#Terrorist attack alert

[persephoneflouwers]

@lthqofficial it’s time to drop the news besties

[head-post]

Netherlands raised its national threat alert to the second-highest

The Netherlands’ counter-terrorism agency raised the country’s threat alert level to the second-highest on Tuesday, announcing a “substantial” risk of terrorist attacks in the country, according to AP News.

The announcement came after the European Union’s home affairs commissioner, Ylva Johansson, warned that Europe faced a “huge risk of terrorist attacks” during the Christmas holidays against the backdrop of the war between Israel and the Palestinian group Hamas.

The Dutch National Coordinator for Counter-Terrorism and Security also stated that “the violent conflict in Israel and the Palestinian territories, Quran desecrations in various European countries and calls for attacks from terrorist organisations have increased the threat from jihadism”.

Recent attacks in nearby European countries, such as France and Belgium, and arrests of suspected terrorists in the Netherlands and neighbouring nations served as reasons to raise the threat level. The report added that “the threat from right-wing extremism and anti-institutional extremism remains unabated.”

Read more HERE

[drabblesandimagines]

Trunk

Leon Kennedy x female reader (BSAA) for this request Fluffy, bit of mild spice, bit of blood, mention of panic attack, swears

It was meant to be straightforward surveillance ahead of the main op. Monitor the drop – the metal suitcase fitted with a tracking chip and three fake virus vials – note any observations about the pick-up, then inform the rest of the Wolf Hound Squad who would track the co-ordinates to find the terrorists’ base of operations.

You had pouted a little at being sidelined from the main action, but Chris needed someone stealthy to keep an eye over the drop and, with a squeeze to your shoulder, your track record meant you were the prime candidate.

You’d set yourself up in the eaves of the abandoned warehouse that served as the drop-off point, armed with a pair of binoculars, an ear piece and a couple of guns, as always, for if anything went south...

..which it did the moment you detected movement from the south-east corner. It took a few attempts to get them in focus, but your heart sank when you recognized the figure – one Leon S Kennedy of the DSO rolling between abandoned shipping containers, honing in on the one you’d placed the metal suitcase in a few hours previously.

What the hell is he doing here?

You press down on your earpiece and it beeps once, opening the line to transmit. “Alpha to Lupe. Got a problem. Over.”

Silence.

“Alpha to Lupe. Got a problem. Over.”

Nothing – again. Maybe your current position has poor signal, but there’s no time to troubleshoot when squealing tyres echo around the structure, alerting you to the two black cars swerving in and heading to the shipping container in question.

The cars stop, their engines remaining idle and five well-built and well-dressed men depart – three from one, two from another.

Through your binoculars, you see Leon head straight for them, gun raised.

Shit.

--

You are jolted back into consciousness when your crown smacks on something hard, before being ricocheted back down to your nose cracking against something firm, groaning as you come to.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?”

The voice is familiar and rumbles through your chest with the horrible realization that you’re lying on top of someone. You try and scoot back, whacking your head again and a sinking feeling as you feel plastic digging into your wrists, keeping them bound behind you.

It all comes flooding back.

Numerous gunshots go off as you slide down the ladder back to the ground floor, half expecting to find Leon bleeding out or even dead on the concrete. Instead, he’s being heaved up by his armpits, unconscious, and pushed into the trunk of one of the cars, half in, half out as one of the heavy-set men commences a search, confiscating a multitude of weapons with a scoff.

You can’t see any other bodies, which is strange. Is Kennedy getting slow in his old age?

At the other car, a man with a blonde pony-tail is bent down, talking through the window to someone you can’t see. “Go on ahead with the package.”

The driver seems to protest, but ponytail shakes his head.

“We’ll take the rat elsewhere, have some fun… We’ll join you back at base after. Go.” He thumps the top of the car with his fist to emphasize his point.

The idling car now hits the gas with gusto, the tyres burning against the concrete before it skids out of sight.

The heavy-set man seems to have concluded his search of the unconscious agent by then, finishing with what looks to be Leon’s phone. He considers it for a moment before he drops it to the floor and grinds it into the concrete with the heel of his shoe, the screen splintering and plastic cracking under his weight.

He then leans into the trunk before holding Leon’s arms behind his back and securing his wrists with what looks like a zip tie, before heaving up his legs and giving his ankles the same treatment.

You grit your teeth as you think – you don’t have much time. They’re not taking Leon to the HQ, so it’s not like you can catch up and let the rest of the squad know they’ve got a hostage.

The other car’s gone, one of the guys is distracted, if you just-

“Well, well…” There’s a gun pressed to the small of your back and your stomach sinks. You’d thought the two remaining were the ones you had in your eyesight, assuming three others had got back into the other car, but one seems to have been prowling. Fuck, you’re better than this usually. Are you and Kennedy both having an off day?

A thick forearm wraps around your throat in a headlock.

“Drop the gun.”

Before you can even think of how to get out of the hold, a knee is forced between your thighs, weakening your stance and preventing any sort of retaliation you might be able to achieve with your legs. The forearm tenses and cuts off all air, the order repeated and it is not until your grip on your gun goes limp, letting it drop to the floor that it relaxes, leaving you gasping for breath.

“We’ve already caught ourselves a rat this evening, suppose it makes sense we catch a mouse next.”

You try and throw your head back in desperation - if you break his nose he’ll definitely let go, but there’s not enough room and the arm around your throat squeezes again, but this time there is no relief, only a smug whisper in your ear.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse.”

 Everything went black.

You squint in the dark of what you assume is the car trunk – an eerie red glow emitting from the corners which you presume are the taillights – and your eyes slowly begin to adjust to find two icy blue ones staring up at you under familiar bangs. “Leon?” Your voice is a little hoarse, but it’s better than being dead.

“One and only. Gotta say, this is a surprise. Been a while.”

You try and roll off his chest entirely but it’s awkward and cramped. The trunk is not large enough to be accommodating two adults, let alone one as muscular as Leon. You manage to shift most of your weight off him, though your legs are somewhat still entangled, ankles crisscrossed together with the same zip tie treatment. You cough, trying to relieve the tightness in your throat. “What are you doing here? This is a BSAA op.”

“DSO had intel of a terrorist cell being supplied with virus samples.” He tries to shuffle back a little, take in your face after you lying atop of him unconscious for however long.

“It’s a fake – it’s our drop.”

“What?”

“I was doing surveillance to confirm they accepted the suitcase with the tracker – the rest of the pack is gonna intercept their base once co-ordinates are confirmed.”

You see him raise his eyebrow in the dim light. “Pack? Redfield still going by that wolf crap?”

 “Oh, because birds are so cool, right?” You retort, though you’re more annoyed at your situation than him.

“How’d they get you?”

“Does it matter?” You avoid the question, not wanting to tell him the real reason you’d got caught was because you’d been concerned seeing him being shoved into the trunk.

“We’ve gotta get out of these restraints. I can try and…” You trail off, your breath catching in your throat. You pull fruitlessly at the plastic holding your wrists, ignoring the sharp pain, and try and bring your knees up to your chest.

“Already tried, there’s not enough space.” Leon interjects. “Maybe if I was here solo…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mean to sound sarcastic, but with how you’re breathing it sounds more like a genuine apology. “I just thought it looked so fun when I saw you being kidnapped so I had to join in, you know?”

You’re breathing too heavy now, but it’s not getting down into your lungs. You’re not sure if it’s because your windpipe was crushed earlier, or that you’re on your side in an awkward position, or the fact that you’re stuffed in the trunk of a car with potentially limited oxygen.

Fuck.

“Hey.” Leon’s voice sounds foggy.

You shuffle as best you can, hoping a change in position might open up your airways, but it feels like as if the trunk is closing in around you.

“Hey. You good?”

“I…”

“You need to breathe deeper than that, okay?”

Deep down, in your logical mind, you know you do, but in the panic it’s just not happening, and your breaths grow only shallower. Your throat is too tight, the zip tie around your wrist and ankles is too tight, the space in here is too tight. Leon tenses his forearms behind his back for the umpteenth time, willing the plastic to break as he sees you falling further and further into distress. His words aren't getting through and he can't really touch you either, can't grab your hand or your shoulder and try and ground you for a moment to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry.” Leon throws his head forward and kisses you – not square on the lips, more at the corner of your open mouth, messy and awkward - but it’s enough to knock you out of hyperventilating as your scalp tingles.

“Breathe.” He orders, pulling back.

“You just-”

“Breathe. There’s plenty of oxygen in here – it’s not airtight. Breathe.”

You close your eyes and mouth and take a deep inhale through your nose, spluttering a little as you try to hold it. It takes a few cycles, Leon keeping silent as you gather your bearings, but eventually it steadies.

“Sorry.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have kissed you, I just couldn’t think of how else to divert your focus.”

“No, it’s okay. Definitely worked.”

There’s an awkward silence before Leon shuffles ever so slightly.

“Promise you won’t tell Redfield? I’d rather not have my neck snapped.”

“Why would he do that?”

“You... You two aren’t a thing?”

“No.” Your brow furrows. “He’s my captain. My life’s already complicated enough fighting bioweapons without throwing in dating my superior.”

“Oh. I thought…” He shrugs as best as he can before you can see the infamous cocky grin. “Well, how about you and I grab dinner after this?”

“If there is an after this.” You try and swallow down the anxious feeling that’s crawling up from your stomach once more. “Being moved to a second location against your will is nev- Ugh!”

The car drives over a pothole but, thankfully, your head doesn’t collide with the top of the trunk. Leon groans as the impact threw him over onto his front before he mutters under his breath and starts to grind his hips.

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

“I think they missed a weapon.”

“Really?” Your voice perks up. “What?”

“A knife.”

“How’d they miss a knife?”

“Is that a complaint?” Leon scoffs.

“No, just seems a bit amateur hour. Can you reach it?”

“Not a chance, but, er…”, he clears his throat, “you might. We’re gonna have to try and adjust positions first, I’ll need your back to my chest.”

“Okay. Erm…” You scooch yourself forward with your hip and heel of your boot - easier said than done as the trunk grows narrower the further you go down, your knees bunching up towards your chest. “Like that?”

“Gimme a sec.” He responds through gritted teeth, trying to roll over again. Whatever make car this is, it’s not American – the trunk space is abysmal. Eventually, he manages it, shuffling himself forward until your fingers are pressed up against what feels like his chest.

“Hey!” He snaps with a poorly concealed laugh as your fingers twitch against the fabric. “That tickles.”

“Sorry – reflex. Where is it?”

“Well, put simply, my crotch.”

You give yourself a moment to let the words sink in.

“You keep a knife in your crotch? How have you not cut off your-?”

“It’s more a scalpel than a knife,” he cuts you off. “And it’s hidden away in the lining – in-built sheath – near the fly. Think you can find it?”

You close your eyes tight, thinking it might help you focus. Your thumb brushes up against something firm and you feel Leon tense behind you.

“Is that…?”

 “My jockstrap, thank you.” He clears his throat again. “Higher than that and more to the left.”

You try to follow his instructions, but it’s impossible to go any higher, unable to bend your elbows. “I don’t think I can. Can you shuffle down any?”

“Er…” He tries, shifting down an inch or so, his knees pressing into the back of yours in a spoon, his breath tickling your ear as he settles back down. “There. Bit to the left again.”

You close your eyes again, feeling the zip with your thumb and head to the left until you feel what feels like a thin tube.

“That?”

“Yep. Now, just try and bring it up and out. The blade’s at the bottom.”

That’s easier said than done as you press your thumbs either side of it and feel it move ever so slightly up. It’s a slow and steady process, not helped with the fact of how sweaty your palms are now getting with Leon pressed right up against you. “I think it’s nearly there. If the blade’s at the bottom, can you shuffle back? I don’t wanna slice you open.”

“You got a good grip?”

You swear you can hear the grin in his voice with that one.

“As good as I ever will.”

He scoots back a little, not as far as possible, but enough room so you can pull the scalpel implement up and twirl it around carefully in your grip so you can start to saw against the zip-tie.

“Got it.”

“Does it feel like it’s working?”

“Yeah. Just kinda awkwa-" There’s a stinging pain in your palm as the knife slices through and you hiss.

“What?”

“Got my palm.”

“Bad?”

“Had worse.” You bite your lip at the pain then, eyes squeezed shut again, trying to visualize what might be going on behind your back. Your movements are miniscule, a concern that that if you went any faster you’d slip in your enthusiasm and stab Leon.

It feels like hours when you finally feel the tension give and your wrists are free of the horrid plastic.  

“Got it. Just…” Mindful of your bleeding palm, you roll over with your good hand and lean up, pushing Leon face down so you can set to work on his wrists. It only takes a few confident saws, despite how slick your palm is with blood, before the agent groans and pulls his arms in front of him.

You pull your knees up to your chest and quickly slice through the restraints around your ankles, before handing the scalpel to Leon to do the same. His fingers pinch your other wrist instead, bringing your bleeding palm up close to his face to analyze in the dim light.

“Shit, that’s deep.”

“It’s fine,” you try and shake off his hold, but his grip remains firm.

“That’ll be the blood loss talking. Hold on.” He pulls up his shirt with his free hand and rips at the hem with his teeth, tearing off a rough strip, before he begins to wrap it around your palm in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

“There.” He announces, tying it off with a tight knot. “Not ideal, but it’ll have to do for now.”

“Thanks.” You cradle it back against your stomach and hand him over the blade so he can finally cut through the zip-tie around his ankles. It seems just in time too, as the car begins to slow.

“How do you want to play this?”

“You sit tight, I deal with whoever opens the trunk… then we go for dinner.”

“You know I am not a sit tight kinda gal, right?”

“We’ve only got one knife.”

“One scalpel.” You correct.

“Exactly.” The car stops.

“Roll over, face the back.” He orders, taking control. “I’ll go the other way – they won’t be able to see our hands. When they lean in to haul me out…”

The dulled sound of the car doors opening leaves you with no choice but to turn away as instructed and your hand brushes up against Leon’s as you tuck them back behind your back. With the hand that’s not holding the scalpel, he grabs hold of your uninjured hand and squeezes your fingers in reassurance.

The trunk opens.

Leon is peering through his lashes, bangs over his eyes, as his captor comes into view, gun raised. He nudges Leon’s shoulder with the barrel, watching the agent’s head lull back before holstering his weapon and preparing to heave Leon out of the trunk.

And that’s when he takes his chance, scalpel in hand, straight into the jugular, his other hand nabbing the gun out of the holster as he twists himself up and out of the trunk before the man can hit the ground.

Before you can get up to join him, he slams the trunk back down. You curse, hearing back and forth gunshots before the trunk opens again a few minutes later, Leon stood there with an apologetic smile.

“Coast is clear. We’re down at the docks – I can’t believe I let myself get caught by these amateurs.”

“Well, I can’t believe you shut the trunk on me!” You shuffle forward using your good hand, relieved to be sitting upright at last, legs dangling out from the trunk.

“I’m sorry - I know most guys bring their dates flowers,” he pulls another confiscated gun out of his back pocket – must be his prize from the other guy – and offers it out to you, “but something tells me you’d accept this instead?”

You take it with a smirk and a retort too good to pass up on. “You’re really gunning for this dinner date, huh, Kennedy?”

He leans forward and pushes you back into the trunk with a kiss.

--

This is so, so silly but I had fun x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[matan4il]

Update post:

The biggest thing everyone's talking about on the news in Israel right now is the finding of a MASSIVE Hamas compound underneath UNRWA's main headquarters in Gaza, and finding proof that UNRWA were supplying the compound with electricity and internet services, supply which allowed Hamas to develop their intelligence, used during the Hamas massacre among other things. When Israel published the finding of the compound, the head of UNRWA claimed they found nothing up until October, and weren't able to check anything since. Israel responded by pointing out that a compound so developed most likely took no less than ten years to dig and build, and that UNRWA was repeatedly told that Hamas is operating under its headquarters, but chose to ignore this. What I think is most telling is a tour taken by an Israeli journalist in the compound, where they showed him that the server farm in the Hamas compound is found directly under the server farm of UNRWA, and that cables from the latter were running down into the terror tunnel compound directly beneath it (source in Hebrew, here's a vid in English giving viewers a tour of the compound, I'll attach the vid itself below, too). Something like that doesn't happen by coincidence, and without the knowledge of those in the server farm above groud. Some of the cables were also cut in the UNRWA server farm, like someone realized the IDF was coming, and tried to hide the link between the two server farms. As one officer pointed out, if you're an innoncent, interenational humanitarian aid organization, you have no reason to cut the cables of your own server farm, or remove the name tags from the doors of the rooms inside your headquarters. You only do that if you have something to hide.

Israel's army has been fighting Hamas in all of Gaza, except the southern city of Rafiach (Rafah in English). There are a lot of Gazans there, who have been evacuated from other zones. There's also 4 Hamas regiments there, which means Israel will have no choice but to fight there. So the only question is how to fight in that city, in order to minimize the harm to the civilian population. There are reports that Israel's Prime Minister has asked the IDF to present plans both on how to fight Hamas in Rafah, and how to evacuate the civilians.

In that context, I got to hear a radio interview with an Israeli minister, who used to be the head of Shabak (Israel's equivalent of the FBI). When asked about the US warning for Israel not to fight in Rafah during the upcoming month of Ramadan, Avi Dichter said that it has never been a month during which Muslims have not fought in wars. In fact, in 1973 the Egyptians and Syrians (with soldiers from even more Arab countries fighting alongside them) chose to attack Israel on Oct 6, despite Ramadan that year starting on Oct 4, causing the war to be known in the Arab world as "The Ramadan War." More than that, in Israel Ramadan is always a time of peak alert, because so many terrorist attacks are carried out during it (here's an example from Mar 2023, when Hamas was encouraging individuals to carry out terrorist attacks during Ramadan, and here's another from 2022). Dichter suggested that if Muslims can carry out terrorist attacks during Ramadan (and it has happened outside Israel, too), the war in Gaza which was started by Hamas can continue during it.

On an Israeli TV news panel, someone shared the estimate that over 100,000,000 dollars (one hundred million dollars!) is the sum of money that Hamas made just since the start of the war from selling to the civilian population the humanitarian aid that was allowed into Gaza, and which Hamas stole from the Gazans (more than once, by using violence).

This is Chagit Rein.

She lost her son Benaya in the Second Lebanon War, back in 2006. I got to hear an interview with her following the fact that during this war, she decided she would try to visit the shiva (the mourning week following a burial) of every fallen soldier. According to her, she has so far visited the families of 400 soldiers killed on Oct 7 or since. "If they see me, then it's living proof that there can be a life alongside the loss. That was our kids' last will and testament. They died so we could live. So we have to live." When asked what she's asked most often when she visits the families, she said it was what she did first after her son's shiva. "My other son was being drafted into the army, so the first thing I did was to accompany him in that." She was asked whether there were moments when she was overwhelmed herself. She replied that she's seen wounded soldiers making incredible effortrs to come to the shiva of others who were killed, to offer their families some comfort. In one case, an injured soldier recognized her, and told her that it was thanks to her son Benaya that he was an officer in the armored forced. He tried to hug her, but was at first unable to get up or reach her from the stretcher he was on. Chagit recounted that she tries to make sure her visits would be about the families she's conmforting, not about herself, but that's when she broke down and cried.

This is Doctor Elai Chogeg-Golan with her husband Ariel and their baby daughter, Yael. On the right, their house in kibbutz Kfar Azza.

On Oct 7, due to Hamas' massive rocket attack, Elai was inside the bomb shelter in her home with her family from 6:30 in the morning, when Gazan civilians got in at around 1 in the afternoon. The Gazans tried to get the family to come out, but it wouldn't. Then, those invaders set the house on fire, probably thinking that would force the family out. Instead, Elai and the family tried to keep themselves safe using water. At some point, she recounts they even fought face to face with the Gazans, who tried to beat them with sticks from the outside. She said she managed to grab a stick, and beat them back. These Gazans then threw in two gas balloons into the burning house. Elai says that most of the burns she sustained were from the fire ball that that created. At some point, the Gazans moved on, and that's when the family got out, because the whole place was on fire, they were choking from the smoke, and even the roof collapsed. They hid nearby, but then baby Yael lost consciousness, and the parents decided to try and get out of the kibbutz. At the entrance, they met soldiers who helped get them to a hospital. Elai had severe burns on over 60% of her body. She was in a coma for 53 days, but incredibly, they all survived.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[mockerycrow]

SAFETY (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz photo is by the wonderful @yumethefrostypanda

summary; you went out by yourself whilst gaz is home, and you aren’t answering your phone.

roommate!gaz masterlist

[WARNINGS; slight angst, vague description of deaths, paranoid militaristic thinking, anxiety, gaz is just anxious </3]

KYLE COULD not get himself to calm down. He swears in the back of his mind that his feet are burning holes into the wooden floor of your shared apartment as he paces back and forth in the living room, even circling around the couch a couple of times. There’s horrible worry eating away at his gut, tearing through his stomach like a lawn mower cuts through grass. Kyle isn’t.. used to being anxious like this. He’s used to being on edge, alert; ready for the next attack or target to appear. Kyle’s used to waiting around, but not like this at all. Kyle’s used to be waiting in thick bushes, laying down in his ghillie suit with his Captain by his side, waiting for a convoy to ride down a road he’s looking at through his sniper’s scope. He isn’t used to waiting at home with zero contact with you, waiting for you to get home.

He felt unbelievably useless because he’s texted you multiple times, called you—neither of them went through, meaning something is wrong with your phone. Are you okay? Are you hurt? You insisted on taking a walk which he didn’t want to go on, so did you get hit by a car? Did you get kidnapped? Kyle groans and he rubs his face, lightly slapping his cheeks in an attempt to get his bearings. “They’re fine, you git.” He whispers to himself, even though he doesn’t believe what he’s trying to tell himself. There’s so many damn possibilities that could be wrong that Kyle can’t help but torture himself with. Kyle sits down on the couch for a moment, his fingers resting on his thighs and taps against them, muttering that you’re fine a couple of times. 

Kyle grabs the TV remote from the table in front of the couch and he tries to lean back to relax. He doesn’t stop his leg from bouncing as he switches the TV on, and he knows he shouldn’t watch the news, it’ll make it worse; but he can’t help it. Kyle goes to switch to the news but he pauses—what if there was a terrorist attack and you’re there? What if there was a bomb, and you’re trapped under rubble, just like what happened in—

The front door opens and Kyle whips his head around to look, holding his breath. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you shuffle inside, grumbling as you’re holding a closed, but wet red umbrella. “Bloody hell.” Kyle curses as he gets up from the couch, and he begins to approach you. “The fuckin’ rain is terrible,” You begin to ramble, unzipping your rain coat that Kyle bought for you last year. You’re looking down at your soaked pants and shoes, and luckily you’re standing on top of a mat you had half a mind to buy before the rainy season began. “My goddamn pho—”

Kyle wraps his arms around you, ignoring the way the water on your coat soaks into the gray long sleeved shirt he’s wearing. “You’re a fuckin’ arse.” Kyle grumbles loudly, the anxiety finally settling in his gut, his mind no longer shouting at him the warning signs. You huff, your hands trying to pry Kyle’s from your body. “I—Huh? I didn’t do anything, Kyle, you’re getting wet—“ You insist, but Kyle’s grip doesn’t budge. “I don’t give a fuck,” He says, tightening his arms. You sigh, your eyebrows furrowing in worry. “What’s happened?”

Kyle doesn’t respond for a moment; he knows it’s illogical. He knows it’s because he only came home from deployment about two days ago—where the mission was grueling mentally and physically. Kyle knows it’s because he watched a building collapse with the knowledge people were inside, civilians. You’re a civilian, and he’s terrified something will happen to you. He knows his fears are just agitated because he hasn’t calmed down from everything that had happened; so he doesn’t want to share—

You managed to squirm your arms from under his and your hands grab his head, forcing it back and then forward to make him look at you, causing him to blink rapidly. “Hey,” You utter. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle presses his lips together as he reluctantly lets go of you, but he doesn’t ignore the way your hands stay on him, drifting from his head to his shoulder; likely to keep him grounded. “You didn’t answer your phone.” Kyle breathes out, his eyes scanning yours. You blink and his stomach twists a bit at the way you laugh. “Oh, sorry, Kyle. It was raining, and some fucking asshole splashed me.” You respond, fishing your damp phone out of your pocket. “Phone’s dead forever.” His eyes flicker to your phone and he feels so unbelievably stupid. How the fuck did he think of you dying from a bomb before some other mishap with your phone?

Kyle groans and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands as he curses under his breath, embarrassment flowing through his veins. At least you’re alright, that’s what matters.

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

Chapter 15 – Part 1 

Life Goes On - 1

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)  

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?  

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist  

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor  

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson  

Most characters belong to Choices- Pixelberry Studios  

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, terrorist/gun violence 

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading. 

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement  

Chapter Summary – It’s graduation night for Maxwell and during the evening, the venue is attacked by the “Sons of Earth”, an anti-monarchist terror group. After being alerted, Liam rushes home to Cordonia from an Italian political summit. 

Music & Title Inspiration: Life Goes On, Ed Sheeran, Luke Combs 

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.  

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.  

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue for this chapter.  

Main Auditorium, University of Cordonia, Capital  

11:15 p.m. 

Sophie's POV 

It's dark now. The air around me is thick and stings the back of my throat. The sound of fireworks rings in my ears. There's an awful taste in my mouth. Something cold and metallic. It's blood. Where it's coming from, though, I'm not sure. The smell of it hits my senses in full and makes me feel woozy, as if I'm drunk. 

At first there are just shrieks of confusion, and the smell of gunpowder in the air. As it settles though, I realize that one of the sharp sounds is a scream. 

Then, out of nowhere, someone runs past. Another joins them, and then more and more people seem to flood the room. They're rushing in from what was, minutes earlier, the exit; and now it feels like a long and twisted nightmare. 

I see the figure of a man, dressed in black standing in front of me, frozen in place, as if there was a weapon pointed at him. "Watch the front", I shout, and dropped down to the floor, pulling Tom and Candy down with me. 

"Sophie---" Before Candy and Tom could react, there was a loud bang and a champagne tower behind us exploded, shattering glass and spraying champagne everywhere.  

Sophie had closed her eyes instinctively, and when she opened them, she saw Candy looking at her gratefully. 

"Thank you, Sophie." Tears welled in her eyes. 

"Don't give up. We'll get out of here." Sophie comforted them and that seemed to cheer herself up, as well. She whispered Liam's name in her mind, as if that would give her more strength. 

Finally, after a difficult trek, and not meeting those men in black again, they came to the emergency exit. Sophie pushed the door open forcefully; a breath of fresh air ...the smell of freedom greeted them. 

"We're out at last!" Candy cried, her tears falling. 

"Quick, get out of here; as far away as you can." Sophie urged them. Around her, other students and guests screamed in panic and stumbled away. Some were covered in blood, others were unable to walk, some supported by peers or carried on their backs. 

They saw the flashing lights and sounds of ambulances and police cars in the distance, and Sophie quickened her pace, almost with all her strength, and led them toward the light. 

Police cars and ambulances roared in as police with security forces moved in quickly to evacuate people while paramedics treated the injured. 

Sophie, Candy and Tom were quickly met by paramedics for aid and assessment. In the ambulance, nurses performed a simple dressing for the cut on Sophie's face and assessed the bruising that was starting to appear. Meanwhile, Candy and Tom lay on stretchers being taken care of by doctors. 

"How are you? Feel all right?" Sophie asked her friend anxiously. 

Candy managed to smile, though her body was still shaking slightly from the shock of the pain. "I'm fine -- just my arm still hurts and I'm a little dizzy." 

"...Tom ... how is Tom?" Sophie watched as Candy struggled to sit up, but she was soon stopped by the nurse who bandaged her. Tom looked pale and clenched his teeth, trying to bear the pain in his shoulder. 

He nodded hard. "I'm okay --Candy ... sweetheart. Just ... I hope my shoulder doesn't get damaged later." 

Sophie gently held the hands of the two friends, with a little comfort and positivity in her heart, "You both will be all right, and soon we will be sent to the hospital." She whispered to them. 

A few moments passed and the doctor's voice came from the front of the ambulance, "Sorry, you need to get off, miss. We have limited space and must give priority to getting more seriously injured people to hospital." 

Sophie nodded, and though she did not want to, she knew it was necessary. She gave her friends a meaningful look and then said firmly, "you must hold on. I'll be waiting for you." 

With that, Sophie is led out by another doctor and watched the ambulance drive away with Candy and Tom. Looking around the parking lot, she noticed that Maxwell and Daniel were nowhere to be found, having been separated from her during the escape. She turned her eyes to the crowd around her and searched, trying to find Maxwell and Daniel among them. 

Her heart was filled with deep anxiety and worry, as she silently prayed that Candy and Tom, and Maxwell and Daniel, would be safe. Other ambulances around her were open, and she saw medical staff treating the injured students and guests in a tense and orderly manner. Many of the students were injured and their bodies and clothing were covered with blood. Some were clutching their wounds while others crouched on the ground, their expressions contorted with pain. Some persevered through gritted teeth, though their faces were pale. Others cried out in pain, their voices filled with fear and despair; several others had lost consciousness and had been carried out by their companions, lying motionless on stretchers, lifeless in the crowd. However, she still could not find Maxwell and Daniel. 

Italian Parliament, Rome

Liam's POV: 

Bastien stood in the lobby with his hands clasped behind his back. He lifted his head when he heard my footsteps, "Your Highness," He nodded politely. After intense all-day meetings, I was looking forward to the dinner invitation at the home of an Italian statesman and his wife. Francesco di Pietro was married to a Cordonian noble; a friend of my late mother. 

"So," Liam began, walking at a quick pace, side-by-side with Bastien, "Did you track her location?" 

"Unfortunately, not, sir. It looks like either she didn't have her phone with her, or she switched it off." 

"Okay." Liam exhaled deeply. His heart fell, wondering why she did not answer his calls and messages. "Well, please keep trying. Let me know immediately when you are successful." 

"Understood, sir." 

As he exited the building, Liam spotted Rashad on the corner, talking with the limo driver and Rashad’s assistant. 

He caught sight of Liam as the staff and the driver bid goodbye. Rashad turned to the crown prince and clapped him on the back as they walked together. 

"Let me say again that it was a job well done, Li. The outcome of your meetings was exactly what we hoped. The Prime Minister himself will present the results in Parliament later this week." 

"Excellent," Liam replied, his mind clearly elsewhere. 

The pair rode together in the limousine, this time on their way to the reception. Rashad relaxed into the soft leather seats. He examined Liam and could sense his distraction. "You look agitated, Li." 

Liam's eyes refocused. He turned towards Rashad and exhaled. "There is something I wish to discuss with you." 

The atmosphere in the vehicle at once turned somber. Rashad's voice was steady. "Alright." 

"I need a financial audit completed of the duchy of Krona." 

Rashad pursed his lips thoughtfully. He reached into his breast pocket and produced a mobile phone. His long fingers rapidly punched numbers, and within seconds he spoke clearly. 

"Good evening. We need a financial audit conducted at the earliest. I will send you the details via e-mail later this evening. This is confidential." 

Liam settled into his seat, as Rashad confirmed an appointment for himself with the inspector general the next morning. As he rang off and returned his phone to his breast pocket, Rashad looked at Liam, "Consider it done ... can I ask if there is something in particular that you are looking for?" 

"Let's just say, I have a hunch."   

Arriving at the residence of Signore and Signorina di Pietro. Bastien opened the limo door and let the men out at the main entrance. The ambassador's residence was a grand marble palazzo surrounded by elegant greenery and flowers in the style of the gardens of Versailles. The Italian marble entrance was brightly lit, showing the rich texture of the red, white and pink-hued material. 

They were ushered inside and offered cocktails, as Francesco and his wife, Isobella, greeted them in the foyer. 

The meal was exquisite; the chef served them an amorous appetizer, risotto ai frutti demare, a seafood risotto, before serving the main course, porcini mushroom filled chicken in a truffle glaze, paired with a delicious wine from the estate’s winery. 

Even though it was exquisite and luxurious, it could not help Liam through his restless state of mind. He listened politely as Francesco’s wife, Isobella, told stories that involved her experiences with his mother and Cordonia. 

Francesco turned and raised a toast. "To Cordonia and our rich future of diplomatic and financial cooperation. May our new alliance continue to blossom, 'come un fiore al sole'." (Like a flower in the sun.) 

Liam responded graciously. "Grazie, and saluti." [thank you, cheers] 

Isobella held out her hand and her daughter, Carmella, placed it in her mother's. Carmella walked with a poised, graceful step towards Liam, her dark hair styled in a braided crown. She had almond-shaped brown eyes that gazed at him demurely. 

As she drew closer, Liam could make out her petite stature, a slim yet feminine figure underneath her blush-toned gown. 

"Buonasera, Vostra Altezza,” [Good evening, Your Highness}, she softly spoke, dropping down into a graceful curtsy. Liam nodded at her in greeting. “Buonasera Carmella, e un piacere incontrarti.” (Good evening, Carmella, it is lovely to meet you). 

Francesco addressed Liam warmly. “Forgive her timidity, Your Highness, she's not yet used to entertaining royalty." 

Liam flashed his charming faux smile and glanced at the beautiful girl before him. "The pleasure is mine." He bowed and nodded. 

Carmella flashed a coy smile and batted her eyes coquettishly. Her flirtations were unsuccessful, though. Liam politely kept his distance and turned his attention back to her parents. Francesco openly showed disappointment with Liam’s response to his daughter, “È adorabile, vero? Liam..”. [She is lovely, no? Liam...] 

"Oh my, have a look," Carmella announced loudly, interrupting her father. A look of horror dawned on her face as she motioned towards a mounted flat screen in the adjacent family room. 

Liam turned his attention to the breaking news to watch the images on the television screen, as reporters recounted in rapid-fire Italian, the events of a shooting incident at the University of Cordonia. Liam's mouth went dry, a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he heard the beating of his heart pounding in his ears.  

"Sparatoria di massa alla laurea dell'Università di Cordonia, numerose vittime." [“Mass shooting at Cordonia University graduation, multiple casualties.”] 

Liam gritted his teeth. The news video is shocking: the chaos, the panicked crowds, the victims.... Anger and grief mangled in his heart, and he felt overwhelming fury at this indiscriminately violent attack. 

He continued to listen, his heart stung by the reporter's words - “according to witnesses, there are student casualties at the scene.” Liam's mind flashed to Sophie's image as he absorbed this information. 

Liam was glued to the screen, looking for any clues that could relate to Sophie. But the reporter did not mention the names of specific victims. Nevertheless, his anxiety and worry had reached the climax. He knew that Sophie was not only someone he loved, but one of the people he cared about most in the world. If something should happen to her ... he dared not think further 

Rashad clapped him on the back gently, whispering "let's go, Li. Come on." 

Liam murmured a rushed farewell and left the room, his face flushed with anxiety. His hands were clenched into fists, his veins bulging revealing his inner struggle and determination. He must return to Sophie as soon as possible to ensure her safety and as Crown Prince he must personally deal with the vicious incident that has shocked the nation. 

Outside the estate, Bastien rushed to the door to meet Liam, who rushed into the limo and commanded calmly and firmly. 

"Prepare the jet." 

Within moments, the black limo was rushing through the streets to the private jet waiting for them at the airport. Liam knows that, as Crown Prince, he must remain unflappable and rational. But at the moment, he is just a man who loves Sophie deeply and cannot contain his deep concern for her welfare. 

 On the way to the airport Liam closes his eyes and contemplates, but his mind is in turmoil. He can't forget the shocking images in the news, the helplessness and despair of the victims. At the same time, every moment he spent with Sophie came back to him; those sweet, happy and romantic memories. He vowed himself that he must bring justice to the victims of the shooting and bring the perpetrators to justice; at the same time, he must find Sophie and protect her from all harm, no matter what the difficulties. 

Within moments, the black limo was rushing through the streets to the private jet waiting for them at the airport. 

Aboard the jet, Liam impatiently paced the floor, his thoughts racing and his heart thudding wildly in his chest. It was not long before Bastien came through the hatch with a folder in his hand. 

"I have the cell tower records for the past 12 hours. Lady Sophia’s mobile last pinged at 8:32 p.m. with no further activity since.  We also pinged it before the attack and after and checked the towers; it has yet to send out another signal" 

 Rashad watched Liam’s face pale. The evidence strongly suggested that Sophie is, as at that moment, missing. 

His heart was beating at the speed of a thousand miles per hour, the hairs on his nape rising, his chest tightened. 

"We just need to trust that they are alright," Rashad insisted as he looked through his tablet, his hands shaking as he stared at the horrific photos that appeared on social media, of the aftermath of the campus violence. He swore under his breath in French, wishing they would provide more updates on the situation. 

He handed Liam his device, nervously watching Liam’s reaction, his heart pounding wildly. 

"One of my informants gave me this footage before we left the statesmen’s home. I think you need to take a look." 

Liam watched the blurry security camera footage as dozens of masked figures, bearing firearms, stood just outside the building that was clearly recognizable as the auditorium where the graduation ceremony took place earlier this evening, as they lined up several of their colleagues the unmistakable emblem displayed, 'The Sons of Earth'. 

After receiving Bastian's firm and urgent phone call, Drake rushed into the airport his eyes quickly scanning Bastien’s solemn face. “Get on the plane, we don't have time,” Bastien ordered curtly and forcefully. 

Drake nodded and stepped quickly into the cabin without question. His eyes at once caught Liam in the front row. Drake walked quickly toward Liam, filled with concern and sympathy. He slowly sat down across from Liam, trying to control his emotions so as not to disturb his friend's heavy mood. 

“Liam, I just heard that Sophie and Maxwell ... This is so sudden, are you okay?” 

Liam looked up at Drake, slightly tired, but then turned firm again. “Not very well, but I have to stay calm. Sophie and Maxwell are in danger. I must find them and make sure they are safe.” 

His tone was tight, but every word betrayed a firm determination. 

Bastien stood to the side silently observing the interaction between the two men. 

“Your highness, we have done everything possible to ensure a smooth flight and the most important thing now is to get to Cordonia as soon as possible to understand the actual situation.” 

His words were short and powerful, adding a touch of confidence to the dreary atmosphere. 

Drake nodded and looked out the window at the receding ground, silently praying for Sophie and Maxwell.  

“We are all here for you, Liam. Sophie and Max are strong, and they will be fine.”  

He tries to comfort Liam with his words, even though he knows what this sudden disaster means. Looking at his best friend, Liam's expression remained unreadable. 

The jet started to move as it began to taxi away from the parking bay. As the plane accelerated down the runway, it soared into the air with a roar, piercing the thick clouds and soaring into the sky. 

Coming soon, part 2.

A/N4: This chapter had a mind of its own🫢, and is long ...so I broke it into 2 parts🫣. It's already written and will post in a few days...

Thanks for reading ❣️

@choicesficwriterscreations

@selina012

📌tags in the comments, please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[evermoredeluxe]

If there's anything recent events have shown me, it's that a large percent of this fandom doesn't perceive her as an actual human being. From the Vienna thing to demanding Rep TV to be released, she always has to be "doing something" to be enough, and spoiler alert: if everything she's been doing isn't already good enough for them, it's never going to be. I just don't understand the kind of entitlement you'd have to demand an artist to openly speak about a planned terrorist attack while they're still actively on that very tour or begging for a new album literally 4 months after a double drop (which is technically 2 or even 3 albums by regular artist's standard) and a 3.5-hour world tour which she's been going for nearly 2 years.

I also wish more people would give her not only the benefit of the doubt that her silence is out of necessity and not a lack of care (literally so, so stupid?), but also the empathy that she herself was also a victim in this whole thing. Vienna fans, as disappointed as it must've been (and I'm not trying to make light of their pain), get to go home and be safe. She and everyone on the tour have to keep doing their job while still being extremely conscious of the possible threats. It's insane to me that she literally has to spell out that "Your need for acknowledgment and social media activism is not more important than my and my employees along with half a million people's safety".

it’s been like this for a couple years! i remember when the anti-hero mv came out and she literally had to change a scene because fans made her feel that struggles are traumatic for them. and of course i understand triggers, but you can’t demand that a person not talk about their experience for you, and not to mention a lot of it was just a bandwagon. all of this was so ironic because she literally posted a video saying that she doesn’t feel like a real human being.

and just little instances like this make me feel so upset because why are you not able to empathize with a person you supposedly love?

also, your second paragraph hit the nail on the head. i have never once questioned her dedication to fans. people love to treat her like she’s dumb, but more often than not, the reality is that she knows better because she’s the one who sees all the threats and potential dangers, not us. she is the one in-charge and she knows that it comes with immense responsibility. so idk lets trust her.

[mr2swap]

The incident: This man is my son

- Nate What the hell are you doing? -From falling my Briefcase to the ground while The funny creature that was in my new armchair began to bark without moving from its comfortable place in the muscular arms of my little son Nate, the long and smelly feet of my son stank the entire room with the musky odor of the sweat from his feet.

- Isn't it great dad? her name is Zoey, Mom and I rescued her on the way home, and don't worry about taking her for a walk I'm going to start jogging in the mornings before I go to school, and I'll pick up everything I do in the garden and I'm going to…- I made a hand gesture for her to stop and immediately there was silence, with the same hand I rubbed my hundred to try to alleviate the migraine that was beginning to attack me -Just... it's fine just don't put her on the sofa and clean what she does- I continued on my way towards the kitchen while Nate smiled at me with those lips hidden in a beard recently shaved by my wife Naina, in a second Nate wrapped his long arms around the dog and lowered her to the ground.

-And don't put your feet up on the table! - I yelled before entering the kitchen, once again Zoey the new member of the family barked at me and stayed while she and my huge and noisy son stayed in the living room, as soon as I entered the kitchen I almost tripped over one of my son's toys, put away the little red tricycle with a soft kick that my son usually plays with after coming home from the gym, maybe I should buy him a bike before he breaks it with his new weight of 265 pounds and his height of 6.5 feet tall but I should teach him how to drive it first just like I taught him how to shave.

The government psychologist assured me that it was only a matter of time before me to get used to my new son and his new body, but for me, it is still embarrassing to have to explain to the neighbors that the manly, muscular, shirtless white man who is playing basketball in our front yard is actually my little son Nate.

I couldn't do anything but get used to having another "man" at home, the government is trying to reverse the random exchanges but the terrorists altered the gas so that the effects would be indefinite, maybe forever, I went to the stove to prepare a chamomile tea, while I waited for the sound of the kettle to alert me, I tried to remember my life before that stupid accident in the subway.

Before Nate was the huge 6.5 feet tall hairy gorilla sitting in my living room he was an ordinary kid coming home to his grandfather from elementary school, the same way thousands of people inhaled the gas that a group of terrorists had stolen from a Swap Corp truck and when they woke up they found themselves trapped in the body of some stranger next to them!

The incident destroyed many lives and separated many families But Nate doesn't seem upset with his new body I don't think I've ever seen him smile so much now that he's a 33-year-old man, He doesn't have to go to school so while I and his mom are working he spends his mornings at the gym or playing video games but he still visits his old friends from elementary school to beat them at basketball and tell them all about his new life as a white man.

Of course, my father was also affected by the body-swapping gas, and right now he is spending his retirement money on his vacation in South Korea Before he left he said something about connecting with his new culture and his new age.

He was really lucky to end up in the body of “Yoon” a 25-year-old Korean man who was just at the station to take a couple of photos for his Instagram, at first Grandpa was puzzled by his adorable face and body. of a Greek god but now from all the pictures on the beach and in clubs on the other side of the world, it seems that he is having fun with his second chance. I can't say the same for the real Yoon, The term in my father's fat and old African-American body, and is living in a government asylum for people affected by the incident that's another story...

Hey folks! if you like bodyswap stories take a look at my patreon, I have a lot of more stories, and you can help me keep creating more stories!

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

Dear anti Zionists

I will try and make this brief and to the point since you often attack me without reading the entirety of my posts :

I’ve seen your recent posts about the trials in Haag, and the mockery you’ve made of the events of October 7th. That’s just disgusting. Freeing Palestine has nothing to do murdering Israeli civilians.

- This war was initiated by Hamas , a terrorist organisation on October 7th.

- You cannot deny that they invaded Israel and then massacred thousands of civilans , raped and mutilated women and children, kidnapped civilians , shot thousands of rockets, destroyed homes ….

There are currently 136 Israeli hostages still held in captivity, for almost 100 days. They’re held in underground tunnels and being withheld medical care and medications. The women are raped and the man tortured.

There are currently also hundreds of thousands of Israelis displaced from their homes due to the war.

-I will say it again: Literally every war or operation in Israel’s history was not initiated by Israel. It is always a matter of retaliation to foreign military invasion or terror attacks .

I’m only 22 and I have personally lived through one intifada, 4 wars and countless military operations.

We are all suffering because of Hamas. Once again- my city is often under attack and people I know are dead. And some of you here have absolute nerve to say that I’m privileged????

-Intifadas aren’t cute civilian uprisings. They’re violent terror attacks against civilians. Children’s Buses blowing up, restaurants blown up, shootings, stabbings, running over people…

read a damn book or something before you chant “Globalise the Intifadas🥹”.

-Have any of you here ever spoken to a Palestinian or an Israeli in your life? Do you even know anyone Jewish?

- Please give me actual example of the apartheid in Israel, I’m waiting. My Druze / Arabic colleagues , friends and I literally frequently joke about this claim.

-No, blockades between the West Bank/Gaza and Israel do not count.

There are ISIS affiliated/ Hamas terrorists in the West Bank and Gaza, territories that are not governed by Israel > there are borders check point. Israel has the right to defend itself against terror.

-by the way, Jordan and Egypt both have those blockades btw- I don’t see any of you attacking them? The hypocrisy…

- While I am not questioning the death and suffering of Palestinians , this has to be said:

The amount of Palestinian casualties during the Hamas-Israel war is estimated by unconfirmed sources , and isn’t corroborated by any neutral official organisation.

It was also proven that most of the casualties are terrorists.

The Gaza ministry of health= Hamas .

Al Jazeera= not credible &has been time and time again proved to be biased and anti-Semitic.

Furthermore, It’s been proven time and time again that Hamas terrorists work at UWNRA, and that Palestinian reporters in both Al Jazeera and western media outlets are in fact Hamas members/ supporters.

One of them literally joined the Al Qasam forces in their attack on October 7th, and was reporting rather enthusiastically on the murder of Israeli civilians. As the massacre continued around them.

You would rather believe terrorists & terrorists sympathisers than Jewish/ Israeli victims’ testimonies and the concrete evidence they provide.

-It seems like you’re ignoring what Gazans are saying in your attempts to “free Palestine”.

If Gazans themselves are saying Hamas are to blame for their terrible living conditions and war , why are you defending Hamas?

Why are you assuming that you know better than the people who are actually living this conflict?

-The IDF has been trying every tactic under the sun to alert civilians from incoming strikes. There are whole unites devoted to texting calling Gazan civilians. They have made millions of calls this war alone.

And yes, even the infamous flyers you joke about are used.

Do you know any other army that does that?

God I am so tired of the misinformation, lies and hatred here. So many of you are showing your true colours- ignorance and antisemitism.

[justatalkingface]

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Five (Chapters 22-44): The Mandatory Exploitive Tournament Arc

Been awhile, huh? Let's see if I can still pull this off. I'm warning you, this is probably going to have a bit of heft to it.

We start off people trying (and failing) to investigate Shigarki and the Villains and, first off, a couple of things. The whole, 'Quirk Registry' shit? Very X-Men. I'm... kinda mixed feelings on it. It makes sense for a government to try and keep track of this kind of shit, but at the same time it feels like a whole lot, you know? That said... the way the guy in the suit phrased it makes it seem like they only searched for 'Shigaraki/Disintegration' and 'Kurogiri/OP warping' pairings, which seems... dumb. Like, really dumb.

Are they.... are they not going to search for anyone with a similar Quirk? Because it sounds like there are other people with similar Quirks, so... what about them? Oh, this pale haired guy who mutters a lot about how horrible heroes are isn't named Shigaraki, so clearly this isn't the guy? Do some ground work or something, man, bloody hell.

*spits out drink*

Even All-Might thinks Shigaraki is a man-child, lol. Brutal. That said... Vlad goes, 'You mean he's just like a kid with a 'power' or something?!'

And I. My dude. You're just some guy with a power. It feels like some depersonalization of the 'villains' because, yeah, everyone in this story is, in fact, just some rando human, 99.9% of the time with super powers. I don't know, it just feels like that's this really concerning perspective for someone in authority to have.

'I keep forgetting this is an actual school!'

That. That's... actually really concerning? Everyone, literally everyone, from Aizawa, to the students, to the actual author, can't seem to figure out if UA is some military academy meant to pump out child soldiers, or an actual high school meant to prepare children to go into society. And not to belabor the point here, one I've talking about on and off again for awhile, but that's fucked up.

I can't help but get the impression that UA (and presumably every other hero academy) is some military complex, setting up the students to live a life where the only way they know how to live is through violence and trying to be famous, but it's just... pretending to have standards, pretending to care for the kids as anything more than the next generation of... idol-police, or something. The way every school related thing is so out of place, the way their grades are so unimportant... it's very telling.

And like. It's not a bad thing, per say. Morally bad, sure, but from a story telling perspective? For a story like this, the way the heroic's school is morally dubious is actually a really good plot point to work off of. But... that's the problem. It never happens.

If the setting was fucked up enough, it'd be understandable if it wasn't explored, but it's not. I feel like there's some fertile ground to talk about... how heroes don't know how to handle living normal lives. How to cook, clean, do taxes, hIstory (which is, of course, very loaded sort of topic in a more dystopian kind of a set up) and so on. There's no way they have the time and energy to do all the thing a normal kid should do at their age, and as they grow up, and get these dangerous, fucked up jobs? There has to be consequences to that.

And the next line later, they bring up, you know, a bunch of terrorists just attacked the school. Which is, in fact, a serious fucking concern! What does Aizawa say?

'No no, we're only doing because we're so sure we have this shit locked down.'

Spoiler alert: They did not, in fact, have this shit locked down. In the least.

My god, this is so fucked up. It's pretty clear that the fact this is still happening is because UA, and heroics as a whole, honestly, is doing a show of force to try and make all the bad things go away. In all honesty, they're putting these kids lives at risk; the only reason nothing went wrong isn't because 'the school had all its ducks in a row when it comes to crisis control' or what the fuck ever, but because AFO didn't want to do anything. And you know why he doesn't interfere?

Because it's so damn useful for him that they flat out broadcast the details of the students and what their Quirks are!

And don't even get me started on this 'Olympics have fallen out of favor' bullshit. It's a world wide event, and it doesn't matter if the population has... shrunk (? That's what my translation says, anyways. Is this honestly saying that so many people died that the Olympics no longer holds any attraction? I mean.. what? What the fuck? What happened???? Why in the hell is this getting brushed over?! Or is that just a bad translation, and if so what is he saying is the reason the Olympics no longer have any appeal?) or whatever, because that's just... bullshit. That's just bullshit. If super powers happen, and they get at all stabilized and regulated like they are in here, all that's going to happen is that the powers are going to be part of the Olympics, and a lower population count really isn't going to change the fundamental reasons why it's popular in the first place.

Speedster racing, various forms of competitive flying (racing (in all its variations), acrobatics, mid-air dancing, synchronized flying.... flight along has dozens of potential new Olympics sports, easy), something like shot-put hurling but with some kind of projectiles, fire, lasers, whatever? Oh yeah, the Olympics are going to be just fine.

So please, Hori, spare me your obsessive need to make heroics the most important thing EVAH all of the time.

But, wait, there's more! It's not just, the new super Olympics, oh no, this is for their careers. In high school. This is, apparenlty, a make or break moment for the rest of their lives (again, with however that undefined heroics ranking and what not works). How old are they? What, fifteen? 'Here, go do bloodsports, and if you fuck up, you're going to be a menial, loser fry-cook of a wannabe police officer, dressed in brightly colored spandex for the rest of your life, barely making any money, and never getting any real respect or validation for putting your life at risk'.

Oh, I have opinions on the Sports Festival, believe me, I have a lot of opinions, but I'd like to save at least some of these more for when the actual Sports Festival starts, and not, like, five pages into the first chapter out of what, twenty two? We've got the time.

Uraraka! You're an actual character! My, this is nostalgic. I always loved the contrast between her hyper cute-zied design of her and the fact she's down to beat the living shit out of someone at the drop of a hat, and it's nice to have that again.

(Also, she's showing more ability to inspire the class here than Bakugou has shown literally the entire series, no matter how much Hori goes on about his 'charisma' or whatever.)

And then we get into her "impure" motivations to be a hero, (which I've also talked about on occasion), and it's very humanizing, both for Uraraka as a character, and the industry as a whole. It's one of those great set ups Hori ended up dropping on world building, which sucks because it'd be so interesting if he got into the nuts and bolts of the world a bit. I'm not saying we need to see the tax code or anything, but for a series that's about corruption and what not, some more detail would really help pull all of this together.

Ah, Dumb Might. I didn't miss you, except I kind of did because Dumb Might is still better than Useless-Side-Character Might.

Also, can I talk about how stupid it is that Dumb Might is burning his less than an hour's worth of time 'teaching' students again? Because holy fuck that's such a waste it's honestly criminal.

And what the hell is this switch in motivations, here? All Might never mentioned, you know, replacing him is the Symbol of Peace before now. Before this point, the whole reason he chose Izuku is that he'd be worthy user of his power, not, what, replacing him. If Izuku never gained any real fame, but still managed to save a lot of people? Before-this-point All Might would have been fine with that. More than that, he would have been proud of it, proud his successor was humble and chose to focus on doing good rather than fame. Hell, not too long ago it was pointing out by All Might that Izuku wouldn't want to use All Might's fame to benefit himself, to go slow and steady and earn his success rather than relying on fame.

Where the fuck did this come from? What the fuck kind of pressure is he trying to put on this kid?

And then right after that, we see flashes of who All Might used to be with the whole 'don't forget how you felt at the seaside park, that day', bit. Because, like, that's good. That's great! It's real, and deep, and gritty, and I'd love it if it wasn't being use with this set up, because those expectations work in other shonens, but they don't work here. Izuku can't do what All Might did, because he can't stop damn hurting himself. Going Plus Ultra, here, now, for this? It could cause real, serious harm to him for the rest of his life! And for what? To make a good impression?

And if something would call him on that, it could still work, because All Might is canonly shit at taking care of himself, that could, like, close the circle for all of this, bring it together with the two them as shit at at self care as a place to build them improving off of, but for whatever reason, Hori never went all the way on that because he was too damn afraid to commit to it, commit to a story, commit to a theme, commit to a moral.

...Holy shit, how many pages is this? We haven't even gotten to actual Sports Festival yet in the post about the damn Sports Festival.

And now we have this creepy, kind of morbid mob of people filling the hallway to stare at Class 1-A for.... being attacked by terrorists.

*what the fuck.jpeg*

What is wrong with you people?! What the actual hell is wrong with you???

And then Shinso rolls up:

"Wow. Look at these arrogant assholes, so excited about not getting killed. I'm going to declare war on them, because they deserve it for getting all high and mighty."

...

You know, I completely forgot about the epic story of, 'Shinso Hitoshi and his Completely Unmerited Persecution Complex'. I'm sad that I remember that now.

Bakugou: "People's opinions don't matter once your at the top."

Me: *looks at how much people's opinions matter to getting to the top, and staying there*

Me: ...Uh.

Thank you, Kaminari, for pointing out his edgy bullshit is, in fact, actually bullshit, and is only going to make his life more difficult for no reason. I like you as an actual person who does things other than cheerlead for Bakugou.

Izuku. Izuku no, Izuku...! Damn it. Bad Izuku. Bad! Stop getting inspired by the festering waste spewing out of Bakugou's mouth!

Cue all of two panels of the media being absolute assholes only out to make ratings with no redeeming features.

And... here's the actual Sports Festival, god knows how long into this post later!

(if you believe the text editor I just posted all of this into? Well into four pages. ...Even with my generous use of spacing, I think I have a problem.)

..Wait. Wait. Where the hell is this happening?

*does five seconds of research on the wiki*

I'm right. They have a stadium for this. Like, a giant ass sports stadium that exists for this. Only for this. That is used once a year.

At this point, I'm honestly wondering why UA isn't just it's own city. Like, Izuku should have moved here, along with the rest of the students, and all the families and various staff needed to run this just.... live on site. It's not like it'd cost them anything, since they apparently have spare cities sitting around for the kids to trash.

That's... that's actually a really interesting idea? Because it'd be a hero run city, then, which feels like it'd work well into the over commercialized, corrupted state heroics is supposed to be like, their overwhelming level of influence. I don't think that's what Hori was going for, to be clear, I think he has no idea just how much space he's causally put on UA's campus and didn't think through the implications... at all.

Ooh, and here comes Todoroki's characterization.

And... here comes the bloodsport, because that's what all of this is: bloodsport. They're throwing a bunch of teenagers onto this stage, broadcast them to the entire country, and have them fight against each other for fame. This society is so fucked up.

Random Gen Ed kid: Yeah, he placed first in the Heroics Entance Exam.

...Yeah. As fucking stupid as it is that Bakugou somehow placed first, it does make sense the person who place first in the Heroics Entrance Exam would be class representative in a school for heroics. Damn, you're salty, kid, but you're also kinda dumb, not going to lie.

Bakugou: *opens his mouth on live TV*

Bakugou: *vomits diarrhea for the entire country to see*

Izuku: ...Wow, Bakugou's so cool! He's grown up and mature now!

...Izuku. Izuku, buddy, please, stop doing this to yourself.

As yet another thing I've mentioned before, a lot of our views on Bakugou comes from Izuku. Izuku who has, from chapter one, all but worshipped Bakugou. Even when he does things wrong, even when he's actively fighting against him, Izuku can't stop himself from going on and on about how great Bakugou is, how cool and tough and determined he is. Izuku's hero worship of his abuser is sheltering Bakugou's actions from the readers, papering over all of his worst traits with a a transparent facade that he's this glorious figure. It's the narrative going the extra mile to cover his arrogant ass, to make him seem like a rival instead of an bully, someone worthy of respect rather than contempt.

Hmm. I don't want to go too much into the nuts and bolts of the event, I think, since I've done that before, so let's try something else: How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child? Where I, you guessed it, count how many times a teenager could have been killed, on national television, in this event.

Count one: The start of the race itself, where... *counts how many kids are in 1-A, multiplies by eleven*... two hundred and twenty kids run forward at the same time, trying to force themselves through the same opening. This shit is why it's illegal to shout fire in a theater, because a stampede like this could get someone trampled to death, or maybe crushed by the sheer weight of the crowd (which is something that happens, someone getting killed by the a crowd of unruly people just... squeezing them on accident).

*stares at Shinso being carried around like a wannabe king instead of using his own damn legs judgingly*

Count Two: Mineta gets bitched slapped by a robotic arm bigger than he is. I don't think I have to get into how that could be fatal.

Count Three: The army of Zero Pointers who could easily step on someone.

*Momo wondering about how UA can fund this makes me feel very validated, BTW*

Count Four: Todoroki dumping the Zero Pointer on the rest of the competition to block the way, again for obvious reasons. He obviously doesn't meant to, but this kid isn't even looking back. This is both lamp shaded and then dismissed because it happens to the only two people who could shrug that off, but holy shit that could have killed so many of them.

...The cameras are robots. The cameras are robots with AIs that are cheering on the other robots. I- I can't- what?!?

And then everyone can't stop themselves from praising Bakugou for the radical idea of going over a problem instead of blasting through it. Wow, Bakugou. Amazing. Such brains, such smarts.

Count Five: The Fall. Because there's no way that anyone could get themselves killed by. You know. Falling. If I was more generous, I'd say something like, 'There's probably something down there to catch them if they fall', but I'm not terribly impressed by UA's ability to actually keep these kids safe, so that doesn't make me think they'd have thought that through that much.

Grudgingly, I'm going to give a landmines a pass, because they're explicitly supposed to be non-lethal, and them blowing up didn't do any real damage. Burns, maybe, possibly a broken limb, probably some scars, but this count is about people dying. Izuku's pile could have been, maybe, but that's a level of deliberate action on his part big enough that I can't really blame UA, per say.

Eraserhead, on how 1-A has improved: I didn't do anything.

...Well. At least he's honest.

One other thing: I've said before how bullshit All Might telling Izuku to 'fight to win' was, and right here, here's the proof: All Might explicitly going, "I was afraid you'd be too nice to try and beat other people in competitions, but you proved me wrong! I'm so proud!". You know, fighting to win. Like he later says Izuku doesn't for some mysterious reason *cough*, to make him seem at the same level as Bakugou, *cough*. Poor, poor All Might, yet another victim of Bakugou's narrative warping favoritism.

And here we see the management kids going all out in how to sell Izuku and his brand, which is so very fucked up, for them and the people they're 'selling'. I'm aware this is something that celebrities go through, (which is fucked up for them as well, don't get me wrong; I'm an equal opportunity 'this is fucked up' call out-er), but these kids are in high school. The fact that they're doing this, and getting this done to them, in such numbers, in such an early age... yeah. There's no way this could give them lots and lots of long term stress and psychological problems, right?

Meanwhile, as we get to the offical rankings, I think it's time go back over the 'How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child?' count... at five. Five times they could have been killed on complete accident.

That is not a good score.

I'm stopping it here because the other events don't have the same problem, but instead of a whole new problem of delibrately pitting them against each other. On live TV. With minimal supervison. Cementoss popping in at the last second in Izuku vs Todoroki, considering how badly Izuku got hurt in the process, does not fill me with a great sense of these fights being well monitored.

*gets an omake chapter*

*Bakugou gets called Izuku's childhood 'friend'. Bitch, please.*

So. Here's a new point: the million point bullshit is... well. Bullshit. It's the snitch in Quiddich all over again, giving the hero something both super import, with an extra layer of difficulty, to drive up the stress and stakes, only kicked up by a million. Making more than the others makes sense, and making it enough to pass by itself is still pretty reasonable, but making it so excessively much has no point other making Izuku feel isolated from his peers and hunted by his classmates.

Also, Mt Lady going on about how 'great' an exercise the second round is is missing the point that this is literally a thing Japanese kids do in school. Literally, this is a game they're playing with Quirks, not some tactical exercise; it's like saying that playing hide and seek makes you great at hunting people down or something. Again, Hori, dial back your constant need to tell us how great the Sports Festival is. Because it isn't. It really, really isn't.

More doses of everything drooling over how great Bakugou is, and how much of a total shit of a human being he is, joy. Mineta and Shouji's teamup is actually pretty damn brilliant, even though it's tainted by how much of a one-dimensional character Mineta is. Iida is getting shown as Izuku's enemy, but honestly it looks more like he's just trying to improve himself more than anything, while acknowledging how competent Izuku is. Not just that he won the first round, or has a lot points but that Izuku, as a person, is the goal he wants to surpass; there's some good shit there, and pretty validating, if Izuku could allow himself to accept it.

Oh Mei! Mei... actually, I have a post I need to do about the Mei and Izuku dynamic at some point, how they're so designed to work together, but yeah she's fun.

And then Uraraka thinks about how strategic Izuku is being and again, I can't help but contrast this with how things happen later on; even if Izuku never lets himself really feel the respect people have for him, people at this point in time really, honestly seem to respect him, not for his Quirk, but for his brain, his determination, his heroism; it's so well setup for Izuku to stand on his own two feet without OFA and it's some really good stuff. It's a shame Hori gets rid of it.

Hmm. Class B. Class B is... interesting. They're set up as rivals but after this it never goes anywhere, and just leaves us with a bad impression of Monoma, without letting him get a good chance to get past it. I don't like him, honestly, his personality grates at me and he needs to get over himself, but he doesn't deserve the hate he gets from the fandom.

That said, though, the Class A vs Class B victory philosphy is honestly just another example of destroying yourself vs having realistic limits, how All Might and Izuku keep destroying themselves vs everyone else not doing that. The fact Class B is actually thinking ahead is smart, but the series doesn't give them that credit because it's not ambitious enough... even though that runs straight into conflicting with Izuku and his issues.

Hori, fucking commit already. In all honesty, it feels like 1-B should have won over Bakugou and knocked him out of the compition; they planned it out, and played him like a sucker, because he's a bullheaded moron. It's all right there, but right as they win... Eraserhead shows up in the booth and says, 'Yes, you've won, but actually no, because Bakugou need to win anyways. So he is. Because REASONS!' Then All Might gets dragged into that same bullshit just to make it really clear that no, Bakugou is right. Planning? Strategy? That's for losers. Real winners just need to want it hard enough, and no one wants things more than Bakugou!

It would have been better, as a story, and for everyone's character development, if that had happened. Bakugou would have lost to some 'nobodies', Izuku would have gone past him without even validating him with a fight, and Class B and Monoma would have gotten a better chance to show themselves as characters; win win win.

And then Endeavour shows up. Fuck Endeavour. Also that is a man who looks like a serial killer. Dumb Might continues to reign and be completely unable to recognize when someone hates him when he monologues about it right in front of him.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is just... there. For some reason. Why? Why does he need to be there for this? It makes his hissy fit later even worse when you realize he knows why Todoroki doesn't use his fire, and it has literally nothing to do with him. Ignoring him, though, Todoroki and Izuku's moment here is some good stuff, a nice setup for a healthy rivalry based on mutual respect, rather than the toxic mess he has with Bakugou.

Ugh. That cheerleader bullshit. Honestly, it says a lot that they can be told that, 'Aizawa says you need to dress up as cheerleaders', and apparently no one questions this, because of course Aizawa would pull some kind of weird bullshit on them with absolutely no warning at what anyone else would think is the worst possible time.

Midnight being really creepy about how she talks to teenagers, of course, and now... Shinso.

'Consent is for losers' Shinso. 'Everyone is coasting on their Quirks except for me, who only knows how to use my Quirk' Shinso. 'Let me use my Quirk on someone before we even get in the arena so I can blatantly cheat' Shinso. 'No one else has dreams or ambitions' Shinso.

I don't like Shinso. I like the idea of Shinso, sure, but that idea is another one of those paper thing veneers Hori likes to put on his characters, without doing the work to make that match the reality; the only hardship we've seen him go through is his apparent inability to work hard. Like, everyone loves Shinso, in story and out, they can't stop themselves from telling him how great his Quirk is. And you know what? It is. It is a great Quirk.

But Shinso talks like he's had a such a hard time with it, even though he seems to love it, love using it, and the way he acts, like he knows he can go through a career as a hero based only on that Quirk. He's wrong, since he's so out of shape he can't even run, apparently, but he's operating off that assumption at this point, which conflicts with his poor little martyr act.

I want you to look at the iceberg Todoroki makes, and compare it to his efforts against Stain. If he did that against him? That fight would have been over the minute he showed up, and Todoroki ambushed him. This is pretty much our last moments of Todoroki, certified badass, before the nerfs roll in. Savor it, Todoroki fans, because he'll never recover from having to lose against Bakugou.

Another omake, which seems like foreshadowing about Hori deals with women characters: bringing up a good characterization, or valid idea (do women heroes need sexiness to do their jobs?), before throwing it away to fall for the same tropes that he was making a stand against just a minute ago (women getting in a cat fight, which apparently gets really explicit, all of this on a TV before Mineta, Hori's avatar of his own horniness).

Then, as if to prove my point, we get Bakugou vs Uraraka where, like Class B before her, she does everything right, gets the win... and then gets it taken away at the last minute by idiotic bullshit pulled out of nowhere (since when could Bakugou make a blast like that? Why does he need those bomb gauntlets if he can do that?) because Bakugou isn't allowed to lose. And then Eraserhead, Hori's mouthpiece, shouts down the crowd, and us, when we think bad thoughts about it because that isn't allowed either; we need to love Bakugou.

Bakugou respects women! ...Just as much as he respects everyone else. That is to say, he doesn't. Hell, he doesn't respect her enough to think Uraraka planned her own fight! He just gets one line for one second that makes it seem like he respects her, but of course once that moments gone it's back to the normal level of complete disrespect. That's totally character growth right there, one second of acting different before returning right back to standard behavior.

So... Izuku vs Todoroki. I like the fight, it's very dramatic, very cool, but... stop to think about it a second, and about a minute in, Izuku's entire ass hand is broken. That is not OK. Why are they letting it go on? It's simultaneously a great fight, but a seemingly awkward implementation of Izuku having a Quirk, because so much of this arc is built off of him not using a Quirk, not having it. This fight only works with it, though. And it's cool, don't get me wrong, but it's shallow at the same time because of the Quirk, because Izuku has to go Plus Ultra, has to go past his limits. Instead of accepting a more reasonable win, he has to win, period, and he doesn't have the power for that.

There's this awkward conflict here between the story's various narratives, between Izuku needing to suffer, and struggle, and break himself, and his more grounded planning and actions, and you can see Hori's old, better planned out ideas getting replaced with newer, less thought out ones. It's honestly kind of a theme for this arc in it's own right.

Flaws aside, though, the fight is gripping, and it's a great setup for Todoroki, a great starting point in making him an important character, in giving him growth. Shame Hori ends up throwing all that away literally the next fight.

Well, before that happens, let's talk the one two punch of, 1, Izuku having done himself permanent, life long damage, which nobody thought to stop, and 2, the sheer, unmitigated clusterfuck of Recovery Girl going, 'I'm not going to treat wounds like these'.

So. If Izuku breaks anything... well. She's not going to treat that. I guess he has to walk around with a broken finger/hand/arm, without any medical attention whatsoever? Well. I certainly don't see any problems with that.

Then we get Bakugou, who canonly has problems using his Quirk for extended periods of time, outlasting someone by using his Quirk for extended periods of time, before going on to fight someone who uses cold, his canon weakness, and ignoring how it should completely neutralize his Quirk to overpower it, through what I can only call his sheer, narrative warping concentration of favoritism.

On what happens after he wins... I've seen people say that he doesn't mean to attack Todoroki, just try to wake him up, but looking at that scene: he's holding Todoroki's body up with one hand as if to shake him, sure, but it's the other hand that's the problem. The way he's holding it is, for his Quirk, an offensive pose, making it ready to attack his target. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt (against my own opinion) and say it's not proof positive that he was about to attack, but there's no getting around that Bakugou had himself perfectly set up to hit Todoroki, full blast, while he was unconscious. Even if it's the more innocent explanation, that feels like something that should have disqualified him because... that's really concerning. That feels a step away from him threatening victims he thinks should have stood up for themselves or something; it's not heroic, in the slightest. The fact they had to knock him out, presumably for Todoroki's own safety, says enough about how bad that is.

The fact that the ending comment is basiclly lamenting from his perspective, that this 'isn't what he wanted' is... certainly a choice. He won, but, gasp! The person with long held issues in using his full power that long predate him didn't use his full power! The poor baby!

Then we get to the award ceremony where they... chain him up? Why!? If the doesn't want the damn award, don't give it to him; they let those guys earlier give up when they felt they didn't deserve it, why is Bakugou different? It feels like it's Hori tying him up here, against Bakugou's own will, and characterization, to give him that win just so he can win, but also to forcefully set up Bakugou's own importance with the League later. It's ham handed. It's probably child abuse. It's stupid.

It's fucked up all the way down, is what I'm saying.

Then All Might shows up, and fucks up his entrance timing because he's not allowed to win anymore, of course, and then forces that medal on Bakugou.

Uuuugh.

Last couple of panels, though, are pretty nice: we build up Uraraka's character, get the next arc set up, set up Izuku (fucking finally) getting away to use his own damn power, and develop Todoroki a bit.

A nice little cherry on top of the shit sundae.

[kleefkruid]

BE-alert, the app we were encouraged to install in case of a terrorist attack, natural disasters and the like just gave me my first local warning in the 7 years that I have it and it’s to tell me the city stinks and they’re don’t know why

[crying-fantasies]

Designation: Mayhem

Soundwave named his sparkling as Mayhem for the simple fact that when the little bean cried for the first time everything was a chaos.

Like, a literal chaos, since cybertronians were now something kind of usual in Earth since the Unicron war and many decided to stay.

Imagine someone in their way to work when out of nowhere the glass in every passing structure makes vibrating noises, tremors that has every human in alert for a earthquake, but no, every glass material related thing starts then to shake violently before finally breaking, light goes out and an ominous sound wrapped everyone near before the sound of something falling is getting near.

Then there was somebot shouting in cybertronian, distantly at first but getting closer, dangerously so.

Jets, helicopters and planes start to fall from the sky and many noticed those are cybertronians that literally fainted but had the last thought of getting course to a crashing area where there are no living casualties, cars or trucks change to transformers that are foaming in the mouth while crying out loud or crash against something in their sheer panic, cellphones showing a sound that looks like there is a worldwide poltergeist around and screeching in every screen before turning off, no human or organic being knows what the hell happened while trying to calm down every bot that is near to them.

All because a tiny sparkling in the middle of Africa finally opened his intake to cry like any other baby, almost killing his sire's oh so sensitive audials, the itty bity baby showing not only his high sound frequency but that he could also connect to electronic devices.

It was a blessing that Mayhem hardly cried, but when he did, Soundwave and his cassettes were ready, sorry for the rest of the world.

Years later, no one knows what created the big cacophony from many years ago, some make theories about it: terrorist attacks, paranormal activity or another alien race trying to make contact, while Mayhem is just eating some pork belly in the room, hearing people or bots talk about it, almost laughing and saying for himself that it was maybe some kind of cryptid, not knowing that it was him.

Every time that Mayhem cried was a moment when humans and cybertronians, once again, made their bond deeper in those trying times.

[girlactionfigure]

🟨WEDNESDAY morning - events from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

▪️4 HERO SOLDIERS HAVE FALLEN.. in battle in Gaza, in an exploding building…

Daniel Simon Toaff, 23, from Moreshet

Agam Naim, 20, from Mishmerut - the first female soldier to fall in combat in Gaza

Amit Bari, 21, from Yoshaviya

Dotan Shimon, 21, from Elazar

May their families be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and may G-d avenge their blood!

▪️UN SECRETARY GENERAL.. developments in Lebanon are extremely worrying, especially considering the fact that there is an area of ​​"extreme instability".  Regrets the civilian deaths in Lebanon.  (( You can tell they are civilians because they are dressed in regular clothes while carrying secure encrypted communication devices of the Hezbollah terrorist army. ))

▪️RED ON RED - JENIN.. Clashes between civilians and Palestinian Authority security in Dan, near Jenin, due to an attempt to neutralize explosive devices.

▪️BEEPER BOMBS - A BIT OF INFO AND ANALYSIS..

.. A few people asked, what’s a beeper?  Also known as a pager.  A small cell-phone sized device that simply receives text messages and makes alert sounds.  More advanced ones allowing sending of messages as well.  Commonly used by doctors in the U.S.  No longer in use in most professions.  Think of it like a tiny phone that just does SMS.

.. Analysis:  The main damage caused to Hezbollah is damage to its operating model. Hezbollah is built on a rapid transition from routine to emergency. The system is built on these pagers.

.. New York Times: Imported from Taiwan and treated before arriving in Lebanon. The terrorists received messages as if from Hezbollah leadership.

▪️PENTAGON SAYS.. The Pentagon: The best way to reduce tensions on the Lebanese border is diplomacy.

▪️IRAN SAYS.. Genocide !!!!!!!! !!!!! !!!!! !! !

▪️US PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE HARRIS SAYS.. Kamala Harris, in response to a question asked at the conference about the war in Gaza, says that she supports delaying shipments of one-ton bombs to Israel.

▪️COALITION POLITICS.. with news that Sa’ar would possibly enter the coalition and become Defense Minister, leaks now say Israel our Home MK Lieberman is considering entering the coalition.  MK Lieberman is very right wing on defense and security issues, and very left wing on religious-state issues.

▪️HOLOCAUST JEWISH MASS GRAVE DISCOVERED.. 11 children ages 1-7 and 12 adults - Belarusian authorities located a newly-found Jewish mass grave containing 23 bodies in the town of Strashin in the country's Homel district. The town of Strashin was occupied by the Nazi German army in August 1941.

🔹HEZBOLLAH LEADER NASRALLAH.. will speak Thursday at 17:00 about the latest developments.

♦️JORDAN - “We shot down a UAV that entered our airspace heading towards Israel.”  (Likely from Iraq headed towards Israel.)

♦️SAMARIA - SHECHEM.. overnight report on clashes and shooting in Shechem between the security forces and locals.

⭕HEZBOLLAH SUICIDE DRONES.. attack TIBERIUS area: Ginosar, Wadi Hamam, Livnim, Migdal, Tiberias, Arbel overnight.  Intercepted.

⭕2 ROCKET ATTACKS, 2 SUICIDE DRONE ATTACKS overnight from HEZBOLLAH.

⭕OFFSHORE SUICIDE DRONE from HEZBOLLAH fired at Nahariya, intercepted.

⭕INFILTRATION - BEITAR ILLIT.. overnight report of security fence crossing, residents required to barricade.  Incident cleared.

✡️A brief daily word of Torah: "The pure righteous do not complain of the dark, but increase the light; they do not complain of evil, but increase justice; they do not complain of heresy, but increase faith; they do not complain of ignorance, but increase wisdom." ~ Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook

[matan4il]

Update post:

Most of this will be about the unprecedented attack of the Islamist regime of Iran against Israel, but first I have to take a second to mourn a 14 year old boy, who was murdered in a Palestinian attack on Friday. At around 6 in the morning, teenager Binyamin Achimeir led his sheep herd out of the farm he lives in, but a few hours later, the sheep returned to the farm without him. At first, it was feared that he had some accident, or was dehydrated, and thousands of people voluntarily joined the search for him. On Saturday, at around noon, the IDF found his body, with signs of brutal violence on it. Based on the forensic evidence, he was murdered by several Palestinian terrorists, and he fought back. The army is still hunting down the murderers. May Binyamin's memory be a blessing.

Right, back to the Islamist regime of Iran's attack on Israel. I posted about it as soon as the news started being aired here, in case someone didn't know about it. The news broke past the normal time when people watch news on TV in Israel, I noticed it by chance right before I was about to turn in for the night. I'm physically okay, but I didn't get that much sleep, I had to wake up early to take care of some stuff, so I AM very tired, which is why I'm not going to do the usual thing I do, which is to look for English journalistic sources for everything, but I have no doubt even the stuff I won't look up can all be easily found online.

On a personal note, I can tell you that at 1:43 in the morning I heard the first explosion, but no sirens went off. A few more explosions followed, and only then did we hear the sirens. It was scary, for a moment we couldn't tell whether we're hearing explosions of missiles from neighboring areas, or whether something went wrong with the sirens, and we need to hurry into the bomb shelter. It seems like in Jerusalem specifically there was some issue with the sirens, I heard a reporter mention it. Also, the alert app didn't go off, even though it should have, at the latest when the sirens did.

This is what the Temple Mount looked like from an Iranian attack that could have easily destroyed the al-Aqsa mosque (it's not in the frame, but it's right next to where this was filmed):

Quick background: Iran is the biggest financier of anti-Israel terrorism for decades now, including funding Hamas, Hezbollah and the Houthis, all of which have been a part of a continuous attack on Israel since Oct 7 as Iran's proxies. Iran has sent its own military seniors to help and instruct those local terrorists, in places like Lebanon, Syria and Iraq. Israel has eliminated them whenever possible, this is not something new. On Apr 1, Israel carried out such a strike, in which it targeted 7 Iranian army seniors in Damascus, Syria's capital. Iran claimed Israel targeted the Iranian consulate in this city, but diplomatic buildings are all publicly listed. Iran has an embassy in Damascus (in a separate location) and no consulates. That's why the magnitude of Iran's response to this has taken Israel by surprise, because the Israeli strike wasn't that out of the ordinary. In fact, the US assassination of Iran's military commander, Qasem Soleimani, back in 2018, was a far graver blow for the Iranian regime, and yet it did not lead to an attack as massive as the one launched against Israel last night.

It is now known that some of the attack waves against Israel were intercepted by other countries, including The US, the UK, France and Jordan. It's been said that there's at least one more Arab country that helped in intercepting Iran's attack, but it can't be publicized. Many countries denounced Iran for attacking Israel.

We don't have numbers regarding the full size of the attack. Out of all the countries who participated in curtailing this attack, we know that the US has intercepted at least 70 suicide drones and 3 cruise missiles, while Israel has intercepted at least 185 suicide drones, 36 cruise missile and 110 ballistic missiles (that last one is the missile type that causes the most damage). Israel's interceptions are said to have been 99% successful, but like I said, no defence system is perfect. A small number of ballistic missiles did land inside Israel. One hit an Israeli air Force base in the south. There's over 30 people who got injured when rushing to the bomb shelter in the middle of the night (elderly people, including Holocaust survivors, have died from such injuries), and over 30 more ended up in hospital due to severe mental health reactions. On top of that, there's a 7 years old Muslim Bedouine girl who was injured by interceptors debris. A friend of her family that I heard being interviewed said the family wanted to go to the communal bomb shelter, but before they even had a chance to make it out of the house, the girl was hit by the debris piercing into their home, and she is suffering from severe head injuries. The hospital is currently fighting for her life.

The estimate of how much it cost Israel to defend its citizens from this one attack last night is 5 BILLION shekels (which is over 1.3 BILLION US dollars). That's for one night.

Israel will respond. According to one reporter I heard, that was decided as soon as it was clear how big the attack is, so this isn't about how much damage Iran caused, it's about how it crossed several red lines. This is the first time Iran itself attacked Israel itself, it's not an attack on an extension of Israel, nor was it done by using proxy terrorists. Israel has had terrorist organizations attacking it continuously since 2001, but this is the first attack from a fellow sovereign country since Iraq (led by tyrant Saddam Hussein) in 1991, so that in itself is crossing a red line. The size of the attack is also considered an escalation on Iran's part. In 2019, Iran launched a smaller scaled suicde drone attack on Saudi Arabia, and the latter's western allies refused to launch a counter attack, which led to these countries being seen as unreliable, and some Middle Eastern countries renewed their ties with Iran. That's why how it would seen in the Middle East if Israel doesn't react to an even bigger attack, and how it might drive more moderate countries to grow closer to Iran, is another consideration in why Israel must respond. Not to mention that launching such a mass attack basically caused a paralysis of the country once the first intel became known. For example, all educational activity (schools, universities, you name it) has been canceled, Israel's air space had to be closed, every single ambulance across the country had to be manned, and so on. That is not something any country can simply shrug off. Not to mention, Israel financially can't afford this reality to become normalized.

Not to mention, Israel tried to contain Hamas, PIJ and Hezbollah's rocket attacks for decades. What we got for it was the invasion and massacre on Oct 7. The lesson for most Israelis is that containing mass attacks on our population only leads to worse ones.

That said, there's also no desire here of getting dragged into a war on another front while we're still in the middle of one in Gaza and with Iran's proxies on several more fronts. So, Israel is looking for a balanced response, one that won't let this mass attack slide, but hopefully doesn't make matters much worse.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[enriquemzn262]

May 31 2024, Villavicencio, Colombia, authorities inspect a homemade automatic mortar launcher, made by FARC left-wing terrorists and intended for an attack against the Apiay air base.

Thanks to alerts by the community the truck carrying the contraption was captured before it could be used, as it was equipped with a timer meant to activate it remotely.

[rileyslibrary]

Living With Ghosts: 4. Pretty Broken

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,150

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of blood and war

As much as I like Ghost’s demeanor throughout the game, I cannot help but wonder what he would be like suffering the aftereffects of war.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

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It’s been days since you last talked to him.

His inattentiveness, however, was not the outcome of your petty little brawl—not the direct consequence, at least. If you had to venture a guess, it’s because he was busy with other matters at the moment—far more important ones.

The Russian Mafia appears to have increased its presence in the region over the past week, raising suspicions of a potential terrorist attack. As a result, the CIA has requested high readiness from the Special Forces operators deployed in the area.

That’s where he is, you fool. It doesn’t matter how abandoned, lonely, or insecure you feel, for he had a job to do. He was right there, at the front line, risking his life for the nation’s—and probably the world’s—safety. You were the last thing on his mind right now; if you ever were anything to him but a mild inconvenience.

Let’s not forget that you also had a part to play in this operation; to actively scan land, air, and sea for irregular traffic and report to the CIA.

Well, not actively, per se—the safe house has a well-equipped wine cellar for that specific purpose.

“Surveillance Control Center,” they call it—SCC for short.

What was once used to store ruby-red Chianti Classico Riserva bottles can now be confused with the cockpit of a spaceship. The CIA engineers have outdone themselves with this one—you give them that.

The SCC is part of a computer network connecting every CIA safe house in the Mediterranean. It incorporates CCTV monitors, cameras, radars, and motion sensors designed to detect unusual movements in the region. Live-streaming feeds are processed using highly sophisticated software, which, upon catching unusual traffic, alerts the SCC’s terminal. The wine cellar also houses an arsenal of weapons and ammunition, just in case the shit hits the fan.

Your job, for now, is to oversee the SCC’s flawless operation and inform Laswell of any findings.

Boring; that’s what your job was. Boring.

“Christmas is coming,” Laswell’s voice sounded over the telephone, “You guys should do something to celebrate.”

“Do what, exactly, Kate? Go from house to house and sing carols on behalf of the CIA?” You reply, leaning forward as if you were trying to physically get your point across.

“If you’d stop being a sarcastic shit, then perhaps you could think a little better.” Her irritation rasped in her voice. “Do something together; think of it as a team-building event.”

He said he’d fix that attitude of yours; when was that team-building event going to take place?

She was right, though—as much as you’d hate to admit it. Christmas does bring people together.

You begin to reminisce about the good times back home when your family used to celebrate every year. You used to cook together, sing along to festive songs, watch Mr. Bean on television, and exchange gifts.

You remember your mother, who refrained from buying ornaments from the shops. She used to bake them instead—yes, bake them. She used to roll out the dough, give shape to it with cookie cutters and bake the ornaments so you would all decorate the Christmas tree with them. The entire house smelled divine with these four little ingredients she used in her recipe—cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

Ingredients you already had in your pantry.

“Laswell, when’s my shift ending?” you asked in anticipation.

“It ended thirty-seven minutes ago. Tired of me?”

“I thought of something.” You announce, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“Wha-”

“I have to go. Over and out.” You report as you close the comms and head upstairs to the infamous pantry.

Cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

You were determined to make it work, right here, in this safe house—with or without Ghost.

You hurried outside, scanning the area for the tree branches he trimmed a few weeks ago. If you tie them together, you could create something resembling a Christmas tree.

When was the last time he felt the Christmas spirit? Does he have a Christmas tree at his house? A family to sing together next to the fireplace? A warm, festive meal?

You moved frantically—part Christmas elf rolling out dough and baking ornaments, part Frankenstein trying to assemble a Christmas tree monstrosity.

Time flew by; hours passed like minutes as you worked hard, your creativity unleashed, putting forth your best effort to create something out of nothing.

To create festive decor out of raw ingredients.

To construct a tree out of stray branches.

To form a connection out of two peoples’ broken pieces.

“What’s that smell?”

You were so focused that you didn’t notice him standing behind you.

You turn around to see a wreck, the fragments of a man who has probably seen terrible things and done far worse.

“I—is everything all right?” You hesitate.

“Out of trouble, for now.” He replies.

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

“Yes, I know. I spoke with Laswell. I mean, are you all right?”

“Been better.”

His uniform is dusty, and his boots are covered in mud. There is a slight rip on his balaclava, teasing you with a subtle view of his jawline, like a Geisha exposing her nape.

“It’s over, for now.” you try to comfort him.

There’s blood on his left sleeve—a lot of blood. He just became aware of it as well.

“Not mine.” He announces and hides it behind his back. “What’s that smell?” He repeats, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Cinnamon.”

“Ya bakin’?” He seems shocked.

“Sort of; They’re ornaments for the Christmas tree,” you say, pointing in the direction of your most recent creation.

“A Christmas tree.” He stutters, glazed eyes darting left and right, assessing the new environment.

You want to tell him that there are no booby traps here, nothing dangerous to be careful of. You want to console him that there is no need to be alerted for an ambush here, for this is a safe space. No more killing, no more death, for now. Just you two, a hideous Christmas tree, and badly shaped cinnamon-baked ornaments.

“Do you like them?” You ask reluctantly, trying to divert his attention from this week’s horrors. “I couldn’t find any cookie cutters, so I shaped them with a knife instead. I tried to make them look pretty, but some came out broken.”

“Aren’t we all?” he mumbles as he walks towards the Christmas tree.

“Aren’t we all exactly what, lieutenant—pretty or broken?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Pretty broken, kid,” he whispers as he picks up a shattered ornament. “Pretty damn broken.”

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