#Southern Command

[opheliaandherpeaches]

Being Phillip Graves' Wife

ꕥ slight nsfw

I can definitely see Phillip Graves marrying a civilian. Why? Even if he refuses to admit it, his time serving his country has traumatized him and he subconsciously seeks out things that have nothing to do with the military. So, during the few times out of the year where he isn't deployed somewhere or stuck on base, he and a few shadows decide to wind down at a local dive bar or somewhere where he can be a man and not property of the government.

Phillip Graves for sure lays his southern charm thick but he isn't a jerk, he'll tone it back if the girl he's trying to talk to seems uncomfortable or just not into him... but that doesn't mean that he doesn't like to play with his food before eating it. He for sure flaunts his money and position as Commander of the Shadow Company, and if you don't know the Shadow Company? That's an extra 30 minutes of him talking.

Once he successfully picks up a pretty lady, his charm doesn't end there at the bar, or even after he takes you back to his house and fucks the daylights out of you. Not even in the slightest. When Phillip Graves inevitably catches feelings, he's texting you every morning, during his lunch and literally whenever he can spare at least thirty seconds, even if it's a quick text but you WILL know that he is thinking of you.

I don't see Phillip Graves taking years to propose and plan the wedding. Growing up Southern he has some traditional views and opinions, so he most likely told his parents about you by the second date and had the name of your three children planned out in his head before he even asked you to be his girlfriend. And the ring? His grandmother's.

Everything about Phillip Graves screams "Lavish proposal!!" so definitely expect and prepare for a proposal straight out a Hallmark movie; a fancy restaurant, a long speech, hidden cameras. Free dessert. The works. Never mind wanting a private proposal, everyone in the state of Texas is going to know about the engagement.

Phillip Graves absolutely does not wait until marriage. If you didn't want to have sex with him during the first date that's fine, because you'll for sure be pregnant the day of the wedding. It's not even about lust for Graves, it's about wanting to be as close to you as possible and committing every mole, vein, hair on your body to memory. He wants to know you better than he knows himself.

I see Phillip Graves being honest about his line of work. He feels like it's entrapment if you two get married and he doesn't tell you that he is the Commander of a private military company. But I think it could also be 50/50 for him. He could lay out all of his cards on the table and tell you exactly what he does OR, he only tells you the bare minimum because he doesn't want to scare you or make you worry for him.

Church wedding! Church wedding! Church wedding! Phillip Graves would get married in a church and I CANNOT be convinced otherwise. His side is 99% shadows and military personnel and the 1% are his parents and immediate family and he could not honestly care less about whose on your side aside from your parents/guardians. He definitely tears up a bit when he's reciting his vows (he made his own) and he WILL threaten the shadows or anyone that brings it up afterwards but he can't help it!! His pretty baby looks SO good in white and his pants are so tight that it hurts! :(

The reception is straight out your Pinterest board. You don't know how, but Phillip Graves brought your vision to life and somehow made it better with things you didn't even think to add. Once he has a few beers in his system, the cowboy hat makes its debut and next thing you know, your husband has his shirt half buttoned and where did he get that bolo tie from??? You didn't even know that Graves could even move like that once you see him and the shadows hit the dance floor.

But the honeymoon? Makes the wedding look like a shitty elementary school play. Prior to meeting you, Phillip Graves never really took time off so he has A LOT of p.t.o racked up and by this point, Graves has converted you into a housewife, so the honeymoon ends up being at least 3 weeks long. 21+ days of cumming inside of you every morning, afternoon, and night. There's no way that you'd come back from the honeymoon not pregnant.

When married to Phillip Graves, a life of luxury is the only thing you would know. He isn't a billionaire by any means by his contractors pay extremely well and this is Graves we're talking about, he isn't above extortion. But what does that mean for you? Weekly dates, designer dresses, heels, and bags ONLY and once you confirmed that you're pregnant, Graves would move you guys into a much bigger home. And the only thing you have to do in return is make sure he's well fed and well fucked. Everything else is for him to worry about.

The shadows LOVE you and Phillip Graves tries to bring you to base as often as he can but he would respect your boundaries if being on base isn't something you enjoy or if you would rather stay at home, but at least once a month the shadows see you. A lot of them never thought Graves would settle down so they marvel at you at any opportunity and all of them treat you like the most fragile piece of porcelain.

You have a closet full of clothes carefully picked out by your husband, fabrics that he knows would look angelic on you and colors that make you look like a Renaissance painting. Phillip Graves may be arrogant but he is respectful when it comes to you, he would never intentionally mess up your style or make you wear stuff that you feel uncomfortable in but you are his muse and he knows how to make you look like a walking dream.

Lingerie on the other hand, you have no input in. The sheer lacy fabrics that leave nothing to the imagine are picked with the intention of ending up scattered in the corner or torn to shreds. Phillip Graves knows what he likes and he doesn't feel shame for it. He loves laces, bows, rosettes, any little added detail makes his mouth water and his cock strain. Just.. try not to get attached to a particular set because nine times out of ten, the panties are torn into several pieces and the bra is reduced to unsalvageable scraps.

This is my first post so please let me know what you guys think!! I can make a part 2 or the same thing with a different character or something entirely different!

[vorbarrsultana]

i finished rereading the first four vorkosigan books (+ "the flowers of vashnoi" because ekaterin!!!), and you really have to feel for piotr vorkosigan because what a nightmare life, truly.

imagine you are born just in time for your world to be unified by dorca vorbarra and rediscovered by people from wider galaxy. things are finally looking good, for the first time in 600 years of isolation there is no more feudal infighting, and the promise of galactic medicine and technologies being available lightens everyone's perspectives. sure, your grandpa is called count pierre "le sanguinaire", but who doesn't have terrible relatives?

then you are 15, and suddenly your planet is attacked by the aggressive eugenecist space empire hell-bent on subjugating your people and turning them into disposable material for unethical genetic experiments. you flee into the mountains, away from your family, and create guerrilla forces from locals sworn to your dad, and it's really terrible for a very long time. you have no high-tech weapons and no food, you sleep in a cave in the dead of winter, and the cetagandans try everything (from carpet bombing to chemical weapons) to murder you.

but hey, at least you now have your bff ezar vorbarra, and (from the bff's words on his deathbed) it sounds like you two had so much fun between unimaginable horrors and despair, and it's not surprising, since no one really believes in death after life at 20. then the emperor makes you a general at the tender age of 22. fortunately for him, you & bff make a frighteningly competent dream-team, and the joke's on cetagandans.

then, several years later, you ask the emperor for weapons, because you still sleep on the bare cave floor, there are little resources, and every ghem on the planet is trying to murder you. he offers you the hand of his granddaughter instead, like it's some sort of twisted fairytale, but you grow to love your olivia more than anything, and the tide of war is finally turning, and you allow yourself to entertain the idea of peaceful life, and then...

the space eugenecist empire nukes your hometown, killing your mom, dad, surviving brothers, and two hundred thousand of your people. plus your bff (ezar) gets a radiation doze large enough for it to cause severe cancer thirty years later. great.

but you win! your district is in shambles, your capital is an irradiated crater, your castle is in ruins, but you win! the old dorca dies, and yuri ascends the throne, but politicking is secondary to the fact that you are alive.

yes, you are probably not entirely sane, and you've long forgotten what the peaceful times look like, but you are alive, just under 35, and your entire life is ahead of you. olivia is alive too, and ezar, and you now have three wonderful children, and the extended vorpatril-vorbarra family that hosts regular get-togethers. sure, your mom-in-law is a betan with all sorts of crazy ideas in her head, but she is not pierre vorrutyer. small mercies.

but then the new emperor goes mad, and decides to murder your entire family overnight. your brothers-in-law are gone, one of your sisters-in-law too, and all your nephews and nieces except little padma. but all of this pales in comparison to the facts that olivia is murdered, and that your heir and daughter lay dead beside her.

all you have left of her, of your house, of the family you've lost in vashnoi not a ten years ago, is aral, whom you keep by your side throughout the bloody civil war to put your bff on the throne.

but you win again. you are 43, and ezar vorbarra is now the emperor. you are responsible for the imperium's entire ground forces. you are also responsible for a severely traumatized boy of 13, and the only children you've interacted with without olivia's genle guidance were little messengers of guerilla companies.

what a mess.

[sparkp18]

Bishoujo Seekers off-duty ✨

[mrmeepsmadmind]

thinking about transformers one and how Orion pax now optimus turned & saved ironhide from getting punched after speaking up abt workplace distreatment by darkwing . . .

[brennacedria]

I'm having Elissa brainworms about the blight in south during veilguard. Not sure if I'll get beyond dialogue, but it's too much for a banter post. Not sure how to handle this.

[hotwritergf]

British Joe Keery is my sleep paralysis demon

[is-she-your-favorite]

Rewatching Laudna’s resurrection arc and when they were in that dark Whitestone dreamscape place, Imogen looked like she really wanted to try changing Laudna’s past if she could.

She would make sure the Sun Tree never happened to Laudna despite knowing the impact it would have on herself.

If Laudna never died at Whitestone, she would’ve never found her way to Gelvaan 30 years later and Imogen would’ve never used her powers to defend Laudna, thus never gaining confidence in her own powers.

Imogen would’ve resigned herself to a life where she’s alone with no Laudna, no Bells Hells. Where she’s still terrified of her own powers, her father keeps his distance from her and the townspeople treats her like shit.

She would willingly give it all up if it meant Laudna got to grow up and live a normal life…

[fezzian]

[badwolfwho1]

I know that realistically if Red Lyrium Statue Meredith was in Veilguard the way that they'd written the Venatori and Antaam she'd have absolutely abandoned all of her prior characterisation and signed up with the Evanuris no questions asked, she's probably even their number one general in the Free Marches. But in my heart if she's still around I think she's got enough Chantry dogma in her that at one whiff of Elven God Mages in her city that's enough heresy for her next unsanctioned one woman Exalted March. She's at least half the reason Kirkwall's dire enough that even Xenon the Antiquarian has said this is too much even for me and finally abandoned the place, Meredith's enough of a menace they're just wiping the hands of it and saying you deal with it to whoever the Evanuris are sending in.

This absolutely doesn't end well for Kirkwall this is a Godzilla situation best case scenario all that's left is a hole in the ground, worst case that demon sigil it's built on finally opens and the biggest demon in the fade comes through and starts wrecking the place as well.

[girlactionfigure]

Colonel Assaf Hamami is a hero of israel who fell while fighting to protect the surrounding settlements on October 7. May your memory be a blessing.

kabiya_mohammad

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

3/10 Coda "Rex" Morelli

(minor gore, descriptions of blood)

A few months into the never-ending hazing ritual Coda called the Shadow Company, he was on a hot streak. Graves had taken up the mantle of sparring with him, training him, all of it — it was better for him over the Shadows, who never quite pushed him to the limits. They didn’t want to break him, not that he really wanted to either, but he wasn’t scared to in order to get results.

Coda looked up at him as they got up off the mat, clutching a combat knife in hand. This week was a non-stop run of knife training, the only thing he truly seemed to struggle with. It was the timing maybe, or the sharp edge of the blade, but he couldn’t quite get it down.

“Remember, Coda, this isn’t just about survival. It’s about provin’ your worth t’me, okay?” His tone was oddly gentle, soft even as he watched him clamber up to his feet again, boots planted firmly on the mat.

Coda nodded and looked down at the blade in hand, momentarily catching a glimpse of his reflection in it — pleasantly surprised to see that the small cut he had given him on his cheek wasn’t bleeding. He was really pushing them, though, and they were confused. How do you essentially imprison and beat the hell out of someone, and then hand them a knife and not expect them to hurt you? Maybe that’s what he wanted — Coda to push harder, go for a wound instead of just letting him walk away.

“So…you really want me to go for it? You trust me like that, to come at you with a knife full force — prove myself?”

“Trust, darlin’, is a delicate thing.” Graves’ tone was low, dark and practically unreadable. He was a mysterious sort of guy, they had gotten used to that. “Make no mistake, sweetheart, this ain’t about trust. It’s about testin’ your mettle, pushin’ you to the limit until you can show me just what you’re worth to Shadow Company.”

“So you’re sayin’ you trust me not to kill you?”

“I’m sayin’ you should just put your money where your mouth is and actually fight, soldier.”

Fucking prick.

They fought again and again, every time he nicked them with the blade or sliced a slit in their shirt he learned something — the way he moved, the tells that gave it away over time. The goal in mind was to get as close to killing him as possible without actually doing it, to show him that they were capable of besting someone nearly twice their size in physical combat.

Eventually, after a grueling hour of attempts, Coda had him right where they wanted him. Unconsciously they flipped the blade in the air mid-fight, catching it by the blade so that they could press the hilt into his stomach. It cut into their palm slightly, drawing blood, but it didn’t bug them much with the thrill of a win coursing through their veins.

“Better,” They breathed, looking up at him with pure satisfaction. “Much…much better.”

“Better indeed.” He laughed, a deep gravelly tone, looking down at the way they were just casually gripping a serrated blade. He reached out and removed their hand from the blade, turning it around so they eere holding the hilt again. “Try not to maim yourself next time, though, darlin’.”

“No promises.” Coda replied, stepping back slightly as they inspected the cuts on their palm. A problem for much later. “I don’t get why you keep callin’ me that. Your dear or your darlin’.”

“My dear, my darling,” He repeats them, his words dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “Terms of endearment, don’t read too much into it.”

“Just thought that terms of endearment were for those you care about, that’s all.” They replied as they began the ever-dangerous dance of a knife fight once again. Carefully dodging his swipes and grabs, his blade never quite finding their flesh. Maybe they were getting cocky, maybe they were just distracted by something — but the searing hot pain of a knife slicing into their arm brought them back to reality. Stupidly, they’d tried to block with their dominant arm, something he didn’t account for since it’d be ridiculous to try and block with the hand holding the knife. Their blade clattered to the floor as they looked on with abject horror, a massive slice dug through the flesh of their forearm.

“Oh — oh, fuck.” Coda stared. “Y-Yeah, that’ll…that’ll do it.” They stuttered as they watched the blood trickle down their wrist, pattering into the mat beneath their boots. He didn’t know what to do. Stop and tend to the wound or pick the knife up and keep going. Their gaze shifted to Graves, to the knife, and then back to the bloody mess on their forearm. He only watched as they bled, the sight of the crimson liquid sending a surge of conflicting emotions through him.

“Damnit, Coda.” He huffed, his voice laced with a rare hint of genuine concern. “You need to be smarter than that.”

He stepped closer, gaze fixated on their arm, the blood pooling and trickling down. A part of him urges him to stop, tend to the wound, ensure she’s okay. Another part of him, the winning part, reveled in the chaos of forcing her to continue past their own limits. Break that bright-eyed demeanor right out of them like a wild horse.

“Get up.” He commanded, picking the knife up and holding it out to them. “Finish what you started.”

The heartbreaking whimper that came out of them would’ve stopped anyone else. Not him. Their fingers clasped over the torn skin of their arm in some sad attempt to stop the bleeding. They went to make a smart comment but all that came out was an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

He cut them, and they were apologizing.

Coda looked at the blade for a moment before they ripped at the sleeve of their shirt, using the piece of fabric to half-ass tie it around the gash, blood darkening the fabric in seconds. They were beyond dizzy, but they took the knife back, despite the way their hands were shaking violently. They would not see it, but the way they struggled with teary eyes and trembling hands — it tugged at something deep inside of Graves. They were like a scared animal, teeth bared out of terror, not rage.

Coda swallowed their fear and raised their blade up to him, but it was no use. His movements were erratic and exhausted, unsteady despite his best efforts. Their mind was clouded with too many thoughts — both the pain and the genuine fear seeded in their mind making it difficult to worry about fighting back.

His blade met Coda’s throat once again but he didn’t cut, just like the many times before. He had won. They knew he would, he probably saw it coming as well. Their hand dropped the blade as soon as they were sure he had taken his victory and they looked down to see the thick layer of blood coating their hand.

“I-I’m so-sorry again, I-I’ll — I’ll do be-better next time.” Coda was not sure why they were apologizing but he was, even as he crumpled to the floor, clutching the aching wound. “Sorry for — fuck — for bleeding on th-the mat.”

“Coda,” He says, kneeling down to meet their gaze, “Stop apologizing.” He reaches out, watching as they sort of jerk away at first out of fear, but then allows him to grasp their arm. It was almost like he genuinely felt bad about cutting them, like it wasn’t the intention despite the fact he had nicked them before without remorse. After a moment he left their side to grab a medkit from the side of the room, something they kept just in case of accidents, and he knelt back before them with a bandage in hand. It wasn’t the best, but it would hold the wound shut until he could get the medic to look at it.

“Th-Thank you…” Coda said softly as he bandaged the wound, soft winces escaping them as it sincerely hurt worse than anything he had ever felt. Their gaze flicked up from the cut to him, cobalt blue eyes fixed on their arm with careful intent.

“I’ll take you to Bones tomorrow.” Graves replies. “Medic.”

They weren’t sure if they had proved themselves or not, but getting to see a real medic must mean something. He went to stand up when he finished but he nearly fell right back down, vision going dark the second he went vertical again. “Fuckin’ hell…can — can you…h-help me walk me back? I-I can’t see straight.”

Graves looked unamused, and like he almost would rather leave him there than help him back. He got himself in this mess, he should walk back to the barracks himself. By his side, of course, he still didn’t let him wander — but on his own.

“M’sorry, m’just a whole fuckin’ problem, aren’t I?” Coda realized he probably wasn’t going to help him and tried to stand again, truly shocked when they looked up and saw him holding a hand out to them.

“You’re a fucking problem, yes, but you’re my fucking problem, and I don’t let problems go unresolved.” His touch was firm and cold as he took their hand, pulling them up to their feet. Maybe it lingered longer than it needed to, but he’d chalk it up to asserting dominance if they pestered him about it. “Lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

If they weren’t lightheaded before, they were now.

He spoke to them like they were human just then, like they were more than the dirt on his boots, than an inconvenience.

Lean on me, I won’t let you fall.

It repeated over and over in their mind as he helped them back to the barracks, a sense of comfort washing over them as he sat them down on the edge of the bed.

“Get some rest.”

“I-I will — thank you.” Coda replied softly as he left, the room oddly silent. A few Shadows were asleep, a few were just sort of around, but nobody bothered them even seeing them covered in their own blood. Coda thought for a long while before they peeled themselves out of their blood stained clothes and pulled on a fresh shirt and sweats before coiling up in bed. The mattress squeaked under them, but it was a great comfort to just lay down.

It was silent in the barracks before they let themselves feel anything, but when they did, it hit them hard. Tears cut down his cheeks, all warm and salty, soft sobs choking out as he clutched the frumpy pillow to his chest. His wrist hurt terribly but not bad enough to elicit tears, no, this was all emotional.

He had been captured, interrogated, and then forced into subhuman treatment by a man he despised only to get stabbed by that same man and they apologized. His small frame trembled as he sobbed, eventually succumbing to the pain and exhaustion and passing out. He had grown so used to him in such a short time and yet he hated him so deeply. It was like breathing in air that was sure to kill him eventually, but he needed it all the same.

Graves was making him regret choosing to comply, that was for God damn sure. Being in a pine-box sounded peachy in comparison to this feeling of unwantedness, of inconvenience, of constant rejection from the only thing he really wanted.

It sat wrong with Coda that he wanted to belong here, to have Graves' approval.

Why did he care what that bastard thought?

—

taggzzzzzzzz

@simonrriley

[youthchronical]

Israeli air strike kills senior Hezbollah commander in southern Lebanon - The Times of India

Representative image (Picture credit: AP) The Israeli military said on Tuesday that it had killed a senior Hezbollah commander Hassan Abbas Ezzedine in an air strike in southern Lebanon.“Earlier today, the IAF (air force) conducted a precise intelligence-based strike in the area of Nabatiyeh in southern Lebanon, eliminating Hassan Abbas Ezzedine, the head of Hezbollah’s aerial array in the Bader…

[serbarris]

I love how veilguard obvs tries to push rook being from northern thedas and for Eilan I just went absolutely not he is a stinky ferelden elf who is a mahariel and warden commander of amaranthine and he's just come north for a fucking laugh with varric and harding because he's doing a favour for his sister and brother in law (the inquisitor)

[seratlantisite]

Nice try Bioware, but I know the state of Southern Thedas better than you do.

First off, it matters if the Hero of Ferelden is alive or not. When the First Warden recalled all wardens, our hero knew that was a bad call and refused, finally splitting off from Weisshaupt after years of mismanagement and taking scores of wardens with them. Their presence and leadership makes all the difference, rallying southern Thedas once more against the blight. If you have only an Orlesian Warden Commander in Amaranthine they’re less inspiring, but as long as you’ve done Awakening they are a boon nonetheless. There is someone to lead the fight against the darkspawn while other focus on the Venatori.

If you 100% completed Awakenings and also Soldier’s Peak, the Ferelden wardens have never been so prepared. They’re organized, they’re outfitted and they’ve been ready for this for years. Also, if you allied with the Architect then you have scores of strange research to give you an edge.

If Merrill completed her Eluvian then she moves south once again and joins the effort. She’s managed to cleanse the blight before and she’s ready to try it again. And her knowledge of the crossroads gives the south an edge on their movement and supply lines. If Hawke’s sibling is a Warden they accompanied her.

If the Inquisitor let Briala have power in any way, the Dales become the leaders in the war against the Venatori, forming a formidable alliance with Ferelden, Orzammar and the Marches, the likes of which have never been seen. And if you completed Jaws of Hakkon then their alliances with the Avvar and Chasind are stronger than ever.

Of course, if the Inquisitor kept the Wardens around after Here Lies the Abyss then their numbers are bolstered. It may cost Wiesshaupt later, but that’s Rooks problem. And if you completed the Descent, then the Inquisitor and Warden had a much better idea of what was coming and spent ten years getting ready.

They will not be broken.

They will weather this storm.