#covert raf

[prismdrive]

Giant fire-breathing turtle? Sign me the fuck up.

R A F I D

(My beloved)

@chessman-protocol

[ihateitallsomerandomguy]

some magma doodles

and of course! Covert Raf @chessman-protocol

[skeisisblog]

Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please

BREATHS TO ME

@chessman-protocol

[popcornrya]

@chessman-protocol

I’ve had “Too Sweet” by Hozier stuck in my head for days now I swear... I just had to…

Ah, o-okay then… nevermind… 💔

…

You think it has anything to do with the military made control collar she’s wearing..? N-no?…

[usafphantom2]

‘Shuttleworth Sunday’

Shuttleworth May Evening Airshow: Special Operations

Saturday May 20th 2023…

Agents Panter and Land anxious to complete the mission before the enemy appear…@ShuttleworthTru @svas_oldwarden #shuttleworth #oldwarden #theshed #shed

@ShutterbugWGC via X

[v-albion]

2 unicorns per play!

How many turtles can you recognise? Answers down below!

Masterpost || Commisions Open

Tags and credits under the cut, wish me luck

Dolls:

True Colors AU by Me

Gemini AU by @tangledinink

2AL Sprout and Poptart by @intotheelliwoods

SLAU One by @dianagj-art

Vermin by @meggahamicide

Omega by @kathaynesart

EW Three by @cupcakeslushie

FH Leo by @sad-leon

NB Red by @less-depresso-more-espresso

TLP Donnie by @beannary

Fairy Mikey by @lara-cairncross

Kraangified Donnie by @abbeyofcyn

Golden Child AU Ronin by @bluesgras

LB Spot by @sharkfiinn

TN Green by @goopcatz

TD Trainee by @s0fti3w1tch

V!PbnJ duo by @onionninjasstuff

RR Red by @red-rover-au

EMD 1D and 2D by @evenmoreofadisaster

Marco by @karonkar

HW Raph by @thegunnsara

Raph by @pasteilian

Posters:

Kid Leo by @angelpuns

August by @star-sparkler

Runt by @reagi-df

SAINWB by @heckitall

Covert Raf by @chessman-protocol

Suiko by @beebopurr

TTMN Raph by @idiot-mushroom

Deity AU by @xinrouska

BMC by @hitokshellart

Ammi by @sha-biest

Fish AU by @cokoweee

Shreddy or Not by @manga-toons

Cards Au by @shmokeymoe

Tmnt Spitfire by @hitwiththetmnt

Tiz Sep AU by @tizeline

Tmnt Aberration by @probably-not-a-rutabaga

Battle Scars AU by @kaysdenofchaos

Leopatra by @sariphantom

HEA Mikey by @phykoha

Hopefully i got everyone OTL

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 16

You're on a secret mission today. No, not the undercover surveillance mission - do you even care about that one at this point?

This is a much more important mission - a covert operation.

It is unlike any you have ever faced before. And it will demand every ounce of feminine charm you possess—though, admittedly, that's not a lot.

You don't exactly have a ton of experience with this. But you’re not part of the UNICORNS for nothing; you're brave, resourceful, and determined. You've fought hundreds of Wanderers and survived multiple attempts on your life.

So bedding a ~400-year-old virgin should be easy, right?

Right???

You’ve never thought of yourself as sexy—or even especially attractive—so you feel a bit foolish as you slip into the lingerie you bought just for this occasion. The black lace clings to every curve as if it were specifically made for you, yet somehow it makes you feel even more vulnerable than if you were completely naked. It highlights all of the spots that Xavier seems particularly fond of kissing - the curves of your breasts, your stomach, and the swell of your hips. The delicate strip of lace that fits snug between your thighs barely covers you, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

You tug at the almost nonexistent scraps of fabric, hoping they will somehow expand and conceal more of your skin, but it’s useless. 

Why did you ever think this was a good idea? You feel every bit the awkward, blushing virgin, not the confident sex kitten you'd hoped to be.

Please, God, don't let him laugh when he sees it.

You quickly throw on some clothes—Xavier’s oversized red sweater and a pair of black leggings—before you can second-guess yourself and take it all off. You leave your hair loose and natural, adding a light spritz of vanilla perfume to your neck and wrists. You keep the makeup minimal, opting for a touch of lip gloss and a light sweep of mascara—just enough to accentuate your best features. 

The goal is to look pretty, but still casual enough to lure this elusive bunny into your trap.

You take a final look in the mirror, exhaling a deep breath as you brace yourself. This is either going to be the best night of your life or really, really embarrassing.

Either way, Operation: Seduce Xavier - All the Way has officially begun. It's too late to back out now.

You know you can't rush these things; if it's meant to happen, it will, and you would never force it. But you're pretty sure that, despite his old-fashioned ways, he wants to take this next step with you. He just needs a little nudge to push him over the edge.

The timing for this feels either just right or completely wrong - with nothing in between. Despite your efforts to put on a happy face last night, Xavier could see right through you. He knew something was wrong the moment you walked in the door, and you'd spent most of the night trying to reassure him that you were fine. 

He knew better, but he finally let it go before bed, cuddling you with a tenderness that weighed heavy on your heart.

He has his secrets, and now you have yours.

If you were being brutally honest, your mission today is about more than just pent up attraction.

Seeing Rafayel has made you desperate to solidify your connection with Xavier; to feel for him what you felt in just five seconds with Raf. It was just one kiss - and yet, somehow, it was as if your heart remembered his the moment your lips touched. 

But that's stupid, isn't it? The stuff of fairy tales. That doesn't happen in real life.

The feeling was more intense than it had any right to be, and you cannot make sense of it. It’s not as if you were ever truly together, so there's no reason for this to knock you off-balance the way that it has. Yet somehow, closing the door on a future with Rafayel has sparked a hunger within you—a craving that only one man can satisfy.

And today just happens to be that man's birthday.

Birthday sex is not cliché, is it?

Hell, it probably is, but you’re determined to make this the most unforgettable birthday Xavier has ever had. It's not just another day. It could be a first - for both of you.

And it all begins now. You square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk into the living room with more confidence than you actually feel.

Xavier is sprawled on the couch, engrossed in The Little Prince , absentmindedly munching on a bag of chips. He looks cozy in his gray sweatpants and loose white t-shirt, his messy hair falling across his forehead. A slight crease forms between his brows as he reads, completely lost in the story.

You’d given him the book and a card for his birthday—a little diversion, a little compromise. He’d mentioned that he usually spends the day reading and enjoying a good meal, so you’d spent the morning making him breakfast in bed, followed by a cozy afternoon curled up reading on the couch together. All in all, it was a good way to spend the day.

But now it's time for the real birthday to start.

"How's my little prince?" you ask, sinking onto the couch beside him and snuggling against his side.

Xavier groans but pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around you. "You cannot start calling me that."

"And why not?" You ask, poking him in the chest. "You don't like it?"

"No," Xavier shakes his head, his voice losing some of its teasing tone. "Not that one."

You glance at him curiously, surprised that he sounds serious. You've never known him to be picky about pet names. In fact, you're pretty sure he secretly loves them.

"Alright," you say slowly. "Then how about Xavie? Xay Xay? Xavie baby?"

Xavier scrunches up his nose, making a disapproving noise.

"Not those either? Okay, fine. You leave me no choice," you say with a playful grin. "Birthday Bunny it is."

He lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and sets the book aside to pull you into a kiss.

"One day," he agrees, peppering your cheeks and nose with small kisses. "You can call me that for one day a year."

"Every October 16th," you nod, grinning. "Got it. That means... 6 hours until I have to stop using it. We better get to work."

"Get to work?" He raises an eyebrow at you, confused.

"I have a surprise for you," you whisper, stealing a kiss from his lips that was meant for your cheek. "It's something sweet."

"Hmm," he hums, pretending to be deep in thought. 

"This surprise wouldn't have anything to do with all of the ingredients you bought yesterday, would it? Flour, and sugar, and candy,” he lists off. “All of the things someone might need to make a...cake?"

Xavier doesn’t bother hiding his smile, and his starburst eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Xavier Shen!" You gasp, though there's no real surprise in your voice. You hadn't exactly been stealthy. "I told you not to look in those bags!"

"It was an accident," he says, his smile growing wider. "I'm clumsy. I tripped and my face landed right in the bags. It hurt a lot."

"You are a huge, really old, terrible liar," you say, attempting to scowl, but your laughter spills out as you pinch his cheek.

He laughs with you, tilting his face away from your playful fingers, then stands up from the couch.

"Do I get to help?" He asks, reaching down to offer you a hand.

He pulls you up with such enthusiasm that you stumble into him with a giggle. "Of course! It's your birthday; it's your cake. I'm just here to supervise."

He struggles to pout past his smile, "I don't need supervision."

You give him a sidelong glance, smirking, but decide not to mention the last time he nearly burned down the apartment complex. After all, it is his birthday. You can let that one slide.

You and Xavier work together to mix the ingredients for a simple, round white cake. You walk him through greasing the cake pan and adding the batter, though you bite your tongue when you notice he’s overfilled it. It probably won’t matter, you remind yourself, and the main goal is for him to enjoy the process. Still, while he’s distracted, browsing through the cake decorations, you quietly adjust the oven to the correct temperature.

There will be no Xavier kitchen disasters on your watch. At least, not today.

As the cake bakes, you seize the opportunity to set your plan in motion. 

You start by casually brushing against him while arranging the decorating supplies, trying to catch his attention. When that doesn’t seem to do the trick, you intentionally knock over an oven mitt and bend down to pick it up, doing so slowly to make sure he notices the way your leggings cling to your ass as your sweater rides up. You think you've finally gotten his attention, but when he looks over, all he does is smile and return to scooping icing into piping bags, completely unfazed.

What the hell? Does he really love cooking that much? 

In movies and cheesy romance novels, this kind of thing always works. You can’t help feeling a bit silly now. You’d hoped that if you kept him worked up throughout the day, he wouldn’t be able to resist you tonight. But, apparently, none of this works on him. He's either too oblivious or too innocent to even notice.

As the sweet scent of cake fills the apartment, you slip onto the stool beside him at the bar counter, pulling a half-empty bowl of icing closer to inspect it. He’d mixed it himself while you were busy trying to play seductress, and it actually looks perfect. Smooth and creamy, just the right thickness for piping.

Xavier glances over, flashing you a grin, and dips his finger into the icing before bringing it to your lips. "Try it. I think I got it right."

Your stomach does a little flip as you open your mouth, and he slides his finger in. The icing is rich and sweet, with the perfect balance of butter and sugar, and you trace your tongue along his finger, making sure to get every last bit.

His eyes, locked on your mouth, grow darker as you attempt to tease him by sucking gently.

"Do you like it?" He asks, rubbing his finger against your tongue before slowly withdrawing it.

His voice has dropped to a low, suggestive tone that makes your heartbeat quicken, and suddenly, you're not sure if he's talking about the icing or something else entirely. But that hardly matters—you may not be a good seductress, but you still know an opportunity when you see one.

"Um, I don't know," you stammer, as you feel your own cheeks start to heat up. "I need to taste it again. Just to be sure."

His eyes linger on your mouth, flick to the bowl, and then drift back to your lips. He dips two fingers into the icing, and then lifts them back up to your parted lips. But instead of feeding you, he smirks and smears the icing from the corner of your mouth to the side of your cheek, leaving a playful, sticky line in his wake.

You're surprised for only half a second before you laugh and swat at him. "Xav! You did not!"

He catches your wrist in his hand with ease, and tugs you closer. "Hold still." He laughs, "I think you might have gotten some on your face."

"Oh, you think?"

"Yeah, don't know how that happened," he says under his breath, moving his other hand to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

His lips press gently against yours, and he teases away the smear of icing on your lips with his tongue. You part your mouth for him, and he deepens the kiss. It's sweet and warm, and leaves you wanting more as he pulls back to wipe the icing off of your cheek.

He sucks the sticky residue off his thumb, and you feel a warm ache between your thighs at the sight.

Does he do that on purpose? He must. He must know.

"It's good," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "Not too sweet. Just right."

You're contemplating whether or not you could move fast enough to smear icing all over his face as payback when the oven timer goes off with a loud beep. He turns away before you get the chance, slipping on oven mitts and carefully easing open the oven door.

You hold your breath as Xavier pulls the cake out and sets the warm pan down on the counter to cool. It has risen just over the pan’s edges, but it is a perfect golden brown color and has baked evenly across.

"It looks so good!" You praise, feeling genuinely impressed and relieved. 

It does look good. Better than you could have hoped for.

Xavier's smile borders on brilliant as he looks between you and the cake, and it’s so heartwarming that you’d do anything to keep that starlight in his eyes forever. In this moment, you think—if there’s any purpose to life, maybe this one is yours.

As the cake cools, you move on to the decorations and present him with his options. You know stars are kind of his whole thing, but you couldn't resist picking out something that might make him laugh.

"Okay. Biggest decision of the night," you say, holding up an item in each hand. "Bunnies or stars?"

Xavier rolls his eyes, taking the small, marshmallow bunny from your hand and inspecting it with a smile. "You're really not going to let this bunny thing go, are you?"

"Why would I? You're my birthday bunny for...I don't know...5 more hours?"

He laughs and shakes his head, "Alright. Let's do both."

"Both?"

"Yeah," he nods, placing the marshmallow back into your hand. "Bunnies and stars belong together, don't they?"

"You're right," you say softly, a feeling of warmth blooming inside of your chest. "They do."

It’s such a simple statement, light and playful, nothing that has to mean anything. Just harmless flirting - not something you should take so seriously. But you’re losing yourself in him, and finding love in every word, every breath, every glance. 

You’re certain he must feel it too—but does he feel it the way you do?

Together, you and Xavier pipe delicate blue and purple swirls of buttercream all over the cake until it's fully covered in icing. You scatter small candy stars over the top, and add one white marshmallow bunny and one yellow star to the center. It’s far from a professional finish and the colors do not exactly go together, but that only adds to its charm.

You made it together; it was always going to be perfect.

"Only one candle?" Xavier asks, rifling through the bag of decorations and pulling out a singular, white candle.

"Yeah," you reply slowly, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I thought... well, hundreds would be too many for one cake, and... it's your first birthday with me. You know, the first one we’re spending together."

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you feel a little stupid saying it out loud. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture, but your reasoning sounds embarrassingly naive and kind of cheesy.

Xavier’s eyes shine with warmth as he leans in, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He presses a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, then a second, deeper kiss to your lips. 

"It’s the first one that has ever mattered. One candle is perfect."

You bite your lip to keep your feelings from tumbling out of your mouth. It's the first one that has ever mattered because it matters to you - and you matter to him. 

And you may just tell him exactly how you feel if you open your mouth, so instead you simply nod.

Together, the two of you complete the final touches on the cake. Xavier gently nestles the candle into the icing while you search for a lighter.

"Got it," you say, pulling it from the kitchen drawer before returning to his side, standing over the cake together. "Do you know what you’re going to wish for?"

"I do, yeah."

With your eyes on Xavier, you light the candle, and a little flame flares to life. You watch as he leans in to blow it out, and try to etch every detail of this moment into your memory.

"Should I sing?"

Xavier laughs, his eyes finding yours as he wraps an arm around your waist. "I would like that."

Blushing, you awkwardly clear your throat and launch into the most off-key rendition of the birthday song ever sung. He watches you with a smile so warm it makes your cheeks burn even brighter.

As your song comes to an end, he laces his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, tender kiss to the back of it.

"Do you want to know what I wished for?"

"No!" You say quickly, laughing as you smile up at him. "You can't tell me. It will ruin the birthday magic."

He gives you a tender smile, his hand cradling your cheek as his thumb brushes softly against your skin. 

"I don’t need magic to make this wish come true; I just need you." His voice is gentle, his eyes searching yours before he continues. "After this, let's spend every year together."

It's a wish and a request - all at once. You’ve never felt happier as you whisper a soft yes against his lips, and seal your promise with a kiss.

"What did you wish for?" he asks, breaking the kiss just long enough to pose the question.

"Me?" You ask, confusion knitting your brows.

"It's our first birthday together," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't you get to make a wish, too?"

You smile at him, shaking your head. "That's not how birthdays work, bunny. Only one person gets to make a wish when they blow out the candles."

He thinks for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before it melts into an excited grin. "Come on," he says, "We'll start a new birthday tradition."

Before you can even ask, he’s already pulling you down the hall, and guiding you out onto the bedroom balcony.

You shiver as the cool night air greets you, and he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You lean into his warmth, waiting for him to explain what this new tradition could be.

When he remains silent, and all you can see is the sleepy, darkened neighborhood, you turn your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Look up," he whispers against your ear.

You turn your eyes to the night sky, where only the moon and stars are reflected back at you. Then, a small glimmer of light streaks past, disappearing as quickly as it came. Another follows, then another, and another. A small shower of bright trails light up the sky, leaving a brief shimmers behind them.

"It's so pretty," you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

It takes you a moment longer than it should to realize that he's doing this. That those are his falling stars, and they're all for you.

"Make a wish," he says, pressing a kiss against your hair. "I'll make it come true."

It’s beautiful—absolutely breathtaking; a sight few people will ever get to see. But it’s not the pretty lights dancing across the sky that have left you feeling breathless. It's him.

He’s offering you a wish, a promise to make it come true. And without a single doubt, you know he’d do anything to keep that promise for you.

You begin to tremble in his arms as warmth spreads from your heart and fills every inch of you with absolute certainty. You understand, suddenly, how very dumb you have been today. You weren't craving intimacy and unbridled passion. Not really.

No, this feeling—this pure, unshaken faith and limitless hope for the future—is the feeling you’ve been seeking all along.

You’d wondered if what you felt yesterday could ever be matched, and now you know that it can't.

Because this is not a match; it's an eclipse. It’s not the same, and you wouldn't want it to be.

It is wildly, beautifully, utterly different.

Kissing Rafayel had felt like drowning—like being crushed by a wave of memories from the past that were too intense and passionate to understand. 

But this, wrapped in Xavier's arms as he lights the night sky with unspoken promises, feels like catching a glimpse of your future.

This isn’t a brutal, inescapable tide that pulls you under and leaves you gasping for air. It’s the warm, secure comfort of finally coming home after being lost for far too long.

"I love you," you whisper, wishes and stars forgotten as you turn in his arms to face him.

Xavier cradles your face in his hands, his gaze filling with wonder, as though you hold his entire universe in your eyes.

"Say it again."

"You didn't hear me?" You ask softly.

"Just say it again."

"I love you, Xavier," You repeat, your pulse racing.

He releases a long, unsteady breath, his body trembling under your fingers as a tender, vulnerable smile lights up his face.

"I love you, too." He says, his voice strained with pent up emotion. "I've always loved you."

He said it back; it's real. Your heart has either stopped beating entirely or it's just racing so fast that you can't tell one beat from the next.

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are around his neck, and before you can fully process it, he lifts you into his arms and pulls you into a kiss. It’s impossibly gentle, and he holds you as if you are the most precious, delicate thing he's ever touched.

"Because of you," Xavier says, his eyes brimming with affection as he looks up at you, "I've started to feel emotions I've never felt before. And I've done a lot of things I wouldn't normally do. I didn't know it could feel like this."

Tears of happiness blur your vision, and you nod, understanding exactly what he means because you feel it, too.

"You mean everything to me," you whisper, your voice trembling as you struggle to find the right words. "You're all I want, Xav. I'm all yours."

"And I'm yours. Completely." He says, his voice low and sure, and the sky above brightens as a cascade of shooting stars streak across the night.

He wipes a happy tear from your cheek as he gently sets you back on your feet, and you laugh - overwhelmed and elated in equal measure.

You know it’s probably too soon to say these things, to feel these things. It makes no sense how he’s captured your heart so quickly, or how you seem to hold his just as tightly. 

But there has never been any logic in love; you either feel it or you don't. And right now, it's the only thing you can feel.

"I love you," you say again, hugging him close, still in awe that you get to say it out loud.

"One more time."

"I love you, I love you, I love you," you chant, smiling against his chest.

"I could never get tired of hearing you say that," he says, laughing softly.

"I've wanted to tell you that for a while now," you admit.

"I've wanted to say it for much longer."

"It's not a competition, bunny."

"No," he agrees, still smiling, "But if it were, I'd win."

"How do you know that? Maybe I've been madly in love with you for months." You counter.

His smile wavers, his expression turning thoughtful. He opens his mouth as if to say something but stops, shaking his head gently before finally saying, "You'll have to trust me on this one."

You know that look; you recognize that hesitancy, but you pretend not to as he leads you back inside the apartment. His hesitation doesn’t unsettle you the way it used to. You do trust him, now more than ever, and there's nothing that could rob you of the happiness you feel tonight.

The cake ended up tasting even better than it looked, and you praised him with exaggerated moans and hums of delight as you shared it together. His blushes and half-hearted complaints over your dramatics faded into laughter, and before long, his laughter became your own as he chased you from the kitchen to the living room.

You laugh and squirm as he pins you to the couch, his fingers relentlessly tickling your sides. When his hands brush against your sweater, grazing the lingerie beneath, you fall silent as the memory of your plan for the night springs to mind. 

It doesn’t seem as important now, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still want him—perhaps even more than before. Just not for the same reason.

You love him, and you want him to feel that love in every possible way.

Xavier stops his playful assault once he notices you've gone quiet, and his fingers still to a caress as he takes in your expression.

"I know that look," he teases, looking down at you. "What are you planning?"

"Planning? Me? Nothing." You say innocently, even as you start to blush. "I was just thinking that now that the birthday bunny has had his cake, he might want to open his present."

Xavier tilts his head to the side, giving you a confused look. "Didn't I already open my present?"

"Not this one. There's one more. It's...hidden somewhere. You'll have to find it."

"Hidden?" He scans the living room and small dining room before his eyes drift back to yours.

A slow smile spreads across his face, "Hmm. Not in here," he murmurs, and leans down to nuzzle your neck. "I wonder where it could be?"

He kisses and sucks a sensitive spot below your ear, and your pulse races as he nudges your thighs apart.

"Is it in the bedroom?" He suggests, his mouth moving down your neck as he settles his weight on top of you.

You hadn’t really thought about how to show him this particular gift, and now, with his hands on you, you're too distracted to think of anything clever. But the way he’s already touching you tells you that he won't have any trouble figuring it out on his own.

"No, not in the bedroom," you whisper. "It's somewhere much closer."

"Much closer," he mumbles against your neck, his hand slipping under your sweater to trail up your stomach. His fingers tease along the edge of your bra before he gently squeezes your breast.

"This close?" He asks, rocking his hips against yours.

"Getting warmer," you gasp, feeling the hard outline of him pressing against you through the fabric or your clothes.

Xavier pauses, propping himself up on one arm as his eyes meet yours. His gaze slowly drops, lingering where his hand is hidden under your sweater. You feel the light, curious tracing of his fingers over the lace of your bra, and see the moment his eyes widen.

"Oh," he breathes, lifting your sweater up to your chest. His breath catches as his eyes fall on the delicate, sheer black lace of your bra.

He swallows thickly at the sight before him, his lips parted as his breathing turns uneven. "This is my present?"

Your cheeks flush with warmth, and you resist the urge to tug your sweater back down. Instead, you manage a shaky, "Yeah. There's... more."

His eyes snap back up to yours, and he pushes himself back on his knees to trail his hands down your stomach and rest on the waistband of your leggings. 

Your stomach tightens with anticipation as you wait for him to say something—anything—to reveal what he’s thinking. But the way his pupils are blown wide and his gaze devours you is at least a little reassuring.

"More?" he echoes, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband as he looks up at you, waiting for permission.

You give him a shy nod, lifting your hips to let him slide your leggings down your thighs. As the sheer, black lace of your barely-there panties comes into view, his face twists with something between awe and agony, like you look so good that it hurts.

You suck in a quick breath, your stomach coiling in a mix of pleasure and self-consciousness, as he runs his fingers lightly along the delicate fabric between your legs.

He's being so quiet, and the fire his touch ignites in your stomach does nothing to reassure you that you don't look ridiculous wearing something like this.

"Do you...like your present?" you ask softly.

"Like it?" he whispers, unable to drag his eyes away from the sight of you. "I...love it, you, this..."

You bite your lip to hide your nervous smile as he seems to struggle to find his next word.

"You don't usually wear things like this," he says finally, meeting your eyes, and you can see the hunger there more clearly now. "Is it just for birthdays?"

"It's just for you," you whisper, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable as he rubs his fingers more firmly over the damp lace of your panties. "Whenever you want me to wear it."

He groans, a low, rough sound that vibrates in his throat, and trails his eyes slowly down from your chest to your panties. 

Without a word, he stands from the couch, quickly sliding your leggings the rest of the way off. He slips one arm underneath your knees and the other behind your waist, and carries you bridal style toward the bedroom.

The moment he sets you down on the bed, his hands are already tugging at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. 

Your pulse races, breath hitching with anticipation, as he quickly strips off his sweatpants and briefs. He's hard, and your eyes widen as you take in the size of him. It’s the first time you’ve truly seen him like this, and you wonder how in the world it's going to fit.

There's only one way to find out.

As he climbs onto the bed, you start to lift your sweater, and his hands are there instantly, helping you tug it over your head. A soft moan escapes your lips as his mouth finds your neck, trailing kisses and gentle bites down the newly exposed skin, moving slowly down to your chest.

He pauses when his lips meet the edge of your bra, his hands firmly cupping your breasts. He looks up and asks, "Can I unwrap my present now?"

"God, yes," You say breathlessly, even as your cheeks burn hotter.

You expect him to reach for the clasp of your bra, and are surprised when he moves past it and kisses a path down your stomach.

"Xav—" You barely get a chance to ask him what he's doing before he slides his hand beneath you, easily lifting your hips as he hooks his fingers in the lace of your panties and slides them down your thighs.

Once your panties have been tossed onto the floor, he grasps your thighs and spreads them apart. He lets his breath ghost over your clit, and an impatient whimper leaves your mouth. 

You want to squirm and chase the sensation, but his strong hands on your hips hold you firmly in place. You moan as you feel his tongue lick a strip along your slit before circling your clit. 

It’s somehow even better than the first time—something you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are. 

The tension coiling in your body leaves you breathless, panting, and when he slides two fingers into your pussy, a gasp escapes you. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close as your thighs start to tremble.

The slick, wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy are enough to drive you insane, and the thought of him stopping is nearly unthinkable. But you had a plan - you want more than this. You need more than just this from him.

"Xav, please," You beg, tugging at his hair to get him to look at you. "I need you."

His fingers pause inside of you as he meets your desperate eyes, and the loss of his tongue on your clit makes you feel even more needy, shredding the last bits of self-consciousness you have been holding on to.

"I want to feel you. Inside of me. Please."

Even with his face between your thighs and his lips shining with your wetness, his cheeks still manage to flush at your words, a soft pink dusting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. 

You bite your lip, mentally preparing for rejection, as you watch the silent struggle play out in his eyes. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you wish you could read his mind; understand whatever it is that is holding him back.

"If you don’t want to..." Your words come out halting, uncertainty and self-consciousness creeping back in. "We can wait."

His brows furrow as he shakes his head, shifting closer to cover your body with his. He cups your face in his hand, his voice low and soft. "You think I don't want to?"

The way his voice drops and the intensity in his eyes make it clear that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

He settles his weight on top of you, his cock brushing against your slick pussy, his desire unmistakable.

You gasp softly as you feel him slide against you, so close to where you need to be filled. Unable to stop yourself, you buck your hips, trying to feel more of him. 

He moans at the slick friction, pressing his forehead to yours as he thrusts against you, his cock grazing your clit with each movement.

It’s hard to focus, and the question slips from your lips before you can stop it, awkward and overly honest. "You want to wait until marriage?"

Surprise twists his expression as he pulls back to meet your eyes, and his lips curve into an amused smile.

"I don’t want to wait," he says, shaking his head before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "And...we’re already married, Mrs. Shen."

His words draw a whimper from your throat, surprised at how good it sounds for him to call you that while you're panting and desperate underneath him.

He shifts, positioning his body between your parted thighs. He fists his cock, rubbing the tip along the wet folds of your pussy until he brushes against your entrance. 

His eyes find yours, his breath coming in shallow pants. "Are you sure?"

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the heat between your legs builds. You're aching for this connection; you are so, so very sure.

"Please, Xav," You whimper, spreading your legs wider. "I want you so badly."

He groans, his hand tightening on your hip as he uses the other one to guide his cock. His breath hitches and his brow furrows with concern as his warm, blue eyes meet yours. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

He remains still, waiting for you to nod your agreement. 

When it comes, he moves slowly, gently easing his cock inside you.

The sensation is intense as he stretches you in ways you haven't experienced before. A gasp escapes your lips, a mix of surprise and pleasure, as you adjust to this overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

His cock is larger than his slender fingers, and the difference makes for a deliciously tight fit.

Xavier slides just halfway inside you before he leans forward and covers your body with his. His weight feels protective and warm as he drops his forehead to your shoulder and releases a shuddering breath.

Then he lifts his head and cups your cheek in his hand, his expression full of affection and awe.

"You feel amazing," he says. "Is this okay?"

"It’s so good," you whisper breathily.

 Your hands slide down his back, fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles before settling on his hips. You give a gentle, urging pull. "Please."

Slowly, he pulls out of you, and then gently thrusts forward. A groan slips out of him, and he fists the sheet beside of your head in an effort to maintain control.

You let out a series of small moans and gasps as he builds a very gentle, slow rhythm; pulling out just slightly before sinking back in a few inches. It feels exquisite, and you're savoring every sensation. 

But your body is craving more—much more.

"Xavier," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair. When his eyes flicker open, you continue, "Harder. I want to feel all of you."

Your words must snap the last threads of his restraint because he groans and sinks all of the way inside you before pulling out and thrusting back in hard.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips as pleasure and pain collide, creating a feeling better than you thought could exist.

He freezes at the sound of your gasp, his body trembling against yours as his eyes search your face. "Did I hurt you?"

Words are gone, lost to you in the rush of sensation. No longer needing gentleness or hesitation, you grip his hips tighter, urging him forward as your own hips rise to meet his.

A mix of confusion and desire flickers across his face as he catches his breath. But he gives in to your urging hands, pulling nearly all of the way out before thrusting his hips forward to meet yours again.

"You like that?" he asks questioningly, his voice rough with need.

You arch your back at the sensation and wrap your legs around him, urging him closer.

"You do like that," he says in a tone that borders on amazement. He stares down at you like he's never experienced anything so wonderful before.

"Yes," you gasp, the word barely leaving your lips before you pull him into a desperate kiss.

His thrusts gain more confidence, building a rhythm of faster, harder movements.

Pleasure builds within you, and you’re struck by how perfectly everything fits, as if you were always meant to be this way—completely, undeniably his.

"Feels so good being inside you," Xavier pants, his breath hot against your skin as he trails biting, sucking kisses along your neck. "I never want to stop."

"God, don't stop."

He marvels at you as you writhe beneath him. You clutch him tight, forcing each one of his strokes to go deeper as your pussy clenches around him.

You can feel the pleasure building and building...

"Tell me you need this," he says roughly. 

His hand cups your face, tilting your chin until your eyes meet his. "Tell me you want me to come inside you."

Your pussy practically convulses at the growl of his words, and your brain nearly stops functioning. He's not blushing or shy, and the look in his eyes is possessive and demanding.

You don't even have to think about your answer. "I need you. I want you to come inside of me."

Xavier's strokes deepen until he's slamming himself all of the way home with each thrust, and within moments you cry out as your orgasm pulses through you. Your back arches and you cling to him tightly as pleasure seizes you.

You feel his cock thicken, and with a deep groan, he comes inside of you.

The sensation is unique; you didn’t think you’d be able to feel it. But you can feel his warmth spreading inside of you and filling you up.

He stares down at you, panting, as his strokes gradually slow and you loosen your grip around him.

"That was..." He trails off as he collapses on top of you.

You stroke his hair as your breathing finally begins to slow.

"I love you," he mumbles against your shoulder, and then kisses it.

"I love you, too."

After a moment, he slowly withdraws and shifts onto his side, gathering you into his strong arms. His lips find yours in a soft, sweet kiss. You snuggle close to him, feeling satisfied, warm, and blissfully drowsy.

He traces a finger gently along the curve of your cheek, his gaze filled with unmistakable tenderness as he takes in the sight of you.

"What did you wish for? Earlier?"

It takes you a moment to remember, and you hide your face against his chest when you do. It's a silly wish; not one that you want to say out loud.

"Tell me," he says softly, stroking his fingers through your hair.

There’s no reason not to tell him, other than the fact that it’s an impossibly big wish. Too big and too hard to fulfill for the short amount of time you have been together.

But he wants to know, and there’s no use in hiding it. 

You blush as you look up at him. "I wish this could all be real. The marriage. Living together. You know...all of it."

He looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment, and then nods slowly.

He holds out his hand palm up. A small, glowing ball of light appears there and shimmers softly. He raises his hand to his lips and blows gently.

You watch as the light floats toward the ceiling and disappears in a small sparkle.

Xavier looks at you and smiles. "This shooting star has made a promise to you."

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1940 05 Westland Lysander MkIII - box art Italeri

The Westland Lysander was a short take off and landing (STOL) aircraft that was initially employed in the forward observer/artillery spotter/army cooperation role. It would later provide air support for what would subsequently be called covert operations in Occupied Europe. It first flew on June 15, 1936 and was a factor in the post-war development of a STOL requirement by the world’s major air forces. Entering service with the Royal Air Force in June 1938, its design was significantly influenced by the German Henschel Hs 126, a similar aircraft in the Luftwaffe inventory. The Lysander was fully operational with No. 16 (Army Co-operation) Squadron at the time of the Munich Crisis in September 1938, and began the R.A.F’s process of phasing out its then designated artillery spotter aircraft, the Hawker Hector bi-plane.By the time war broke out a year later, it was in service with seven squadrons, six of which deployed to France in the first months of the war (Nos. 2, 4, 13, 26, 613 and 614). When hostilities in the West began in earnest in May 1940 with Germany’s invasion of France and the Low Countries, Lysanders began reconnaisance and artillery spotting operations, with Nos. 2 and 4 Squadrons re-deploying to Belgium.On occasion, Lysanders gave a surprisingly good account of themselves when pitted against state-of-the-art German fighters. In one action, a group of Lysanders was attacked by six Messerschmitt Bf 110s over Belgium, and the rear gunner of one of them, L.A.C. Gillham, shot down one of the 110’s, before his pilot could escape at low level. In the coming weeks, Lysanders were frequently set upon by Bf 109’s, particularly when unescorted by their own fighters. While not fast, they were highly manueverable; if they were lucky, they would escape with mere battle damage. But between May 10 and May 23, 1940, nine crews and 11 aircraft were lost to enemy action. On the 25th still more were caught on the ground in a strafing attack at Clairmarais and destroyed.By the time of the Dunkirk evacuation, the Lysander squadrons had been decimated, having virtually no serviceable aircraft. Often their crews flew against intimidating odds, being called upon to air drop supplies without fighter escort to British or French troops, or provide ground support with their loads of 40 lb. bombs, all in skies increasingly dominated by the Luftwaffe. They inflicted damage along the way; on May 22 Flying Officer Dodge shot down a Henschel Hs 126 with his forward machine guns, while his rear gunner downed a Junkers Ju 87 Stuka. But this was the exception. Of 174 aircraft deployed to France, 88 were lost in air combat and 30 more destroyed on the ground by the time the French capitulated.

After Dunkirk, contemplating a loss rate of 63 percent, the RAF had little choice but to withdraw the Lysander from front line service — at least for daytime operations. The Lysander would go on to its greatest fame as the aircraft of choice for Special Operations Executive, a covert auxiliary of (and competitor to) the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), charged by Winston Churchill with covert operations in the Occupied Countries and a mandate to “set Europe ablaze.” Soon, on a regular basis, Lysanders of No. 138 Squadron (Special Duties), painted matt black, inserted agents and their weapons, ammunition, explosives and other supplies, and withdrew shot-down airmen. Sometimes they withdrew people wanted by the Gestapo, or brought Resistance leaders back to London for briefings. Lysanders would later be used by both the British Commandos and the American Office of Strategic Services on similar operations in Europe and the Far East.

Landing in unprepared clearings or meadows at night, the landing ground identified by small torches lit by members of the Resistance, Lysanders helped sustain hope in Occupied Europe and Asia. By 1942 they were equipped with larger fuel tanks (starting with the Mk. IIIa) to allow penetration deeper into France, and their ladders touched up with flourescent paint to allow quicker ingress and egress from the plane. There was constant danger – one on occasion, a Lysander guided to a landing by torches touched down, only to be met by German machine gun fire. The pilot, Squadron Leader Conroy, slammed the throttle open and struggled to get airborne, stemming the blood from a neck wound by clamping his hand over it. Brushing the treetops at the edge of the landing field, he managed to return safely to England.

In the Middle East, Lysanders were able to operate longer in their original roles of artillery spotting and reconnaisance since Axis fighter aircraft were not as readily available. In Palestine, they flew throughout 1940 doing aerial blackout inspections, coastal watch, and general co-operation with the Palestine Police. In North Africa, No. 6 Squadron was deployed to Libya and was ordered to remain in Tobruk when the British retreated from Rommel’s Afrika Korps, providing close air support over the beseiged garrison, which continued to hold out. During the war, Lysanders were operated by Britain, France, Ireland, Canada, Finland, Egypt, and South Africa. By war’s end they were a rarity, except in Canada, where relatively large numbers of them persisted until the 1950’s.

[the-californicationist]

Hi 🥺( I’m lotharwinchester on ao3)

It says in your ask guidelines that you’re willing to write in a trans prospective? I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a fanfic where soap and/or price goes to pride with their trans masc squad mate because they’ve never been supported enough to go? (Their relationship could be any one, romantic or platonic) I love your writing, like I can always visualize to the t everything you’re describing. 🥰

Lothar!! Omg hiiii ^_^ I am always so stoked to see your comments, friend! I would be honored to write this fic for you. <3 <3 I hope this is what you were imagining. Happy Pride!!

You'll Never Walk Alone

Spotting him in the crowd was surprisingly easy. To be fair, he was huge. His shoulders sprawled high above a pair of lovers, decked out in their rainbow gear, kissing and hugging each other like their lives depended on it, fully dressed in their pride. If there was ever a time to bring out the tacky rainbow merch, it was today. But, John was in all black. 

You didn’t mind. Not everyone had a closet that was prepared for the city’s annual Pride Parade. You were just glad that he could make it. 

No, that was wrong. You were glad that he decided to come. You didn’t need him to be clad in rainbows. Choosing to be here versus just being available to be here were two very different things. His presence meant the world to you. 

All through training, your captain had never treated you with disrespect. He’d learned your name and your pronouns, and you had a suspicion that everyone else on base had been strongly encouraged to learn them as well. When you rendezvous’d with new teams, he reinforced your identity, making sure that the one or two snide remarks or misgenderings that slipped through were cut down without mercy. He was a fearsome ally, and you felt lucky to have him.

You’d transitioned alone. In fact, most of the people who you had called friends in your life had cut you out of theirs before you’d even had a chance to tell them about your true identity. They knew that you had refused to conform to their idea of how you should have dressed, how you should have worn your hair, how you should have behaved, and that had been enough for them to abandon you. Your heart ached to know that their friendship had been conditional. Those people had wanted to make you feel ashamed of yourself, of who you had finally been able to become now that you were out from under their oppressive darkness.

But, you weren’t ashamed. You were determined. You joined up with the RAF, eventually making it through to the SAS, and you promised yourself that if you had to die for your country, you’d not die with your deadname still hanging heavy around your neck.

So, you changed it. Officially. Price had even been there to help you with the paperwork. 

This was your first official pride after coming out, and although crowds tended to make any good soldier a little nervous, you had actually never felt more secure. Wearing your rainbow-strapped backpack with your blue, pink, and white trans pride tee was not how you usually chose to represent yourself in public. To be honest, you usually dressed like Price, dark and covert, but not today. Today, you wanted to be yourself, loudly. 

You caught your captain’s eye and waved him down. Watching the street for scooters or bikes, he jogged over to you, joining you in the back of the parade. 

“Hey, mate. Good to see ya.” His voice was deep and comforting. He shook your hand with genuine warmth, falling into step beside you. 

“You, too. I’m glad you’re here, Cap.” You studied his face, still moved by his support.

“All dressed up? Lookin’ sharp.” Price examined your outfit, getting a good look at your facepaint as well. You’d gotten it done at the start of the parade, and you were sure it had halfway flaked off by now. 

“Thanks. Oh! Almost forgot. Picked up one of these for you, if you want it.” You handed him a pin. It was a simple pride flag button, but the look on his face was full of surprise and gratitude. 

“Nice! Sorry about my lack of rainbows, mate. But, I found this shirt I got for The Reds’ season last year, and I reckoned it’d do.”

Price unzipped his black hoodie and held out his shirt, stretching it for you to see the words. It was the Liverpool Football Club’s merch with their famous song title emblazoned on the front.

“You’ll never walk alone,” you read aloud, looking up at Price for clarification.

“Aye. You’ll never walk alone, either, mate. Promise you that. In fact, the boys should be here any minute.”

He looked down at his watch and then searched through the crowd at the next intersection. You peered into the swarm of flags and glitter and people and saw them there; Soap, Gaz, and Ghost all standing together, craning their necks, searching for you and the captain. 

Gaz had come prepared with a big billowing flag in his hands, Soap had clearly had way more fun at the face painting booth than you did, and Ghost, although dressed in just as much black as Price, wore a trans pride medical mask over his mouth. 

Price let out a shrill whistle, the pitch of which made your blood run cold from its familiarity. All at once, the trio turned toward you, and when they saw your faces, they broke out into smiles, trotting towards you as they folded around the hoard of people. 

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by your team, laughing and joking and dancing together through the street, the music vibrating through your chest, your cheeks burning from your perpetual smile.

Johnny was having the time of his life, somehow charming his way onto a nearby float, waving the flags back and forth like he was leading a charge. Gaz and Ghost were walking in front of you, chatting with the people around you, catching candy being tossed from the crowd.

Price hung back, still keeping step with you. Suddenly, you felt something brush against your wrist. When you looked down, you saw your captain's huge palm swooping under yours to catch it. He took your hand in his, holding it firmly, squeezing it. You looked up at him and smiled, squeezing back.

Where there had once been gray, heavy clouds, now there was only a pale blue sky, and as you felt the sun heat your skin on this chilly June morning, you’d never been more proud to be who you are.

[opencommunion]

"The US Air Force has been sending unmarked planes from Britain’s base on Cyprus to Israel since it began bombing Gaza, it can be revealed. The planes are all C-295 and CN-235 aircraft, which are believed to be used by American special forces. Declassified has found 18 of these aircraft which have gone from the sprawling British air base on Cyprus, RAF Akrotiri, to Israel’s coastal city Tel Aviv since October 7. Akrotiri is the key node in the international effort to arm and provide logistical support for Israel’s assault on Gaza. But the UK government has always refused to divulge any information about US activities at Akrotiri, which is known to include transporting weapons to Israel.

Asked in May how many US Air Force (USAF) flights had taken off from the base since October 7, defence minister Leo Docherty said: 'The Ministry of Defence does not comment on the operations of our Allies.' But Declassified discovered the unmarked planes that flew from Akrotiri to Israel from November to June have a serial number showing they are operated by the USAF. Most of these journeys had the flight number GONZO62. Six more unmarked C-130 planes have gone from Akrotiri to Tel Aviv since the bombing of Gaza began, which are believed to be USAF, but it was not possible for Declassified to locate their operator. The C-130 can carry 128 combat troops and almost 20 tonnes of cargo.

The new information could further implicate British ministers in war crimes in Gaza. In November 2023, a US military official revealed that American special forces were stationed in Israel and 'actively helping the Israelis.' ... Most of the unmarked planes show that they were recently at Fayetteville, North Carolina, which is home to Fort Liberty, the largest US Army base by population with nearly 50,000 active-duty soldiers. Formerly called Fort Bragg, it is home to the 1st Special Forces Command (Airborne) which 'assigns, equips, trains, certifies, and validates [Army Special Operations Forces] Soldiers and units to conduct global operations.' The Pentagon says this unit is 'the most adaptable and capable enabling force in the United States military.' The planes, the C-295 and CN-235, are produced by Airbus and believed to be used by 427th Special Operations Squadron which has been described as USAF’s 'most secretive squadron' and is based at Fort Liberty.

... Declassified has also found 26 marked USAF planes have arrived at RAF Akrotiri since the bombing of Gaza began. These have included 16 huge C-17 military transport aircraft from US bases in Germany, Spain and Kuwait. The C-17 is capable of transporting 134 personnel and many types of military equipment, including Abrams tanks and three Black Hawk helicopters. The US military notes that its role is to 'rapidly project and sustain an effective combat force close to a potential battle area.'"

[painted-bees]

Hi!! Can I ask what happens at the festival? Do people recognize her music?

By this point, Raf and Magritte had composed a fair few tracks together, for fun. Most of it having been written and recorded during their year on Cortes Island. And so, they put together a setlist of these songs and rehearsed them as a three part band, which included Cortes.

This would be the first time Cortes accompanied them on stage (Raf insisted, just having Cortes involved does a lot to soothe his Anxieties), but Raf and Magritte had played together for shows prior to this...however, it had only ever been for very, very small venues, and under obscure ever-changing band names, without Raf himself ever explicitly having to identify himself to his audience. He had always been...rather covert.

Now, as part of his deal for getting Margie on the stage, his end of the bargain was to allow his name and likeness be used as a way of drawing in more attendees. He figured (and prefered) that he may as well do it as a bandmate to Magritte. And so, it was Stampy Ptarmigans ft. Rafael Ephrem. Just one band from a rather robust lineup of bands that would be playing during the weekend of the festival.

Being on stage, and everything around it, isn't difficult for Raf. One thing he kinda loathes to admit is that a part of him really does miss playing for large crowds. He likes putting on his stage persona and playing to an audience--he gets to be someone who doesn't really exist, playing for people who don't really exist. On stage, with the lights, it's hard to make out individual faces and expressions much of the time, and the people in the audience can be who ever he imagines them to be. It is like his life is a cartoon where he is simply a cartoon character playing to a cartoon audience, and all of it is within the realm of his control. When he was growing up, and as a teenager--being on stage in the middle of a live preformance was when he felt the safest.

But right before, and especially right after, was always the worst...the most uncomfortable. The scariest.

However, compared to what he was use to, rehearsals and the moments leading up to the show were quite different when Magritte and Cortes occupied the space where his parents/managers would have been. A lot of the energy he would have spent worrying about (and preemptively bracing for) the inevitable fallout of a less-than-perfect preformance was instead spent vibing with Cortes and assuring Magritte that they're just here to have a good time and have fun playing their silly little tunes same as they always have, and that folks in the audience are gonna enjoy it. After all, back when they first started meeting for their weekly jam sessions, one of the first tenants they agreed on was that they'd only play music together for as long as it was fun. They wouldn't be here, preparing to walk on stage together, if it wasn't fun to do so.

Thankfully, jitters aside, Magritte was eager and excited as always to just play music...and under such energizing circumstances! The lights, the VOLUME!! It's a lot more than she was use to, and despite her nerves, she couldn't stop smiling--so much that the muscles in her face hurt.

And it was fun. Their set list was an hour long, everything went well, and they had a blast playing. There had been a moment where Magritte skipped an entire verse of a song, and some clever improvisation was required to keep things moving forward in a way that felt pleasing and natural. But after the show, Magritte would cite that moment as her favorite part. Which is...more than a little refreshing from Raf's perspective, since those kinds of mistakes would usually mean a scathing lecture lasting into the earliest hours of the morning, followed by stricter hours of practise during the following weeks/months until the next major show.

But no. After the show, Magritte was on cloud 9, and would ride that high for months. The three of them would be remembered fondly by the audience, exactly the way they had hoped, with Raf's preformance being wholly overshadowed by his other two band members (especially the ""Icelandic"" one with the otherworldly vocals) and Magritte's Stampy Ptarmigans youtube channel enjoyed a healthy influx of enthusiastic new subscribers.

Certainly, there might have been people in the audience who recognized her from youtube and MySpace. But mostly, it was a fresh new audience hearing her work for the first time. And a lot of them decided they didn't want it to be the last time they'd ever hear her music.

All in all, a positive experience..! And certainly not the last of its kind to be enjoyed by our trio♡

[usafphantom2]

North American RB45C-4 Tornado. Four were given RAF markings to enable RAF/US Covert operations over Soviet territory, RAF aircrew from RAF Sculthorpe operated these flights during 1952..

photo IWMc..

@CcibChris via X

[mariacallous]

It was a revelation that astounded the Irish parliament — and prompted suspicions, accusations, denials and calls for inquiries among members and observers.

The Sunday Times told last week how Russian intelligence had recruited a politician to act as an agent for the Kremlin during the Brexit talks and that, remarkably, they are still at large.

The bombshell reverberated all week with some parliamentarians getting to their feet to deny they were the agent nicknamed Cobalt. But while the question for the tearooms and the pubs was “who is Cobalt?”, the more important question is “what does Russia want with Ireland?”

“It shouldn’t come as any surprise to any of us that Russia seeks to influence public opinion, distort facts, and is active in relation to that across the world — and Ireland is not immune,” Simon Harris, the taoiseach, said.

“We have seen a significant increase in that level of activity since the brutal illegal invasion by Russia of Ukraine over the last number of years. The gardaí and our security services take all of this extremely seriously.”

Yet it was not always thus. Historically neutral, Ireland is now facing the stark realities of Russian espionage, underscoring a new heightened awareness of the threats posed by the Kremlin and the malign activities of its intelligence services.

Ireland has quietly evolved into a strategic hub for Russian intelligence operations. Its geopolitical position on the western periphery of Europe, neutral stance and open economy have made it an attractive base for Russian spies to engage in active measures or covert actions targeting the UK and the EU.

“Russia’s interest in Ireland is the same as that of many multinationals. It’s an English-speaking country that serves as a backdoor into Europe, with weaker regulatory frameworks, meaning it doesn’t take foreign threats seriously,” said Professor Neil Robinson, an expert on Russian and post-communist politics at the University of Limerick.

“Ireland always thought of itself as neutral, not entangled in many of the world’s problems. It didn’t really see itself as part of the Cold War,” he said. “So the Russians were effectively given a free pass by the Irish state, and they used Ireland as a conduit for agents, intelligence and strategic information from its position as a gateway for technology and companies into Europe.”

For Ireland’s under-resourced military and security agencies, the writing has been on the wall for years. Russia has become increasingly active in Ireland’s air, sea, land and cyber domains, much to its embarrassment.

Russian military Tupolev TU-160 Blackjack bombers and anti-submarine patrol aircraft have buzzed Irish airspace to see how quickly Nato responds, as Ireland lacks its own fighter jets. The first publicised incursions were in 2015 when Tu-95 bombers crisscrossed important civilian airline traffic lanes. In 2017 the RAF scrambled Typhoon combat aircraft from its Quick Reaction Alert (QRA) stations to respond to a sortie by Russian strategic bomber aircraft that skirted close to Irish sovereign airspace. A pair of high-profile incursions in 2020 involving six Russian aircraft prompted Ian Paisley Jr to raise the matter in the House of Commons.

Russian warships, submarines, and more recently ghost ships — disguised as research vessels and fishing trawlers — have become frequent visitors to Ireland’s exclusive maritime zones off the south and west coast.

Russian warships regularly converge in Irish-controlled waters, causing concern on both sides of the Atlantic. But more recent Russian tactics fall firmly into the realm of hybrid warfare, which involves everything short of firing a shot.

Russia regularly mounts influence and disinformation campaigns to sway public opinion across Ireland. Russian compatriot groups, supported by its Dublin embassy, organise anti-Ukrainian demonstrations on the streets of Dublin in conjunction with fringe republican groups. Footage of the protests are later broadcast on Russian TV as propaganda.

In April 2022 a convoy of cars waving Russian flags and marked with the pro-war Z symbol paraded down the M50 in Dublin, Ireland’s busiest motorway. The Ukrainian embassy slammed the “disgusting disrespect” against the “Irish people who stand against Russia’s war on Ukraine”.

Most worryingly, Russia has begun to foster connections with loyalist, republican and ultra-left groups in Ireland, further deepening concerns.

Last month the Russian embassy in Dublin hosted a deputation led by John Connolly, a convicted Real IRA bomber, who now leads the Truth and Neutrality Alliance, an ultra-left group which campaigns to defend Irish neutrality and resist entry into military alliances such as Nato. Connolly is a hardline dissident who was sentenced to 14 years in jail after being caught with a large “barrack buster” mortar bomb in Fermanagh in 2000. His Truth and Neutrality Alliance has participated in protests against the use of Shannon airport in Co Clare by the US air force, often waving Ukrainian separatist flags.

Russian services have exploited all these factors to use the country as a platform for mounting broader operations across Europe and beyond.

Russian agents have also been found living long-term double lives in Dublin. It is not known when Russia first began sending these deep cover agents — known in the intelligence world as legends — to Ireland to create false identities and background stories but cases have come to light.

One involved Sergey Vladimirovich Cherkasov, a Russian military intelligence officer who spent four years studying at Trinity College Dublin (TCD) using a false identity.

Cherkasov purported to be a Brazilian named Victor Muller Ferreira, when he studied political science at TCD between 2014 and 2018 before moving to the United States to undertake a master’s at Johns Hopkins University, where he specialised in American politics. He was unmasked as a spy as he attempted to take up a post at the International Criminal Court in the Hague in 2022.

Dublin is also used as a staging ground for Russian intelligence operations in the UK and Europe. As a neutral and accessible European capital, it provides a convenient base from which intelligence activities are coordinated and launched, targeting both Ireland and neighbouring countries including the UK. Much of this activity is directed from the federation’s embassy complex on Orwell Road, a half-finished eyesore in the suburbs of south Dublin.

A massive expansion of the complex was halted when the government introduced emergency legislation to stop the project in 2018 after The Sunday Times revealed how the Kremlin was using its diplomatic post in Dublin to run a network of spies in Europe.

An analysis of the architectural plans had revealed a self-contained structure, the tell-tale sign of a signals base used to transmit and intercept secret communications. The embassy was already being used to assess intelligence collected by Russian spies across Europe before its transmission to Moscow by cypher clerks in Dublin, all working under diplomatic cover.

“Russian spies have always been a problem in Dublin,” said Liam Smaul, a retired Special Branch detective who worked in counterintelligence and spent much of his career monitoring the embassy.

“They came here to enter the UK during the Cold War. It was made worse because, at one stage, Aeroflot used to fly into Shannon. They had means and ways of getting their people in Ireland. Counter-intelligence was never a priority for the garda or the military.”

Declan Power, a defence analyst, said Ireland’s inability to understand the threat made the problem worse.

“No one in the government ever asks where the threats are coming from. We don’t act well on intelligence as policymakers don’t have a good understanding of the threat environment and where the problems are coming from,” he said.

The nature and complexity of the Russian threat now facing Ireland cannot be overstated. The Irish military and the garda intelligence division know the SVR, Russia’s foreign intelligence service, and the GU, the military intelligence branch of the Russian armed forces, are both operating in Ireland. They also suspect the FSB, Russia’s principal security agency, is spying on multinationals based in Ireland, deploying vans full of equipment that can intercept private communications or planting agents inside the companies themselves. More recently, Ireland has been warned that Unit 29155, an elite GU unit that conducts sensitive foreign operations including assassinations and targeted attacks, might have members travelling through the Republic to enter Britain and France.

Of all the security and defence issues that could cause a problem for the government, the Russian threat to the undersea fibre optic cables that carry communication data and internet traffic between Europe to North America is top of the list. The geopolitical consequences if something were to happen are profound. Ireland has an important, often underappreciated, value as a central node in the network of communications cables that criss-cross the globe.

The first signs of Russian interest in the cables in Irish-controlled waters emerged in 2021 when Yantar, an intelligence collection ship, arrived unexpectedly off the northwest coast and began searching the area in a zigzag fashion, suggesting it was mapping the seafloor. The vessel belongs to Russia’s directorate of underwater research, which is part of the defence ministry. It is also capable of mounting underwater sabotage operations using submersibles. This is why Nato continually monitors its movements to assess if it is targeting European or American subsea communications infrastructure. GU agents have also been observed mapping the landing points of subsea cables that come ashore on the west coast, presumably should they ever want to damage them.

The revelation of Cobalt’s existence comes as Ireland swiftly enhances its defence capabilities and further aligns itself with European security frameworks — steps likely to attract the ire of Putin’s Russia. The department of foreign affairs in Dublin has already cut Russian diplomats in the capital from 30 to just five. Dublin has also boosted its defence budget, investing in maritime patrol aircraft, naval vessels, a new primary radar system and missile defence. Last week’s disclosures are expected to drive even more substantial actions.

Keir Giles, a Russian expert at Chatham House, the international affairs think tank, said: “Russia has always found it easier to operate in environments where it was not viewed as a threat.” Ireland, he continued, has now realised that neutrality provides no safeguard against a determined aggressor.

Giles expects Russia to remain a persistent threat in Ireland but foresees a shift towards using proxies to pursue its goals.

This type of action can include organising anti-Ukrainian protests and fomenting opposition to initiatives such as Brexit. By influencing, at times unwitting, factions to campaign against issues such as a border on the Irish Sea or land post-Brexit, Russian actors can cause maximum disruption behind the scenes, but with no attributable blame.

“Russia has demonstrated that it can extend its influence through various means, including organised crime, disaffected individuals and other proxies,” Giles said. “These agents are capable of carrying out espionage, spreading disinformation, and even executing acts of sabotage and arson across Europe. Ireland may yet face similar hybrid threats.”

[tieflingkisser]

Revealed: America’s secret special forces flights to Israel from UK base on Cyprus

The US military has been flying covert planes to Israel from RAF Akrotiri since the bombing of Gaza began, Declassified has discovered.

Unmarked planes are being used by US forces to fly from Cyprus to Israel, including as recently as June 26

The aircraft are believed to be used by highly secretive 427th Special Operations Squadron and the CIA

Declassified also finds 26 huge US military transport planes have landed at UK base on Cyprus, believed to be carrying weapons for Israel

Revelations could further implicate British ministers in war crimes

The US Air Force has been sending unmarked planes from Britain’s base on Cyprus to Israel since it began bombing Gaza, it can be revealed. The planes are all C-295 and CN-235 aircraft, which are believed to be used by American special forces.  Declassified has found 18 of these aircraft which have gone from the sprawling British air base on Cyprus, RAF Akrotiri, to Israel’s coastal city Tel Aviv since October 7.

[...]

Asked in May how many US Air Force (USAF) flights had taken off from the base since October 7, defence minister Leo Docherty said: “The Ministry of Defence does not comment on the operations of our Allies.” But Declassified discovered the unmarked planes that flew from Akrotiri to Israel from November to June have a serial number showing they are operated by the USAF. Most of these journeys had the flight number GONZO62.

[...]

The new information could further implicate British ministers in war crimes in Gaza. In November 2023, a US military official revealed that American special forces were stationed in Israel and “actively helping the Israelis”.

[...]

Most of the unmarked planes show that they were recently at Fayetteville, North Carolina, which is home to Fort Liberty, the largest US Army base by population with nearly 50,000 active-duty soldiers. Formerly called Fort Bragg, it is home to the 1st Special Forces Command (Airborne) which “assigns, equips, trains, certifies, and validates [Army Special Operations Forces] Soldiers and units to conduct global operations”. The Pentagon says this unit is “the most adaptable and capable enabling force in the United States military.”

[lonely-paracosmos]

I will do a Techno-organic Raf design with a human Sari design too, in other words, a role swap AU 😂😋

Wanna give some suggestions for the story, powers, or how he deals with it???

Hi

HELLO!

I actually been hyperfixating on this! Ixve been workin on my own version of Raf being a techno human, i dont imagine him being OP, but still rather strong.

He doesnt have super strength but has increased agility, and while his nearsight is awful, his farsight is SPECTACULAR.

Also something ive been playing around with is him being a technopath. I feel his abilities would be more psychological/mental rather than it being physical like in strength. So his abilities would be a lot more covert than Sari's.

---

My idea with how it happens- while i have multiple i'll give one. After being hurt by dark energon, the energon used to save him changed him slightly, not fully, but made him susceptible for something.

He decided to join the bots to fight the finale fight, when him and bee fell into the cybermatter. They were both revived, but Raf was changed, he looked the same phsyically, but had some none organic elements about him.

I think hes a little confused- woozy, and if it affects him a lot he will feel dysphoric.

I think it would rapidly slow his ageing, kind of like a viltramite from invincible!

Thats all i have for rn dkdjdkd brian empty

[secrettyrant]

Name: Rafael Alvarez "Flare"

Age & Birthday: 30 years old, September 18th

Gender/Pronouns: Cisman he/him

Birthplace: The Wards

Current Residence: The Wards

Job/Role: Spark for TPC, Bartender The Cog

Positive Personality Traits: Methodical, Level-Headed, Observant

Negative Personality Traits: Stubborn, Secretive, Removed

ABOUT

Rafael Alvarez was born in The Wards to Santiago and Beatriz, his family deeply committed to the cause of TPC. From a young age, Rafael believed that activism was in his blood, though his methods always stood apart. Rafael is calm, thoughtful, and charismatic, known for his ability to draw people into the movement without raising suspicion, always careful with his words and actions. However, beneath his composed exterior, Rafael is driven by a burning passion for change, willing to bend rules and take calculated risks to further TPC's goals when necessary.

As the eldest sibling, Rafael feels a deep responsibility for his family, though he doesn't always see eye to eye with his brother and father. Particularly when it comes to protecting their sisters, Lola and Ines. Though he doesn’t interfere as directly as Xavier ad their father, Rafael still keeps an eye on his sisters, ensuring their safety in subtle ways. But, he still intrudes on their privacy and independence despite his belief that he doesn't.

Within TPC, Rafael plays a significant role as a Spark, rallying new members to the cause and organizing peaceful protests that can still shake the station's foundations. His code name is 'Flare' symbolizing his ability to ignite change with a calm demeanor. But there's more to Rafael than meets the eye. He's also involved in something in a covert rescue network, helping individuals from The Wards escape dangerous situations, whether fleeing abusive relationships, escaping gang retribution, or avoiding Vanguard crackdowns.

Rafael's rescue network is a quiet, discreet operation, not widely known even among TPC ranks. Using safehouses scattered across The Wards and Equinox, and sometimes coordinating with sympathetic smugglers, Rafael helps relocate vulnerable individuals under new identities or get them to safety. This network is not only his way of helping those trapped by the system but also a strategic tool to gain information and allies within various underground circles.

CONNECTION IDEAS:

Rafael wants to plan a way to disrupt power grids and infrastructure on Equinox or Olympia, not in a way that causes harm but as a wake-up call to the station’s wealthier residents. The idea is to show them that the luxuries they enjoy are fragile, just as fragile as life in The Wards.

Raf develops a secret communication channel with another station, where a faction sympathetic to TPC's cause. This group could offer technological aid or resources that TPC lacks. However, their price is steep.

People who have needed his help or need his help as always