#if they are military where are colonels and generals

[valhelos]

I've been thinking about LEP uniforms again.

My personal design for the LEPrecon uniforms is a "fake" jumpsuit with trousers and jacket, with an additional vest on top, for combat missions. Wings either attach or are part of the vest. Tool belt, and vambraces that have their wrist computers. (Holly as Captain, Trouble as Major).

The Traffic uniform is brighter than normal LEP uniform for the sake of visibility and the vest has a screen on the front and back as officers on traffic duty are described as "walking road signs". The commander's uniform is blue, but otherwise the same as any other LEPrecon uniform. (Holly as Corporal, Trouble as Commander).

Tool belt includes: Moonbelt, gun holster, buzz baton, handcuffs + additional zipties, pheromone spray (read: pepper spray), ammo, omnitool, first aid kit, camouflage foil. Optionally knife and flashlight.

The uniforms have rank insignia as well as name tags. The ranks in the books are... weird, so far we have: Cadet, Private, Corporal, Sergeant, Lieutenant, Commandant, Captain, Major, Commodore, Wing Commander and Commander (roughly in that order). I've also given different acorn clusters to different ranks; from Private to Commandant one acorn, from Captain to Commodore cluster of two acorns, and for Wing Commander and Commander cluster of three acorns.

[daydreamerdrew]

Marvel Super-Heroes (1967) #13 and Captain Marvel (1968) #1

[gremlingottoosilly]

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 

— You’re pretty. 

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 

— Stay still, ja? 

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 

— Stop, please…’s too much. 

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster? 

— Yes. 

— Gut. Would break you in for me. 

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 

— Will you let me go? 

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 

[starmocha]

Hi hello so im back again with a smaaaaaaallllll rant about Colonel Caleb and general's daughter. I just got the ideea and i had, once again, nowhere to rant about it.

Ahham. So....them having their own 'myth' lets say. They were lovers in their past lives(historical maybe the 1800 or the 1900)but couldn't be toghter since she was of lower status then Caleb, him being a Colonel in the army (i love Colonel Caleb so bear with me) and her being a commoner or someting and she dies in his arms and he swears to protect her in their next lives and faith makes sure to have them be of the same 'rank'??? so he could fullfill his promise FUCK MY MIND IS IN RUINS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I hope i made myself clear if not blame my mind, thank you! Good night! 😭😂❤️❤️

MINA I AM DELIGHTED TO SEE YOU AND YOUR LOVELY AU AGAIN. <333 gosh I wanted to answer this immediately last night, but Caleb’s latest trailer had me losing my mind and things spiraled 😭😭😭

Giving you all of my attention, because EXCUSE ME. WHEELS ARE SPINNING.

Can we…can we just indulge on this a little more? 🥹 omg excuse the slightly heavy Moulin Rouge! influences sprinkled in here, but this is the vibe I am getting, especially for their “tragic” ending.

A Colonel and His Lover

Imagine Colonel Caleb is dragged to a brothel by his associates and superiors. He finds the whole thing disdainful, but is pressured by his own superiors to indulge in a little nightly fun and let loose and forget their duties for a bit.

He doesn’t plan to. He had planned on leaving the moment everyone finds their partners.

Until he sees you.

Literally lust love at first sight.

He’s captivated by your beauty, your wits, and he’s falling hard and fast before he realizes what is happening.

One night with you leaves him yearning for more. He has already remembered how you felt under him, the way you quivered and moaned for him.

He remembers the sweet nothings uttered between the two of you, and though a tiny part in his mind is telling him that you are just a whore who is good with her tongue, he wants to believe that there is something genuine blossoming between the two of you.

He starts going back to the whorehouse more often. Nightly, if he could. He still puts on an act that he was being pressured to tag along, but in reality, all he wants is to see you again. No matter what it takes, what the price, he wants you and only you.

In the beginning, he was just another client. One of those military brutes who only saw you as something that can be bought for and used until they were satisfied.

You did intentionally charm him in the beginning. A false smile, a few sweet words to prickle his male ego, but it soon becomes apparent to you that Caleb is not like all of your previous clients. When he sees you, there is genuine feelings in his eyes, he is truly looking at you for you and not just a body to be used.

You try to discourage your own feelings, reminding yourself of the different classes you belong to. This can never happen—could never happen.

A prestigious colonel on his way to greatness and a common whore? What a joke. It seems almost insulting to entertain such an idea that you could ever truly be his. You quiet those feelings, try to imagine him as any of those other bastards who drag you to bed.

Except you can’t.

Caleb won’t let you. He sees you for you. He wants to know you, the real you, who you have hidden away for years.

You no longer wait for him to come to you as a client. You begin to sneak around whenever you both could, having regular rendezvouses where he is no longer a client or you’re a whore, but two lovers meeting to be together.

After one afternoon delight, you lay with him in an inn bed, tangled in sheets and wrapped in his warmth, and he paints you a beautiful picture of the life you both could have together.

He would buy you all of the beautiful dresses for you to wear, show you off with pride, his equal at his side wherever he goes. Men may still lust after you, their wives green with envy, but to Caleb, he couldn’t care, because he knows you are his and his alone.

You would live in a beautiful house, your days filled with idle contentment and no longer have to worry about anything or want for anything. Caleb promises to provide you with everything you could want and more.

When you tell him, though, that he is all that you want, his cheeks tinge pink, but his smile is layered with joy and also…gratitude? He looks at you like you are his whole world, because that’s just how it is: you are his world now. He had never thought he could cherish someone as much as he cherishes you.

A beautiful life awaits you. He asks you to marry him.

For just a moment, you hesitate, and he is confused. He gently questions you, wondering if you have any doubts about his feelings.

“No! Never!” you tell him, and then reluctantly, you reveal that you could still feel that distance in classes between the two of you. You worry about his reputation, and Caleb seems surprised.

He reassures you there is nothing for you to worry about. He can handle whatever happens, and he promises to keep you safe.

You agree to marry him.

Life continues as normal as the two of you plan to run away and elope. He had promised you an extravagant wedding, but you want him now, already wanting to be his wife and he your husband.

This rosy life you are seeing turns grey in an instant, everything grinding to a halt when you start to display symptoms of an unknown illness. You start coughing up blood more often, your body weakened some days to the point you need to be bedridden. Secretly, you hid everything from Caleb, not wanting him to worry.

Caleb starts wising up, realizing something is wrong when you continue to evade his questions or even outrightly avoid meeting him again.

When a physician reveals to you that you only have less than five months to live, you realize that the dream life Caleb promised you would never come true. Not wanting him to bear the pain of seeing you dying, you start to drive a further wedge between the two of you, consciously doing things to make him hate you so he wouldn’t ever have to feel the pain of losing you.

It works.

You fight with him to the point that you’re both yelling and screaming at one another until he loses control of his anger and drives his fist into a wall, scaring you briefly, having never seen this side of him before. He doesn’t want you to see him like this either, so he leaves, leaving you with these bitter harsh words and some bills tossed at you in spite:

“I have paid for my whore. My debt is paid and she is nothing to me.”

When he is out of sight, you fall to the ground sobbing, angry at yourself for doing a good job of driving him away and making him hate your existence. The man you loved is gone, and though it hurts, you still wish he would find someone to replace you, because you still love him with your whole heart and never want him to be alone like this.

Caleb is angry and it shows. The Colonel has always been very disciplined and strict, but everyone has noticed his temper seemed even more short. There is no leniency with him. You mess up, he will make sure you learn from your mistakes. You talk back to him, and it will be your last words in his presence.

He starts to drink more often, wishing to numb his pain, to forget your fights, to forget you. There is no alcohol in the world strong enough to cure him of this heartache. In spite of everything, he still loves you. He replays the memories often, wondering when everything had gone wrong.

One night as he sits at the bar, on his fifth glass of scotch, he pulls out a ring box, opening it to look at the dainty little ring he had secretly chosen for you. It wasn’t a huge diamond, but still perfectly sized, and he knows it would look beautiful on your finger.

He downs his glass, pays his tab, and stumbles out of the bar. He staggers through the streets disoriented, not even thinking clearly of where he is going.

He finds himself at the brothel again, and he scoffs. He goes in, demanding to see you.

The madame there tries to turn him away. She knows who he is, and also knows of his secret relationship with one her girls. She knows what you two had planned, because you had revealed everything to her and begged her to never let him come near you again—for his sake. Always for his sake. Even as you are dying upstairs, each day, you breathing growing weaker, you still think of him.

Caleb doesn’t take “no” for an answer and in his current drunken state, he is more prone to violence than usual, slurring insults about you in spite. It isn’t until one of the other girls screams out that you were dying, that he freezes, sobering up instantly.

“What…did you say?”

His whole world had stopped. The colors drain from his face, his heart slowing as he replays her words in his mind. The dots start to connect as he remembers all of your final fights, realizing your expressions had always seemed off somehow.

His throat is dry, his limbs rigid as he tries to move. Suddenly, he runs off in a mad dash before anyone could stop him. He rushes up the stairs, passing several rooms, pushing anyone in his way to the side until he finds your room, the door bursting open and he freezes again, not recognizing the frail woman laying in bed under multiple covers as a nurse is tending to her.

Caleb doesn’t leave and rushes to your side, dropping to his knees as he reaches for your hand, begging you to look at him. He apologizes profusely, his eyes glistening with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you lie to me?! Why, why…why…”

His large hands wrapped around yours, holding it close to his face as he sobs.

“Ca..leb…”

He looks up, seeing you smiling at him weakly.

“I’m here,” he assures you, “I’m here…I’m not leaving…Not again…”

Too weak to fight, too relieved to see him, you let him stay and you close your eyes.

He stays by your side for your remaining days, cherishing the little time you had left.

One afternoon as he watches you sleep, he sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing aside your hair, his eyes heavy with sadness as he realizes how frail and pale you are now compared to who you were months earlier. Quietly, he pulls out the ring box, taking the ring out, and slipping it on your ring finger. It looks perfect on you, just like he had known it would.

When you wake that evening and see the ring, you start to protest, saying it’s wasted on you.

He silences you with a kiss, and once again, he reassures you that nothing he does for you is ever wasted effort. You are his only bride, and no one will ever take your place.

Time dwindles, and he watches you waste away each day, his heart heavy with remorse and anger that he is losing you before his very eyes and there is nothing that he can do to stop this. For all of his strength and glory, Caleb has never felt as weak and helpless as he does now.

He tries to fill your days with as much comfort and happiness as he could.

It was a spring afternoon when he lays in bed with you. He leans back against the headboard, your body resting against his, the cover up to your neck for warmth, but nothing felt more comforting than his own body heat against you.

He tells you stories again and as you listen to him, you wonder why his voice sounds more distant even though he is right here next to you.

Caleb watches, realizing, he has lost you, your body growing colder and unresponsive.

He breaks down crying as a warm spring breeze rustles into the room from the opened balcony door. He holds you close to him and just sobs and curses every deity in the world.

He promises in the next life, he will be a better man and give you what you deserve. In the next life, things will go right. The story of you and him will be rewritten, he swears on his life.

[hardknifeplays]

'*•.¸♡ relationship with könig: headcanons ♡¸.•*'

tags: gn!reader x könig, he's older than you, mostly domestic, nsfw-ish!

NOTE: Please do NOT repost anywhere | reblog, likes, and comments are appreciated! ♡

✧ the beginning of the relationship was a bit difficult, he was so used to the hard and rough military life. knowing he has a higher rank in his team, he treated you like you're his subordinates, not his partner.

✧ he was too commanding until you snapped and brought him back to reality one day. you told him that when he's with you he's not supposed to act and/or treat you the way he treats his soldiers in the field.

✧ that was the first time he saw you snapping at him, and it scared the life out of him. he never thought someone whose figure was so small compared to him could be THAT fiery and going against him.

✧ he was a bit pushy and almost always forced you to do whatever he suggested (about anything, really), and let's say he was not on his best behavior back then. you realized you shouldn't let a man step on you like this, especially when you're his partner.

✧ you dared yourself to be more vocal and direct to him. it worked; you told him where he was wrong and how you wanted him to improve next time. sure, he still made some slip-ups but he definitely got better.

✧ he told you he was sorry for the way he treated you, he was never good with communication. he never wanted to be mean to you, and you saw major changes within him from that point.

✧ he started to show his gentle and clingy side, you almost forgot that this is the same man who was a little too stern to you a few months ago.

✧ morning sex is a MUST, inhaling your natural scent from behind while his hips are drilling against your ass is the best way to start a morning.

✧ his love language is eating together with you. either eating some meals made by you, made by him, or even take-outs, he always wants to eat with you. if you're not hungry? well, he can tell his stomach to hold the hunger a bit just for you.

✧ this man LOVES dirty jokes and puns you throw at him. always get him all flustered and red like a fucking tomato. run your mouth, sweetheart, this Austrian giant is head over heels for you even more! ;)

✧ he's becoming more and more vocal and open about his feelings and thoughts to you, despite feeling extra anxious whenever he did so. soon he realized that you're here to listen to him, and not to judge him.

✧ the most romantic moments happens after work, you're serving him a cup of coffee or tea while he's resting himself on the dinner table. you two will spend the rest of the evening talking about your day, his day, and sometimes some gossips in your or his office. drinking tea while spilling some tea, if you will. 🍵

✧ the man is a massive science nerd 😅 he's subscribing to youtube channels like michael reeves, kurzgesagt, and NileRed. he'd love to watch science documentaries with you until both of you fall asleep.

✧ he loves it when you rely on him. need some new, exclusive collector edition books? he's here to pay, even the hardcover ones! need new lipstick or makeup? take him to sephora and make yourself pretty with his cash, darling. need new PC components? he'll spoil you and make you an amazing PC setup!

✧ besides the material things, he loves you even more when you cling to him like a baby koala when you're anxious or feeling unsafe in general. he loves being a big man for his dearest love.

✧ he's quite busy, and his line of work is highly demanding for his presence. he's a colonel, leading missions and he even goes to his office or shooting range on weekends or holidays. his hard work paid off, and he kept being promoted to higher positions.

✧ loves it when you asks him about his job. what is he doing? what is a “human battering ram”? he's willing to answer some grime questions from you, e.g. is he becoming insensitive to see gruesome death? is human blood really THAT red and fresh? is he afraid of the ghosts of the enemies he had killed? etc.

✧ sometimes he comes home looking frustrated, and it scares you a bit. worried that he'd back to his old self, the overly stern and authoritarian asshole. but then you know that his frustration is not directed at you, but rather to whoever the hell managed to piss him off at the office.

✧ you can soothe him in two ways: calm him down by talking him out through it and bathe him (unless he requests some alone time to sort his thoughts), or being his obedient fucktoy for him to release all that pent-up anger. you choose :)

✧ he'd consume you whole if he sees you with bodycon dress or any tight clothing. it turns him into an animal.

✧ always asks for pictures whenever you're away from him. say things like, "i want to see how well your dress/shirt is hugging your figure, love." ; "you'd look gorgeous with that makeup/style."

✧ plenty of nicknames for you: feisty firecracker, honeybee, sweetface, schnucki (means 'sweetie' in german), schatz, Schmetterling (butterfly), my love, my darling, my dearest angel, my sweet, ... etc.

✧ if you happen to be someone from outside of german speaking country, he'd teach you some german. mostly curses and dirty words, though. hehe.

✧ he'd love to bring you to his hometown in salzburg. he'd take you to makartsteg (lovers lock) bridge and seeing the mountains, and he's so excited to introduce you to local foods and drinks.

✧ he'd love to be your biggest motivator whenever you feel lazy to do something. got some homework or tasks you need to finish, but didn't want to? he'd say, "do it and I'll reward you in the bedroom, schatzi."

✧ if you two are already talking about marriage... he'd be so nervous about meeting your parents, especially if you have extremely different cultures as him. he's a grown man with a great income that surely can sustain you two, which you're sure that your parents wouldn't mind about.

✧ his biggest concern about starting a family with you is your safety, knowing how often he's deployed. being one of the best operators in his team meant he'd constantly be called to missions, sometimes to a region or country that you'd never heard of before. he always tell you to pray for him, so he can come back to you alive AND intact.

✧ he wants three kids. and if that's too much for you, he won't complain either. he just thinks that three is a sweet spot for him.

hehe that's it! hope you enjoy this as much as i do.

━ sincerely, hardknifeplays.

[00valentina-writes00]

I was wondering if you could do something about Ambessa with a reader who is a high-ranking military officer (colonel, commander, general, captain, etc.) or someone very important. (I just need to know how she would behave towards an "equal") thank u sm! ♥

♡♥︎Unyielding Resolve♥︎♡

The war room was dimly lit, the faintest sliver of sunlight breaking through the dark curtains, casting muted shadows over the long, polished table where the world’s most powerful figures had gathered. Ambessa Medarda stood at the front, her regal stature towering above the rest. Her gaze was intense, as always, her sharp, amber eyes surveying each of the gathered commanders, diplomats, and soldiers, her voice commanding and clear as she presented her case.

“You must understand,” Ambessa’s voice cut through the murmur of debates, silencing the room instantly, “that our people cannot be left to suffer the consequences of your hesitations.”

You were no stranger to these kinds of meetings. A high-ranking military commander from the opposing faction, you had earned your place through years of fierce dedication, your loyalty unwavering, your skills honed to perfection. Your posture was rigid, your uniform impeccable, yet your eyes never wavered from Ambessa’s figure at the front of the room. There was an undeniable power about her—an edge that came from both the iron grip she held over her nation and the quiet, unspoken confidence that radiated from her every move. Her dark hair, tied neatly at the nape of her neck, contrasted with the intricate tattoos that danced along her neck and wrists, symbols of both power and sacrifice.

She was a force to be reckoned with.

But you were too.

“You seem to misunderstand the balance we’ve achieved,” you spoke, your voice calm but firm. “Your actions only tip the scale toward chaos. The people deserve peace, not your demands.”

Ambessa tilted her head, her lips curving into something between a smirk and a challenge. The amber of her eyes gleamed with something more—an admiration, perhaps, for your defiance. Your boldness was something she respected. It wasn’t often that someone stood so firmly against her, unwavering in the face of her presence

“I respect your resolve,” she said, her words slow, deliberate. “But this… peace you speak of, Commander, comes at the expense of far too many. You know it as well as I do.”

You knew that too. But in the depths of your heart, you couldn’t bring yourself to compromise on the principles that had guided you for so long. The lives of your soldiers, your people—none of them would be sacrificed for anything less than true peace. Not under your watch.

The debate raged on, tensions rising with every passing moment, but you and Ambessa remained locked in a silent contest, the weight of the room’s words falling heavy between the two of you. It was as if the entire world faded away, and for a brief second, the only two people who mattered were you and her, the room holding its breath as you exchanged not only words but a battle of wills.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the meeting adjourned. The voices of your colleagues faded as you straightened from your seat, a deep sigh escaping your lips. You were used to the weight of these discussions, but today’s had been particularly taxing. Your mind, sharp as it was, felt clouded by the lingering tension in the air.

Before you could retreat to your quarters for some much-needed rest, you felt a presence behind you. It was familiar, the quiet, confident steps that could only belong to one person.

Ambessa

“Commander,” she said, her voice low, but carrying an undeniable command. “A word?”

You turned to face her, your gaze meeting hers once more. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, her stance proud but not unapproachable. Her gaze flickered over you, assessing you as if trying to read every nuance, every layer you carefully kept hidden. There was no malice in her eyes, no threat, just an unwavering sense of curiosity, of respect.

You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your lips lifting in a quiet challenge. “What is it, Medarda?”

“Perhaps,” she began, her voice measured, “we can discuss this matter further… without the interruptions of others.” There was a flicker of something in her expression, a softness that contradicted her usual commanding demeanor. “I find that I admire your strength, Commander. Few have the courage to speak so directly to me.”

There was a flicker of surprise that passed over you, but you quickly masked it. “And what exactly do you hope to achieve by this conversation, Ambessa? Another attempt to sway me to your cause?”

Ambessa took a step closer, her eyes narrowing slightly, her presence still as formidable as ever, yet there was something different in the way she held herself now. There was no longer any tension between the two of you, only the quiet understanding that you were both two of the most powerful leaders in the room, capable of seeing through the facades of politics and war.

“You’ve been fighting your whole life, haven’t you?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but laced with a quiet understanding. “Against your own people, against the world around you. I can see it in your eyes, Commander. A fire that won’t go out.”

You weren’t sure if it was her words or the weight of her gaze that made your heart beat a little faster. But whatever it was, it made you pause, if only for a moment.

“I’m no different than you, Medarda,” you replied, your voice steady despite the knot in your chest. “We both fight for our people, even when the cost is too high.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a small smile, a rare expression that seemed to soften the usual edge of her features. She stepped closer still, close enough that you could feel the heat of her body, close enough to sense the subtle shift in the air between you.

“You are,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper, “but your fight… it’s different. There’s something in you that draws me, Commander.”

Your breath caught, the weight of her words settling over you like a heavy cloak. It wasn’t just the admiration she felt for your strength, you realized. There was something deeper, something that spoke to the very essence of who you were. And, despite the tension that still lingered from the meeting, despite the weight of your duties, there was a part of you that found yourself captivated by her.

Ambessa’s eyes flickered down briefly, as though contemplating something before she looked back up at you. “Come with me,” she said, her voice steady, yet there was a hint of something more—a warmth, an invitation. “I would like you to join me for dinner at my estate. A place to discuss… other matters.”

The invitation was unexpected, but not unwelcome. You couldn’t deny the allure of her presence, the way she commanded every room she entered, the way she challenged you, both intellectually and physically. She had caught you off guard with her quiet admiration, and now she was offering you a chance to see the other side of her—the side that wasn’t always masked by politics or power.

You hesitated for only a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing your mind. But then you realized: this wasn’t just about the war, or the meeting. This was about something more.

“Very well,” you said, your voice steady, yet there was a spark of curiosity in your gaze. “I’ll join you, Medarda. But know this: I’m no fool. I won’t be swayed so easily.”

Ambessa’s smile widened, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Commander.”

————————————————————————

The Medarda estate was unlike any place you had ever been. It was a perfect blend of elegance and strength, much like Ambessa herself. The estate, perched high on a cliff, had sweeping views of the valley below, the faintest touch of moonlight illuminating the sprawling gardens. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with soft candlelight flickering in every corner and the faint hum of classical music playing in the background.

Ambessa had led you to a long, polished dining table, where an elaborate spread of dishes awaited. The scents of roasted meats, rich sauces, and fresh bread filled the air, their warmth promising a night of indulgence. The table was set with the finest china, silverware gleaming in the dim light, and the glasses already filled with wine, the deep red liquid catching the light in a way that seemed almost too perfect.

You settled into your seat across from Ambessa, noting the way her posture remained impeccably straight, the elegant curve of her neck as she glanced at the dishes laid out before you. Her amber eyes met yours with an intensity that made it impossible to ignore the unspoken tension between you. There was a certain weight to the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. No, it was something far more intriguing—something far more dangerous.

The meal began in silence, the soft clink of cutlery the only sound as you both indulged in the meal. Ambessa ate with the same controlled grace that defined everything about her. Each bite was deliberate, as if she were savoring not just the food but the moment.

When she set her fork down, her eyes never left yours. “So,” she said, her voice smooth and low, laced with a subtle challenge, “how do you manage it all? The responsibility, the endless decisions, the weight of your command? It must be exhausting.”

You leaned back in your chair, savoring the bite you’d just taken. Her question had been expected—leaders like you didn’t rise to power without bearing the heavy burden of their choices. But there was something in the way she asked that made you pause, something in her gaze that suggested she wasn’t simply curious. She was testing you.

“I do what I must,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. “Sometimes it feels like I’m balancing on a knife’s edge, but it’s what I signed up for. The duty to my people—it never stops, even when I’d like it to.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “I can’t imagine a life without this… constant push. It’s almost… addictive, isn’t it?” Her words hung in the air, wrapped in a kind of daring playfulness that you couldn’t help but feel was aimed at you.

There was a shift in the atmosphere. Her gaze dropped briefly to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes, and in that split second, you knew exactly what she was doing. Testing the waters. Drawing you in. She had a way of making you feel seen in a way few others ever could.

“Perhaps,” you replied, meeting her gaze head-on, unwilling to back down. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the challenge. The thrill of the game, the strategy. It keeps things interesting.”

Ambessa chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. “You have a sharp mind, Commander. I can see why you’ve earned your place. But I wonder…” Her eyes glimmered with an unreadable thought. “Do you ever think about what you want when all of this is over? When the battles have been fought and the decisions have been made?”

The question was softer this time, quieter. But the weight of it hung between you like a delicate thread, a question that neither of you had yet answered, and perhaps never would. Ambessa’s eyes didn’t leave yours as she leaned forward slightly, the golden light reflecting off her skin, making her appear even more untouchable, more mesmerizing.

You paused, your fork still in your hand as you considered her words. “I think about it,” you said, your voice low, carrying the weight of unspoken things. “But I can’t afford to indulge those thoughts. Not yet. I have too much at stake.”

Ambessa studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, her lips curved into a small, knowing smile once again. “How exhausting,” she said, a touch of humor in her voice. “Always looking ahead, never looking at what’s right in front of you.” She took a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving yours, and the heat in the air between you only intensified.

There was a certain magnetism about her. A quiet, unspoken tension that seemed to pull you in, urging you to confront the very things you’d been avoiding. For someone who was so composed, so measured, there was an underlying ferocity in the way she carried herself, in the way she spoke, and in the way she watched you.

The conversation shifted then, as you both continued to discuss tactics, strategies, and the political landscape, but beneath the words was an unspoken current, a thread that pulled you both closer together despite the careful control you both maintained. It was a dance—one of words, of glances, of unvoiced challenges and flirtations that neither of you dared fully acknowledge.

Ambessa’s voice was smooth as she spoke of her nation’s defenses, detailing her strategies with the kind of ease that came from years of experience. “I’ve always believed in being unpredictable,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone. “Keeping them guessing, ensuring they never know what’s coming next.”

“Sounds like something I’d say,” you replied, your smile playful, but your gaze locked on her. “It’s the only way to keep an advantage.”

Ambessa tilted her head, her expression softening ever so slightly. “I admire that,” she said, her voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t play by the usual rules.” She paused, then added with a faint smirk, “Perhaps you and I are more alike than I realized.”

The statement lingered in the air, the weight of it undeniable. You leaned in slightly, your voice quieter, more intimate. “I’d like to think so. But, of course, you’d never admit to that, would you?”

Ambessa’s gaze never faltered as she leaned forward too, her lips curling into a smile that was as dangerous as it was alluring. “I never admit to anything I don’t want to, Commander. But I’m willing to consider that… maybe I’m wrong.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you both was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity, the unspoken challenge hanging thick between you. The world outside the estate seemed so far away in that moment, as though nothing existed except the two of you and the carefully woven web of words you were spinning.

Ambessa broke the silence, her voice a low murmur that made your pulse quicken. “Tell me, Commander, do you ever think about how all of this could end?”

Your lips parted to reply, but her gaze, intense and searching, held you in place, as though she could see right through you. And in that moment, you realized something you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before: there was more to Ambessa Medarda than just power, more to her than the commanding presence she projected to the world. Beneath the surface, there was something darker, more complex, something that resonated with you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You leaned back slightly, your tone softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t know how it ends. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder… if you and I could find a way to work together after all of this.”

Ambessa’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a split second, the air between you two was thick with possibility. Then, she reached for her wine glass, her fingers brushing the edge delicately before taking another sip. Her gaze never wavered from yours.

“We’ll see, Commander,” she said quietly, her voice both challenging and inviting. “We’ll see.”

And with that, the night stretched on, the conversation continuing to unfold between you two like the unraveling of a carefully constructed puzzle, each word, each glance pulling you deeper into the web of intrigue she had woven around you.

————————————————————————

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Not one step back

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Sire, the entire front is collapsing.”

“Do you think me an imbecile?”

General Mi’v swatted the report out of his subordinate’s hands drawing the attention of senior staff as it clattered to the floor. Mi’v waved a hand across the holographic table while glaring down the current target of his discord.

“Do you think I am incapable of reading a map?!”

The hologram projected was of the planet’s surface below and it was not painting a pretty picture. The entire frontline was being pushed back across several dozen kilometers. In some places entire coalition regiments had been encircled and wiped out before they even knew what hit them.

“Why did intelligence not-“, one of his aides began to voice before Mi’v held up a hand to forestall them.

“This is not the time for such questions,” He spoke softly as he eyed the nervous looking intelligence officers, “but I assure you that there will be a reckoning once this is over.”

While the intelligence corp began to make themselves busy the general got to work salvaging what was the verge of a complete rout.

“Have the 33rd and 42nd corps redeploy to the 16th artillery core and begin reinforcing the positions. Order the 16th to begin bombarding their positions once they have confirmed to evacuated them to buy us some time.”

He directed his attention to the northern front. “Send in the armored 10th to cover the retreat of the 89th. They won’t be able to deal much damage but the enemy may think it’s a coordinated counterattack and divert forces to meet them.”

Several aides nodded and began relaying the orders with great haste as the general continued to issue a rapid succession of orders. Slowly but surely the chaotic retreat reformed itself into a coordinated withdrawal.

It was while he took in the southern front that something perplexed him.

“What is that?”

The general pointed to an isolated blob of green friendly territory in an ever growing sea of red hostile advances. It was still where the frontline had been several hours earlier, but unlike the other positions the enemy had not overrun them. Instead they had opted instead to bypass the emplacement entirely without any apparent attempts to remove them.

One of his aides scrolled down on their data pad and pulled up the relevant information. “That sector is under the command of the human contingent; a one Colonel Finn Rosek of the 199th.”

“Do we still have communication with them?” Mi’v asked. One of the radio operators leaned in over their headset, fiddling with the controls, before looking back and nodding at the general.

“I have the colonel for you now sire.”

“This is General Mi’v, what is your status?” the general spoke with authority.

“What’s your authorization code?”

The response was crisp and somewhat startling as several aides and officers watched the general’s face turn a shade of purple from embarrassment.

“I am the commanding general of the Coalition war effort!” Mi’v stated forcefully, barely containing his anger. “I do not need authorization codes.”

“You say that,” the human replied crisply once more, “but how do I know you’re not some Glek’n saying they’re the general?”

The shade of purple turned to a deep black as the general’s anger now was on full display.

“Do you have any idea who you speak so flippantly to!?!”

There was a long pause as the room thought the human had finally realized the serious of the situation. Their next reply showed they had clearly not.

“Someone claiming to be a general at the moment.”

“I AM THE GENERAL!” Mi’v roared into the transmitter.

“Then provide us with the proper codes or get off this frequency.” The human replied dryly. “This line is reserved for military communications only and if you continue to clog it I will need to file a report with your superior officer.”

Mi’v threw up his hands in frustration as all he could muster from his mouth were half swears and curses upon fools.  He snapped his fingers at the nearest radio operator who had been listening with well hidden amusement. They swiftly entered a series of keys on their keyboard which then lit up green.

“Transmitting codes.” Mi’v spoke through clenched teeth.

The console chirped several times as the codes were transmitted as the general paced back and forth along the edge of the projection.

“Codes received.” The human replied dryly. “What can I do for you general?”

“Get me Colonel Finn Rosek at once; then give me your name and rank.”

Another long pause as they gathered officers heard what sounded like the human speaking to someone else before returning to the transmission.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that general.” The human continued unenthusiastic. “The Colonel is not here at the moment.”

“Where are they!?” Mi’v shouted; his temper finally long since crossed.

“He went to speak with you at your headquarters over recent failed deliveries of rations; by last account he should still be at your headquarters.”

Mi’v’s head shot up and he took a look around the headquarters. From the corner of his eye he did indeed see a human Colonel step forward and offer a crisp salute.

“If you need anything else please feel free to reach us at 1-800-IDNT-C—“

The link went dead as Mi’v turned his attention to the Colonel who had just inadvertently made a mockery of him in front of his own command staff.

[phoward89]

Platonic!Crassus Snow, Dark!Crassus Snow, Newborn!Daughter!Reader

Based on this ask.

General Crassus Snow was a cold, stern, strict, no nonsense military man. He made a career out of the military, just like his father and his father before him. His younger brother also chose the military path.

Cadmus had married right after graduating the Academy, had a baby, and then signed up for the Peacekeepers only to be stationed in 12, where the Snow family patriarch Commander Xanthos Snow oversaw the Peacekeepers of the coalmine district. One of Crassus' best friends, Javani Halvir, was serving as an officer in 12 underneath the command of Xanthos Snow- so of course he agreed to keep an eye out on his friend's younger brother while said friend attended the University to study Military Strategies.

Once Crassus had graduated University with a degree in Military Strategies (thanks to stealing his friend Casca Highbottom’s paper of drunken and horrendous ideas for a punishment so dire for one's enemies that those enemies would never rise up against then again) he enlisted into the Peacekeepers as an officer, did a couple months of officer's training, and was sent to PK Base-D12 to serve under his father; alongside his brother and his buddy.

In time Xanthos retired and went back to his Corso penthouse in the Capitol, causing Crassus to become the new Commander. And while visiting his family during leave he had a very fast courtship with a young woman that he was introduced to by his former friend Casca before he joined the military. And of course, that courtship resulted in a marriage and the birth of an heir.

A male heir named Coriolanus.

Shortly after Coriolanus' birth Xanthos Snow died. Sadly, Crassus was unable to get time off to attend the funeral, but he sent his buddy Colonel Javani Halvir and his family in his stead.

Crassus ran the Peacekeepers in District 12 for 5 years until the districts rebelled and war broke out. A war that he was forced to fight in. But he had studied Military Strategies just for the occasion such as a war. A general must be prepared and ready.

The rebels bombed the Capitol, hoping to weaken the city. Sadly, that air strike resulted in Demeter Snow, the young, beautiful, vapid wife of Crassus to go into unexpected and premature labor. With no help, since a doctor was unable to make it due to the bombs, the family cook and Grandma’am (Crassus' mother) had to help her deliver the baby.

Despite being weeks early and small, the baby survived her birth. Tragically, Demeter didn't. She hemorrhaged and died.

Her death shook up the entire Snow family. Grandma'am had already lost one daughter-in-law and now she lost another. And poor Coriolanus lost his mother while Trigris Snow lost her Auntie, who was like a mother to her.

Grandma'am knew she had to call up her son and tell him the news. News she knew would upset him, considering he had just lost his younger brother weeks earlier in a small skirmish against the rebels near the mines. Cadmus was there, along with a few other men, to ensure rebels wouldn't uprise and take over the mine. But sadly the rebels attacked and slaughtered the handful of peacekeepers tasked with safeguarding the mine.

After receiving the call from his mother, Crassus put his Colonel in charge and took an emergency leave to Capitol City, Panem to attend his wife's funeral and check up on his only living family.

“Crassus, come see your daughter.” Grandma'am told her son after treating him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek once he entered the penthouse.

Crassus wasn't too happy about having a second child. He already had his heir so he didn't see the news for another child.

And especially a girl.

Daughter's weren't as valuable as sons in society, so in his mind the newborn baby was useless. A beast of burden even.

“I don't need to see her, mother.” Crassus coldly bite out while making his way to his study.He was in town for the funeral and had to make quick arrangements for it so we he knew his mother hadn't done that yet.

All Grandma'am did was have the coroner take Demeter's lifeless body to the funeral home, but didn't set the funeral arrangements in motion. She told the mortician that her son would handle it when he got to town.

His mother's lucky that he was able to entrust the base and the troops in Javani's hands otherwise she'd be planning a funeral or enlisting the help of the neighbor Pluribus to do it.

“You need to see your daughter that Demeter died giving you before you make calls and arrangements for her.” Grandma'am lectured her son in a firm motherly way while following right behind him as he strolled down the hall towards his personal office.

“That baby's not going anywhere, she'll still be in her crib when I'm done.”

“Crassus, Demeter would want you to see that precious baby girl of yours before calling the funeral parlor on her account.”

“Mother…” Crassus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off his growing frustrations. He couldn't tell his mother that he didn't care about his newborn daughter, not so soon after his wife's death; it would just send her into a tailspin.

Coming up to her son's side and giving him a motherly smack on his arm, the old woman dressed in her fineries seriously told her son, “Crassus Xanthos Snow, you're going into the nursery and you're going to hold your daughter even if I have to drag you by the ear to do it.”

“Mother, you're too short to be dragging me by the ears.” Crassus dryly chuckles. But he knows his mother's not amused by the way she cuts her eyes at him. At any minute she'll start lecturing him, which is something he wants to avoid. So, with a heavy sigh, the general relents. “Fine, let's go to the nursery.”

Grandma'am opened the door to the nursery, which was also her granddaughter Tigris' room. The young girl offered to share her room with her newborn baby cousin once the topic of where the crib should be placed came up. The kind hearted girl was so selfish in doing that.

Crassus walked by his mother and into the room, only for Grandma'am to join him. He spotted the crib in the corner right away. In fact, it was the same old wooden crib that was used for his son Coriolanus- hell for him and his late younger brother too.

The side of the room the mahogany crib was at had a couple of floral pictures hanging on the wall for a girlie decor. On the other side of the room was his niece's twin bed, her desk, her notebook, and various fashion doodles displayed on the wall.

Oh, how the decor in the room seemed to be split right down the middle, just like a rock.

“Crassus, come.” His mother told him, linking her arm in his and dragging him over to the sleeping newborn.

Crassus looked down at his newborn daughter and immediately realized that she was too small due to coming early. That his daughter would need to put weight on and fast if were to survive the winter. He didn't say a word, just bent down to pick up his daughter.

He honestly didn't want to hold her, but did because his mother was at his side and he didn't want to hear her lecture him.

Crassus cradled his newborn in his arms, only for the baby to blink open her eyes and look up at him.

Crassus was melted by the innocent look on his daughters eyes.

In your eyes.

Yes, you're the daughter of the ruthless, cold hearted, stern, and hateful General Crassus Snow. A man that locked his heart behind a frozen wall of ice. One that a single look from you melted.

The innocence in your eyes reminded him of a girl he once loved. And he vowed to be a good father to you.

But he didn't vow to be a good father to your older brother, Coriolanus. In fact, Crassus felt that his son was a weakling that needed to toughen up. But in your case, Crassus wanted to protect you from the world because all the world’s an arena and not everyone in it has good intentions.

Crassus never thought he wanted a second child let alone a daughter, but just one look from you and your father was vowing to protect you with his life.

Y/N Snow, the second child of Crassus and Demeter Snow; the darling miracle baby that brings joy amongst the ruins of death.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[the-cybersmith]

That's a foolish Philistine point, and you either don't understand TV Tropes, or you don't understand art. Also, unblock me, you coward.

In case the image isn't readable, here's the text, by tumblr user Txttletale, I apologise for the foul language and poor grammar, but in her defence she is Foreign:

absolute dumbest shit on tvtropes is how if a trope isnt in a fucking thing theyll still put it on the things page and be like, Averted. Downplayed. Inverted. youll be readimng the tvtropes page for tom and jerry and itll be like Violence Is Not An Option: Inverted. Actually Tom and Jerry always hit each other with mallets and other household weaponry. She Is Not My Girlfriend: Downplayed. Nobody even suggests that Tom is Jerry’s girlfriend, so there’s no need to deny it. Everybody Has Lots Of Sex: Averted. Nobody has sex in Tom & Jerry.

This is wrongheaded, for two major reasons:

TV Tropes is not a fiction summary site. It's not "Wikipedia but only for media". It's fundamentally a collaborative attempt to document and analyse TROPES. Tropes are patterns that occur in media, and media can be, in some sense, analysed as sequences of symbols.

The absence of a symbol is itself a symbol.

The things that an Author DOESN'T include in a story can often be as important as the things an Author DOES include in a story.

If we would expect to see a specific trope, and that trope isn't there, then the non-presence of the trope may be relevant to analysis.

For example, let's consider things we might expect to see in War Films.

Triumphant moments of violence: in a war film, we might expect to see our protagonist defeating enemies, and this to be portrayed triumphantly, in a way that inspires awe and excitement and joy.

Celebrations/Honours: In a War film, we might expect to see our protagonists honoured, either through extensive praise, or by actual formal military decoration.

Now let's look at a film that shows neither of these: 1917.

The protagonist, William Schofield, kills three enemies throughout the film, two soldiers and a pilot. None of these moments are shown to be triumphant. None of them bring us any joy. What does this say about the film? What might we analyse about the film, and about the war it depicts?

The protagonist, William Schofield, is not honoured or decorated. He completes his mission, and the most he receives is the acknowledgement of a job well done, not by the General who assigned him his orders, or by the Colonel to whom they pertained, but by a nameless adjutant to the Colonel. Schofeld is not celebrated. He is not treated as a hero. What does this say about industrialised combat? What does this say about the dehumanising nature of Trench Warfare?

Whatever it says, we can analyse it only by what we DO NOT SEE.

For an even starker example, let's look at Star Wars.

The Skywalker Saga consists of nine films. In all but one of them, the final shot of the film is extremely formulaic, there is a closing shutter transition to the credits on a scene depicting a living member of the Skywalker family, who has also been a major factor in the plot, seen in multiple prior scenes.

The sole exception to this is Episode VIII, The Last Jedi. It closes on a character who had only appeared very briefly in the film prior to that. A character whose name we were not told. A character of no significant family. A character distinguished, not by great heroic deeds or a magnificent destiny, but by the simple choice to help a stranger.

WHAT MIGHT THAT FACT MEAN? WHAT MIGHT THIS SIGNIFICANT OMISSION, THIS NON-PATTERN, THIS AVERTED TROPE, MEAN?

Well, we can only begin to answer that question once we have asked it. And to ask it, we actually do have to look at the place where the patterns are not.

Tom and Jerry, for example: it portrays many of the ugly, unsavoury aspects of the world. Domestic Violence, animal abuse, predation, and (YMMV) racial stereotyping are all depicted.

Yet, sexuality is not. That wicked blot upon the world is absent, even when so many other grotesqueries are featured.

The aversion of "Everybody Has Lots Of Sex" is something we might reasonably include in our analysis, particularly when many other examples of American Animation that were contemporary with Tom and Jerry DO feature sexual themes.

Could somebody please let Txttletale know about this? She has me blocked for some reason, but I want her to see this.

[grimesgirll]

like your weapons trainings or conditioning, getting to rick’s place for bedtime had become a nightly duty.

and okafor stressed the importance of being on time to you. after all, he needed his best soldier bright eyed and bushy tailed in the mornings.

you had to have your ass in rick’s bed by the time he was ready to hit the hay. it didn’t matter if he was planning on fucking you that night or just enjoying having another warm body around. okafor had clocked that you somehow increased the average hours of sleep rick gained each night and assigned you to a semi-permanent sleepover.

you watch from your elbows as the handsome man in front of you brushes his teeth.

this isn’t the first time okafor’s utilized your “girlish charm” or whatever the fuck he sees in you to get what he wants.

this is the farthest he’s ever asked you to go however. it was always innocent before; distracting important people, taking advantage of certain perversions to finish the mission. you shouldn’t complain. okafor did get you the job of your dreams, all things considered.

where else could you spend hours designing maps, establishing operation routes, and do it all with the help of formerly world renowned military engineers and some of the most advanced technology still left on the planet?

besides, the lieutenant colonel had kept his word; there isn’t a thing you want for at the moment. aside from the occasional homesickness which was gradually dulling into a numb, nearly nonexistent feeling, you didn’t yearn for much - only rick.

so now you spend your days in your new state of the art geospatial mapping studio and on your rare but highly anticipated surveying trips. okafor had reviewed your past surveying maps of the delaware valley with general beale and other senior staff - including rick - and your work proved fruitful enough to allow you a small team to continue surveying operations under the umbrella of logistics.

in all reality, okafor’s rewarding you handsomely.

and so is rick.

his southern drawl breaks you from your staring.

“huh?” utterly oblivious, you fall under his deep blue gaze.

“i asked you if i can turn the lights off." he repeats, fingers hovering over the light switch.

you nod. "yeah, i'm ready for bed."

the bed dips with rick's weight and like routine, you're drawn into his crushing embrace. rick liked to cuddle before bed. you don’t ask but there has to have been some wife or some woman somewhere who used to be in your position.

the soldier is stoic and stands on business, but that sour expression had begun to soften since you’d first seduced him on his sofa. little bits and pieces of a southern, east coast kind of background popped up through the twang of rick’s accent. anyone with a history with law enforcement instantly picked up on his past as a cop. you’d playfully asked if he had to cuff anyone before and just received a dim smile that started to sour until you threw yourself into his lap and cast away whatever storm clouds you’d brought on with kisses.

he’ll never outright tell you why he sleeps better with you or how he slept before he was even a consignee, but you don’t mind. the cozy embrace really gets you conked out every night, without fail. his dick does too.

that’s how you end up backing against him and tempting the hard outline that never seemed to disappear due to his size.

rick chuckles behind you but doesn’t move, just pulls you closer. "good night." he says with a kiss to the back of your head.

"night," you return, like you’re not jutting your ass backwards into him.

you’re shocked that he hasn’t said anything. rick doesn’t always take your touch so lightly. he’d punished you for teasing him in front of some of the air fleet’s officers by fingering you until you were begging to come in the repurposed law library next door just the other day.

the man only speaks up once your tight ass is rounding indisputable, deep circles against his groin. you couldn’t be anymore obvious with the gasp that flies out of you like a kite as soon as rick’s newly throbbing length twitches through his sleep pants.

“honey.”

“please, rick!” you pull out the begging already, having expected you would be fucked silly tonight.

“tonight’s not the night, darlin’.”

needy and craving the man beside you, your knees squirm. it’s only when you’re lightly kicking rick that he pays you any mind; your legs are shut closed by the force of his human hand and the prosthetic digging into your soft flesh.

the look he gives you is lacking patience. “now, what’re you doin’?”

“i need you tonight, rick,” you state plainly.

he scoffs and lets go of your thighs. “c’mon, honey, why don’t you just lay down and get a good night’s rest?” the gears are turning in your head and you’re lifting your legs and shifting between his legs before he can even try to draw you back to your pillow. he croaks your name when you start pawing at the drawstring of his pants. “honey, you need to-,”

“you need this,” you insist.

you’re not giving him enough time to complain with his sensitive head already on your tongue. rick curses his traitorous groans, and himself when he does nothing to fight against the firm hand you're utilizing to usher him onto his back.

"so, you want to relax?" he manages, despite the shudder inducing way in which fully go for it and swallow around him. midway down your throat, a light thrust and a near gag from you is all he needs to know your answer.

rick can only lean back and take what you give him. he's pretty sure that you're going to have him coming in your mouth but before he knows it, you’re face to face again. there’s no reason to be disappointed by the firm hold you still have on him with your hand. a few more sluggish licks and you’re readjusting, straddling him to tease his tip with the slick of your entrance.

"what about you?" rick’s rasping, not yet prepared after you removed him from your sweet mouth.

"what if i told you i came here ready?"

the statement has his cock jumping. you swivel slightly, clit bumping his own sensitive slippery skin. spit strewn, his head falls back at the feeling of his dick dipped into your engulfing heat - even half an inch.

“you sure, honey?”

“mhmm,” you confirm with a kiss and a grind onto him.

“really wanted it, didn’t you, darlin’?”

your confirmation comes out as a whimper. "i just wanna be full before bed. i wanna be full of you rick," and once those words leave your mouth, rick is decided and sending you from your knees to your back. he could never say no to those watery eyes.

a courtesy finger and some intricately placed kisses on your knees, thighs, and clit have you straining upwards. you're not burning for long because rick is ready to indulge you just as you wished tonight. without warning - not that you were wanting it tonight - rick fit himself as far inside your thick muscle as he could on the first thrust.

the stretch is familiar but striking enough for you to nearly double over onto him. you won’t fold in the face of your reward - at least not yet. determined to hold on, you plant two hands on the older man’s chest as you sink onto his thick length. his groans and your steady breaths are enough to lower yourself, and even fuck yourself you and down on him.

"thank you for fucking me tonight, rick." you cry through swollen lips and damp lashes. "i really need you to fall asleep," you confess in a tone no higher than a hushed hiss.

you don't know if you're expecting an answer but the quickened pace is to be expected. without a doubt, the man is sinking deeper inside of you as he forces his hips flush to yours.

"does this satisfy being full enough to fall asleep?"

the jolt he’s sending through your abdomen with each maddening plunge into you, has you fluttering around him.

“rick!”

you wake up with a hand on your ass and a breath behind you in your hair. it doesn’t last though. rick is gone before you know it and you’re left aching, craving him. you get him out of your system with your early morning physical training - pt - and a meal with your favorite fellow soldiers.

you’re not expecting to see rick again soon.

the office facing the arboretum and the airfield is typically a still place, plagued by the constant thrum of the planes and helicopters, yes, but those who worked in the building had grown accustomed to the white noise. you're so grateful everyone in your division is out at lunch when rick slams the thick wooden door open.

stirred from your half drafted map of the midwest, your head surges up. you don't have time to open your mouth before rick is talking at you in his sergeant's voice.

“there are ten minutes until i need to be down at the helicopter hanger. you need to get me off in eight.”

stunned, the command doesn't urge you to your feet just yet. it's the sudden slamming of the door that jostles you from desk to the plaid loveseat where you settle onto your knees on a cushion facing sideways.

rick shakes his head. "no, i want you on your knees on the floor in front of me. now." you sigh and carry yourself down to the polished wooden floors. "i don't have time to sit."

"why?"

"because what i said was an order. don't question it."

with that preamble, you waste no time finding his belt and expertly undoing the buckle in record time. your hands move as fast as they can given all of the work this bulky uniform requires. somehow you breeze through the layers and ignore the ache growing in your knees. your second pt of the day is going to destroy you.

as you strip down rick's thermal boxers, you wonder if he's keen on fucking you now too. perhaps you'd gotten your allotted pounding last night and this would be it for the week. you really can never know with rick.

the issue of time returns to your mind however, so when you grip his length, you only lick up and down enough to get him taking coordinated breaths through his nose and tautening.

“you’ve been demandin’ lately, doll.”

your thighs squeeze together at the nickname.

“maybe i want to be a little demandin’ of you.”

a gloved hand shoves your head down. the incentive to keep your moans quiet doubles when you hear commotion outside your office. right on time; your colleagues are returning to lunch.

“think you can quiet that big mouth enough?”

no words leave your mouth, you just swallow around his length, glancing up into his expanded pupils; almost void of blue. hollowing your cheeks, you remember the time crunch he’s in and put a little more pep into your step. this leads to you rocking a bit on your knees.

rick snorts once he catches sight of the development. “so needy, even just with a cock in your mouth, huh?” his teasing is cut off by the orgasm building up as he throbs against your tongue.

putting in the effort to counter more than a couple of gags, you allow your jaw to slack so rick can enjoy the unobstructed tightness of your throat - perfect for him to come without the mess, leaving it to your mouth.

you weren’t prepared to suck rick off in your office today but you’re determined to leave no trace of this interaction. when he spills down your throat, only a little bit remains on your reddened puffy lips. you wipe your mouth nonchalantly once rick flops out of your mouth, still gazing down at you.

“clean me up.”

an order is an order.

exhaustively, you trace patterns from his base to the spit covered tip that’s still twitching. “fuck,” he utters when you take him into your mouth again. “don’t have time for this,” he’s scolding and palming himself back into his pants, grabbing your hand to stand you up with him for some scattered kisses across your forehead.

he presses a kiss to your temple, traveling lower to embellish purple marks on your collarbone. you’re sure he’s about to do more than just wantonly groping your perky tits but a few more moan inducing punches for your nipple and he’s sealing the interaction with one wolffish kiss. you’re nearly stumbling after him when he pulls away, tugging the last of his belts on.

the door is flung shut and that’s that. rick’s gone.

you’re on rick’s bed before he retires for the night.

“good to see you again today.” you purr, nearly kicking your feet. “i’m feeling spoiled seeing you three times in one day.”

the soldier rolls his eyes. he drops his tactical bag on the ottoman in front of the bed. “you here to sleep? or mess around?”

you shrug. “your choice.”

hints of a sly smile are on the sergeant’s face but he walks away shaking his head before you can call him down to bed just yet.

you could just sleep tonight. rick had been turning you on enough for you to take a night off, preferably drifting off in his arms until you had to wake for your quarterly river survey with the geologists, engineers, and biologists in your neighboring divisions. you had a lot to prepare for come the morning. it wouldn't be terrible to unwind by getting off tonight.

the thought's put on pause once rick's arms wrap around you as he sinks into the soft, bedding. smelling of fresh toothpaste and some kind of beard balm, he’s more than ready to hold onto you like a vice for the night.

“hey.” you coo.

“hey there,” an arm escapes you to turn out the wall light still on over on his side of the bed. only the dim glow of the hallway light touches the darkened room now.

you turn slightly so rick can at least see the outline of your face - your eyes, nose, and lips in the dark. “what was that all about early?”

“hmm?”

"the asshole act earlier?"

“you needed to remember rank.”

an exasperated heave almost sends you to a seated position. “rank?”

“yes.”

the lack of playfulness in your voice has you wondrously thankful that he can’t see your eye rolls in the dark.

“that’s kinda fucked, rick.”

“says the one who just loves getting fucked.”

you shut up.

“getting on her knees, i don’t remember you complainin’ once i got you beneath me earlier today.”

you can’t say that you recall complaining either.

it feels like muscle memory when he gets you onto all fours.

set up on his knees with your cunt under his nose, rick licks a devastating stripe from top to bottom. then he’s coming back up again and squeezing muffled shrieks from you.

“you like that, honey?”

“i do, rick,” you reply breathlessly. you dig a clenched fist into the comforter. “fuck!” tears threaten your waterline already.

“like my tongue?”

“mhmm,” you writhe as he makes it his mission to bury his warm, wriggly appendage as far inside of you as he can. he’ll never be as deep as his cock but the difference in sensation has you nearly folding into the mattress.

the added finger has you squirming in conjunction with the taunting, flickering tongue working back out to your clit. eventually there’s a two pronged attempt to open you up. you’re clenching around his fingers when you hear him ask, “do you think you’re ready?”

“one hundred percent,” you breathe.

“‘kay, i need you to be one hundred percent sure of that, soldier.”

you tease on top of him at the mention, nearly jumping once you feel him at your entrance. lust centered, you nod your head assuredly. “yes, sergeant. i’m ready for your cock. ready to fulfill the mission.”

rick’s smirk and tousled curls are the last thing you see before you’re manhandled like a rag doll into the mattress.

then that rhythm that had you so worked up is paling in comparison to how full you feel with just a few inches of rick. whispering sweet praise and reminding you of the task at hand, you exhale and puff soft cheeks. the biting kisses from rick as he settles inside of you have your eyes already rolling back. his newfound rhythm only fulfills the trance you knew only ne could put you in.

crammed tight full of cock, you’re chanting his name and he’s petting your hair, praising you as you squeeze around him just excellently.

“you gonna come on my cock, soldier?”

“only if you’ll let me, sergeant.”

his balls slap against your clit, wonderfully matching the dull tap he’s testing on your cervix. it doesn’t matter though as he’s repositioning constantly and brushing the forlorn parts, placing his fingers in a painstakingly strategic position on your clit.

“want you so bad, rick.” the words tumble out as rick brings another hand from the fat of your ass to your tit. the touch has you arching, gasping and clawing at the sheets. “rick, rick!”

“love hearin’ you say my name,” he’s grunting into your hair when he lowers himself down to fuck you deeper.

this new angle that rick’s fucking you at has you incoherent. hips pistoning you into the mattress and closer to the mounting heat in your core that was threatening to ruin rick’s sheets. the pressure has tears cascading down your cheeks. if it was lighter you’d see them on the sheets but your bleary eyes only take in pillow, as your cunt takes all of rick.

a palm pushing down on the flat of your back. you sink further into the bed, allowing rick to penetrate you deeper. this newfound depth has you face down with a single trembling clawed hand to the sheets.

“rick,” you’re croaking, crying out for him.

one more thrust of his hips and you swear he’s going to break you.

he mutters a “fuck” and croons deep;

“michonne.”

pt. 1

[greatworldwar2]

• Stanisław Sosabowski

Stanisław Franciszek Sosabowski was a Polish general in World War II. He fought in the Polish Campaign of 1939 and at the Battle of Arnhem (Netherlands), as a part of Operation Market Garden, in 1944 as commander of the Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade.

Stanisław Sosabowski was born on May 8th, 1892 in Stanislau, in what was then Austria-Hungary and is now Ivano-Frankivsk in western Ukraine. His father was a railway worker. Sosabowski graduated from a local gymnasium and in 1910 he was accepted as a student of the faculty of economy of the Jagiellonian University in Kraków. However, the death of his father and the poor financial situation of his family forced him to abandon his studies and return to Stanislau. There he became a member of Drużyny Strzeleckie, a semi-clandestine Polish national paramilitary organisation. He was soon promoted to the head of all Polish Scouting groups in the area. In 1913, Sosabowski was drafted into the Austro-Hungarian Army. After training, he was promoted to the rank of corporal, serving in the 58th Infantry Regiment. After the outbreak of World War I he fought with his unit against the Imperial Russian Army in the battles of Rzeszów, Dukla Pass and Gorlice. For his bravery, he was awarded several medals and promoted to first lieutenant. In 1915, he was badly wounded in action and withdrawn from the front. In November 1918, after Poland regained its independence Sosabowski volunteered for the newly formed Polish Army, but his wounds were still not healed and he was rejected as a front-line officer. Instead, he became a staff officer in the Ministry of War Affairs in Warsaw.

After the Polish-Soviet War Sosabowski was promoted to major and in 1922 he started his studies at the Higher Military School in Warsaw. After he finished his studies he was assigned to the Polish General Staff. Promoted to lieutenant colonel, in 1928 he was finally assigned to a front-line unit, the 75th Infantry Regiment, as commanding officer of a battalion. The following year he was assigned to the 3rd Podhale Rifles Regiment as its deputy commander. From 1930 he was also a professor of logistics at his alma mater. In 1937 Sosabowski was promoted to colonel and became the commanding officer of the 9th Polish Legions Infantry Regiment stationed in Zamość. In January 1939 he became the commander of the prestigious Warsaw-based 21st Infantry Regiment. According to the Polish mobilisation scheme, Sosabowski's regiment was attached to the 8th Infantry Division. Shortly before the German invasion of Poland started his unit was moved from its garrison in the Warsaw Citadel to the area of Ciechanów, where it was planned as a strategic reserve of the Modlin Army. On September 2nd, the division was moved towards Mława and in the early morning of the following day it entered combat in the Battle of Mława. Although the 21st Regiment managed to capture Przasnysz and its secondary objectives, the rest of the division was surrounded by the Wehrmacht and destroyed. After that Sosabowski ordered his troops to retreat towards Warsaw. Sosabowski was ordered to man the Grochów and the Kamionek defensive area and defend Praga, the eastern borough of Warsaw, against the German 10th Infantry Division. During the Siege of Warsaw the forces of Sosabowski were outmanned and outgunned, but managed to hold all their objectives. When the general assault on Praga started on September 16th, the 21st Infantry Regiment managed to repel the attacks of German 23rd Infantry Regiment and then successfully counter-attacked and destroyed the enemy unit. After this success, Sosabowski was assigned to command all Polish troops fighting in the area of Grochów. Despite constant bombardment and German attacks repeated every day, Sosabowski managed to hold his objectives at relatively low cost in manpower. On September 26th, 1939, the forces led by Sosabowski bloodily repelled the last German attack, but two days later Warsaw capitulated.

Following the Polish surrender, Sosabowski was made a prisoner of war and interned at a camp near Żyrardów. However, he escaped and remained in Warsaw under a false name, where he joined the Polish resistance. He was ordered to leave Poland and reached France to report on the situation in occupied Poland. After arriving in Paris, The Polish government in exile assigned him to the Polish 4th Infantry Division as the commanding officer. Initially, the French authorities were very reluctant to hand over the badly needed equipment and armament for the Polish unit. Sosabowski's soldiers had to train with pre-World War I weapons. In April 1940, the division was moved to a training camp in Parthenay and was finally handed the weapons awaited since January, but it was already too late to organise the division. Out of more than 11,000 soldiers, only 3,150 were given arms. By June 1940, Sosabowski with approximately 6,000 Polish soldiers arrived at La Pallice, whence they were evacuated to Great Britain. Upon his arrival in London, Sosabowski turned up at the Polish General Staff and was assigned to 4th Rifles Brigade that was to become a core of the future 4th Infantry Division. The unit was to be composed mainly of Polish Canadians, but it soon became apparent that there were not enough young Poles in Canada from which to create a division. Then, Sosabowski decided to transform his brigade into a Parachute Brigade, the first such unit in the Polish Army. The volunteers came from all the formations of the Polish Army. In Largo House in Fife, a training camp was built and the parachute training was started. Sosabowski himself passed the training and, at 49 years of age, made his first parachute jump. In October 1942 the Brigade was ready for combat and was named the 1st Independent Parachute Brigade. Since the Polish General Staff planned to use the Brigade to assist a national uprising in Poland, the soldiers of the 1st Polish Para were to be the first element of the Polish Army in Exile to reach their homeland. Hence the unofficial motto of the unit: by the shortest road (najkrótszą drogą).

In September 1943, Lieutenant-General Frederick Browning proposed that Sosabowski reform his unit into a division and fill the remaining posts with British troops. Sosabowski himself would be assigned to the newly formed division and promoted to general. However, Sosabowski refused. Nevertheless, on June 15th, 1944 he was promoted to Brigadier General. In early August 1944, news of the Warsaw Uprising arrived in Great Britain. The Brigade was ready to be dropped by parachute into Warsaw to aid their comrades from the underground Polish Home Army, who were fighting a desperate battle against overwhelming odds. However, the distance was too great for the transport aircraft to make a round trip and access to Soviet airfields was denied. The morale of the Polish troops suffered badly and many of the units verged on mutiny. The British staff threatened its Polish counterpart with disarmament of the Brigade, but Sosabowski retained control of his unit. Finally, Polish Commander in Chief Kazimierz Sosnkowski put the Brigade under British command, and the plan to send it to Warsaw was abandoned.

During the planning for Operation Market Garden, Sosabowski expressed serious concerns regarding the feasibility of the mission. Among Sosabowski's concerns were the poorly conceived drop zones at Arnhem, the long distances between the landing zones and Arnhem Bridge and that the area would contain a greater German presence than British intelligence believed. Despite Sosabowski's concerns and warnings from the Dutch Resistance that two SS Panzer Divisions were in the operations area, Market Garden proceeded as planned. The Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade was among the Allied forces taking part in Market Garden. Due to a shortage of transport aircraft, the brigade was split into several parts before being dropped into the battle. A small part of the brigade with Sosabowski was parachuted near Driel on September 19th, but the rest of the brigade arrived only on September 21st at the distant town of Grave, falling directly on the waiting guns of the Germans camped in the area. The brigade's artillery was dropped with the British 1st Airborne Division. Three times Sosabowski attempted to cross the Rhine to come to the assistance of the surrounded 1st Airborne Division. Unfortunately, the ferry they hoped to use had been sunk and the Poles attempting to cross the river in small rubber boats came under heavy fire. Even so, at least 200 men made it across the river and reinforced the embattled British paratroopers. Despite the difficult situation, at a staff meeting on September 24th, Sosabowski suggested that the battle could still be won. He proposed that the combined forces of XXX Corps, under Lieutenant-General Brian Horrocks, and the Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade should start an all-out assault on the German positions and try to break through the Rhine. This plan was not accepted, and during the last phase of the battle, on 25th and 26th of September, Sosabowski led his men southwards, shielding the retreat of the remnants of the 1st Airborne Division. Casualties among the Polish units were high, approaching 40%. After the battle, on October 5th, 1944, Sosabowski received a letter from Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, commander of the Anglo-Canadian 21st Army Group, describing the Polish soldiers as having fought bravely and offering awards to ten of his soldiers. However, on October 14th, 1944, Montgomery wrote another letter, this time to the British commanders, in which he scapegoated Sosabowski for the failure of Market Garden. Sosabowski was accused of criticizing Montgomery, and the Polish General Staff was forced to remove him as the commanding officer of his brigade on December 27th, 1944.

Sosabowski was eventually made the commander of rearguard troops and was demobilized in July 1948. Shortly after the war Sosabowski succeeded in evacuating his wife and only son from Poland. Like many other Polish wartime officers and soldiers who were unable to return to Communist Poland on pain of repercussions including death or disappearance, he settled in West London. He found a job as a factory worker at the CAV Electrics assembly plant in Acton.He died in London on September 25th, 1967. In 1969, Sosabowski's remains were returned to Poland, where he was reinterred at Powązki Military Cemetery in Warsaw. In The Hague, on May 31st, 2006, Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands awarded the Military Order of William to the Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade. The brigade's commander, Sosabowski, was posthumously awarded the "Bronze Lion". On June 1st, a ceremony was held at Driel, the town where the Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade fought. Among the speakers at the ceremony were the mayor of Overbetuwe, as well as Sosabowski's grandson and great-grandson. Sosabowski was portrayed by Gene Hackman in the 1977 war film A Bridge Too Far. In the summer of 2012 1st Airborne Major Tony Hibbert made a video appeal for Sosabowski to be pardoned and honoured.

[winterwandersland]

NEW STORY ALERT❗️❗️

Echoes of Mercy

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Call of Duty x The 100 x Resident Evil Word Count: 3.7k tw/cw: blood, shooting, self-harm, death After you and your unit were declared MIA two years before, Task Force 141 is assigned another mission, one that could help put a stop to the ongoing epidemic in the United States. The country was suffering and the death toll was rising. Ghost can't help but to think about you, Enyo “Merci” Abara. Merci, is what they called you. Given the name because of your wishful thinking and light that you gave to every soldier you worked with. As a soldier, you were supposed to kill, but you did everything you could to not have to follow that path. But when it came down to it, you made sure your targets didn't suffer, always being thanked for putting an end to their suffering. However, the mission that is supposed to save the world may now give evidence to your unit's last location and that the world may be at greater stakes than first assumed.  You are referred to as "Merci" a majority of the time, with minor/rare use of first or last names.

Chapter 1

The day you disappeared was the day Simon Riley broke. That day, both of your units were coming back from a joint operation, tasked with capturing a terrorist, one that used to be your colonel. Your mentor. Your best friend.

Ghost was lucky he wasn’t stripped of his title of Lieutenant after he practically lost his mind when they found out that your plane was nowhere to be found.

Today was the two-year anniversary of you and your team’s disappearance. General Shepherd called a meeting with the 141, the last unit to see you and your team alive. You were supposed to meet at the hospital to rescue your prisoner before detaining her, but you all never showed up.

There was no plane. No bodies. Nothing.

The plane’s tracker was defective. It said you were there. At the landing point on top of the hospital building. But there was nobody there. No one could make sense of it. Not Soap. Not Gaz or Laswell. Not Price. And especially not Ghost.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Simon and you had a deal. You both kept personal trackers on each other to always know where the other was at in case anything ever happened. He knew you’d never take it off. Not without letting him know.

His was kept on the back of his dog tags. You insisted that you should do the same, but he felt that yours should be tailored to you. He knew how much you cared for your hair and tried to keep it healthy even through the dry conditions you all were constantly in. So, he got one that you could use to clip in your hair.

It was easily hidden in your curls, wrapped around your military regulated bun. It just looked like an ordinary clip in your hair and did no damage to the curls that you and Simon cherished.

He should have been able to track you. If the plane's tracker couldn't be located, he should have been able to locate you. He should have been able to find you. If he found you, he’d find your team, but you were the most important to him, at least. If anyone was found, it had to be you. He just hoped that wherever you were, you were granted mercy.

“As you all know, today has officially marked two years since the disappearance of Squadron Eight. I know that this may be a hard day for you all, and I hope that you all have found some peace over these last two years. But as you know, when there has been no trace or any leads of any persons, they must be declared KIA. I hate-,” Shepherd started before being interrupted by a pissed off Lieutenant.

“This is bullshit!” Ghost yelled as he banged his hand on the desk, causing it to shake and startling the rest of the team. “They aren’t dead!”

Laswell was accompanying Shepherd for times like this. Times when she knew Shepherd wouldn’t be able to calm the Lieutenant or any other 141 members who may lose their temper at the news. She motioned her hand at Ghost, letting him know to calm down. You were important to him. While you two never confirmed the relationship, the subtle change to the same home address told Price and Laswell all they needed to know.

“I know that this isn’t the news you all wanted to hear,” Laswell began, witnessing the huff and puff of the Lieutenant. Everyone else did their best to keep their composure, but they were hurting, too, their breaths becoming more drawn out.

Squadron Eight was the only team the 141 would always agree to work with. From the first day the two units worked together, there was instant chemistry. They were just as capable and were the only other unit that could actually keep up with the famous unit.

Most of your squadron were former CIA and FBI members. Others were highly skilled Marine Special Operators and Green Berets. You were one of two Navy Seals. You and the other woman were the only women in the history of the United States ever to become Seals. She was the first and you the second a decade later, but also becoming the first black woman to join..

She trained you and your team. Then there was an accident. She left, joining the United Liberation Army, and that’s when she became a terrorist. Not only the country’s enemy, but yours, too.

But that didn’t matter now because the two people who were bound to be in the history books were now gone to never see themselves in the headlines. Now, the headlines haunted the 141. Even after two years, your name still roamed around, but it lessened more every day.

“But we have done all we can to get a lead on where the plane landed or any whereabouts of the members and their prisoner. There is no trace of anything, not even a boot. We have had surrounding areas searched, but they have come up with nothing. There is no evidence of them being held captive. We have extended this day for as long as we could. I’m sorry, but you all know this is protocol,” Laswell continued as she sent a glare at Ghost.

“So what? We just stop looking for them?” Gaz asked.

“We have exhausted all options. There’s nothing else we can do. I’m sorry,” Laswell said. She could see the hurt in the team’s eyes. Squadron Eight was no more. Now, all they could do was mourn and learn to move on with their lives. “With that being said, we have a mission for you all,” General Shepherd began.

“As you all know, there’s been a viral outbreak that’s been affecting the States. Right now, we consider the situation to be under control. There’s a facility on an island that is housing CDC members who are looking for a cure for the virus. So far, they believe that what they have now could help treat the symptoms. They need you all to deliver it back to the states to be distributed,” Shepherd announced.

“Why does the CDC need a Special Forces team to receive an anti-virus?” Price asked.

“Because you all are the only ones they trust to not use the anti-virus on yourselves before distributing it to the public. It is also a classified mission. No one else knows about this facility. They abandoned the island many years ago and restricted access to only cleared personnel. It’s a simple mission. Nothing too much to handle, as I know this is a hard day for you all. You should be back on base in no time. Wheels up at 1600 hours.”

Ghost stared out the window, watching them pass over the same seas and land that they had when you disappeared. There was still nothing there and if there was, it’d be long gone by now, at the bottom of the ocean or disintegrated into the sand or dirt.

He felt helpless, but he never lost hope that you were still out there, somewhere, dead or alive. One day, even if it was twenty years from now, they would find something that would give him some sort of closure.

The only regret he had from that day was that he didn’t push hard enough to let you all fly in the same plane. There was more than enough room, but Shepherd insisted that it would be best to have two planes in case anything happened to another plane, they’d still have a way out.

He still kept his tracker on him, never taking it off for any mission. Perhaps in the future, he would receive a notification indicating that you were nearby. Maybe you’d see that he was near and you both would find each other again. Maybe your tracker would ping and it’d lead him to your remains to hold and finally say his last goodbyes.

The Captain had some sympathy for Simon. It didn’t take much to see what you and the Lieutenant had no matter how much you two tried to hide it, but with the way the Lieutenant’s eyes softened when he saw you and his rush to urgency whenever you were in trouble, there was no denying what you two had.

Have.

You’re still alive. Right? You have to be because if you aren’t, that means that would be the end of Simon. Simon Riley may have perished when you disappeared, but there was just a sliver of him that held on. A fraction of him that hoped that you were holding onto that piece of him and waiting to restore it once you two were united because that’s what you normally did.

You restored him. Made him feel whole when he believed he was broken because, for some reason, the hardass attitude and mask didn’t scare you like it should have.

It could have been because you were a SEAL. You had to have seen your course of horror over your years, so a skull mask on a gargantuan of a man didn’t phase you.

You two met when you were a recruit, still in training to be a part of the Navy Seals. He had only trained you for a few weeks. You captured his attention from the second he saw you be the only one not complaining from the hours of running you all were doing. While every man at the training camp complained and groaned, begging for the rigorous training to stop, you kept going, only stopping to drink water.

You were the only one that kept going. That was the day he put in a good word for you. Those few weeks of training became hell for you for more reasons than the intense combatant training. You and the Lieutenant became close for circumstances you both wished were different.

When he had to leave, you both kept in contact with each other and soon enough, you were back together again, this time working side by side after you passed your qualifications tests. The light in your eyes was something he’d never forget seeing, and he looked forward to how often he’d be seeing you.

The helicopter ride was silent, only the sound of the propellers and the turbulence of the aircraft filling the depressive quietness. Fourteen hours was a long time. Long enough to recall every bit and piece of what happened the day you vanished.

TWO YEARS EARLIER

It was a day that no one ever saw coming. Squadron Eight was down a colonel, leaving you in charge. The men on your squad didn’t like it, but it was in your colonel’s wishes.

You knew the only place where your colonel, Charmaine Diyoza, would be hiding; with her father. It pained you to have to be the one to capture the woman that trained you and became one of your favorite people in the world. But she had committed unforgivable acts against the government and its citizens. Ones that made her the number one wanted terrorist in the world.

It made you wonder if maybe you would become like her. She trained you, so why wouldn’t you follow the same path? As much as the thoughts hurt to think about, you had a job to do and that was to capture Charmaine Diyoza.

Simon tried to talk you out of it. Said that you could stay back, but you refused. You told him that she had to see you. She had to see the look of betrayal on your face. You wanted to tell her how stupid she was. But you also wanted to tell her how much you still loved her.

“Both units will ride in separate planes, considering you both will be going separate ways once this mission is over,” General Shepherd informed the teams.

“That makes no sense. We can all ride in the same plane and we separate once we touch down on base again,” Ghost said.

“We need to make sure we have a second plane in case Diyoza tries to sabotage one of them. We all know how intelligent she is and she will do anything to escape her fate,” Shepherd responded.

So that was it. Both teams rode in separate planes and, as informed, the mission was capture or kill.

You had had dinners with Diyoza and her father. You all were practically family. He treated you like another daughter. Diyoza was the only other person who knew everything about you. Your home life. The events that took place when she went on leave during training, leaving Ghost to be your Commanding Officer. She was an additional sister. One that you could relate to and be yourself around.

And now, you were hunting her. Searching for her to take her prisoner. All that went through your mind is if you could go through with the plan. Would you be able to take Diyoza prisoner like you were supposed to, or would you let her go?

When you all touched down, it felt surreal. Maybe you could make a plea deal for her or you could talk her down from running again. The more she ran, the worse the situation got. You just wanted it to all stop.

You checked in on Price a few times to make sure he was doing alright. He and Diyoza may not have been together, but they were obviously each other’s person. Both in superior roles and always looking to each other for advice. There was no doubt that there was something else going on with them.

He insisted he was fine, but you had a feeling that wasn’t true. He was hurting just like you.

“You all know the drill. This is capture or kill,” Ghost announced.

Your teams surrounded the house. You caught a glimpse of Diyoza and called out to her. You hoped she would be the one that came out the front door, but instead, it was her father, standing with a shotgun pointed your fellow teammates.

“Don’t shoot!” you yelled out, talking to both your team and Diyoza’s father. “Mr. Diyoza! Put the shotgun down!” you shouted.

Your body was tense, like it had become frozen as your thought about the multiple outcomes of the situation. Everyone had their hand on a trigger and someone was bound to pull it, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come to such events.

“This is what it has come to? You on their side. Really?” her father shouted, obviously speaking to you.

“Charmaine Diyoza must be placed under arrest for the crimes of-,” you began, but there was a shot fired and the teams started shooting towards the front door, sending bullets through the house and shattering the front windows.

“Noooo!” you called out, rushing to the body of Mr. Diyoza. You knelt down and put as much pressure as you could on his wounds, but it was too late. When you put your head up, everyone had their guns aimed at the front door.

You turned your head and saw Diyoza standing at the entryway, tears in her eyes and a knife in her hand.

“Charmaine, listen to me. You just have to come with us, please. It didn’t have to be like this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you pleaded with her.

“Put your guns down! Now!” you yelled at both teams.

They each looked at each other as you gave them pleading eyes. “Please,” your voice cracking and a salty, wet teardrop falling to your lips.

Everyone put their guns down and you stood up, covered in blood, as you slowly approached Diyoza.

“Let’s go, Char,” you said as you inched closer to her.

“You know where they’ll send me,” she told you.

“I know. But we can make a plea deal. Okay? You can plead insanity. It's going to be alright,” you told her.

“You don’t have power over that and you know that. We both know what I need to do,” Diyoza said as she took the knife up to her throat.

“Charmaine, no!” you yelled as you rushed towards her, but again, you were too late. Her body dropped to the ground and blood sprayed all over you. You rushed to her aid, putting as much pressure on Diyoza’s neck as you could, mixing the blood that was already on your hands with hers.

Price came rushing to your side, grabbing anything he could find in the house to keep pressure on the wound. He picked up Diyoza and your team ran to your plane, doing your best to keep her alive.

He placed her on the plane and tried to stay, but you screamed at him.

“Go away!” you yelled, pushing him out of the plane.

“Merci,” he said, his voice softening.

“No! No one needed to die! This didn’t have to happen! Go away!” you continued to yell.

So he left.

Your teams separated, but Price instructed Nikolai to meet you all at the hospital.

But you all never made it.

PRESENT DAY

No one on the team really believed you all were dead and if you were, they hoped it was a quick and painless death. How does a plane vanish into thin air? No one will ever know. But in case they did find you all trapped somewhere, they carried extra food, water, and other supplies on them.

It became handy on missions that lasted longer than they should have, despite the supplies being meant for your team. The extra weight in their rucksacks gave them hope and the day they had to let go of the extra weight would be a devastating day for them.

Simon put all of your favorites in his bag and labeled them to say ‘for Merci’ because without permission, you wouldn’t eat it. You usually never did anything without permission. The first time he let you in his room, you stood until he granted you a spot on the bed. Since then, he’s tried to break you of the obscure compulsions, but they still seemed to linger.

The island started to come into view, its greenery and assumed wildlife. It was beautiful. They understood why only cleared personnel could enter the island, because anyone else would tamper with its beauty. The landing of the helicopter even seemed forbidden, like they were committing a crime to force their aircraft into such a verdant and seemingly serene environment.

From a distance, you could see the CDC building perched on top of a hill some miles away.

“Why couldn’t we land on top of the building?” asked Soap.

“Not a designated landing center,” Price answered.

“Well, neither is this,” Gaz remarked, referring to the random land in the woods that Nikolai landed.

The leaves were still falling from the blow of the propellers, and they circled around the team, creating an eerie presence. The team used their GPS to lead them to the coordinates of the building. Nikolai insisted he would stay in the helicopter until the team came back, keeping track of everyone’s locations.

Winter time was beginning to hit. Simon noticed the breeze that got stronger as they traveled and the cutting of leaves as it brushed across his teammates’ faces, creating minor scratches across their skin. The leaves crunched beneath their feet with each step, making it impossible to keep quiet throughout their travels.

“At least another mile until we reach the facility,” Price announces, keeping his teams’ heads up and giving them hope, even though he knew they’d never give up. Everyone skulked about the woods, tracking anything that moved, though the number of animals lessened as they went into hibernation. The only movement was themselves, the branches that occasionally fell from the trees, and the birds that flocked in the air.

“Is it just me, or does it seem like the birds are watching us?” Gaz asked. It wasn’t the craziest statement he could make. The birds stood on the branches surrounding them, a few straying from the lurking flock.

“They’re crows,” Ghost began, “They do that.”

“Those flying away are mocking jays,” Price said.

“How d'ya know that?” Soap inquired.

Price whistled a tune, a melody from one of his favorite songs. They all stopped in their tracks as they heard the mocking jays repeat the short whistled song. They were enjoying the moment until the flocking of the crows interrupted it, circling the trees and creating a dark shadow above them, and making the men hold their guns up in retreat. But the murder never attacked. Instead, they all flew in the same direction, towards the facility, as if they were being controlled.

“The hell was that?” Ghost blurted out.

“Thought you were the crow connoisseur,” Soap replied.

No one laughed.

The crows’ behavior was absurd, but they brushed it off and headed to the facility that only seemed further the more time they took.

The men’s pace was fast because of their wide gaits. They were in a rush to get home, so they focused solely on getting to the facility. As they edged closer to what was supposed to be a working building, a gust of a putrid stench emerged.

“Fuckin’ hell. Something must’ve died out here,” Ghost commented.

“More like someone,” Gaz said, kicking a pile of decayed flesh and exposed human ribs. They tried to keep their minds off the smell, but it seemed to get stronger the closer they got to the building.

“What do you think could have done that?” Soap wondered.

The smell of rotting flesh that filled their nostrils deeply disturbed them as they approached the building, giving them the sensation that death surrounded them. Before they went into the building, the murder of crows they had seen earlier, massed together over piles of dead bodies and rotting corpses.

Soap questioned, "I thought this mission was supposed to involve retrieving an anti-virus from a CDC facility."

“It is,” Ghost responded.

Soap’s voice became more gruff as he quizzed, “So then, why are we standing in front of an abandoned building on top of a mass grave?”

And there we have it folks. I have finally begun a new story and need to finish the chapter for my other story.

[seiii-lnd]

Caleb Release

TW: Yapping

Since the game's release, Caleb's character has been a gold mine for arguments within the community and a testament of how cultural differences can cause you-know-what. But we won! And that's what matters... until his recent homecoming announcement yesterday.

Based from the latest PVs, I am worried about the devs doing a 180 degrees flip on his character. I personally do not sit well with the Myojin Aki vibe (you-know-what, don't ask), but I fw the part where's he's somehow Bucky/Vash the Stampede.

The trailer is good but I just hope they don't make him go full on yandere mode as people would definitely misunderstood his character. A little bit of red flags are okay, but I hope he will NOT pull off a Toma istg. He was introduced as the dependable easygoing gege, and I hope they kept that part of his character in his homecoming since that's one of the reasons why some players were pushing for him to be an LI last year.

His cards are top tier so far. It's really giving off that boy-next-door archetype so I can at least assume that we will still have the dependable gege from Chapter 4. The brown uniform he has on one of his 4-star cards is also giving Cillian Murphy from The Edge of Love.

For the lore, I think he's been secretly hiding his affection for MC since then. It was blatantly obvious from Chapter 4 (when they had an argument), his longing and concern were certainly genuine.

He's an anti-villain!

Caleb is at the other end of the Sylus stick (anti-hero). A Colonel is a high field-rank in the airforce, but there are still people above that rank. Following the military chain of command, it's most likely that he's working under a general's order or someone with high political power or influence which might explain the red flags in the teaser. It seems like Caleb has a military code of conduct to follow which may include a different treatment to trespassers (which MC may have done) or any opposition. Judging by how he can easily switch up between Colonel and Caleb in the trailers, it's possible that he's being controlled (not literally) by outside forces.

In retrospect, Sylus' release was also met with a huge hype about what seemed to be a "dark romance brat taming daddy" who's very possessive and into BDSM. But Sylus is not what most people expected him to be.

Overall, we were only given a glimpse of Caleb from the teasers right now. Currently, there is not enough material to further digest his character and making assumptions on his whole personality based on snippets is not really a pleasant idea.

[sgiandubh]

Sunday sounds:  ¡Chao, pescao!

Bad news travel fast, irrespective of time zones. We were having lunch, when I (very uncharacteristically) saw Shipper Mom bursting into tears while checking her phone.

Ya se fue la Mamita. Mommy just left us.

La Mamita was one of our best family friends and the reason I could write here that I did have a Chilean grandma. She was one of the most fascinating women I have ever met, a heroic, larger than life, luminous presence in the darkest of times. Her family has long been a part of ours, by immediate choice and she firmly maintained she had not one, but two daughters - one of which was Shipper Mom.

They met in the most improbable of places, on the swimming pool deck of one of those hotels that catered for foreign visitors lured by Gerovital's promise of everlasting youth, circa 1985. Freshly divorced, my mother was immediately demoted to the most menial of foreign trade jobs - being a tour guide. She was still grieving her son's suspected assassination in a freak military plane crash, following General Leigh's dismissal by Pinochet, in July 1978. The Romanian tour guide was intrigued by the deep, heavy silence surrounding this mysterious señora. A conversation started, which ended only today.

She adopted us. We adopted her family as if it were ours - and, after all these years, it IS. She came and stayed with us every other summer ever since and until about five years ago, bribing her way around the secret police honchos with cigarettes and Colombian coffee packs, poking fun at the brutal interrogations ("¿Y qué creen esos cretinos que soy yo, Mata Hari?"/ And what do those cretins think I am, Mata Hari?) . She knew all our secrets, took care of our broken hearts ("no llames más a este asco de hombre, no vale la pena" /"stop calling this disgusting guy, he's not worth it"), made us better people. She taught me how to use makeup ("hazlo como una señora, mijita"/ do it like a lady, baby) and, while we first started communicating in English, I suddenly found myself answering her in Spanish.

When we finally, suddenly became free, hers was the first international phone call to cross the clogged lines: 'take the first flight to Santiago and if things fizzle, we'll ransom you. You already have a house and a family in Ñuñoa'. And we did. La casita del tren, where her husband, whom everyone called the Colonel, kept their wonderful toy train collection, patiently assembled during his long diplomatic career. And who else could ever regale us with stories of being wined and dined by a very young Jackie and John, in Georgetown, when she was a very young diplobride of a much older, doting husband? And who else could remember waltzing along with Ike ('I didn't like Ike, but I had no choice'), circa 1956?

Today, it was my turn to tell MT, her daughter and what I consider to be my aunt, to take the first flight to Bucharest and come stay with us for as long as she wants. That is what family is all about.

Eso es para ti, mami. Porque, como tú me enseñaste, el amor es más fuerte:

[scotianostra]

May 17th is Norwegian Constitution Day or Syttende Mai as its known in Norway.

A wonderful spring holiday celebrated with red, white and blue ribbons, national costumes and waving of the Norwegian flag, the three colours are everywhere in Norway at this time of year.

It’s a day Norwegians all over the world take off to celebrate and marks the historic signing of the Constitution in 1814, the year Norway gained its independence from Sweden, which was fully realized in 1905.

In every city, town and village in Norway, children and adults alike express their cultural pride by marching to the bright music of school bands, celebrating the joy of springtime and honoring of those citizens who created Norway’s constitutional government, founding her independence.

Especially popular is the Children’s Procession that brings every child out in their best clothes or national costume.

In Edinburgh the Norwegian community celebrate Syttende Mai too.

Edinburgh’s celebrations include the Norwegian Scottish Society dinner, after a reception at the Norwegian Consulate’s residence.

Each year Norwegian students in Edinburgh hold a breakfast at Prestonfield House followed by a parade along Waterloo Place and onto Princes Street. At the boom of Edinburgh Castle’s One o’ clock gun, the pigeons fly and the parade begins!

Tonight expats and guests gather at The Royal Scots Club Abercromby Place for a celebration dinner held by the Norwegian Scottish Association. The association was founded in Edinburgh in 1966, and has enjoyed over 50 years of Norwegian-Scottish friendship.

Norwegian Scottish Association roots lie in a much older friendly society, one rooted in the shared experience of Norwegians and Scots during the Second World War. Founded in Dumfries in 1941, the Scottish Norwegian Society brought Scots and Norwegians together in difficult times. Having escaped the German occupation of their homeland in 1940, around a thousand Norwegians had come to be stationed at various times in Dumfries, and it was not long before the idea of a formal society was begun.

Of course our history with Norway goes back centuries, Northern Scotland, was, at one time, a Norse domain and the Northern Isles experienced the most long-lasting Norse influence. Almost half of the people on Shetland today have Viking ancestry, and around 30% of Orkney residents.

Many agree that there are many points of commonality between the Norse character and the Scottish one that leads to a sense of kinship between the two countries, even for those living much further south in Scotland, where Viking influence did not reach. Words like bairn and muckle made their way into Scot’s language via the Norwegians.

I touched upon the links during the second world war earlier and have posted before about the Shetland bus which provided a transport link between the Shetland Islands and occupied Norway. Many Norwegian refugees fled their occupied home with the help of Norwegian sailors who undertook daring, high-risk trips across the North Sea. The whole episode became emblematic of the friendship across the seas.

More recently Edinburgh’s Zoo also has a strong connection to Norway as it is home to a very special resident. Sir Nils Olav III is the mascot and colonel-in-chief of the Norwegian King’s Guard. The king penguin’s rank has been passed down through three generations since 1972. Knighted in 2008, he even received a military promotion in 2016 with the brigadier title bestowed upon him in a special ceremony at the zoo.

The Zoo’s link with Norway originated in 1913 when arctic explorer Roald Amundsen presented a penguin to them on their opening. Once a year the penguin inspects soldiers from Norway’s King’s Guard.

Edinburgh's Syttende mai parade – the 17th May or Norwegian Constitution Day parade traditionally takes place along the capital's main thoroughfare, Princes Street. At the boom of Edinburgh Castle's 'one o' clock gun', the pigeons fly and the parade begins!

Pics are from last ears parade.