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dailyadventureprompts · 3 months

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Villain: Mavros Arator, Voice of the Ascendant

The demagogues seem everywhere these days, putting their words to the tune of the populace's nebulous worries: this week it's the impiety of the realm's leaders, last week it was the barbarians infringing on the borders, before that it was the decaying morality of the youth. It's the same old song, just with new lyrics to fit with the times. No one's sure just when the crescendo will hit or how, but everyone who's been paying attention know they're going to try to bring the whole house down when it does.

Setup: A charismatic figure has risen to prominence channelling discontent in the wake of an unfavourable war. As a gifted orator and veteran of a conflict remembered for being more "glorious", the words of Mavros Arator carry weight with both the military and common people. He agitates on behalf of those who resent the diplomatic capitulations used to secure peace in a losing war his own rulers started, and argues for a revival of "national spirit" to strengthen the homeland so it does not allow such a disgraceful defeat to happen again.

What separates Mavros from any other blowhard protofascist is the fact that he's looking to summon a demon to purge his homeland of those unsympathetic to his cause. Scoured clean of all those unwilling to fight and die and obey, he and the other true believers will form an unstoppable army that will march out under the banner of conquest to settle at spearpoint every historical grievance in the realm's long history.

It's up to the party to stop this instigator and the hatemob he's made of their neighbours before he enacts his plan and ends up ascending to full dark lord status.

Background: Mavros loved his homeland, as a young man he went to war to defend it, spent decades bleeding for it, and that love endured even after his homeland spat him out with nothing but a soldier's pension and a lifetime of traumas he had no words to explain.

That was the point of course, empires are built on the back of men like Mavros, shaped from their earliest days to believe that their homeland is singularly great and beset by threats on all sides, or that war is the measure by which a son may prove his faith and loyalty rather than an enterprise made to expand the holdings of the powers that be.

The problem for those powers is that Mavros didn't die like he was supposed to, he soldiered on driven by a manic dedication that persisted despite his comrades getting scythed down around him. When he was too old for soldiering he turned to having a family, raising four boys and feeding them one after another into the waiting jaws of his nation.

A man less ardent in his love of home, less firm in his faith might have wavered when they brought the first of his sons' bloody helmets back in lieu of a body. He might have seen how his virtues, his loyalty, had been abused by those above him, made him question the justness of the wars and conquests and pain he had been apart of. instead that loss, made him open to change. Instead Mavros's convictions deepened, and by the time of his third son's death he had become so entrenched in the pit of his beliefs that he had unearthed a new truth: He loved his homeland, it was just being held back by the people who didn't love it enough.

It was deep in that pit where Mavros first heard the whispering of Diridaxx, the fiend known to diabolists as "He who claws from below". In ages past the demon was said to prey upon the weak, wicked, and impious, before clashing with an ancient hero and being struck down with a blow so divinely empowered that it not only buried the fiend deep underground but reduced him to ash along the way, depriving him of the strength required to ever escape. The depths of Mavros's despair and his own desire to see those "less thans" cleared from his home formed a connection between man and demon: first dreams, then visions, then a pact. Influence in exchange for escape, followed by victory in exchange for slaughter. The fact that the hero of the old myth happened to be one of the founders of the realm that handed Mavros's own homeland its recent defeat was just icing on the cake.

Adventure Hooks:

The party is likely to encounter Mavros's influence long before the man himself, as thugs, opportunists, and grifters look to take advantage of the post-war unrest to raise their place in the world and make good on his words. A troop of discontented soldiers may be shaking down travlers on the road as an unofficial "toll" to repay their service , while an enterprising merchant might stoke xenophobia to turn townsfolk against a competitor of forign origin.

It'll take more than speeches and random acts of violence to summon Diridaxx from the pit, it will take sacrifice. (un)Luckily for Mavros, he's been sacrificing all his life, and all that is required is a bit of occult-recontextualization to turn the deaths of his sons into a ritual years in the making. With fiend's magic his follower's resources at his command, it's only a matter of time before he gathers the bones of his three dead sons (and their haplessly dutiful surviving brother,) from their resting place in foreign lands and cremates them, suffusing their pyresmoke with Diridaxx's own noxious essence.

If you want to add another big bad to the mix and given similar themes of would be tyranny and xenophobia, consider checking out my genocidal fallen angel villain: Insiyah who could be very easily be using Mavros as her agent, or working alongside him to bring about his vision.

Also consider checking out my writeup on how d&d tends to mishandle matters of morality in it's game, and the simplistic way it views evil. Writing that inspired me to write a villain who was a very human sort of evil who utilized magic, rather than the all too common magical evil around which most campaigns are based.

Art 1

Art 2

#villain #villain warlock #warlock #villain politician #politics #irl politics #fiend #mid level #random encounter road #encounter town #warfare

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quotesfrommyreading · 9 months

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Much of the public discussion of Ukraine reveals a tendency to patronize that country and others that escaped Russian rule. As Toomas Ilves, a former president of Estonia, acidly observed, “When I was at university in the mid-1970s, no one referred to Germany as ‘the former Third Reich.’ And yet today, more than 30 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, we keep on being referred to as ‘former Soviet bloc countries.’” Tropes about Ukrainian corruption abound, not without reason—but one may also legitimately ask why so many members of Congress enter the House or Senate with modest means and leave as multimillionaires, or why the children of U.S. presidents make fortunes off foreign countries, or, for that matter, why building in New York City is so infernally expensive.

The latest, richest example of Western condescension came in a report by German military intelligence that complains that although the Ukrainians are good students in their training courses, they are not following Western doctrine and, worse, are promoting officers on the basis of combat experience rather than theoretical knowledge. Similar, if less cutting, views have leaked out of the Pentagon.

Criticism by the German military of any country’s combat performance may be taken with a grain of salt. After all, the Bundeswehr has not seen serious combat in nearly eight decades. In Afghanistan, Germany was notorious for having considerably fewer than 10 percent of its thousands of in-country troops outside the wire of its forward operating bases at any time. One might further observe that when, long ago, the German army did fight wars, it, too, tended to promote experienced and successful combat leaders, as wartime armies usually do.

American complaints about the pace of Ukraine’s counteroffensive and its failure to achieve rapid breakthroughs are similarly misplaced. The Ukrainians indeed received a diverse array of tanks and armored vehicles, but they have far less mine-clearing equipment than they need. They tried doing it our way—attempting to pierce dense Russian defenses and break out into open territory—and paid a price. After 10 days they decided to take a different approach, more careful and incremental, and better suited to their own capabilities (particularly their precision long-range weapons) and the challenge they faced. That is, by historical standards, fast adaptation. By contrast, the United States Army took a good four years to develop an operational approach to counterinsurgency in Iraq that yielded success in defeating the remnants of the Baathist regime and al-Qaeda-oriented terrorists.

A besetting sin of big militaries, particularly America’s, is to think that their way is either the best way or the only way. As a result of this assumption, the United States builds inferior, mirror-image militaries in smaller allies facing insurgency or external threat. These forces tend to fail because they are unsuited to their environment or simply lack the resources that the U.S. military possesses in plenty. The Vietnamese and, later, the Afghan armies are good examples of this tendency—and Washington’s postwar bad-mouthing of its slaughtered clients, rather than critical self-examination of what it set them up for, is reprehensible.

The Ukrainians are now fighting a slow, patient war in which they are dismantling Russian artillery, ammunition depots, and command posts without weapons such as American ATACMS and German Taurus missiles that would make this sensible approach faster and more effective. They know far more about fighting Russians than anyone in any Western military knows, and they are experiencing a combat environment that no Western military has encountered since World War II. Modesty, never an American strong suit, is in order.

— Western Diplomats Need to Stop Whining About Ukraine

#eliot a. cohen #current events #politics #ukrainian politics #american politics #warfare #strategy #tactics #diplomacy #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #war in afghanistan #vietnam war #ukraine #usa #toomas hendrik ilves

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ancientorigins · 6 months

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What an incredible voyage through history as over 100 love letters from the 18th century have finally been opened! Penned over 250 years ago, these letters offer an extraordinary window into the lives of French Navy sailors and their loved ones.

#war #warfare #Medieval #love #letters #French #British #prisoners #battles #ancient #history #ancient origins

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army-of-idiots · 4 months

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#gun #guns #gunblr #gun control #weapons #girls with guns #handgun #pistol #semi auto #magnum #rifle #edc #military #carry #semiauto #combat #war #warfare #tactical carry #tactical #desert

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ponyosmom35 · 5 months

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protective

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter eight!

summary: reader is harassed, ghost takes matters into his own hands and fixes it.

warnings: cursing, blood, gore, use of c word, creepy guy, harassment please don't read if that is potentially triggering!

Liability masterlist

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

After a rowdy dinner, she returns back to the med bay where she needed to do her rounds. She was working the nightshift to cover the other medic who was running a fever this morning. She didn’t mind the change. After her intense conversation with Price she had been trying her best to show him how much it meant to her that she was here. When someone needed to cover she volunteered, despite having her normal hours for the next morning. She could handle it.

Phoebe walks out of a patients room and notices a soldier sitting in one of the waiting chairs. She walks up to him with a small smile. “Hi, do you need treatment?”

“I do actually, Keneth Johnson” he says reaching his hand out, she goes to shake it and he takes her hand and kisses it gently. She pulls her hand back and writes him name down.

“Okay Keneth, what’s going on?” she asks

“I’d rather talk in private”

“Of course, come this way” she says leading him into a private exam room. She sits on the stool and watches as he makes himself comfortable, his intense gaze causing her to shift awkwardly.

“How can I help you today?” she asks

“You see I have a problem” he gestures to his pnats, specifically the obvious boner he had. She nods, and keeps a neutral expression.

“You’ll have to be more specific, is there something medically wrong with you tonight?” she asks

“Yes Doctor, I’m in dire need of an full body exam”

“Okay, if you’re going to waste my time then I’m going to have to ask you to leave” she says in an even tone, trying to keep the situation from getting out of hand.

“You’re a doctor! How are you going to deny me the right to medical attention”

“Keneth this is highly unprofessional”

“You have to help me miss!” he demands

“Leave” she replies angrily

“And if I say no?” he repsonds, as he stands to his feet and walks over to her.

she glances at the door, realzing that in order to get out she’d have to get through him. She was alone in the med bay, nobody would hear her. He pauses, mere inches from her and she shoves him back as hard as she could “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Or what? Are you gonna tell Ghost?”

“Without a doubt”

“I heard he hates you since you stopped fucking him, can’t imagine he’d care too much”

“Do you really wanna find out?” she threatens, watching as his face registers her words. Just the mere threat of Ghost was enough to get him to back off.

“Whatever, you’re a fucking c*nt anyways” he snaps before rushing out of the door.

Ghost sighs as he nears the medical unit, he went over his apology in his mind hundreds of times. Feeling frustrated with himself for getting this worked up over the situation. He rubs his gloved hands together nervously. He was thankful for the mask, knowing that she’d instantly be able to see how uncomfortable he was without its protection. Ghost is annoyed as one of the younger soldiers stomps out of the exam room. They make eye contact and his posture stiffins. He begins to walk quickly

“evening Lieutenant”

“Is y/n working?” Ghost asks

“I uh - I’m not sure Sir”

“Keep moving soldier” he responds, narrowing his eyes at the kids suspicious behavior. Ghost watches as he scurries away, he looks around for the ginger haired medic. He spots her walking out of the exam room and frowns. She moves over to the table and takes off her gloves, breathing heavily as her body trembles. She leans against the table, unaware of his presence.

“y/n?” he questions, he watches as she jumps yelping loudly in surprise. She looks up at him and holds her hand to her heart.

“Lieutenant” she says in a shaky voice “you surprised me”

“Is there a problem here?” he asks, moving past the seating area and closer to her. She backs away instinctively and his heart shatters. Something had definitely happened. She was sacred.

“No everything’s fine” she lies “what can I help you with?”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No sir”

“If I ask you a question I expect the truth” he says lowly. She swallows warily.

“Nothing happened” she says apprehensively

“Did he hurt you?” he demands

“No”

“Did he try to hurt you?” he asks, she pauses and looks away from him before meeting his eyes once more.

“No” she lies

“I don’t believe you. I will be checking the cameras tomorrow”

“No ghost-” she stops him holding her hand out “he didn’t hurt me, he just… he scared me”

“In what way?”

“Listen there really is no problem here, no need to tell Price or anyone else”

“Thats why you’re covering for him? You think when Price finds out you’ll be kicked off base?” he questions

“How do you know about that?”

“There’s not much I don’t know about”

“I can’t risk going home, I’d rather just put this behind me” she states

“Thats really what you want?”

“Yes” she answers

“Right, well have a good night then” he says before walking away.

The rest of her shift went by without any issues. She was worried that she’d be seeing Ghost again, but he never did show. She was thankful that he decided to let it go. She was working hard to stay on price’s good side, she wanted nothing to do with drama at this point. It was 5 am when one of the other medics arrived. she greeted her happily and begun debriefing her night shift. They are interrupted by two solidres dragging in another who had been beaten to the pulp. She gasps and the pair run over to him. He was unconscious and bleeding.

“why don’t you get soem rest, I got this. Just be back by 9”

“Are you sure? I’m totally fine to tough it out, I can get more coffee-”

“Get some sleep”

She smiles and discards her gloves and walks through the base. She passes by Price and Ghosts offices on the way. The sound of Price’s voice echos through the hallways. She peaks inside curiously and notices the Captain screaming at Ghost who had his arms crossed. She accidentally makes eye contact with him and her eyes widen. She nods to him awkwardly and hurries off towards her room. Her heart stops as a door opens behind her. She continues walking, hoping that it wasn’t her that he wanted.

“y/l/n get your ass in here now!” he roars

“Fuck” she murmers, unsure what she’d done this time. She nervously walks into the room, instantly getting chills throughout her entire body at how tense it was. “Sit down”

“Sir may I ask-”

“Shut your mouth, you will speak when spoken to” he snaps, she stops and her mouth dries as her hands sweat, she anxiously awaited his next words. He sighs and takes off his hat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My Lieutenant was informing me about the incident that took place last night in the med bay, he tells me that another solider was sexually harassing you, is that true?”

“I uh- Sir listen this must be a misunderstanding-”

“Are you saying that this did not occur?”

“No - I mean yes it did but-”

“I watched the footage” Ghost says, cutting her rambling off

“What?” she asks

“And you feel that what you saw in the footage warranted a proper beating?” Price yells

“Yes”

“Goddamit!” he responds slamming his hand on the table, he points his finger at him as he begins to yell “you could’ve killed him! How do you think it looks having my Lieutenant beat a insobordante solider near death? How am I to handle this?”

“That was you?” she asks, recalling the solider who’d she seen earlier “why would you do that?”

“You had no part in this?” Price asks her

“No!” she expresses

“Is that true Ghost? You acted on your own accord after seeing this footage?”

“Yes sir”

“Lieutenant I’ll deal with you later” Price says

Ghost stands wordlessly and walks out of the office leaving her alone with the angry captain. She shifts in her seat uncomfortbaly, her eyes wide and glossy. He sighs and takes out a cigar, lighting it. He offers it to her and she shakes her head.

“Are you okay?” he asks

“Yes”

“I will be reviewing the footage and dealing with Keneth, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else again”

“Thank you”

“Ghost tells me that you tried to cover it up because you thought this would be strike three, is that true?” he asks

“Yes”

“This is not something I would punish you for, this was not your fault”

“I didn’t wanna keep creating drama, but I guess I did anyways”

“What Ghost did is not on you”

“Captain if i may” she starts, watching as he nods in approval “I know what he did was wrong, but please don’t fire Ghost, I would never forgive myself” she begs

John Price laughs loudly, a full belly laugh as he leans over, clutching his stomach. She frowns in confusion and laughs along with him nervously. “It would take a whole lot more than this to get rid of Ghost! He’s a fucking necesity, without him there is no 141”

“Right, sorry” she answers

“I can’t condone violence amongst troops so he will be punished, nothing too bad. Might just put him on dish duty the rest of the week” Price chuckles

“That’s a sight I’d like to see” she smiles

“I’ll certatnly be using as many dishes as I can per meal” he jokes “alright love, get some rest they need you back by nine”

“Thank you captain”

“Grab Ghost for me will ya?”

“Of course” she nods before slipping out of the room.

She spots the man himself sitting in a chair outside of the office. He looks up at her as she closes the door and stands.

“He wants to talk to you” she says soflty “won’t be too bad though”

“Ok” he says moving to the door

“Ghost?” she asks softly

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for doing that, you didn’t have to-”

“Get some rest medic” he says emotionlessly before walking into Price’s office and closing the door.

She frowns as she walks back to her room. Her mind reeling. This man was so fucking complicated. He watched the footage on his own accord, and took it upon himself to beat the shit out of the guy who harassed her. Now he spoke as though it meant nothing, like she was beneath him.

After speaking to Price for nearly an hourl Ghost exits the room with dish duty and a heavy consciousness. He didn’t regret what he did, he told Price as much.

“I can see what’s happening here Simon, I’m happy for you really, but you can’t let this interfere with work”

“How do you mean sir?”

“I’m not stupid, I can see how much you care for her, even if you pretend you don’t. Thats fine, just don’t let it take you from us right? We need you able body and able mind” Price warns

“Of course sir”

“She’s a good girl Simon”

“I know”

“Alright” he nods

Simon Ghost Riley had been falling for the medic from the moment they met. He knew it, the whole fucking team knew it. But he couldn’t entertain it, if she knew how he felt then things could get serious. This wasn’t a one nightstand, this was the type of girl you marry. He knew that. He would never be able to provide that for her. To put it simply, she was the most terrifying threat in the world. She represetned a life outside of this, a way out. He could not allow another loved one to die for him. She was much safer thinking that he hated her.

a/n: AHH GHOST IS SO CUTE OMG, THE DRAMA, THE ANGST, LIKE COME ON I'M LOSING IT

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2minutetabletop · 3 months

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WW1 Trench Map Assets

I've just published my WW1 Trenches: tiling trench assets with all sorts of battlefield debris. How might you use these in a fantasy setting, DMs?

→ Download them here!

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carpenoctxrn · 4 months

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Simon Riley x AFAB Reader (GN Pronouns)

Synopsis: Christmas Sex with ghost because tis the season of giving.....

DISCLAIMER: 18+ content and is meant for mature adults.

simon had gotten back from shoveling snow out of their driveway. his arms were cold but the ache he felt a few minutes ago disappeared. the smell of cinnamon, sweet cookies, and delicious food that was set out had replenished his stamina.

simon and his darling were getting ready for dinner at his darlings friends house. it snowed a bit during the last few hours so he went to shovel the snow while his darling added garnishes to the four dishes they were taking. that was twenty minutes ago. the snow wasn't that settled so he was able to finish it in a record time. his darling was unaware of his presence as their voice seemed to hum along to the record playing christmas songs from the past.

simon stared at his darling intently admiring their beauty. the feeling of how domesticate it seems to see them preparing a meal for them to share. their darling was wearing a ankle length slit velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline that he bought as a small gift. their neck adorned with expensive 24k gold necklace, their hand a bit heavy with all the gold and diamond rings that. some they bought and most simon gifted.

simons heart skiped a beat once he saw their darling let out their hair from the small impormptu bun they had their hair in. he loved how their hair cascaded down their back. and he most certainly loved how they were looking at their reflection in the window across from the kitchen island to carefully style the strands in front of their face.

simons darlings hands looked so perfect as they brought it up to their own lips. dusting of some cookie crumbs from their pouty and juicy pudge of flesh that was painted the perfect rosy color.

simon saw his darlings face quickly dawn in realisation as they turned around and opened the cupboard right behind them. simon custom made his kitchen with his own bare hands and he decided that wanted some cupboards that reached all the way up to their 7 and a half feet ceiling. unfortunately for his darling who was not blessed with his height, they struggled frequently.

simon watched endearingly as his darling regardless of wearing some 3 or more inch heels struggled to reach a golden tin that was meant to be filled with apple and cinnamon cake. their darling was just 8 or so inches short of reaching the tin.

simon then slowly walks behind their darling. in the beginning of their relationship if he did this he was met with a gasp and a "you scared me si, dont do that again." but now? he couldn't startle you. your body was always aware of his 6ft something stature and his radiator type body heat.

"si can you help me get the gold tin please?" you would ask him so sweetly as he came behind you. his body engulfing your figure as you turn around to face him. simon's hard body, clad in a khaki cargo pants, black button up, and denim jacket pressed against your soft body as he stretched his hands to grab the tin you asked him for.

as simon hands his darling the tin, his darling grabs it with one hand and kisses his lips while murmuring a small thank you. his sly and cheeky darling who was purposely making the kiss deeper as they slowly drapped their arms around his neck so their hands can tangle themselves in his hair. their darling who begins slowly by teasingly adding in their tongue to his mouth. letting him taste the gingerbread cookie they had a while ago.

simon knowing exactly where this would lead to tries to push away but is instead met with his darling biting his lip. just a subtle tug of their teeth with his chapped but delicious lip in between their teeth.

"we can be a few minutes late," his darling coyly tried to tempt him but simon knows better. he knows that they never busy themselves for a few minutes.

"just let me make you feel good, please." his sweet darling begs as they slowly flip him against the counter while kissing his neck. his darlings fingers working to unbutton his pants and unzip them also.

he wants to say no but simon knows he truly wouldn't mean it. especially when you are on your knees already while palming him through his grey Calvin Klein Boxers. locking eyes while a cheshire smile as you bit your lips.

simon felt stuck to this moment. as domesticate as it felt two minutes ago it feels enchantingly homey now. especially you, his darling, taking out his semi hard dick like it was your. which it was. he knew it and so did his precious darling.

it was so natural when his darling began slowly sucking only simon's tip. enjoying the taste of his addicting pre-cum and the feeling of his heavy dick on their tongue.

simon so far only sighed in content before patting his darlings head. his hands applying pressure when his darling began slowly swallowing his girth and length down their throat. he felt the warmth and wetness of his darlings mouth and he groaned out in satisfaction.

simons darling had their right hand at the base of his 9 inch dick while the other was used to stabilize themselves on his thighs. his darling knew exactly how to suck him dry. the spit from where their mouth was open around his cock allowed it to run down his veiny shaft, lubricating enough for his darling to slowly jack his base off.

simon after a few more seconds of sucking and pumping his base his darling pulled back from his length just enough to slam their mouth down to his length. taking even more of him inside their mouth.

"fuckin' hell darling, you really er' keen on makin' me feel good." simon groans out with a hefty moan at the ends. his accent heavier than normal and a blessing to his darlings ears. sending jolts of pleasure coursing through their back as simons darling moans on his dick as they continue sucking him off.

the sight simon saw below him had left him breathless. not because his darling was letting their spit dribble down to his balls as one hand pumped his base and the other fondle his heavy balls so sweetly. it was because his darlings lipstick has smudged just a bit. their dress was sprawled around their figure as they arched their back just a bit. the cleavage around his darlings breasts had him groaning a bit louder.

"i want to taste your cum si," requested breathlessly simons darling sweetly as they looked up at him with that face but with the expression he loved the most. the cock drunk expression. where his darling's eyes are half lidded and teary, their hair tousled a bit, their cheeks a tab bit more rosy and most importantly the tone of their voice. his darling who was confident in asking him for everything suddenly feels so helpless that they beg him for his cock. beg him to fuck their throat with his dick.

"then you better open wide angel" simon spoke heavily as he positioned himself. his darling took his cock and put it in their mouth only for a second before simon pushed himself in with no hesitation. taking as much of his length as you did the only word to describe the situation at hand was either as mouthful or stuffed.

his rutting never faltered and with a free hand simons darling couldnt help but continuously rub the little nub of pleasure that was between their legs. their mind going blank at the pleasure of simons dick rubbing the dangly thing in the back of their throat (quoting Cardi B). but also the stimulation of their fingers making their eyes turn back. a tell tale sign that they are dumb on pleasure.

"unh- ya like that don't you my pretty little angel" groans out simon as he catches sight of where his darlings hands were. "ya're gonna come with my cock deep *thrust* down *thrust* ya pretty *thrust* throat *thrust* huh?"

with those words simons darling cums on their fingers. jerkings forward just enough to take even more of him inside their throat. the certain sensation of a narrower, deeper canal got simon off guard and his heavy balls took that as an opportunity to be emptied down his darlings throat.

simons loud moan and soft jutting of his hips against his darlings mouth began to slow down. his darling finally focusing their eyes on simon with a tearful eyes and a smile on their face.

"how did I taste?" teased simon as he helped his darling to their height.

"I wouldn't know," replied simons darling.

simon cocked his head a bit in confusion and before his common sense could make sense of it their darlin replied.

"you were so down my throat si, that it just shot itself down my throat without letting me taste it." his darling said with a pout.

"why don't cha go and clean up a bit," simon spoke softly while putting a hair behind their angels face.

"but i want a kiss first," spoke out simons darling so softly with pleading eyes that simon just had to entangle his lips on theirs. he tasted his own scent on their tongue and ge groaned at the flavor. his lips pulling and sucking on her tongue as it stretched it out their mouth and out into the open. letting the spit drip down their chin once again.

"i'll wait for you in the truck." simon spoke as he left his darling breathless in the kitchen while he packed the dishes to take to the party in their ford tacoma. making sure to grab the gold tin and packing the apple cake in it also.

Master list

dividers by @pommecita

#christmas imagine #call of duty headcanons #ghost call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty #christmas #call of duty modern warfare ii #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty x reader #warfare #cod mw2 x reader #cod fic #dividers by pommecita

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ammg-old2 · 1 year

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Imagine that someone—perhaps a man from Florida, or maybe even a governor of Florida—criticized American support for Ukraine. Imagine that this person dismissed the war between Russia and Ukraine as a purely local matter, of no broader significance. Imagine that this person even told a far-right television personality that “while the U.S. has many vital national interests ... becoming further entangled in a territorial dispute between Ukraine and Russia is not one of them.” How would a Ukrainian respond? More to the point, how would the leader of Ukraine respond?

As it happens, an opportunity to ask that hypothetical question recently availed itself. The chair of the board of directors of The Atlantic, Laurene Powell Jobs; The Atlantic’s editor in chief, Jeffrey Goldberg; and I interviewed President Volodymyr Zelensky several days ago in the presidential palace in Kyiv. In the course of an hour-long conversation, Goldberg asked Zelensky what he would say to someone, perhaps a governor of Florida, who wonders why Americans should help Ukraine.

Zelensky, answering in English, told us that he would respond pragmatically. He didn’t want to appeal to the hearts of Americans, in other words, but to their heads. Were Americans to cut off Ukraine from ammunition and weapons, after all, there would be clear consequences in the real world, first for Ukraine’s neighbors but then for others:

If we will not have enough weapons, that means we will be weak. If we will be weak, they will occupy us. If they occupy us, they will be on the borders of Moldova and they will occupy Moldova. When they have occupied Moldova, they will [travel through] Belarus and they will occupy Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. That’s three Baltic countries which are members of NATO. They will occupy them. Of course, [the Balts] are brave people, and they will fight. But they are small. And they don’t have nuclear weapons. So they will be attacked by Russians because that is the policy of Russia, to take back all the countries which have been previously part of the Soviet Union.

And after that, if there were still no further response? Then, he explained, the struggle would continue:

When they will occupy NATO countries, and also be on the borders of Poland and maybe fight with Poland, the question is: Will you send all your soldiers with weapons, all your pilots, all your ships? Will you send tanks and armored vehicles with your young people? Will you do it? Because if you will not do it, you will have no NATO.

At that point, he said, Americans will face a different choice: not politicians deciding whether “to give weapons or not to give weapons” to Ukrainians, but instead, “fathers and mothers” deciding whether to send their children to fight to keep a large part of the planet, filled with America’s allies and most important trading partners, from Russian occupation.

But there would be other consequences too. One of the most horrifying weapons that Russia has used against Ukraine is the Iranian-manufactured Shahed drone, which has no purpose other than to kill civilians. After these drones are used to subdue Ukraine, Zelensky asked, how long would it be before they are used against Israel? If Russia can attack a smaller neighbor with impunity, regimes such as Iran’s are sure to take note. So then the question arises again: “When they will try to occupy Israel, will the United States help Israel? That is the question. Very pragmatic.”

Finally, Zelensky posed a third question. During the war, Ukraine has been attacked by rockets, cruise missiles, ballistic missiles—“not hundreds, but thousands”:

So what will you do when Russia will use rockets to attack your allies, to [attack] civilian people? And what will you do when Russia, after that, if they do not see [opposition] from big countries like the United States? What will you do if they will use rockets on your territory?

And this was his answer: Help us fight them here, help us defeat them here, and you won’t have to fight them anywhere else. Help us preserve some kind of open, normal society, using our soldiers and not your soldiers. That will help you preserve your open, normal society, and that of others too. Help Ukraine fight Russia now so that no one else has to fight Russia later, and so that harder and more painful choices don’t have to be made down the line.

“It’s about nature. It’s about life,” he said. “That’s it.”

#current events #warfare #politics #russian politics #american politics #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #russia #ukraine #usa #volodymyr zelenskyy #ron desantis #nato

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rancid-tactics · 9 months

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S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Exoskeletons

by POTUS_Auditor

#military #cyberpunk #exoskeleton #exosuit #tactical #warfare #gas mask #post apocalypse #s.t.a.l.k.e.r.#metro 2033 #metro last light #3d render #art #aesthetic

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dailyadventureprompts · 8 months

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Villain: The Cult of the Wyrm Eternal

Any adventurer, alchemist, or awestruck child can tell you that there is power in the body of a dragon, and like all sources of power it's only a mater of time before someone comes along to try to capitalize on it.

Enter the Cult of the Wyrm Eternal, which emerges from long buried vaults to dissect the bodies of dragonkind like flesh eating beetles. The cult originated from a time beyond remembering following the teachings of a profane text known as the Har'Khon Libram, which survives into the modern day as a sort of how-to manual for those seeking forbidden knowledge allowing them to revive the cult's practices and discover its caches of lost power.

It's in this manner that the cult has survived millennia and numerous purges at the hands of heroes, holy orders, and oligarchs: With each iteration caching away knowledge and resources for acolytes they will never meet.

Hooks:

A prominent dragonborn hero and ally of the party disappears, leaving behind few clues and a mystery to solve. Lacking a true dragon to carve up for ingredients the cult abducted the dragonborn and plans on sacrificing them after a gauntlet of strange rituals intended to suffuse their flesh with power. Its a race against the clock for the party to find their friend before there’s nothing left of them but a grisly scattering of magical items bound for the cult’s armoury.

The local warlord has a new pet, a young dragon provided to him by the cult in exchange for his protection and material support. Tales of him riding out to wreak destruction from its back send shivers of terror through the populace. What a surprise then when the party encounter it in the wild, rampaging aimlessly after slipping her bonds. Brainwashed by cult doctrine the parry find themselves negotiating with a creature with the drives of a caged tiger, the volatility of an abused teenager, and the destructive potential of an artillery battery. Talking her down will be as difficult as diffusing a bomb, but they might just come away with important information or even a new ally should they help her evade recapture.

Using knowledge purloined from the mysteries of the mother hydra herself a cell of the Wyrm Eternal has been working on a ritual to create a true dragon, experimenting with drakes, basilisks and other reptilian monsters, filling the wilderness with bounty worthy monsters that will inevitably bring the party crashing into their lair.

Background: The knowledge contained within the Har'Khon Libram is cursed, part of a scheme by the book's original author in an attempt to evade both death and those who hunt unlawful immortality. Reading the book not only imparts the authors knowledge upon the prospective cultist, but also a vestige of their cosiouness, which steers them towards the same course of action that has kept the cult alive for so long: constructing more vaults, hoarding draconic power, and propogating the Libram's knowledge so that the infection can spread through time.

Hidden in the depths of each vault are tablets of further tainted lore, which causes the seed of malign presence within the Wyrm cultist's mind to blossom, opening their mind to the space between life and death and allowing their patron's thoughts to swirl into their own. In this way the party can end up fighting the same villain through many proxies, the unseen master of the Wyrm eternal studying them as they cut down vessel after vessel before formulating a counteroffence.

Dungeon Dressing:

Wyrm Eternal vaults vary by the culture that originally constructed them, but are always in remote, sheltered areas that could endure largescale devastation. Their entrances are hidden and warded against intrusion, protected by magical cyphers that can usually only be broken with aid from the Har'Khon Libram. Vaults can also contain these doors within, locking away the greatest treasures until the acolytes have further tainted their thoughts with the Libram's curse.

Undead are ubiquitous within dungeons claimed by the Wyrm Eternal, ranging from simple servitors to looming guardians to dragonbone infused war machines just waiting to be unleashed on the cult's enemies all with green corpsefire flickering in their heads. Access to these undead armouries and the arsenal of magical items that come with them are one of the primary drivers for individuals to become cultists in the first place.

Each vault will likewise contain preserved pieces of dragongore, ranging from single skulls placed on altars to whole cellars filled with blood magically preserved in clay or glass vessels. If a cult cell reached full operation, it's likely to have atleast one mummified corpse preserved in an onsite tomb, it's vital organs ( and perhaps a few spares) preserved in canopic jars waiting nearby.

Art 1 Art 2

#cultists #villain #villain cult #mid level #rescue mission #undead #dragon #occult #cursed item #curse #dungeon tomb #Necromancer #warfare

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quotesfrommyreading · 11 months

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In the terrible winter of 1932–33, brigades of Communist Party activists went house to house in the Ukrainian countryside, looking for food. The brigades were from Moscow, Kyiv, and Kharkiv, as well as villages down the road. They dug up gardens, broke open walls, and used long rods to poke up chimneys, searching for hidden grain. They watched for smoke coming from chimneys, because that might mean a family had hidden flour and was baking bread. They led away farm animals and confiscated tomato seedlings. After they left, Ukrainian peasants, deprived of food, ate rats, frogs, and boiled grass. They gnawed on tree bark and leather. Many resorted to cannibalism to stay alive. Some 4 million died of starvation.

At the time, the activists felt no guilt. Soviet propaganda had repeatedly told them that supposedly wealthy peasants, whom they called kulaks, were saboteurs and enemies—rich, stubborn landowners who were preventing the Soviet proletariat from achieving the utopia that its leaders had promised. The kulaks should be swept away, crushed like parasites or flies. Their food should be given to the workers in the cities, who deserved it more than they did. Years later, the Ukrainian-born Soviet defector Viktor Kravchenko wrote about what it was like to be part of one of those brigades. “To spare yourself mental agony you veil unpleasant truths from view by half-closing your eyes—and your mind,” he explained. “You make panicky excuses and shrug off knowledge with words like exaggeration and hysteria.”

He also described how political jargon and euphemisms helped camouflage the reality of what they were doing. His team spoke of the “peasant front” and the “kulak menace,” “village socialism” and “class resistance,” to avoid giving humanity to the people whose food they were stealing. Lev Kopelev, another Soviet writer who as a young man had served in an activist brigade in the countryside (later he spent years in the Gulag), had very similar reflections. He too had found that clichés and ideological language helped him hide what he was doing, even from himself:

I persuaded myself, explained to myself. I mustn’t give in to debilitating pity. We were realizing historical necessity. We were performing our revolutionary duty. We were obtaining grain for the socialist fatherland. For the five-year plan.

There was no need to feel sympathy for the peasants. They did not deserve to exist. Their rural riches would soon be the property of all.

But the kulaks were not rich; they were starving. The countryside was not wealthy; it was a wasteland. This is how Kravchenko described it in his memoirs, written many years later:

Large quantities of implements and machinery, which had once been cared for like so many jewels by their private owners, now lay scattered under the open skies, dirty, rusting and out of repair. Emaciated cows and horses, crusted with manure, wandered through the yard. Chickens, geese and ducks were digging in flocks in the unthreshed grain.

That reality, a reality he had seen with his own eyes, was strong enough to remain in his memory. But at the time he experienced it, he was able to convince himself of the opposite. Vasily Grossman, another Soviet writer, gives these words to a character in his novel Everything Flows:

I’m no longer under a spell, I can see now that the kulaks were human beings. But why was my heart so frozen at the time? When such terrible things were being done, when such suffering was going on all around me? And the truth is that I truly didn’t think of them as human beings. “They’re not human beings, they’re kulak trash”—that’s what I heard again and again, that’s what everyone kept repeating.

— Ukraine and the Words That Lead to Mass Murder

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illustratus · 11 months

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Landsknecht with Halberd by Lucas Cranach the Elder

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army-of-idiots · 8 months

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#gun #guns #gunblr #gun control #weapons #girls with guns #semi auto #semiauto #magnum #rifle #edc #carry #tactical carry #tactical #military #combat #war #warfare #camouflage #camo

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ponyosmom35 · 5 months

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Here for you

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter thirteen!

synopsis: Before MW2, reader had finally gotten Simon to trust her, they were even friends. Both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything about it. Her sister is KIA and Simon finds her outside in the middle of the night with tears in her eyes. He opens up to her.

warnings: angsttttttt, talks about death, simons past, PTSD

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

a/n:

strap in, this is a long ass chapter! poor Simon needs a hug.

She sat with her back pressed against the guard tower, she stared out at the empty base, the calmest she’d ever seen it. Tears stream down her face as she tries to reconcile the truth: her sister was dead. It didn’t feel real, how could Emma be gone, she’d just talked to her earlier that morning. Though she’d long since washed the blood off of her hands, she still felt it. She looks down for the millionth time checking them. She shakes her head and runs her hand through her hair.

“what are you doing out here?” a familiar deep voice asks

She whips around to see none other than Simon Riley in his balaclava at the top of the steps. “Simon, you scared me” she says holding a hand to her heart “I couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” he responds as he moves to sit beside her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m not really sure yet, I don’t wanna talk about it if that’s okay” she says, looking over at him. He nods, worrying that he wasn’t the right person to be here. He’d always been dreadfully bad at speaking. Never was he a man of many words, he’d use as many as he needed to get his point across and end it there. If he could speak in one-word sentences he would. He knew that any of the others would be able to comfort her, say something that would make her feel better.

“tell me something” she asks gently

“what do you want to know?” he responds, shifting uncomfortably, another thing he wasn’t good at; talking about himself.

“anything about you” she says softly “please” she nearly whispers

Simon looks at her thoughtfully, never feeling more exposed in his life. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to think of something he could share. He knew she needed this, she needed a distraction. If it were anybody else he wouldn’t have stayed, if this were anyone else he would’ve excused himself instantly. But this was her. The woman who’d somehow melted the ice in his heart. The woman he found himself thinking about at all hours of the day. The only woman he’d ever really trusted. She was the first person to learn his name in years, bringing him back from the ‘ghost’ persona that he’d so carefully crafted. She saw him, and he was terrified.

Simon takes a deep breath, knowing that there was no going back now. “Well, um... when I was a kid, my parents took me out to a cabin in the woods a lot. We’d go fishing and swim in the lake during the summertime”

“sounds wonderful” she smiles, imagining the scenery and a little Simon running around with a fishing pool in hand.

“it was” he says, staring down at his gloved hands. “sometimes I think about how different my life would have been if I had just stayed there… would’ve been so simple... maybe I would have even met someone, and started a family of my own, had some semblance of a life outside of this”

Both are shocked at his confession, she was certain that this was the most he’d ever spoken at once. Her heart swells as she notices his behavior shift. He was sad.

“so there is no Mrs. Riley back home then?”

“no, no there isn't” he responds, not an ounce of emotion in his voice, she could tell he was trying to pull away. She was losing him.

“what do you do when you're not here? How does Simon spend his days off?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood. Her heart leaps when he chuckles softly.

“I'm out on missions or back at base waiting for the next one” he shrugs

“So you’re telling me you have no hobbies?” she asks

“what, you mean like knitting?” he asks sarcastically

“Sure” she giggles

“I'm going to tell you something I've told very few people. this stays between you and me, alright?”

“my lips are sealed” she promises

“I like to read” he pauses, thinking about how strange it is to tell her this. To anybody else, it wouldn’t be such a crazy admission. He looks over at her, noticing the happiness in her eyes and the smile on her lips, so he continues. “ I've always been a fairly quiet and reserved person. Never been able to find the words you know? I didn't have too many friends to talk to when I was growing up, so I could always rely on books”

“I love to read also” she responds “I feel the same, sometimes it’s nice to escape the world for a bit”

“that's exactly why I do it” his voice is soft and vulnerable, something he’d never heard from him before. For the first time in years, he’s relaxed. He didn’t feel the need to maintain a serious facade. “ it's a nice feeling to get lost in an endless world of wonder and excitement. and for a little while at least. You just get to exist in this universe where you're completely in control. it's... freeing”

“You can be anyone you want” she agrees

“Yeah” he murmurs

“thanks for trusting me with that Simon, I promise I won't tell anyone”

Simon nods and looks over at her, noticing the way she rubs her hands together as a light breeze hit them. He takes his gloves off quickly and hands them over to her wordlessly. She looks up at him with a smile on her face. “Thank you”

“Don’t mention it” he says gruffly, she snorts, there’s the man she knew.

“can I tell you something?” she asks, watching as he nods

“I'm awful at cooking, I was banned from the kitchen at my parent’s house growing up”

“oh yeah? what, do you burn everything you touch or something?” he asks playfully, his voice lighter now. He tries to imagine her in the kitchen.

“guess you could say that” she laughs

“I love cooking. It's therapeutic. There is something very calming about kneading dough, chopping up vegetables, and getting your hands dirty in the process”

“I knew there was more to you than meets the eye” she teases “seriously though I can see it, for some reason it actually kinda makes sense to me that you can cook”

what's that supposed to mean?” he raises his eyebrows

“It suits you” she shrugs “can I ask you a really personal question?”

“Go on” he says

“what's your favorite color?”

He chuckles loudly “you're really pushing it now darling”

“seriously though what is it?”

He pauses for a few seconds before answering “green... I like trees, grass, leaves... the color of nature in general. And you? What’s your favorite color?”

“Green” she smiles

“Fucking hell” he nods, surprised how much they had in common. Amazed that he’d stayed for so long, he’d opened himself up so easily, that being with her made him want to keep talking.

“Yeah” she says pushing her sleeve up to show him the green moss agate bracelet he noticed that she would wear on her constantly. The only time he’d seen her without it was when she was working with a patient.

“I like it”

“It’s moss agate, supposed to give you emotional balance” she responds, dropping her hand back to her lap as they fall into a comfortable silence. Simon wonders why she would need emotional balance, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. Never had he seen her lose her cool (except for when they fought - which he tried to forget). Simon moves his body, pushing himself against the railing so he could face her, his foot bruises against her leg and he drops his hands in between his thighs. He was so interested in her, he wanted to know everything.

“So, how did you end up...here? It's a big world, and you could've landed in any number of places, yet you ended up in the middle of nowhere”

“I always wanted to help people, that much I knew growing up. It wasn't until after Emma left to join the service that I was stuck at home with my parents, I know they meant well but they constantly compared the two of us. nothing I did could ever measure up to her” she pauses as she takes off her bracelet, tracing the stones lightly.

“go on... I'm listening” he encourages

“my grandma had an accident, she needed CPR and I don't know what came over me, I just started compressions without a second thought. I was able to save her, and I guess from then on I knew that I was meant to be a medic. To answer your question, I'm here because of Emma. I wanted to be closer to her and when Laswell offered me the job I accepted. Now I'm here with the legendary Simon Riley”

He laughs lightly “sounds like your destiny”

“how did you end up here?”

“you wanna know how I got here?” he asks, unsure if he was ready to discuss that. Part of him wanted to tell her everything he’d been through, the other part was terrified of letting her in. He looks over at her with a soft expression.

“Had a shitty childhood, enlisted as soon as I could. Worked my way up the ranks, turns out I was really good at my job. About ten years ago, give or take... I was leading a team on a mission. We were tasked with apprehending a terrorist leader who had been responsible for many attacks. The mission wasn't exactly sanctioned, however. It was sort of a personal favor to me from my CO, General Shepherd. He knew I wanted this guy, so he gave me the go-ahead to conduct the mission” he pauses, she could tell that he was reliving it all in his mind “after crossing the border and deep into enemy territory, we finally made it to the terrorist's hideout. We were able to gain the upper hand, and captured him and a few other members of the group who were working under him, but things didn't quite go to plan”

He stops again, trying hard not to say the words that are forming in the back of of head. He stares off into space. Memories plaguing him.

“I lost them. All of them, except... “ More emotions cloud his voice until he can barely understand what he was saying. His heart started beating so fast that he could hear it pounding in his ears.

“you don't have to tell me Simon” she says gently, noticing the visible distress he was going through. As the seconds pass, he slowly regains his composure and looks back up at her. His voice is much calmer as he speaks again.

“doesn't matter. The mission failed. We failed. We did everything right... everything” he says, she doesn’t hesitate and gently grabs his hand in her own.

He looks at her hand on his own and let out a sigh, a smile forming on his face underneath the mask.

“I'm not used to people touching me” he admits, looking at her, finding the moment oddly intimate. His voice is soft and quiet, and he looks at their hands, the moment suddenly feeling so important to him. “I've never been the type for affection or physical contact, not my thing”

“Oh god I'm so sorry!” she exclaims as she drops his hand. Simon looks at her and gently takes her small hand in his own. His actions saying the words he couldn’t. He looks back up at her, noticing your flustered face, and finds himself unable to look away. Her cheeks, glowing in the moonlight, her green eyes, filled with light and curiosity, and her face, slightly flushed with embarrassment.

He felt himself drawn to her in an almost primal way. He could swim in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close.

“We were outnumbered, we fought to the fucking death. But we lost. I was taken the leader and tortured for information” he says placing his free hand on his ribs as he closes his eyes, remembering the pain. She squeezes his hand, showing him that she was there.

“I was able to escape but I lost them all, I lost a part of myself. I gained a higher ranking. Lieutenant Simon Riley. Fucking sicking”

“what about your family?” she asks

“They were collateral damage…” he says as he drops her hand, noticing the sun rising, a small glow lighting her face. “The leader warned me if I came after him that it would happen. He killed em’ all. My mum, my little brother, my nephew, his wife, even my son of a bitch father, dead cuz of me”

She raises a hand to her mouth in horror, tears fill her eyes as she starts to piece it all together. It made so much sense now, why he was this way. “god Simon, I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say”

“Ain’t nothin to say” he says emotionally

“What happened to the leader? Did you catch him?”

“I hunted down each and every one of em’. Took some time but I got the fucker. I killed him and whatever remained of Simon Riley that day. Wasn’t long until Price found me, and recruited me for the task force”

“How do you live with it all?” she asks

“I’m not the person to ask” he says honestly, watching as her face falls in disappointment.

“I know it's hard” he sighs putting his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes and leaned back, his hand resting on his head. “Sometimes I wish things didn't go the way they did... but life has a funny way of showing you who you are”

He pauses, thinking about how to say this last part. “I’m the last person you should be taking advice from, but one thing I do believe is that shit happens for a reason. It fucked but now I’m here, doin’ the best I can, bloody hell I’ve saved some people along the way. That’s what matters”

“you're saying that I'm gonna have this big revelation about myself now?” she asks

“there's a chance” he murmurs, sitting up and looking at her. “do you want to know how I know things will get better for you?”

“Enlighten me”

“because you already have everything you need to survive, it seems to me that people are so afraid to fail to the point that they don't even try. everyone wants to blame something else for their problems because it's easier than accepting fault, right? But in the end, it's all about perspective. You're a bright person, and the fact that you're here right now shows that you're strong enough to make it to the next day. you're a survivor, and that's something to be proud of. And one day, you’ll look back on this time in your life, and you'll realize it was all about perspective” He pauses for a moment, wondering how that sounded. He looks over at her and finds a small, genuine smile. “It’s not gonna be easy, you’re gonna miss her every day, but that pain is gonna be what drives you, live your life, for you and for her”

“I don’t know how to do this without her, I’m scared to go home, knowing that it’ll never be the same” she admits

“No it won’t” he agrees, knowing that she didn’t want a bullshit answer that would make her feel better.

“do you take your own advice? or are you just saying this to make me feel better?” she asks

“I have a lot of demons inside of me. And I still have a lot to work on” He looks over at her, expecting a smart remark or a joke, but she doesn’t say anything, just giving him a subtle nod. “but even I can admit that what I said was truthful, as cheeky as that sounds”

“I appreciate it nonetheless”

“look, let's be honest here. I'm just trying to distract you long enough so I can steal that bracelet you're wearing” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood

“here, take it” she says handing it over to him without hesitation.

“No I couldn’t”

“I wouldn't have offered if I didn’t want you to have it, take it so you have something to remember me by”

Simon takes the bracelet, noticing the beauty and simplicity of it. The moss agate stone glints in the light, its color a symbol of their connection. He puts it on his right wrist, the stone warm to the touch from how she’d been holding it.

“I'll remember this forever”

“don't get sappy on me now Simon!” she exclaims, pushing him gently as a smile crosses her face. He laughs.

“I'm a soldier, not a poet, alright? what do you say we get back inside?”

Simon stands and offers his hand to her, helping her up, she gingerly takes his hand and stands to her feet. He gestures for her to go ahead of him, letting her take the last step before he closes the distance between them and grabs the door handle to open it for her.

“thank you for sitting with me, and for letting me talk. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you trusted me with your story. You are truly one of a kind, and I can’t tell you how much I respect you. I don't know how you did it but I feel like I might actually be okay, so thank you for that”

“you're welcome, love” the words come out quietly but sincerely, almost a whisper. We're slowly nearing the doorway and hear talking from inside the trailer. As we walk in, we see Gaz, Price, and Soap leaning against the wall and talking amongst each other. The three of them look over at us for a second, with Price and Soap glancing at him and smiling. He gives them a nod, and the three of them turn back around and continue talking.

“they're up early” she comments

“we have a mission today”

“that's right” she muses

Simon walks her to her room, a comfortable silence falling between them as they both realize that this may be the last time they see each other. She’d be flying back to Washington the next morning, unsure if she’d ever be back.

“Hey” he asks as they near her room, she pauses and looks at him.

“Yes?”

“can I ask you... a favor?”

“of course” she says

“don't let yourself be consumed with anger and regret, its no way to live”

“I won't, as long as you do the same”

“okay. well, I guess that's a deal then”

“good luck today, if I don't see you before I leave. stay safe, take care of yourself”

He nods in response, taking in every small detail about this moment. Her smile, how her orange hair frames her face and falls down her shoulders in beautiful long waves, the sound of her voice, the glimmer of her eyes in the light.

“Always” he responds

He watches as she opens her door and slips inside. He says nothing more, standing there for a moment as it occurs to him that I might not see her again. He takes a deep breath and starts to head back towards his own room, thinking about what just happened.

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