#area 6 commander

[martincart]

I planned to draw something small for this day, but a Drawn Together frame inspired me. I also wanted to draw my boys before finishing the year!

This year it had his it and low, but I hope to improve that in 2024! Meanwhile, I wish you a happy New Year's party and a wonderful next year!

[almightyhamslice]

I recently redesigned Commander Sidney! long story short I saw his N64 sprite n noticed he had nostrils (and prominent fangs), which made me realize he DEFINITELY was meant to have a long snout... but I’d been drawing it wrong even when I knew that much. So now he’s HALF horned lizard, half iguana! Spiny tailed iguana, specifically. Now he and Caiman have more in common! I think that’s sweet. Realistically Caiman is likely just another soldier under Sidney’s command, but I like to think Sidney has a somewhat fatherly bond with Caiman. Perhaps they do after the war, since I’m pretty sure they both survive their encounter with the Star Fox team.

The mechanical rabbit Caiman is carrying is actually my anthro design for Spyborg! can’t believe I didn’t post him here... I have expanded the anthro bioweapon squad to include Spyborg and Golemech even though they aren’t bioweapons or biological at all, but I figured they fit in since Spyborg talks but is not anthropomorphic, and Golemech is nonspeaking but ‘person-shaped’ (human shaped feels weird to say when all the characters r talking animals LOL)

additional sketches under the cut:

Sidney sketches I drew to figure out his profile. The straight-on perspective of his talksprite is actually kinda beneficial in the sense that his profile can look TOTALLY DIFFERENT so long as I angle everything correctly... so technically I altered his helmet but it looks unchanged if you view it from the front, so it doesn’t really matter lol. As with his previous designs, his horns fold back slightly when he wears the helmet... though now it’s a bit more comfortable since there’s less horns and his skin is more flexible/baggy. 

I chose iguana as his secondary species bc I really like their profile/shape! I think this posture makes him seem more menacing in a way! I also feel that his sagging skin makes him appear old, but not frail like he appeared before. As such I also bulked him up slightly; I thought he looked too scrawny before n wanted more variety between my Venomians. I dunno why I made him skinnier than Benjamin before, he really ought to look stronger than him.

Spyborg sketches! since he was only an upper body before, he has disproportionately long arms. I wanted him to appear kind of bunnyish, so he has a pair of laser cannons atop his head that resemble ears! His third eye is meant to be red while the other 2 are orange, so his two faces are combined. I’m still a bit indecisive abt his arm structure so I apologize for these sketches being inconsistent in that regard LOL.

[concoulor]

& there’s definitely a point to be made about the bidens and political office overall saving the dog from euthanasia

[galedekarios]

Dragon Age: Veilguard | The Ultimate Preview Summary

shinobi602 on twitter shared this amazing in-depth summary of all new information about the game that we have so far:

Coming to PS5, Xbox Series X and PC in Fall 2024

Consoles: Quality and Performance modes (60FPS)

Photo mode is confirmed

Fully offline single player, no EA account linking, no micro-transactions'

Play as a human, elf, dwarf, or Qunari

Choose your backstory, 6 factions to choose from when you create your character, all with "deep roots in Thedas": Antivan Crows, Grey Wardens, Shadow Dragons, Veil Jumpers, Lords of Fortune, The Mourne Watch

Each faction offers 3 distinct buffs each, like being able to hold an extra potion or do extra damage against certain enemies, and the odd reference in dialogue

You can customize your Inquisitor from Dragon Age: Inquisition in the character creator and "make a few key decisions that will impact how The Veilguard begins"

There are some "killer cameos" from past games that show up

Warrior Class: Use a sword and shield or two handed weapon to send enemies flying

Rogue Class: Utilizes quick movement and reflexes. You can wield a bow or dual swords with "powerful, precise strikes for lethal damage"

Mage Class: Use magic to incinerate, freeze, electrocute and crush. Some cast from afar, while others prefer close quarters combat

Each class also has 3 sub-specializations, such as duelist, saboteur, or veil ranger for the Rogue

Classes also have unique 'resource system's, for example, the Rogue has "momentum", which builds up as you land consecutive hits, and each will always have a ranged option

One Rogue momentum attack is a "hip fire" option we saw for the Rogue's bow, letting you pop off arrows from the waist

Another momentum attack for the Warrior lets you lob your shield at enemies

Quests are more handcrafted and mission based, curated with alternate paths, secrets to discover and optional content

There are also open ended explorable areas

Party size of 3 during combat, ala Mass Effect

Combat is focused on real-time action, dodge, parry, counter, "sophisticated animation canceling and branching", using risk-reward charge attacks designed to break enemy armor layers

Enemies have elemental weaknesses and resistances, and you can chain together elemental combos for extra damage

One example is a squadmate using a gravity well attack to suck enemies in, another slowing them down, and the player then unleashing a big AOE attack

You don't take direct control of companions like past Dragon Age games, but you can still pause and issues ability commands for you and your allies

There is a hub area for the player like Skyhold and the Normandy, called The Lighthouse

Companions can eventually start romancing other characters if you opt not to romance them

Each companion also has unique missions tied to them that play into the larger story

Nudity confirmed - romance scenes can get "a little spicy"

"Incredibly deep" character creator: 5 categories including: Lineage, Appearance, Class, Faction, Playstyle

Players can also choose different body sizes and shapes

Dozens of hairstyles to choose from, with "individual strands of hair rendered separately and reacting quite remarkably to in-game physics", pulled from EA Sports

Character creator lets you adjust the lighting so you can be sure your character looks good

The team wanted to balance the look of the game with both light and darkness. "When everything is dark, nothing really feels dark. For this one, we really wanted to build that contrast again."

Skill tree is "vast", you can also set up specific companions with certain kits, from tackling specific enemy types to being more of a supporting healer or flexible all-rounders

There are tarot cards you go through during the character creation process that will let you choose decisions from past games to implement into Veilguard

The team teases you may lose some characters during the story

[sayruq]

On April 6, Hamas fighters launched a complex ambush against Israeli soldiers patrolling the Zanna neighborhood east of the central Gaza city of Khan Younis. The area, lying around two kilometers from the boundary fence that separates Gaza from Israel, had been under the control of the Israeli military since it was invaded five months earlier. Hamas claimed that nine soldiers were killed in the attack; Israel admitted to four dead and several injured. Hamas later released an eight-minute video documenting its fighters planning the attack, setting up the ambush, and carrying out the elaborate, multistage operation. A day after the attack, the Israeli army withdrew from Khan Younis, having destroyed much of the city but not, it seems, Hamas’s ability to fight there. On May 6, Hamas announced that it had accepted a cease-fire proposal drafted by Egyptian and Qatari mediators with the involvement of President Joe Biden’s personal envoy to the cease-fire talks, CIA Director William Burns. That night, Israel responded by beginning its long-threatened invasion of Rafah. As of today, at least 100,000 people have already fled the city. (The United States has indicated that it does not consider an invasion to have officially begun, and Biden told CNN on Wednesday that he is prepared to pause weapons transfers to Israel if the situation escalates.) The Zanna operation, Hamas’s approval of the cease-fire proposal, and Israel’s attack on Rafah together explain the dynamics prolonging this war—one that, no matter what Israel says, it has comprehensively failed to win. There is a myth, propagated by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his allies, that a “total victory” against Hamas is only one invasion of Rafah away. In this story, the bombardment of the Gaza Strip and the destruction of its civilian life is conflated with the destruction of Hamas itself. There are doubtless many people who do not see a contradiction there. For them, Rafah, whose pre-war population of 250,000 has quintupled with refugees from other parts of Gaza, needs to suffer the same fate as Gaza’s other cities. But the Zanna operation, among others, tells a different story: Despite Israel’s causing so much devastation that the UN estimates it may take decades to rebuild Gaza, Hamas and its allied groups have continued to function across the ruined Strip. Following its withdrawal from Khan Younis, the Israeli army carried out an incursion into the Nuseirat refugee camp and neighboring Mughraqa. But resistance on the ground was stiff. After several Israeli soldiers were killed in an ambush in Mughraqa that reportedly utilized an unexploded US-made Israeli missile, the Israelis withdrew. Meanwhile, the east-west corridor that the Israeli army has set up to bisect the entire Gaza Strip has been under frequent mortar, rocket, and sniper attacks. And on Sunday, rocket fire from southern Gaza killed four Israeli soldiers at a staging area in the Kerem Shalom military base. Palestinians are not just continuing to fight in Gaza; there is clear coordination, command, and control—and, with many of the attacks filmed, a coherent media strategy.

In retrospect, it seems obvious that, despite Israel’s bluster, Hamas has been confident for months in its ability to survive. One key piece of evidence for this is its handling of the cease-fire negotiations. The group has insisted on several conditions for a potential cease-fire: that Gaza’s displaced population be allowed to return unfettered to the north, that Israeli forces withdraw from Gaza, that any cease-fire lead to a formal end to the war, and that the Israelis in Hamas custody be released only in exchange for Palestinians in Israeli prisons. Back in February, for instance, Netanyahu called the group’s cease-fire conditions “delusional.” In the following weeks, the Israeli army raided Shifa and Nasser hospitals. The army’s chief of staff, Herzi Halevi, told soldiers the raids were meant to put pressure on Hamas during negotiations. By the time Israel pulled out, Gaza’s two largest hospitals had been reduced to burned-out husks, their courtyards the site of mass graves. But the pressure did not appear to work—Hamas did not budge from its demands.In fact, if anyone appears to be rattled, it’s Israel. With negotiations underway in Cairo last week, and reports indicating that an agreement might be in the works, Netanyahu announced that he would order an attack on Rafah “with or without a deal” to free the Israelis held by Hamas. A cynic could be forgiven for thinking the Israeli leader prefers to prolong the war over securing the freedom of his citizens. Other Israeli officials kept pounding the drum for a Rafah invasion. Shimon Boker, a deputy mayor of Beersheba who is tied to Netanyahu’s party, went on Israeli TV to say, “I think we should have gone into Rafah yesterday. There are no uninvolved [innocent] civilians there. You have to go in and kill and kill and kill.” There are 600,000 children in Rafah.

Perhaps Netanyahu was banking that his threat would torpedo the talks. Indeed, by the weekend, it seemed like the potential accord had fallen through. Hamas’s negotiators flew back to Qatar, but so did Burns, and indirect talks continued there. Hamas’s announcement on Monday that it had accepted the cease-fire proposal seemed to take the Israelis by surprise. Within hours, they were messaging that the deal wasn’t what they had been led to believe it would be—an interesting approach, considering the central role of the head of the CIA in drafting it.On the other hand, the Biden administration seemed warm to the development, before reverting to form. From the officials who first brought us “UN Security Council resolutions are not binding” came “accepting the cease-fire proposal is not accepting the cease-fire proposal.” But while Burns, the Israelis, Egyptians, Qataris, and Hamas resumed talks in Cairo—though they have apparently now broken up—Israeli tanks rumbled into Rafah under the cover of intense air strikes and artillery shelling that have killed dozens already, including many children. For months, world governments, the UN, virtually every humanitarian organization, and even the Biden administration have warned that a full-scale assault on Rafah would result in a bloodbath. With that in mind, it could be that the Israeli leadership truly believes that such a massacre could be what it takes to force Hamas to back off its demands. Or maybe it’s a last roll of the dice for a government that has little to show for this war other than tens of thousands of Palestinian corpses and millions of tons of rubble. This is a leadership that has failed catastrophically; its strategy of “managing the conflict” has failed, its attempt to integrate with the broader Middle East by bypassing the Palestinians has failed, and the way it has prosecuted this war has led to global revulsion even among allies. It is on trial for genocide at the International Court of Justice, the International Criminal Court may issue warrants against it, and it is unlikely to survive whatever political transition occurs in Israel after the war. This might be the last chance to bring this horror—a mass slaughter of children on a historically unprecedented scale—to an end. The US president has been the one person in the world with the leverage to force Israel to stop. If he decides, as he has many times before, to defer to the murderous whims of Israel’s fanatical, right-wing government, we may find ourselves witnessing new levels of savagery.

[lilacstro]

Astro Observation Pt 4

I hope you all are doing awesome and the last few posts resonated with you! Also, thank you so much for 250 followers <33 means so much to me

here we go :)

1.Taurus placements really like food, cooking. I mean, we all do, but its a little extra with them.

2.Taurus moons really have a soothing presence and voice, however, they may come as highly opinionated sometimes. They are usually very kind and polite while talking and may like things like art, music, poetry or, reading/ enjoying such things and actively talking about it.

3.I read somewhere that 8th house is temporary death while 12th house is what happens after death, maybe that is why it is the last house. Example, 12th house Capricorns may come back to give/receive karma, 12th house Scorpios may learn and complete the soul lessons or karmic contracts.

4.I dont know how many people does it resonates with since I only know a few capricorn risings but more these natives like structure and order, they sometimes secretly wanna run away from all and everything, probably just disappear or move to the countryside lol...may even struggle with maldaptive daydreaming. Also, they definitely don't wanna/can't be tamed AT ALL...you can't tell them what to do lol ..I wonder if it has something to do with the Sag 12th house. They do accept opinions and suggestions, but very selectively

5. The birth of a capricorn sun/rising/stellium child can be karmic. In the sense that, they are here to dispose karma to other people, while learn their own. Maybe because the ruler is Saturn. One of the things that can follow is a change/shift in the circumstances of the family.

6. This makes me think, 12th house indeed can show our hidden thoughts or desires. People with Sag risings have scorpio in 12th house, and this can secretly make them wanna have some kind of command, control and authority. I am a Sag rising, and this holds true for me.

7. Speaking of NN in solar return, I read someone reblogging my post saying they believe NN can also represent the lessons you learn and grow from, I instead believe its more of a karmic/soul lesson/fated thing, that rather tranforms/grows your soul and you may go through a huge shift in your perspective and some life-changing experiences concerning that area of life. Something that we are moving into, and will affect us from that point onwards, like a new theme unlocking.

Chiron, on the other hand, is different. No one wonder chiron is actually call the wounded healer, something that hurts and then heals.

example, nn in 1st house can mean you will go through major themes and experiences that will make you focus more on yourself and finding your identity and purpose and this should affect your further years. more of a spiritual growth

chiron in the 1st house can instead mean you will go through experiences that will make you question yourself, some kind of identity crisis, that will further lead to you believing and finding your true self. more of a personal growth.

i hope i made sense. moreover, astrology interpretations are very personal :) and you dont have to agree with anything i said if it doesnt feel right.

8. libra moon imo is one of the best moon placement to have. they are able to present their emotions pretty nicely and in order and that makes sense somehow. This is also a placement for a hopeless romantic tho lmao.

9. Libra MC people may always look confused. Somehow even struggling to chose between a pastry and a cake lmao.

10. I think women with Virgo+ Scorpio placements are the ones that can make the best lie detectors/detectives/real baddies. They may also enjoy dark psychology/ true crime stories/thriller.

11. Men with Venus in Saggitarius may like spiritual/religious women.

12. I think people with Venus-Asc aspects may always/eventually find beauty and confidence in their appearance and themselves, and that is very amazing imo.

13. Women with Pluto-Asc aspects may like dominance in some shape or form and may have a really good self control and hold of themselves.

14. I will want to ask, do people who have Uranus Retrogade in their chart somehow struggle with breaking electrical appliances/gadgets often? Like it will just break somehow?

15. Having asteroid industria at 28 degrees can show you have a potential to earn huge money through your career.

16. Wherever Jupiter lies in your chart, is where you can expect divine protection. Jupiter in 10th house? Protection from people with malicious intents/a bad public image. Jupiter in 6th house? Protection from accidents and diseases. Jupiter in 12th house? protection from hidden enemies/backstabbing. Jupiter in 11th house? Protection from fake friends/people.

17. I have often seen people say you should marry your 7th house sign but i would disagree again. The 7th house/DC is more about the qualities we admire in other people, and what do we look for while forming ANY relationship with others and this does not always have to mean that you would get along with them romantically.

thats all for this post<33 i love you all. Please leave post recommendations, if you have any in the ask, messages or comments :)

[kaeyachi]

some kaeya facts that i want to remind everyone with because I miss him so much! (no angst this time i swear!!...but if you all want angst, I could also deliver hehehe)

1. Kaeya tells the children of Mondstadt some stories! Specifically, one that some forgot or didn't know of is that he has told the orphans under the church's care some horror story about the light in the lamp posts :D He had been shown to do a story telling to Klee while at the Veluriyam Mirage and he has also been reading to Klee her bedtime stories as well

2. Kaeya made Klee's survival rules! Kaeya has definitely done his part on preventing Klee from destroying Mondstadt before Celestia ever could (well, at least lessened the amount of times Mond gets bombed anyway). Anyone else think Kaeya purposely let Klee explode the Good Hunter's stove to avoid going to the Chasm? No? Ok-

3. He takes the attention when he dances! Depending on which language you hear it from, it is either a good or a bad thing. However, I am on team good thing simply because some mercenaries invited him to go dancing with them while he was in Sumeru ( very interesting information, Kaeya! Glad to know they found you so attractive that they did something they don't usually do!)

4. If you call him kind, he will attempt to look mean (and he fails at it lmao), and if he is not being mean, he will try to deny it. The traveler once listed down the kind things he had done for Captain Wu, a Liyue npc, and Kaeya proceeds to tell us that he records people who owe him (which is a lie. He forgot the person he helped TWICE. What he does have a record of is a well-detailed list of Treasure Hoarders and their rankings + patrol areas in Mondstadt). Another instance was during Jean's story quest where Kaeya planned the appreciation party for Jean where he gave the traveler all the credit

5. He is a great gift giver! (unless that person is Diluc because otherwise he will find the ugliest thing ever and gift that... arguably, that kinda sounds like amazing gift giving if we are talking about being an annoying sibling). He remembers passing commentary from friends and coworkers and gifts them accordingly.

6. He has his own intel network (and I'm theorizing that it is just a group of people he has helped before that insisted on paying him back in this way). Kaeya, after some heavy insistence from Captain Wu, asks him if he wants to be a friend or be part of his intel network and follow his commands no matter what. Vile, one of his known informants, also gave us a glimpse as to what it takes to be part of Kaeya's network, and that is the ability to decipher codes and read messages in between.

7. He is incredibly reliable as a knight! Not only do the people of Mondstadt agree that he is the more approachable cavalry captain between him and Diluc, but it is also a known fact that Kaeya has never failed to complete a mission to date (except the one during Diluc's 18th). Nearly every citizen of Mondstadt adores him and knows how reliable he is. Arguably, this success rate could be attributed to his "end justifies the means" mindset that not all find enjoyable, but he is definitely the person to ask if you want something done. Vile has once mentioned that she could just ask Kaeya to do the charming and convincing for her, dubbing him as a prince charming for it.

8. He is one of the people who spends so much time with Klee (potentially attributed by the fact that he also has more free time compared to others). He spends so much time with her that Klee mentions a few interesting things about Kaeya, such as the fact that Albedo draws Kaeya frequently (enough times that Albedo says Kaeya could be drawn by him easily. yes, it's that "three strokes" line lmao) and the fact that Kaeya has saved Klee from solitary confinement a lot. He is shown to be a very effective person when it comes to corralling Klee without making her feel bad as even when he was trying to berate her, he still ended up giving her a possible reward if she listens.

9. He is very meticulous. He willingly spends the time to get himself ready in the clothes that he is wearing, and he likes embellishments. He really is quite the perfectionist in his actions as well. (very Alberich of him!✌️) We can also see this in his handwriting that has been described as "beautiful" and again with his near perfect track record as a knight.

[whencyclopedia]

Utah Beach

Utah Beach was the westernmost of the five beaches attacked in the D-Day Normandy landings of 6 June 1944 and the one taken with the fewest casualties. Paratroopers were also dropped behind Utah, and despite being widely dispersed and suffering heavy casualties, they managed to secure this western flank of the invasion and liberate the first French town, Ste-Mère-Église.

Operation Overlord

The amphibious assault on the beaches of Normandy was the first stage of Operation Overlord, which sought to free Western Europe from occupation by Nazi Germany. The supreme commander of the Allied invasion force was General Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890-1969), who had been in charge of the Allied operations in the Mediterranean. The commander-in-chief of the Normandy land forces, 39 divisions in all, was the experienced General Bernard Montgomery (1887-1976). Commanding the air element was Air Chief Marshal Trafford Leigh Mallory (1892-1944), with the naval element commanded by Admiral Bertram Ramsay (1883-1945).

Nazi Germany had long prepared for an Allied invasion, but the German high command was unsure where exactly such an invasion would take place. Allied diversionary strategies added to the uncertainty, but the most likely places remained either the Pas de Calais, the closest point to British shores, or Normandy with its wide flat beaches. The Nazi leader Adolf Hitler (1889-1945) attempted to fortify the entire coast from Spain to the Netherlands with a series of bunkers, pillboxes, artillery batteries, and troops, but this Atlantic Wall, as he called it, was far from being complete in the summer of 1944. In addition, the wall was thin since there was no real depth to the defences.

Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt (1875-1953), commander-in-chief of the German army in the West, believed it would be impossible to stop an invasion on the coast and so it would be better to hold the bulk of the defensive forces as a mobile reserve to counterattack against enemy beachheads. Field Marshal Erwin Rommel (1891-1944), commander of Army Group B, disagreed and considered it essential to halt any invasion on the beaches themselves. Further, Rommel believed that Allied air superiority meant that movements of reserves would be severely hampered. Hitler agreed with Rommel, and so the defenders were strung out wherever the fortifications were at their weakest. Rommel improved the static defences and added steel anti-tank structures to all the larger beaches. In the end, Rundstedt was given a mobile reserve, but the compromise weakened both plans of defence.

The German response would not be helped either by their confused command structure, which meant that Rundstedt could not call on any armour (but Rommel, who reported directly to Hitler, could), and neither commander had any control over the paltry naval and air forces available or the separately controlled coastal batteries. Nevertheless, the defences were bulked up around the weaker defences of Normandy to an impressive 31 infantry divisions plus 10 armoured divisions and 7 reserve infantry divisions. The German army had another 13 divisions in other areas of France. A standard German division had a full strength of 15,000 men.

Continue reading...

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 6 ]

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

Blame my obsession with K-dramas for how dramatic this last angsty part is. Also, to be clear, I do know some of you head-cannon Alastor as a ‘charismatic psychopath’ because of the way he acts in the show but personally I see him as more of a ‘dynamic sociopath’ while he was alive. I’m telling you this because I know authors tend to depict their faves so out of character just to progress the plot of their stories without any logical reasoning behind it. I am not that type of writer and therefore I don’t think my perception of (Human) Alastor is strange. Anyways, enough from me. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled broadcast shall we?

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ MENTIONS & DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD / HORROR ] + [ PREGNANCY TROPE…it’ll be over soon I swear…] + [ IMPLICATIONS OF A MISCARRIAGE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF A DEAD BODY ] + [ HEAVY ANGST ]

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

On a cozy November evening, the Garden District of New Orleans bloomed with life. Its magnificent houses and mansions stood tall in the late-day sun, and the woeful winter breeze passing through the dazzling neighborhood rustled the greenery lining each home.

Many of the Jazz City’s locals regarded the area as an affluent attraction for outsiders to gawk and marvel at, while those who resided there took pride in its beauty.

You considered yourself fortunate to be a part of such a gleaming community, living a subtle life of luxury due to Alastor's wild success, but not entirely involved with other well-kept wives of similar influential figures.

Socializing had never been your forte; though it was required of you in mannerable situations, the constant exchange of loose friendships with strangers never entirely appealed to you.

Although, being married to a renowned public figure with an image to uphold puts you in compliance with the aversion.

Parties, local events, and even headlining musical performances became your routine social appearance.

Alastor was immensely proud to have you on his arm, charming the masses with your soft approach, swooning the newspapers with your angelic appearance and kind public gestures.

You did your best to make a lovely impression on anyone you encountered, wordlessly adhering to Alastor’s commanding ego and polishing the rough edges of his public image with practiced selflessness.

Few knew you personally, and even fewer saw you as a socialite.

Sure, you'd been polite to anyone who passed on the street, made small talk with neighbors, did charity work for those who thought to ask, and even donated effort towards Rosies spontaneous book club meetings every other weekend -though they were thinly veiled gossip sessions she'd orchestrate with fellow homemakers.

There wasn't a single person you could call a 'friend' who wasn't already close to your husband…

How Rosie had managed to crowd her stunning home with so many familiar yet strange faces, claiming to be precisely that -your friend- baffled you in more ways than one.

Yes, these people were acquaintances and admirers to some degree, but your friends?…

You had none besides Alastor, willing to remain by his side in matrimony just as you had from the moment you met him, reluctant to make any other connections since your shared childhood.

It didn’t help that Alastor developed a habit of scaring away new acquaintances behind your back and even resorted to violent acts of service to keep other suitors at bay before your shared vows.

As a result, the happy faces you saw now felt fabricated; every congratulatory remark didn't resonate with your heart, and the more people that arrived to celebrate you and Alastor, the more lost you felt.

They didn't know you.

No one knew you, but they adored your husband and, in turn, fawned over you.

Liars.

Everyone spouted half-truths, mirroring the ones Alastor had been telling you for months, and your heart grew heavier with each one told.

You could manage seeing him falsify his real identity to the public, to unsuspecting strangers, and to posh parasites.

You could handle being put on a pedestal, seen as the perfect wife, and expected to echo his ideal perception.

Lying to others was child's play, a game you two had grown to love, but Alastor developing the need to lie to you wasn't a tolerable offense.

The party began smoothly; guests swooped in with delightful gifts, either handmade or recently bought from the showcases of New Orleans's finest shops; gentle swing music wafted through the air of Rosie’s lavish two-story home that sat only a block away from your own.

She'd gone to the extreme for the whole ordeal: live music, tantalizing food laid out on tables in the parlor, decorations befitting a small ball neatly adorning the house exterior, and the creme de le creme of Louisiana's socialites filling the guest list.

Alastor uttered nothing but praise for his dearest friend's efforts, thanking her for the collaborative success with a broad smile and chaste kiss.

You followed his gratitude with a gracious nod, content with sitting at your designated table now lined with small gifts from an array of affluent attendees.

"My, Rosie, you've outdone yourself again! You even got Anthony and that grump Husk to show face," Alastor chuckled, eyeing the chattering crowd carefully until his gaze landed on the two opposing men.

Rosie hummed triumphantly, champagne flutes in one hand as the other flicked off an imaginary offense, "Oh, come now, Alastor, you know I'd do my best for the occasion! Everyone in town begged to be here. Not every day they get to meet radio's biggest star and his wife!"

She flashed a genuine grin at you, noting the slight glare on your face as you returned it, but said nothing.

Her attention reverted to the man beside her, who continued observing the crowd, sharing passing remarks with Rosie when a person of interest appeared.

You oversaw their exchange, deliberately soft-spoken the whole evening, often having to avert your focus to converse with a couple who'd come to give their gift and admiration.

Still, the minute the guests left to join the party again, you'd zero in on them.

Alastor felt your eyes on him, burning holes into the back of his head despite you sitting down to rest as the party moved along.

He refused to acknowledge your staring, patiently waiting for you to call for his attention rather than assume you needed it.

After ten minutes of idle chit-chat, he was obliged to give it to you, as Rosie excused herself for the time being.

You said nothing as he peered down at you over his shoulder, amber eyes glinting gold under the lowering sunlight pouring in from the opened bay windows behind you, lips curled into a familiar smile that you considered returning for a moment.

It was hard for you to deny how magnificent Alastor looked in the thrall of pride, dressed in a Burgundy suit with cream accents, hair neatly styled to hide his natural brown curls from the eye of others, and his skin glimmering under natural light.

He was beautiful, deceptively desirable even in your eyes filled with one-sided hurt, and you wished to let go and stand by his side with the utmost confidence in him just as you'd done so many times before.

It would be so easy to forget his transgressions then, to fully enjoy the celebration of your children's oncoming arrival together, but as he elegantly turned on his heel to approach you, splinters of suspicion pricked through your forgiving nature.

You wouldn't t let him charm his way out of this.

Enough was enough.

Alastor watched as your expression grew hard, hidden from the festive crowd by his lean frame as he knelt at eye level with you.

To those around you, the gesture came off as romantic, an endearing sight of a husband tending to his pregnant wife, and not the unspoken detachment of trust between a loyal lover and her predatory protector.

Alastor reached for one of your hands, subtly tugging it from resting on your stomach to resting in his palm.

A sickeningly sweet smile plastered his face as he placed a ginger kiss on your gloved knuckles.

His eyes never left yours as he enacted the loving gesture, swirling with unabashed mischief as you dug your nails into his skin, and the slight pain beckoned him to hum with delight.

You were angry and even enraged with him, but you showed it subtly and practiced, and if he were an ordinary man, Alastor would've considered feeling guilty for it.

But your husband was far from average, far from the definition of guilt, and you wouldn't have him any other way because, despite all his faults and evils, you loved him.

You loved him, felt loyal to him, would do anything for him, yet he lied.

He carried on belittling your trust to mere innocence.

Resentment radiated off you in waves, barely drowned out by the party's happenings but settling on Alastor's shoulders with force.

"Is there something troubling you, my dear?" he asks lowly, eyes steady on you as your smile tightens.

"You." is the only word that leaves your lips, laced with lethal rage in the softest tone, and the contrast elicits a rare frown from him.

He lets your response linger, tangling with laughter and music but remaining in his consciousness as he rises to his feet.

A specific anger curls in Alastor's chest, one he seldomly felt for himself, but the look on your face as he rose to his full height above you made it potent.

Something was different; that sweet girl he'd grown to cherish now looked tainted, and now he knew it was his fault.

"Darling…" he began to formulate an inquiry, faltering in his well-tailored demeanor to conjure a suitable remedy for your anger, but his excuses weren't quick enough.

You carefully stood to your feet, forcing a smile before raising on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, smoothing a hand over his suit until it rested where his heart was.

Your lips neared his ear, whispering spiteful words that didn't match the loving aura you showcased to the onlooking guests.

"You, my love, are a heartless lying bastard. Keeping secrets from me, your wife, of all people? Is that what your devotion to me means? Not trusting the woman who loves you? The mother of your children? If it is, then you can burn in hell with satan himself..'

The strain of smiling through your pain began to take its toll.

Tears welled in your eyes as each hurtful word fell on his ears, but you refused to cause a scene at such a lovely event and resorted to walking away from him as swiftly as you could manage.

Alastor was left to stand alone, his jaw clenched and his control wavering as he heard your heels click further away.

A few guests tried to gain your attention, but you quickly and respectfully declined their engagements, barely making it out of their view as tears streamed down your face, but by fate's grace, you found solace in Rosie's kitchen.

All of the cooks, maids, and waiters were absent.

Everyone was upstairs enjoying the festivities, celebrating you and Alastor's happiest time, but here you were.

Alone.

Beside yourself and utterly alone.

You tried to sob quietly, choking back frustrated screams while pacing, but the look on Alastor's face after you'd confronted him about lying brought more tears.

You'd never seen him hurt, taken aback, guilty like that.

He'd always been so perfect in your eyes, composed and deliberate about his presence.

Now, you'd ruined that image, and at what cost?

Would he come clean now or shut you out even more?

Was your anger worth any of it? Was his lying worth it?

Your heart was a mess, desperate to connect with his, but reluctant to it all at once.

“….”

Maybe father was right…

The sound of quick footsteps approaching the kitchen didn't register to you, drowned about by your excessive crying, but another presence was made evident as two gentle arms wrapped you in a hug.

"Oh, honey, come here…" Rosie cooed into your hair, frowning as your cries became hysterical, muffled by the frilly fabric of her dress.

"H-he's been lying to me, Rosie! Alastor…..a-and everyone else in this decrepit city has been playing me like a fool!"

You shuddered violently, trying to breathe correctly despite a filled stomach and a rush of anger taking its toll.

Rosie hushed you gently, letting you cry in her arms until your breaths came steadily.

She ushered you to sit somewhere comfortable as she gathered a few items to help your nerves settle.

"He lied to me," you repeat tiredly, watching as she throws together a pot of tea, using herbs you know all too well.

A sprig of Lavender, sprinkle of cinnamon, bits of rosemary, and a few drops of honey. Finally, a dash of lemon for taste.

This a simple but potent recipe for a calming and effective cup of tea.

Rosie sighs, debating what to say as she lets the mixture steep in a porcelain cup of hot water.

You weren't wrong; Alastor was hiding things from you, and though she hated to see you so distraught because of his hidden deeds, the possibility of hurting you with the truth weighed on her.

Betray, her closest friend's trust, tell his wife the haunting truth and pray she still loves him after hearing it.

Or, keep up the charade he'd so carefully created to protect you, risk driving you mad with resentment, and contribute to the cycle of pain you felt?

Rosie had difficulty choosing which path to follow but soon made her decision as you spoke again.

"Rosie…tell me the truth. Is he…is he seeing another woman? Planning to leave me? To leave us?.." you glance at your stomach, fearful of her answer and terrified your assumptions might be right.

Oddly silent, she doesn't answer your questions immediately and finishes preparing your fresh cup of hot tea, "Rosie, please! Whatever Alastor is hiding from me, I need to know. I…I'm his wife, and I have the right to at least know what's being kept from me. What is he doing out so late all the time? Why can’t I leave the house without him anymore? And for goodness sake, why does he insist I don’t read the paper?!”

The blonde freezes where she stands, whipping her whole body around to stare at you intently, and you stop yourself from rambling seeing her serious so suddenly.

"Al isn't being unfaithful, dear. That I can tell you for certain.."

"Then what in god's name is he-"

Rosie drew closer to you, dawning an all-too-sweet smile you'd learned to dread.

That happy expression was practiced, used only to console your fears or quell any questions you had.

She'd gotten so well at fronting the mask that you nearly began to believe anything she said when it was on, but now you knew better.

You knew that smile meant more lying, and in that moment, you lost the will to trust anyone in Alastors' close circle.

Even Rosie.

"I think it's time you go home and rest, dear. All this stress and crying isn't good for the babies," the blonde moved you gently, helping you stand and walk the expanse of her kitchen, up the stairs, and down corridors until the ongoing party reached your ears again.

That entire trek back upstairs felt meaningless, a distant woeful memory you existed in just to be flung back into reality by Rosie's voice, "I'll go get Al and have him take you-"

Your head snapped up at the mention of the one man who'd caused so much sorrow, tongue poised to speak harshly about him, but your penchant for politeness tempered it.

"That won't be necessary, Rosie. I'll get home just fine on my own."

She balled, clutching the string of pearls around her neck, "Oh goodness no, dear! This may be uptown, but it is still no safe place to walk about all alone. And dare I say, Alastor’s just wouldn't have it-"

"Rosie. I don't wish to see or be near him!.." you hissed as quietly as possible, lips pursed and eyes glaring daggers into her crowded parlor room.

Despite her better judgment, Rosie let the matter go, frowning as she made a heady suggestion.

"Why don't I have a close friend walk you home then? Just in case. There is a murder running 'round, and we can't have you getting hurt or caught up."

There it was again…

We…

You knew she was referring to anyone but you. Alastor, Angelique, her.

Everyone but you seemed to have a significant stake or curious investment in your unborn children's well-being.

The eerie overprotectiveness always made you weary, but at this point, you found it alarming, to say the least.

However, Rosie was right to a point.

There'd been a murder -or several- running a muck in Louisiana’s deep south.

Specifically, New Orleans.

Although the gruesome crimes were frequent, morbidly committed, and consistently reported on by papers and radio shows alike…

No one, not even the expert authorities, seemed to pinpoint a suspect or apparent killer among the public.

All that they knew was the killer's intangible motives, their style, their choice of victims -but nothing substantial enough to apprehend them.

You couldn't care less about a possibility of the Bayou Butcher coming for your head.

Your anger towards Alastor proceeded your worries for personal safety.

Rosie didn't wait for you to come to reason with her observation, already scurrying into the parlor to find your husband and tell him of your wishes to leave.

It irritates you how fragile she, Alastor, and everyone else he knows treated you.

It was as if you couldn't fend for yourself, as if he was the only one capable of cognitive thought in your marriage, and to some degree, the realizations stung your pride.

Traces of anger grew in your heart towards him minute by minute, something you never dreamt of feeling for him, but dreams can quickly turn into nightmares as your father would say…

This moment was that turning point. You could feel the shift as you turned away from the packed parlor, ignoring those who gave greetings as you stalked toward the front door.

Some asked if you needed assistance, and others watched in confusion as you slipped out the door and let it slam shut behind you.

Not many people were on the front porch and lawn, and those who were let you pass through without saying a word.

You presumed they were just waiting for the moment to gossip again, whether it be about you or someone else.

The need to care wasn't one you had, taking brisk steps down the sidewalk under a setting sun as rare chilled breezes sweep the southern heat from your face.

It was convenient that Rosie only lived a block and a half away from you, and Alastor’s shared estate.

The semi-long walk gave you time to think, time to enjoy the scenery around you and get away from the suffocating expectations put on you simply by being the Radio Star's perfect wife.

You scoffed at the thought, trying not to get angry again as your steps took you around a familiar corner, but the negative feeling quickly lessened when you felt a gentle rap of kicks in your stomach.

The twins gave a subtle tussle, sensing their mother's distress, and to some degree, you believed they were trying to cheer you up.

Their tiny gestures worked, putting a smile on your solemn expression and keeping it there to your destination.

You shuffled up the steps to your home, tired, feet sore, and ready to cry again as the large structure reminded you of the man you'd left to endure the company of his admirers.

His.

Not yours.

That had always been the difference.

With a sigh, you unlocked the front double doors, shutting them swiftly as street lamps began to light up and locking the ornate wood panels right after.

It was a habit Alastor insisted on and one you didn't intend to break tonight.

He'd have to come through the back door, and as small as the hassle would be, you still found it a suitable enough sign of discontent from you to him.

With nothing but sleep on your mind, you trudged up the staircase, pulling your gloves off and preemptively pulling pins from your styled hair.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your hair flowed loosely down your back, and your dress zipper was pulled down (by some miracle, you managed to do it on your own).

You tossed the pins on your vanity, jewelry, gloves, and clutch purse, following suit.

Your shoes regained their spot in the closet, your clothes were thrown into the bathroom hamper, and your nightrobe was thrown over your arm as a replacement.

You were ready for bed after one hot shower, a face care routine, and a hair brushing session.

Alastor still isn't home yet…

The clock had struck midnight thirty minutes ago, and he'd yet to show his face.

You half expected him to, but after years of seeing him angry on very few occasions, you highly doubted he'd return without cooling himself down first.

He tended to go hunting as an alternative…which left you alone for hours on end.

Sadness and guilt crept into you as the argument replayed in your mind.

The emptiness of your shared bed did not help your aching heart, and the heavy silence of the house made it worse.

You may have gone too far.

Maybe he wasn't hiding anything, and I overreacted?

Maybe I was wrong to doubt him, to worry and fret over something trivial.

Your thoughts spiraled again, tears filling your eyes as regret got the best of you.

"What have I done…?" you mumbled in earnest, glancing around the room, wishing to apologize to Alastor or at least explain yourself in a better tone.

Sleeping without him felt foreign, unreal, and even like a self-inflicted punishment.

You saw no benefit to it, and you were consumed with worry.

I can’t do this…

With your mind racing but your body ready to rest, you decided that taking one of Angelique's tonics would soothe you enough to relax.

You left the room on a mission, carefully treading downstairs and into the kitchen, and with haste, you found the cabinet holding the container of vials she’d gifted to you every month.

You opened it swiftly, hoping to find what you needed, but the box was empty.

"Oh, for the love of!-" you hissed angrily, shoving the box away with a grimace, but the sour expression didn't last long as you remembered where to find extra tonics.

Angelique was an insightful woman, cautious enough to give you extra in case something like this happened.

Fortunately, Alastor insisted on putting the additional vials somewhere else so as not to mistake them for regular tonics.

You'd agreed to his idea, allowing him to keep them safely locked in the basement, but now you needed them.

Leaving the moonlit kitchen, you drifted into the second hallway, walking straight ahead to the basement door.

Its key hung on a hook to the left, a small silver trinket Alastor kept a tight watch on, and you tended not to mess with it.

That went for the basement as well.

It was his area of the house you stayed away from not only out of personal reluctance but also out of explicit instructions from him.

His reasons for your avoidance ranged from "Trust me, It's too dangerous for you, darling.." to "Just as you have the library as a safe haven, I have the basement as mine…"

You hadn’t thought to question him, having no reason to, but for once, you disregarded his wishes to grant your own.

He'd never know you went down there only to retrieve medicine. What harm could one peek do?

You plucked the key from its hook, unlocking the creaky black walnut door before reaching into the dark abyss for the lamp switch.

Your fingers found it on the left wall, flicking the switch to bring a warm golden light into the damp room.

The steps croaked under your slow footsteps, holding firm under your nearly doubled weight until you stepped onto the cold wooden flooring.

Alastor kept the space oddly clean; a chair sat in one corner, his hunting gear was neatly arranged on one of two long oak tables, and the walls held other hunting equipment.

You noticed most of the hanging instruments were carving aids, something your own father used to cut and properly clean his own game after he went hunting during your childhood.

Seeing the array of butcher knives and other tools did not frighten you; they were familiar and expected from your husband's choice of hobbies.

Nothing caught your attention at first, usual kickbacks and things tucked away in corners and a hefty radio set on the second table, but little stood out.

You treaded carefully though, peering curiously at different items as you searched for the spare box of tonics, but they were nowhere to be found at first glance.

You figured to look deeper, rummaging through cabinets and under the table, mindful of your swollen belly as you bent down or reached above.

The longer you searched, the more anxious you felt.

Somewhat afraid of being in the basement alone, and a little scared Alastor would find you down there, though he explicitly asked you not to be.

"I have to hurry.." you mumbled, eyes frantically searching the space again as the last cabinet you searched held nothing important to you.

A particular corner of the room caught your gaze. Right behind the armchair was a stack of boxes of different sizes.

You drew closer to them, spotting the extra medicine box on top, gently grabbing it from the pile, but you couldn't look away from the most enormous box sitting right at your feet.

It was huge and made of sturdy metal, unlike the rest, and you were sure a whole person could fit in it if they tried.

How odd…

You'd never seen it before but the box felt sorely out of place, among other things.

You couldn't peel your attention away from it, some invisible force urging you to look inside, and despite your better judgment, you gave into the desire.

Setting the medicine box down on the chair, you moved the other cases off the larger one, clearing it off before cautiously kneeling to open it.

There was no lock, only four bolt latches, which you found easy enough to undo, but the real task was lifting the heavy lid up high enough to see inside.

You managed it with a few determined huffs escaping your lips, letting the heavy lid hit the stone wall before taking a look inside.

You immediately wish you hadn't..…

"Oh God…" you whispered in utter shock and horror at the sight in front of you, feeling undeniably sick from it, mind racing to make up a rational reason for the vulgar sight.

But what rational reason on Earth could justify your beloved husband hiding a literal mutilated body in the basement.

Your heart sank seeing the poor souls' faces sunken in with dread, drowning in their blood, maned at various points as if an animal had mauled them.

Body parts were missing, skin had been flayed, and you almost couldn't tell if the person had any recognizable features left.

It was horrible…a brain-altering nightmare come to life before your very eyes, and it made you sick.

You began to cry, unconsciously sobbing hysterically as the dead body lifelessly peered back at you, terrified of it… slightly afraid of the man you presumed caused the damming scene.

With a sense of urgency, you reached to shut the lid, flinching as loose blood splattered onto you from the impact of the box closing, and the chill of red liquid dripping down your skin was enough to make you scream in pure disgust.

It was a guttural, frantic cry you'd only expressed in recent nightmares, but a deserved one.

Your body began to shake in peril, the gruesome image engraved into your mind as you scrambled to get to stand, but you weren't as composed as before and stumbled backwards haphazardly as a result.

Everything moved faster than you thought; your body had abandoned control, leaving you to fall without warning.

The room spun as your head collided with a table's edge, a dull pain erupting in your skull on impact, and your consciousness wholly disrupted.

The blinding pain of falling to the hard floor didn't register to you as panicked tears seeped down your face, screams you couldn't hear left your lips, and blood began to pool from your head and between your legs.

Shock, terror, helplessness, fear, and panic were all you could feel.

Intense pain in your stomach and head amplified the emotions but became distant sensations as your vision blurred and faded.

The very last words you remember speaking was a cry for help, a desperate plea for everything you'd seen to be a mistaken dream, a cry for anyone -no- your husband to save you from the terrible ordeal.

A plea for him to appear and tell you it's not true, that the body in the bolted box wasn't his doing, but your hope of him hearing you -anyone hearing you- dwindled rapidly as your concussion took hold.

---------- ----------- -------------- -----------

Rosie found Alastor quickly enough, merely having to spot his neatly styled curls drifting in the wind as he stood out on a balcony alone.

A drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He blew smoke into the murky winter air, eyes dark and narrowed as he stared at the evening sky.

It was rare to see him frowning.

Alastor Hartifelt, of all people, not smiling?

Rosie nearly couldn't believe it the closer she drew to him.

He was…upset.

Irritated.

His smile was thoroughly washed away by your harsh words and prods for the truth.

You'd managed to take his cheer in one fail swoop, leaving him alone to think, and he couldn't blame you.

You, his ever-so-loving wife, his confidant, and his soon-to-be motherly doting doe, were rightfully at odds with him.

He'd hurt you, the very reason he'd began lying in the first place was to avoid doing so, but it'd happened anyway.

A genuinely ironic turn of events, in his opinion.

Alastor glared at the rising moon, cursing whatever higher power meddled dared to meddle in his life of all people, but his inner ranting was cut short as the sound of Rosie clearing her throat hit his ears.

The radio host spun on his heel to face her, fronting a slight smile to hide the agitation he felt at the moment, "Done socializing already, dear Rosie?"

He strived to sound polite and unbothered, but the edge in his tone showed through despite his best efforts.

Rosie paid no mind to his touchy attitude, knowing where it stemmed from.

She came to stand by his side, nodding in response to his question, "I didn't have much time to. I was with your lovely wife…trying to calm her nerves."

Alastor's frown returned at the mention of you, a thin line on his lips and a glint of guilt in his gaze.

"How is she?" he asks quietly, and Rosie's cheery expression falters hearing it.

"She insisted on returning home… by herself. Incredibly distraught on her way out.." She admits.

His chest tightened, heart sinking instantly picturing you at home alone, "Why didn't she-"

Rosie clicked her tongue dismissively, interrupting his line of questioning, "Al, she was severely distraught. Please let her be. I only know a fraction of what went on between you two, but it's obvious to her that you're hiding something. Not to intrude on your marriage, darling, but you must make a choice before something irreversible happens to it…to Y/n."

The blonde couldn't hide her somberness, staring at her long-time friend with a sense of earnest sincerity as she continued, "I shouldn't be the one to tell you this….but if you really do care for the girl, love her like you say you do, then you'll tell her the truth. You'll tell her, and she'll still be by your side…."

Alastor lowered his head, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt perplexed, stuck at impasss of foreign emotions.

He cared for you; some might call it love, and he'd been aware of it since childhood.

You'd told him all your secrets, good or bad, and trusted him.

You trusted him enough to reveal the mental abuse your father had put you through during childhood.

Trusted him enough to tell him how badly you wished you'd died instead of your mother to make your father somewhat happy again.

Alastor even knew of the times you'd been left completely alone as a child for weeks on end, how your father's neglect made you feel less than, and the permanent effect it had on you.

Your desire to fill a void, be loved without being shoved off, and be seen as more than a convenient soft-hearted person for someone to trifle with.

He knew every little thing about you, and it was because you had faith in his loyalty.

He found it easy to divulge his thoughts to you in the same manner, but allowing his secrets out into the open made him uneasy, even if you'd proven trustworthy from the beginning.

Then there was the matter of killing for you.

Alastor had done it so many times without your knowledge…

Stalking down men who stared at you too long for his liking, carving up anyone who spoke ill of you, happily taking the life of those who spoke down on your relationship.

Most of his murderous tendencies were purely driven by his obsession with you, a twisted kind of possessiveness he couldn't let go of, and one that made it easy for him to spill blood for you in the blink of an eye.

He did it to keep you safe…and that’d only be possible with him and no one else.

What stopped him from telling you how far he’d gone to do so, showing you that unnatural side of him only his victims saw, could only be described as fear.

Fear of losing you.

Fear of stripping the warmth from your heart.

Fear of losing the one thing, the one person who'd loved him despite all his flaws.

Fear of never truly smiling, never feeling a genuine emotion again because you -your presence in his life- allowed him to do just that.

Alastor hated to call it what it was, but as he was evading your attempts to understand, lying straight to your face and hoping you'd dilute your intuition was a way cowards way out of telling you the whole truth.

His pride dimmed, a frustrated grunt rumbling his chest as he glared at the drink in his hand.

Rosie sighed, flashing him a soft smile of pure reassurance, "Go to her, Al. Put a stop to her worries and relieve yourself of the burden. If not for your marriage, then for her sanity. She is too lovely of a girl to be treated so faithlessly."

He tongues his cheek at her words, a bitter burn of smoke and whiskey on it as he swallows thickly before nodding in agreement, "Seems I have no choice."

"You best head off. It's getting rather late, and I'm sure she misses you dearly, Al."

Alastor took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it in his half-full bourbon glass before letting Rosie take it from him as he straightened his suit.

"I'll bid you good night then. You have my gratitude, Rosie, and the party was a splendid success, if I may add." His tone was back to normal, engaging, and mildly charismatic. Rosie smiled wide at his improving mood, accepting his thanks before shooting him off with a quick peck on his cheek.

“Au revoir monsieur!…”

“Au revoir mademoiselle..”

-------- ---------- ------------ --------------- -----------

Alastor made it home without trouble, humming a snappy tune to distract himself from the evening's progressing events.

However, as he reached the back door of your shared home, his shadows twinged with alertness.

His hand froze over the gold doorknob, a certain heaviness settling in his chest as the specters frantically twisted against the back porch walls.

Something is wrong. Can't hear Y/n. Can't hear their heartbeats. Can't feel them-

Alastor stiffened as his shadows enlarged, fueled by the panic he was resisting, "Find her!" he bellowed the order out on instinct, and the leering spirits dove into action as he barreled into the darkened home.

"Y/n!?" he yelled for you, head whipping in every direction as he searched the first floor, stomping up the stairs next to search the second floor but coming up empty.

He stood in your shared bedroom, remaining calm as he tried to figure out where you could be.

All your belongings were here, and you had readied for bed from the looks of your tampered vanity, but nothing else gave him a clue about your whereabouts.

That was until his shadows called to him; a certain bellow of wailing sounded from the lower part of the house, and one Alastor didn't like the sound of.

A warning.

A frenzied one at that.

Found her…hurry.

Without a second thought, Alastor bounded back downstairs, following the whips of his shadow self as it traveled through the halls, only to stop in front of a doorway he dreaded.

The basement. Its door was wide open, the lamp light eerily aglow as his shadows whirled past the steps to engulf the room.

“Y/n?!…” Alastor called for you again as he crept down the creaky wood steps, voice stiffer than he intended it to be, but its edge paled compared to the large lump forming in his throat when his eyes spotted you.

Splayed out on the floor, on your side, lying limp and motionless.

A small puddle of blood was forming near your head, another was quickly growing in between your legs, and splatters of it covered your face, hands, and nightgown.

For the second time in his life, Alastor felt true terror, bewildered by the sight of his darling wife in distress and paralyzed by the powerful possibility it was his fault.

He’d only felt this fearful once before, afraid his father would end his mother’s life right in front of him after a hefty night of drinking, but even then, he found the courage to act.

Merely killing his father out of pure rage-filled instinct, but now…how he would remedy your suffering alluded him completely.

She's barely breathing… Their heartbeats-

"That's quite enough from you!" Alastor roared in utter frustration, moving without thinking, willing himself to do anything but panic.

He worked as quickly as his mind would allow, trying not to break down as he knelt beside your still body, "Y/n…darling…wake up… please…" he begged quietly.

Being as cautious as ever, he cradled you close, praying to whatever cruel god there was that you'd respond or at least open your eyes while he carried you out of the haunting basement.

Your body twitched at the sound of a familiar voice, feeling lighter as solid arms lifted you from the cold floor and whisked you from the damp room.

The sound of a rapid heartbeat thundered in your ear as waves of coherence fought to establish itself in you, but the severity of your wounds made it a struggle to function.

You settled for listening to the heartbeat, the voice accompanying it a vague background noise but a comforting one.

Your vision wasn't any better, only allowing you to see a murky image of a man, one you knew well but couldn't determine was real or not in the moment.

“Al..astor?..”you whispered in awe, smiling sadly as he looked down at you, clearly worried.

“Stay with me, darling… Keep breathing, please…”

Alastor felt you shiver violently in his arms hearing him speak, racing up the stairs as cautiously as possible to avoid hurting you more, barging into your shared bedroom seconds later.

He laid you down on the bed, disregarding the blood and dirt staining the sheets as he tried to assess your injuries. "Fuck…fuck…fuck!" he rambled angrily, breaths coming quick, and his mind in a rare frenzy as a result.

Your eyes refused to stay open, an apparent wound was on the side of your head, and the impact of your fall had indeed done something to warrant your lower half bleeding.

He needed to stop the bleeding from both areas, keep you awake, and determine the twin's state all at once.

Alastor knew this but struggled to pull himself together, only able to grasp at one of your hands with both of his to ground himself as a frustrated smile adorned his face.

Pull it together, or she and your children die.

It's all my fault… it's all my fault…

She'll die if you don't act…

It's all my fucking fault…I-

She needs help! Wallowing in your depraved guilt won't change that!

His shadows chittered, reasoning with their host despite the panic they felt seeping off of him.

Alastor screwed his eyes shut, an anguished growl leaving his chest as he tried to think of a solution and push away his panicked state.

You remained still, on the verge of passing out again, trying to hold onto reality a little longer, squeezing your savior's hand back as a weak tether to it.

Alastor froze, feeling your gesture, head lifting swiftly as you attempted to speak, "It h-hurts.." you muttered painfully, acknowledging a new ache you'd only felt a few weeks prior.

Intense shocks of strain spread in your abdomen, noticeable contractions that felt different than previous ones, but as much as you wanted to articulate the agony they caused, you couldn't find the strength to.

You screamed instead, gripping Alastor’s hand hard as the constant pains grew more robust, making your cries grow louder.

The terror in your screeches struck him hard, an almost unnatural sound he'd never imagined coming from you, but your following words gave the sounds plausible clarity.

"Th-they're c-coming!" you choked between labored breaths, feeling dizzy as your blood loss took its toll, but the growing urge to push trumped your need to pass out.

Alastor came to his senses upon hearing your warning.

Fully aware that he couldn't handle this situation alone, he did the only thing that made sense to him.

Ask for help. Something he hated to do but saw no alternative for.

"Go get Rosie. Make it quick. Find my mother next and get her here as well…" he commanded his shadows quietly, heart still racing as he took solace in comforting you.

The bed dipped as he sat down, free hand cradling your head as the other raised yours to his lips.

He planted a kiss on your knuckles; brows furrowed as the feeling of your fingers gripping his slightly lessened, an indication of culminated exhaustion and blood loss.

"Stay with me, ma chere. Just a while longer, alright? Everything…everything’s going to be fine…" Alastor muttered soothing words into your ear, a ploy to keep you and himself calm, and to some extent, it worked.

You hung onto his every word, confused and alarmed by him but clinging to the safety his presence brought.

You couldn't forget what you saw in the basement, the horrid image still stuck in the back of your mind as you cried in agony and writhed in desperation for help.

You couldn't believe that Alastor, your perfect husband, the man watching over you now so fervently, had done something so horrible to another person.

You had many questions, fears, and even more confusion than before.

Nevertheless, your dire position now completely overshadowed the underlying nightmare that was your marriage.

Your children.

That's the only thing you could clearly envision, enduring the heartache, suffering through the genuine threat to your life, all for their sake.

Confronting Alastor could wait.

Surviving the night and bringing healthy twins into this world couldn't.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

I'm putting the reader through a lot...but you all will survive... Maybe. Also, the song choices for this one kind of hit just right. ;)

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This edit is so fitting, I fear... Credits to creator ❤️

[martincart]

Another concept art, another Fan character

The terrible maternal grandmother of my Area 6 commander

Not named yet

Feeling disgusted at having a mixed-race grandson and that her poor daughter is exiled from the city for having a bastard, this woman abuses Cobra, making him feel guilty for the dishonor in their family and the possible death of his mom. Her grandson will only earn her respect if Cobra becomes a great warrior and gives them honor and the respect of the city. But he himself knows that this is a lie.

his grandmother, to demonstrate the horror and dishonor that Cobra did, decides to cut off her entire hood to punish him forever.

[motions1ckness]

“Girl Next Door”

Julien Baker college!au

summary: you’re visiting your hometown from college and the new neighbor’s daughter is visiting too.

content: smut, f!reader, dom julien, overstimulation, straps, submissive reader, minor use of pet names

“Do you know if the coffee shop I always went to is still open?” You yelled down to your mom, who was bringing in the last of your luggage from the car.

“I think so, but it’s almost 4 honey. I also forgot to tell you about the new neighbors.” She trailed on as you made your way down the stairs to get your bag from her, “they’re across the street and they told me they also have a daughter coming back from college; you should say hi, she’s a music major,” your mom beamed. You took the bag from her and offered a weak smile.

Honestly, you hated introducing yourself and feeling forced to say ‘hi’ to people you barely know. So, hiding out from the new neighbors seemed easy enough. “Yeah if I see them,” you responded, making your way up the stairs and setting the final bag on the wooden vanity that’s been in your room since you were in the first grade. You gave yourself a look in the mirror before losing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your keys, “Alright I’m gonna head out, I’ll be back before 6 probably.” All you got back was a murmur. The new neighbors and their mysterious daughter were the last thing you wanted to think about as you finally shut the front door.

Directly after locking it, you saw her. She seemed to be getting her stuff from the back of her truck as the two of you stopped. It was quick, but you could feel her studying your body, then your lips, before darting to your eyes again. Heat scattered over your face, contrasting with the brisk weather. Her lips curved into a smirk as she continued getting her stuff from the back, and you resumed on your way.

The ride was loaded with second-guessing and arousal as you kept playing the moment in your head. And it kept playing as you pushed open the doors to the cafe, the nostalgic scent soothing your nerves. After placing your order, you claimed your favorite spot in high school and often spent hours cramping for a test the next day. In an attempt to control the racing thoughts about the neighbor's daughter, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, trying to relieve yourself of this fascination. A subtle chime from the door whistled, commanding your attention to none other than her. Her eyes flickered to yours before ordering and then walking towards you. Your breath was caught in your throat as the girl you’ve been trying to get out of your head was directly in front of you.

“Mind if I joined you?” Her voice was warm, and before you could think you were nodding. She took the seat across from you, and you made a mental note of her toned arms and how good they’d look- “ I’m Julien, by the way.” You had exchanged names and noticed her thumping on the table with her tatted fingers. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Julien stated, gaze fixed on you.

“You have? Like what?” You wanted to kick yourself for not thinking of a better response but blamed it on her boldness and your extreme attraction toward her.

“That there was a cute girl also visiting from college across the street. Had to see it for myself.” A familiar flush covered your cheeks as her eyes landed on your lips.

“I hope I live up to the expectation,” you responded meekly.

Julien smirked, tilting her head slightly, her gaze piercing, “You definitely do,” her comment made you more giddy than you’d like to admit, “I feel like our parents have been plotting our introduction for a while." Her dumb quip made you laugh, sounding more nervous than you wanted, but Julien didn’t mind.

She loved how flustered she made you.

“Since I’m kinda new to this area, would you mind showing me around?” she asked, moving her hand from the table to your arm. The action pushed all the tension to leave your body, breaking her eye contact to stare at her rose tattoo below her knuckles.

Flustered, you respond, Sure,” taking a sharp inhale of breath, “I can show you more than just that.” You said, just above a whisper.

A beat passed, Julien's lips parted slightly before standing and holding her hand out, “I hope you didn’t want that coffee.” she said, her voice sounding gravelly. Unable to form words, you took her calloused hand and rushed to your car.

The moment she closed her door her hands found your hair, hauling you towards her, her lips crashing into yours. A slight moan escapes your throat as you feel your core pooling with heat. Your hand falls on her neck, as her tongue runs against your teeth making you submit to her.

Julien pulled away slightly, panting, “Maybe we should just head back to mine.” One of her hands leaves your hair to hold your jaw, her thumb sitting on your lip. You softened to her touch, your fixated stare never wavering.

Her attention focused on your mouth, running her thumb across your bottom lip. You gave her a short hum in response, unable to form cohesive thoughts.

“I need you to use your words, hun,” she commanded, adding pressure to her movement. That seemed to finally push you out of a dream state and answer her, “Y-yeah let’s do that,” you swallowed, starting to head back.

The ride was short. You put on some mindless music and could feel Julien’s gaze burning through you. When you pulled into your driveway, both of you took note of the vacant parking spots left by her parents.

After getting out of the car, the two of you discreetly went to her parent’s house, worried your parents would look out the window and question you about the two of you sneaking around. Whilst entering, Julien eagerly took your hand, pulling you towards her room.

Julien shut the door behind you two, pushing you against it. Her cologne overwhelmed your senses, the tattoos, and strands of her dirty blonde hair falling in front of her face making you weak.

Julien started attacking your neck, leaving marks and small bites down to your collarbones. “Julien you’re so- fuck” you whined, tossing your head back, giving her better access.

Drawing back slightly, she found the neck of my shirt and rubbed the fabric between her fingers, “Can I?”

“Please” you breathed. Julien wasted no time getting your top onto the floor before grabbing your waist and attacking your chest. The sensation pulled a moan from you, feeling her soft lips leave scattered love bites across your body.

“How about we move to the bed,” she asked, glancing up at you with a contrasting innocent demeanor. You quickly nodded and followed her to the bed, where she stood over you, looking down at your beauty.

“Are you into straps or stuff like that?” She followed up, catching you a bit off guard by the reality of the situation setting in.

“Y-yeah I’m good with anything,” you affirm before kissing her again, Julien pulls away looking in one of her bags to pull out a strap. You knew if Julien was a guy you’d have trouble with it, but seeing what she brought made your jaw hang.

“You always carry that with you?” You joked but tried to figure out why she packed a sex toy with her while visiting her parent's new house.

She started to undress, starting with her shirt. “I told you,” peeling off her sports bra and exposing her bare chest, “My parents told me there was a cute girl next door.” Your vision glued to her as she stripped down, putting on the strap, not looking away from you either. “Couldn’t resist,” she admitted, walking back to stand between your legs.

Julien liked towering over you, how you beamed back at her, knowing she had full control over you. She leaned down, cupping your face, placing sloppy, desperate kissing over your mouth and jaw. Julien’s hands began on your shoulders, but quickly moved down to your clothed heat.

“Baby I don’t want to split you in two,” Julien said genuinely, tracing shapes into your hips .

“Break me,” you waiver. It was so easy for you to fall under her control. Julien smirked before pushing her lips into yours again, cupping your breast and squeezing your nipple. A broken moan escapes your lips, causing you to throw your head back.

“Can you take these off for me?" Pulling on the hem of your underwear, "It’ll be easier for both of us.” Julien breathed, her face flushed. Without wasting a second you stripped, leaving you both exposed.

Julien’s eyes scanned your body, biting her cheek, “Fuck baby, I need to be inside of you already, please,” she said before kissing you again, pushing you into her new sheets.

She went back to your chest, taking each nipple in the mouth and swirling it with her tongue before releasing it with a ‘pop’, then repeating the same motion with the other. Your back arched off the bed, eyebrows furrowing and jaw hung. She wasn’t even inside you yet and you were a writhing mess.

Julien pulled away from your body, causing you to yearn for her touch. She sat between your legs, adjusting her hips and pulling your leg over her shoulder. You felt the tip of the strap run against your folds, drawing a whine from you. Julien gradually pushed into you, giving you time to adjust to the size, before bottoming out. After a few seconds, she formed a slow pace, trying not to hurt you.

“Julien–fuck, m-more please,” you begged. Her hips didn’t falter as she picked up the pace, slamming into you. Sweat started to prickle to the sides of your forehead, spewing praises and moans with every thrust she hit into you.

Julien pressed her forehead into yours, looking down into your eyes. From the angle of the strap, every thrust would rub against her clit, causing her to whimper against the friction.

Your orgasm was close you felt yourself clenching around the plastic cock. Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally came, but Julien didn’t stop driving into you.

“Julien baby it’s–,” you squirmed under her, unable to keep your eyes open, feeling tears beginning to prickle in the corners from the brutality.

“You’re doing so good, take it,” she said, her breath faltering from the thrusts. You continued to whine from the overstimulation, unsure how much more you could take. Julien’s body jolted as she sat up, throwing her head back as pretty moans fell from her mouth. Her hips shuttered frantically and out of rhythm as her own orgasm grew close.

Tears were stammering down your eyes as she fucked you raw, whining out to her. Her rough hands grounded onto your hips. “Take it, baby, take it, just– fuck fuck fuck,” she swore out before one final shuddered thrust. The slight glow from the window highlighted the sweat glistening from her forehead and the maroon flush casting over her face as she came.

After she finished, Julien slowly pulled out of you; not wanting to cause any more discomfort. She let go of your body, contrasting with the Julien from a few seconds ago. Hovering over you, she gave you a delicate kiss. Pulling away, she noticed the amount of cum on your leg and headed to the bathroom, discarding the strap. Your body had calmed down from the rapid and rugged pace inflicted but you found yourself fixated with that side of Julien more than you’d like to admit.

She returned back with a towel. “For you. I can also grab you water,” she offered with an angelic expression like she didn’t fuck you relentlessly a few minutes earlier. You accepted the towel as you snuggled under the covers of her bed, her doing the same.

“Oh shit aren’t your parents gonna freak out that you’re not home?” Julien asked, not wanting you to be reported missing or have your mom knocking at the door.

You look at her, her doe eyes already fixed on you. You couldn't help but pull her in and kiss her. “I’ll text them I’m visiting the neighbors,” you whispered against her lips. “And we can get your car in the morning”

“Can we actually have coffee this time?” She asked.

“Yes.”

[matan4il]

Update post:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[blingblong55]

Mistake -141

Based on a request:

I've got a request for you! I got lost in my thoughts and thought of a prompt so sorry if it's a bit jumbled lol So it's like a wrong place wrong time kind of thing where the reader is mistaken for an enemy, and taken to the base. Maybe interrogated a bit before the 141 are told they have the actaul enemy on they way to them and they're like 'then who tf is this....oh shit....'

GN!Reader, angst, civilian!reader, mentions of torture.

141, one of the best military groups the British military has. As always, they have a target to chase after, this time it's in a small town. Their informant let them know it would be a person dressed in a completely different attire than they were used to. You happened to be walking back from your boring job when you passed their location.

"Bravo 0-6, we have eyes on the target," Gaz said over the radio. "Roger that," Price responded, Within seconds you felt as if someone was chasing you. And having that you watched a crime documentary the night before, you quickly thought of a way out. You walked normally but stayed in well-lit areas. The men thought you were just trying to play along with your facade. "Don't let 'em get away," Soap said from his location, his snipe pointed at you. You grabbed your pocket knife and held it in your hand. You walked faster towards a more public road. "Quick, Ghost!" Price ordered. You heard footsteps getting closer and closer.

You ran away, not daring to look back once. You took many detours until you were close to a nearby church, Church service had started but before you could even reach it, Ghost tackled you. "Don't hurt me!" you told him, your hands held high. He took your knife away and pointed his gun at your head, "Why the hell were you running?" You tried to stay calm but two other men approached you, Gaz and Price with their own guns pointed at you. "Soap, you got visual?" Price asked over the radio. "Yes, Sir" was the response, a red dot on your chest. You panicked.

"No please, you are mistaken." your desperate voice pleaded. "That's what they all say." Price growls and Gaz and Ghost drag you back to their temporary base. The entire way there, you cried and begged to be let go. "You have the wrong person, please I'm innocent!" you cried. Soap aggressively cupped your face, "Yer shut the fuck up, ye hear me?"

At base, they threw you to a mattress in an empty room. Wrists tied to the other, ankles tied as well. Your teary face looking at them. Your body is littered with lacerations. Limbs are weak but they wouldn't stop hitting you. You cry, "Please...I beg of you...please stop this" You receive another punch to the abdomen. "Don't you understand we will keep this up, you fucking killer." Gaz held a knife to you. Over the radio, the Delta team came on. "Bravo six, this is Delta 0-5, how copy?"

"This is Bravo six," Price said, his eyes piercing yours. "We found 'em, and are on our way back to base." Ghost gave Price a questioning look. Both men stepped outside of the room, leaving the two sergeants with you. "What do you mean you have the person with you, Delta Five?"

"All features you told us to look for, this person has it and they have admitted to being the subject."

"Fuckin' 'ell." Ghost murmured and rushed inside. "Sergeants, step away." He commanded. "Ghost they are talking now."

"Step away from the civilian, Soap," he advises and approaches you with caution. He kneels in front of you and unties you, "Are you alright?" He asks you with a soft tone. You were too weak to move, all you could do was stare. Whimpers of pain filled the room once Price walked back in and took a look at the injuries they had caused. "C'mon, we have to rush them to the medics." Your vision blurred. In all his years of being a soldier, Price had a day he regretted the most. And that was today, hurting an innocent, treating them as if they were the scum of the Earth. What fucked him up the most? The fact you died on the bed of the medical tent. Your body is weak, blood on the floor and how you died innocent and young, a poor civilian taken hostage, begging to be let out and no one heard.

That day, Task Force 141 lost another piece of their sanity, another stitch with emotions and another shattered glass to the oath they took to protect civilians. Ghost added you to his book of names, the list of all those he lost to war, by his hands, or by the cruelty his job brought. Another soul that Gaz ripped away because of orders, ones he always followed without question. Soap, the one who had the most blood on his hands, now regretted not listening to his instincts.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if the story says or not but What makes a dorm leader different than a regular student. They have a fancier uniform, order their students around, and go to meetings to plan events so it is just like a leadership position?

I’ve personally always thought of the dorm leaders as a variant of RAs (resident assistant). They’re individuals who work with school administration to oversee and to conduct activities for their respective dorm buildings/residence halls. In return for their efforts, RAs get perks (usually monetary compensation/free or reduced price on their own housing, their own room instead of having to share with others, etc.). Usually there is a fierce application and selection process since the benefits are good.

Similarly, the dorm leaders in TWST have certain responsibilities but are also granted power within their own dorm as well as certain privileges which extend beyond that. Here are some key points that differentiate the dorm leaders from your average NRC student:

Dorm leaders have say over succession and their second-in-command. (They can recommend someone to replace them as dorm leader, and can pick their own vice dorm leader.)

Dorm leaders can choose to not pick a vice dorm leader at all. This is the case for Leona (as he doesn’t want to be challenged). Ignihyde also lacks a vice dorm leader but we lack a reason as to why this is.

Dorm leaders attend meetings with other dorm leaders + the headmaster to discuss schoolwide events and activities. They may delegate this work to their vice dorm leaders if necessary.

Vice dorm leaders can fill in for their dorm leader if the dorm leader is not present or not able to fulfill their duties. This occurs in book 6 of the main story.

Dorm leaders wear a special variant of their own dorm’s uniform. They are also allowed to make significant alterations if they wish (only to the uniform they wear, not the uniform that other students in their dorm wear).

Dorm leaders get to have their own dorm room rather than having to share it with other students.

Dorm leaders are implied take some responsibility for their students’ behavior and academic performance, as they are the “face” of each dorm.

Dorm leaders appear to have authority over students in their own dorm, though whether they exert that power or not depends on the individual dorm leader and their governing style. Whether the students obey/respect them or not also varies.

Dorm leaders have the ability to grant students (even those outside of their own dorm) the ability to use magic for combat. (This is typically forbidden unless NRC staff allows for it.)

Dorm leaders are seen as the “role models” and are expected to resolve conflicts that arise within their own dorm. This includes academic challenges and generally correcting poor behavior.

It’s implied that dorm leaders “look out” for the younger students. This includes showing them how to were their ceremonial robes as well as showing them around their new dormitory after the entrance ceremony.

Dorm-wide Halloween costumes are determined by either dorm leader or vice dorm leader.

Dorm leaders must attend orientation rehearsal, as well as orientation itself.

Vice dorm leaders can issue permission for people outside of the dorm to stay over.

Specific duties/responsibilities assigned to certain dorm leaders:

The Heartslabyul dorm leader may choose to enforce the Queen of Hearts’ rules at their discretion. Riddle is very strict, but the previous dorm leader was lax.

The Heartslabyul dorm leader assigns card suits to each of their students. They are first applied with a magical stamp, and the students are responsible for putting on their own mark with makeup every day after.

Grey areas/non-specific:

Dorm leaders are often serving as heads of committees (such as Vil for Halloween, Riddle for the cultural festival, etc.) It’s not clear if this is exclusively for dorm leaders or not.

Riddle says that everyone in the groups of book 6 has been given first responder training, but it’s not specified if this is required for all vice dorm leaders and dorm leaders.

Azul runs the Mostro Lounge, but since it is a personal project of his, his successor may not necessarily be tasked with continuing to run it.

Dorm leaders may also arrange the welcoming party, though this could be a responsibility shared with vice dorm leaders. Savanaclaw is stated to not have a welcoming party, but it’s not clear if this is based on the dorm leader’s discretion or not.

Dorm leaders must grant their permission in order for a student to book sections of their dorm building for events. This is stated to apply to Diasomnia, but it may be assumed to extend to other dorms too.

The light novel states that Riddle determined room assignments, as all students (excluding the dorm leader) live in shared rooms until junior (third) year. The second light novel confirms that it is 4 first years to a room, 2 second years to a room, then 1 solo third year. It’s not said whether the dorm leader picking your roommates is a Heartslabyul exclusive or of it extends to all other dorms (though we may assume it does).

Trey is often seen directing unbirthday party preparations, but we don’t know if this is because it’s part of his duties as vice dorm leader or because he wants to avoid Riddle’s wrath.

Jade helps Azul collect personal information on new students, but this is most likely a Jade thing and not an Octavinelle vice dorm leader thing

[entitled-fangirl]

His perfect little Cyar'ika.

Din D'jarin x reader

Summary: Mando had been gone too long, leaving the reader to worry. She has a breakdown, and he comes back in time to comfort her.

Words: 1,634

Warnings: Makeout session, sad thoughts, lots of crying (mostly from me, but the reader too, ig)

Author's note: This is now my all-time favorite one I've written and I stand by that.

Masterlist

.........................................................

It had been days.

Days since her Mandalorian had left on a hunt. She had patiently waited the four days he reassured her it’d be. Here she was on Day 6, anxiously awaiting his return. 

The sound of the child brought her from her thoughts.

She walked to the cot, picking him up. He was a sweet thing, his large eyes always looking at her in love. She was head over heels for this little guy. The day he would be returned to his kind would be the day she is ruined.

She walked with him for a bit until his breathing calmed, signaling he had fallen asleep. She gently set him down in his cot again, admiring his sleeping form.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. She’s brought out from her thoughts again by the feeling of a tear running down her face. She’s crying, and she hadn’t even realized it. 

She walks away from the child’s sleeping area, not wanting to wake him. The door shuts behind her, but that’s as far as she makes it. She collapses on the hard metal floor of the ship, a loud sob leaving her lips.

She felt vulnerable. Alone. Scared. Anxious. Above all else, she just wanted her Mandalorian to return. She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead against them, letting the sobs comes out freely. 

Mando was an unusual man… if he was a man. She wasn’t sure what he was, but she knew he was strong and courageous. He had shown that time and time again. His heart, while shown as one of stone, was actually quite vulnerable and caring. She loved that about him. She loved his voice. She loved his mannerisms. She loved HIM.

She doesn’t hear the bay doors open to the ship. And she doesn’t hear Mando step up them. What she does hear is a soft, “Mesh’la?” His voice coming through the modulator.

Her head snaps up in fear and surprise. She’s ecstatic to see her Mando, but beyond that, embarrassed to be caught crying so harshly. She quickly stands, her hand wiping at her face. “I’m sorry, Mando. I’ll go get cleaned up,” she says, her voice broken by the hiccuping of her diaphragm.

She takes four steps before his gloved hand grabs her wrist. 

“No.”

She turns her body around to look at him. No? What did he mean? 

Mando wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew it felt right. His heart dropped at the sight of her body racked with her sobs. He worried about how long she had been like this. Her glossy eyes brought a dreaded feeling in his stomach he hadn’t felt before. But even then, her eyes puffy and red, her face covered in tears, she was still beautiful to him. She always had been. He wished he could rip his helmet off every day just to see her sweet features without the filter. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d have to make do now.

A silence ensues as they stare at each other.

He’s the first to break. “Sit.”

It’s not a question. If it was a question, he’d have asked it differently. No, this is a command. She knows him well enough to know he only commands when they’re in danger, or he’s scared. But she also knows not to ignore his commands, so she does so, moving her body to sit on a nearby crate. 

He follows her, kneeling in front of her. “Mesh’la,” his voice comes through the helmet, “What has happened?”

She shakes her head, embarrassed to admit her faults. Her hands wipe at her face again, trying to keep her composure.

He heaves a sigh, barely heard by her. “Tell me.”

Another command. “I… it’s… it’s nothing. I was being childish… and… it… I’m sorry…” A soft sob raked through her body, as hard as she had tried to fight it.

His hand comes up to rest on her leg, a silent sign of comfort from him, but also a sign to continue.

This makes her weep, letting out all of the feelings she was trying to bottle up. “You... you left… and I was… I tried… you didn’t come back and I… worried… I was so worried…,” each sentence stopped by a hiccup.

If only she could see the smile under his mask. “Mesh’la, you worried for me?”

The tears didn’t stop, and it didn’t seem that they would be stopping anytime soon. He did what his head told him to, as ridiculous as it sounded. But she needed something to ground her, and fast.

He pulled a glove off of his hand and took her hand in his, rubbing the top of her hand gently.

She stared in disbelief at him. “The... your… your code…?”

He said nothing, still rubbing small circles on her hand.

He thought it would help, but it didn’t seem to because she continued to cry. His mind went into overdrive.

He pulled her from the crate gently and into his lap. His arms wrapped around her shaking frame as he pushed her gently into his armor. 

She gladly accepted, resting her head in the crook of his neck between two plates of beskar.

He closes his eyes at the feeling. Only a piece of fabric separates her skin from touching his. Never in his life had he considered breaking the code. But if keeping it meant a life without her, then by god would he break it. 

His ungloved hand ran through her hair before his calm voice came back, “close your eyes.”

She lifted her head up. “..w…what?” She sniffled.

His gloved hand touched her cheek. “Close your eyes, Mesh’la. Trust me.”

She does so without another word. She was a sweet thing. He was so corrupt. He worried he may ruin her. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

He checked to make sure her eyes were closed before both of his hands reached up, taking off his helmet carefully.

More tears escaped from her closed eyes, but she heard the sound, and she knew what he was doing. “Mando?”

A soft kiss is pressed to her neck.

“Din.”

A sharp breath from her, “What?”

She feels his smile against her neck. “Din. I’m not Mando to you anymore. Not ever again.” His lips move up her neck towards her jaw, placing a light kiss there.

She lets out a soft breath, relaxing in his touch. His scruff lightly scratched at her as his lips trailed to her face. He pulled back suddenly, his touch gone. She longed to open her eyes, but she knew better.

He simply stared at her beautiful face. God, was she a beauty. He stared at her enough with the helmet but now? He never wanted to put it on again. He wondered if her eyes were as bright as he imagined. She was perfect. His perfect little Cyar’ika.

She sat still, focusing on her breathing. Staring at the back of her eyelids was never really a difficult prompt until she was put into this situation. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she couldn’t see his face to know. She couldn’t even look at his body language. She was completely blind and it worried her. 

Perhaps he was regretting what he was doing. Maybe he was thinking about what planet he should leave her on now that she’s caught feelings. But the silence in the room was killing her.

He was in heaven. If heaven was real, this was it for him. Her beautiful face her in front of him, seeking his comfort. Worried for him. God, she was worried for him. No one had ever said such words, and his heart was overjoyed when they were muttered. 

She broke the silence, her voice soft and worried, “D…Din?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. His ungloved hand moved to the back of her head quickly, pulling her in for a kiss. The other hand rested on her hip.

She jumped at the feeling, his facial hair tickling her face. It took a few moments to register what was happening before she began to kiss him back.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Pull at it. Rest her hands on his face. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t overstep his boundaries.

God, he wanted her to overstep all his boundaries. His other hand moved to one of hers, pulling it up his torso to his face.

It’s like he could read the girl’s mind. The one hand resting on his cheek, feeling the scruff there, while the other found its way to the base of his neck, pulling at the soft curls that lay there.

He groaned. He had never had this feeling before. She was perfect, so perfect. He would let her ruin him any day.

She was the first to pull away, out of breath. She panted, her eyes still closed, her lips puffy and face slightly red.

He was smiling brighter than the sun.

“Thank you, Cyar’ika.”

She let out a soft groan. His voice was so beautiful. It’s as if he had hung the moon for her. “For what, Din?”

She could hear the smile in his voice for the first time ever, “I’m not quite sure.”

The sound of the child crying brought them both to reality. He let out a content sigh, reaching for his helmet. 

He couldn’t wait to take it off again.

[the-gladiolus]

Tips For Passing as Male I Accidentally Stumbled Upon While Minding My Own Genderfluid Business:

(Btw everyone deserves to be gendered correctly no matter how they act, these are just some tips that you may try if you would like.)

1. Keep your posture open. Feet shoulder width apart and pointing out, shoulders back, chest forward, energy all directed outward. Even though you may think openness makes your chest or stature more obvious, the energy/confidence is what people notice first, not the content.

2. That said, you don’t have to hold yourself like a peacock the whole time. I’ve learned that people go off the assumption they make when first meeting you, and then don’t really look again - so if the first thing they see is a cis guy, you can relax after that, they rarely double check.

3. When it seems appropriate, offer a handshake when meeting people, especially other guys, and hold a little tighter than is strictly natural. I know it sounds stupid, but it goes far; I’ve been offered more handshakes by guys these past 2 years of somewhat masc presentation than I have all 16 previous years combined. Guys just be shakin hands w/ each other

4. Again, when it makes sense, consider “dapping up” a guy if you know each other, traditionally when you part ways. To do this, proffer your dominant hand in a loose C shape like you’re holding an invisible cup, and when they clasp theirs with yours, lift the hands a few inches in the air and then lower them and release on the way down (sometimes accompanied by opposite hand on the tricep/shoulder, I.e. bro hug. Istg the things men do 💀)

5. If you have the space and it won’t annoy anyone, manspread a bit when you sit

6. Keep your head lifted when you’re out in public - makes your jaw look broader and suggests confidence, I.e. keeping posture open

7. If you want your voice to sound lower, try humming a low note while you’re alone to see how that feels in your throat and know where that timbre comes from in your chest. It’s easier to regulate your voice on command when you experiment, find the strings to pull in yourself to bring out the low sound.

8. Consider peppering in an “as much as the next guy” in conversation. Subtle phrase, but stakes your claim clearly

9. Exude some extra anti-shyness around guys. Make a point to nod to them in greeting and make eye contact like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Little gestures of brazenness go a long way to say “we’re the same”

10. When speaking to a group of guys, try matching their vocal patterns and tone: if they say “like” and “dude” a lot for example, pepper those in too. This works in all situations actually, it will make you seem agreeable and similar to anyone, but it especially works well when you’re trying to blend in with a crowd

11. Clothes with flannel and wool are really good for disguising characteristics you might want to hide

12. Try darkening these areas (outlined in blue) of your face with eyeshadow a bit darker than your skin tone. Eyeshadow blends with skin texture better than things like foundation and it’s hard to smudge, so it’s usually unnoticeable while it adds depth and sharpness to these areas.