procedures. But… you get it.”

“Don’t want ‘em out or want to make sure they do get out. Yeah, I know the answer, though I’ve never understood the thought process behind it.”

“You and me both. What are we supposed to do to show them this won’t change anything?”

Glancing at the crowd, you weigh the options. “Realistically, getting violent is only going to make this worse. I’m not suggesting a negotiation, but… what if we try stopping?”

“We’re not setting down our arms and opening the gates for them to storm the Wilshire Federal Building!” Tim yells.

“Then what would you like to do? Stand here until the trials are done?”

“That’s not-“

“Look, I don’t want to pull rank but if you’re just going to stand here and argue with me, I will, Sergeant Bradford,” you reply. His jaw clenches beneath his helmet, and you offer, “Half of your men lower their shields, a show of good faith. Then we go from there.”

Tim lowers his shield, stepping toward you to threaten, “If anything happens to my men, it is on your hands. This isn’t your home, but it’s mine.”

“I understand how this works, Sergeant Bradford. And I’m not telling you to do it alone.”

You push past him, leading two soldiers to the front line, dropping your shield, and raising your hands. The crowd members closest to you stop, looking at you curiously.

“There is a court schedule available online!” you yell. “If you have a loved one that you would like to advocate for, call the courts, call their defenders, and tell them why someone is worthy of freedom at the proper time and place! But don’t risk your own freedom, don’t take the lives of your neighbors or your peace officers in the process!”

You signal for all of the officers to raise their shields again. As the crowd storms forward, you rush into the fray, letting your training take over as you disarm the citizens around you.

“Down on the ground!” you yell, panting as the tank approaches behind you.

At the sight of the tank, the men and women standing in the road begin kneeling, lowering their weapons, and raising their hands. The LAPD rush forward, doing their jobs as you send your team to give your orders to the other soldiers you brought back to the States.

“That shouldn’t have worked,” Tim says, approaching from behind you.

Turning toward him, you sigh and remove your helmet. “Lots of things shouldn’t work, Sergeant Bradford.”

“You know my name; care to tell me why?”

Pressing your lips together to hide your smile, you walk past him, calling over your shoulder to say, “Never expected I’d have a higher ranking than you, Sarge!”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is the Master Sergeant here?” Tim asks as he enters the bullpen.

“She’s with her team, briefing their superiors.” Wade smiles before asking, “Why would you like to know?”

“She knew my name. I can’t place her though.”

“She’s Army, you were Army… think about it, Tim.”

“I met hundreds of people in the Army, Wade-“

“Not all of them stay in the Army and work their way through the rankings because you inspired them,” you say, standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Wade says, adding your first name while looking toward Tim.

Tim looks past you, clearly trying to place your name.

“I met you my first year, we were only in the same room for a few minutes and didn’t say more than a few words to each other. But you inspired me. You were a good soldier, a better leader, and I wanted to do what you did.”

“And now you’re a sergeant?”

Smiling, you correct, “It’s Master Sergeant, Sergeant.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“You got a little drool right there,” Angela jokes, pointing to the corner of Tim’s mouth. “What’s so special about her?”

“She outranks me,” Tim answers.

“Okay. Lots of people do.”

“Yeah,” Wade adds from Tim’s other side. “You don’t look at me like that.”

“No offense, Wade, but you’re not as pretty,” Angela replies.

Tim shushes them suddenly, nodding when you turn and see him. You smile at him, yet again drawn in by Tim Bradford’s presence and leadership. His not trusting you at first, yelling at you, was somewhat unexpected, but you’ve been in his place before. Trusting people as soon as you meet them is difficult, often impossible in your profession, but Tim’s quick change makes you smile. You’re a good leader, like him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got a problem,” Wade calls, ending a phone call. “There’s another riot at Cal State Prison. LAPD and Lancaster PD can’t handle it alone.”

“We can never make it there in time,” Nolan responds. “It’s nearly 2 hours without traffic.”

“Now would be a good time to get a private jet or something, Thorsen,” Angela calls.

You pull your phone from your pocket, typing quickly before nodding. “I need Bradford,” you tell Wade. “And your landing pad.”

“What did you do?” Tim asks.

“Sikorsky X2 is five minutes out. We can get there and drop in 20 or less.” You raise a finger to point to everyone in the room. “This stays here. I’m not supposed to know the Army has one stateside.”

“Has a what?” Aaron asks.

“Good answer.”

“It only holds two crew members, but I’ve got a team out there that can ride in a cargo area. We’re going to need backup, so if you can get airships or anything, Sergeant Grey, please do. Let’s roll.”

Tim follows you quickly, jogging to catch up with you. “How’d you pull this off?”

“Somebody owed me a favor.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That I inspired you to stay in the Army, to get here.”

“Oh.” You push open a door and begin climbing the stairs quickly. Stepping onto the roof, you look at Tim and say, “Ask me again when this is over.”

Tim waits until you turn away to smile. He can’t believe he forgot you, but your sacrificial, mutually beneficial leadership style, kindness, and abilities, not to mention that you outrank him, have him practically wrapped around your finger.

✯✯✯✯✯

Standing in the back of a helicopter and hooked to a rail, you lean out against the whipping air and feel weightless. The pain and concern of the day are wearing off, and as the sun sets, you’re glad you were asked to come to LA. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath.

Tim taps your side, and when he has your attention, he points West. The ocean is now visible, and the light ripples over the water, reflecting the pastel colors painting the sky. You smile at the view before looking back to Tim. Reaching up, you adjust the channel dial on his headset. He doesn’t even flinch at your sudden movement, and your smile grows as he leans toward you.

Looking at the soldiers behind you, you say, “If I think any of you can hear me, I’ll have you transferred to the worst base I can think of.”

No one except for Tim reacts, and he chuckles quietly.

“Okay, ask me again,” you request into your microphone.

“Did you really stay in the Army because of me?”

“Yes. You showed me what was possible, but your kindness toward me made me think I could do it too.”

“You could’ve done it without me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Easy, Sergeant.”

“It’s-“

“Master Sergeant… when this illegally obtained helicopter lands, would you go to dinner with me?”

A soldier to your left moves, and you shake your head. “After this illegally obtained helo lands, and I have Henderson transferred to hot and humid Fort Rucker, Alabama, I would love to go to dinner with you.”

“Since you outrank me, surely you get paid better, so it’s on you?”

You lean toward Tim, pausing when your headset hits his. “I could also go back to Italy and see if anyone there is willing to take me to dinner.”

“Fine,” Tim groans. “I’ll pay, but only if you stay in town long enough to show me how much my inspiration paid off.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The dinner date does not go as planned. When you enter the police station, Sergeant Major Riley awaits you. He takes you into Wade’s office to talk, and Tim stands outside waiting for you.

Being a soldier means being sent to different places with only a moment’s notice, but being at your level makes things far more difficult and irregular. Tim may have missed his chance.

“Any idea what that’s about?” Tim asks Wade.

“No clue.”

You exit a moment later, your previous smile now absent. Tim tries to hide his disappointment, but he should have known getting into a relationship with a younger, yet higher ranking, soldier would never work.

“I blame you,” you tell Wade, stopping before him and Tim.

“What did I do?” he asks incredulously.

“You said there was an opening at Irwin, but you didn’t say that you only knew that because my Sergeant Major told you.”

“He may have mentioned it.”

“Anyone want to loop me in?” Tim asks tiredly.

“I’m moving to California. Leaving Italy behind to lead a new force,” you answer sadly. “No more authentic pasta for me.”

“Wait- you’re moving to California? Irwin, which is three hours from here?” Tim interjects.

“It’s your fault too,” you remember. “I let you inspire me to be a good leader and a good teacher, but now I’m paying for it.”

Riley calls your name, beckoning you back into the office. The second time you exit, you seem a bit more pleased.

“Is the offer for that date still on the table?” you ask Tim. “Looks like my team is going to be in LA county for a few days before I can get discharged.”

"Whoa, whoa, what are you talking about? You're getting out?" Tim asks, raising his hands in question.

"I'm receiving another raise in rank," you tell Tim, grabbing his extended wrist and pulling him toward the door. "But not in the Army."

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯

“Your form needs some work, but there’s potential,” you say.

“My, uh, my recruiter said that you take potential and make talent,” the recruit before you says.

Standing, you smile. “I like to think so. But I can’t do anything without your effort. So, are you willing to put in the work to do your best?”

“Yes, ma’am, Commander.”

“Then I only have one more question. Why do you want to join FBI special operations?”

“Commander,” someone scoffs from the doorway. “It’s like you take pride in increasing the divide between our ranks.”

Glancing over, you make a “shoo” gesture before finishing the recruit’s evaluation.

“Let’s go,” you tell Tim, gathering your things. “It’s been almost a year, and we still haven’t had an uninterrupted dinner date.”

“I’m not sure we ever will, Sarge.”

You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, brushing your lips over his before whispering, “It’s Commander, Sergeant.”

[sgt-tombstone]

Let's talk about ranks for a minute...

Sergeant

Sergeants are the backbones of the military, no matter which military you're talking about. They're the sweet spot of the enlisted ranks; high enough to command respect of just about everyone you meet, low enough to still have a connection to the rookies they command. In most platoons, sergeants are seen as something of parental or older sibling figures, going so far as to help their lower enlisted soldiers buy their first cars, figure out health insurance, or even attend doctors appointments with them. They're several years out of basic training, which means that they've gotten their feet under them and know enough to be seen as trusted adults and mentors. They're often the ones planning/running the day to day of basic training, which makes them simultaneously loathed and respected in equal measure. Good sergeants are life-long friends and mentors; you will often hear veterans several years out of service talk fondly of their favorite sergeants, those that pushed them to be better or helped them get away with funny shit. For many rookies, who may be as young as sixteen in the British Army, sergeants essentially replace their parents, which is something that the best sergeants take very seriously.

Soap and Gaz, being in a specialized task force, would not hold a lot of these responsibilities. They're far more focused on their own training as a counter-terrorism unit than the training of soldiers beneath them. In fact, they likely wouldn't command any soldiers. However, given that they were sergeants in the SAS before joining the 141, they would likely still maintain a lot of those relationships around base; they would have a lot of connections to lower enlisted soldiers who remember them and would still see them as mentors, especially as sociable and outgoing as they both are.

Lieutenant

"You can't spell lost without LT."

Lieutenants are some of the most disrespected soldiers on base. As crazy as it sounds, the only difference between lieutenants and the vast majority of privates just out of basic training is a college degree. Only 3% of enlisted soldiers become officers, which means that the vast majority of officers have absolutely no field experience; they talked to a recruiter after graduating college and immediately jumped onto the officer ladder, skipping the enlisted ranks altogether. The average enlisted has infinitely more practical experience than any officer, and yet every enlisted soldier, regardless of rank or experience, is required to salute lieutenants because they're technically a higher rank.

You can see how this could breed some antagonism.

Prior enlisted officers are few and far between, and they have no physical representation of their experience; they wear the exact same insignia that every other lieutenant wears, so they're often lumped in with the rest of the lieutenants when enlisted start throwing insults. However, for those who are aware, prior enlisted officers command a huge amount of respect. Not only did they climb the enlisted ranks, they also went through pretty difficult officer training.

Now, for Ghost to still be a lieutenant years after joining the SAS is... crazy. There are two lieutenant ranks in the army: first lieutenant and second lieutenant. Both are the absolute bottom of the ladder; there is no lower officer rank. An officer must have at least 18 months of time in grade (TIG) to be promoted from 2LT to 1LT and 2 years of TIG to be promoted from 1LT to CPT, which means that Ghost would have realistically been a captain 3-4 years after passing officer training. The only reason why I can see him denying promotions is to continue working under Price, which... take that how you will.

Captain

The captain rank is the sweet spot of the officer ranks. Like sergeants, they're high enough to command large amounts of respect but low enough to maintain good connections with the soldiers under them. This is the last rank that allows its members to continue regularly going into the field with their teams; the next rank is major, which holds a lot more responsibility, required meetings, and paperwork.

I can definitely understand why Price would refuse promotions past this point; if he had his way, he would stay a captain until he either died or retired. There is very little incentive for him to accept a promotion.

All information taken from various military forums and military personnel talking about their own experiences. All military branches have their own culture/customs, so these statements are not all-encompassing, but they are widely shared.