With the exception of a couple that I saved to my drafts, I have deleted the last few remaining asks in my inbox and cleared everything out to make space.

If your prompt went unanswered, that does not mean I don't want to interact with you or your muse, and please feel free to send me more asks in the future, reach out to plot, etc.

That being said, my inbox is now open again! Probably gonna hold off on reblogging memes for a bit, because my drafts have built up quite a bit during the time I was focusing on my inbox, but feel free to chuck shit in there if you'd like.

With the exception of a couple that I saved to my drafts, I have deleted the last few remaining asks in my inbox and cleared everything out to make space.

If your prompt went unanswered, that does not mean I don't want to interact with you or your muse, and please feel free to send me more asks in the future, reach out to plot, etc.

That being said, my inbox is now open again! Probably gonna hold off on reblogging memes for a bit, because my drafts have built up quite a bit during the time I was focusing on my inbox, but feel free to chuck shit in there if you'd like.

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

“ … I don’t like priests. ” @facesblind says.

“ 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬   𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗   𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦𝗧   𝗜𝗦   𝗔   𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗   𝗢𝗡𝗘, ”   Ghost   speaks   with   an   impressive   ease,   his version of a joke   casually   falling   from   his   lips   despite   the   surrounding   carnage.   

“   ⸺   That’s   a   good   priest. ”   He   says,   gesturing   towards   the   corpse   splayed   across   the   floor,   collar   stained   with   blood,   eyes   tilted   up   towards   an   elaborate   ceiling   boasting   depictions   of   the   alleged   angels   in   Heaven.   𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦   𝘪𝘴   𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳   𝘎𝘰𝘥   𝘯𝘰𝘸?   He   wonders   if   in   his   final   moments,   the   man   took   the   time   to   pray.   To   beg   someone,   something   for   mercy   that   Ghost   was   unwilling   to   provide.   

One   extra   shot,   just   to   be   sure.   Square   between   the   eyes,   now   having   been   double,   triple,   quadruple   tapped   and   all   Ghost   was   left   with   was   an   empty   clip   and   a   sick   sense   of   satisfaction.   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Feel   better   now? ”

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

@siabann : (   PERFORM   )     FOR   THE   SENDER   TO   BE   INTIMATE   SOLO   WHILE   THE   RECEIVER   WATCHES.

In   his   mind,   there   was   not   a   goddamn   sight   in   the   world   that   bested   the   one   before   him.   Soap   was   a   coiled,   desperate   mess.   Panting,   begging   for   a   release   that   Ghost   wouldn’t   grant   him,   despite   not   being   the   one   touching   him.   He   watched   from   the   sidelines,   pressed   against   the   back   of   his   chair   with   feet   propped   up   atop   his   desk   while   the   other   sat   across   from   him.   The   sound   of   suppressed,   breathless   whimpers   filled   the   room   like   a   fog,   silent   pleads   to   let   him   finish.   𝘕𝘰𝘵   𝘢   𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.   

“ That’s   a   good   boy, ”   Simon   purred   lowly,   his   gaze   as   potent   as   it   was   intense,   all   of   his   attention   focused   in   on   the   pathetic   heap   of   a   man   sprawled   out   before   him.   “   ⸺   Maybe   if   you   ask   me   nicely,   I’ll   let   you   cum. ”   

The   first   lie.   Johnny   could   beg   as   much   as   he   was   able   to,   but   he   was   at   the   mercy   of   a   man   who,   quite   frankly,   couldn’t   care   less   about   what   he   wanted.   His   eyes   flickered   toward   the   languid,   fluid-slick   movements   of   Soap’s   hand   as   he   stroked   himself   into   a   frenzy.   It   was   a   test   of   obedience.   Patience,   and   self   control,   with   the   promise   of   a   prize   for   making   it   across   the   finish   line.   He   wanted   Soap   to   bend   towards   his   will   …   a   mindless,   fucked   out   puppet   that   would   blindly   follow   the   commands   of   his   superior,   no   questions   asked.   

Ghost   managed   to   ignore   his   own   growing   erection   with   relative   ease,   the   strain   in   his   pants   a   familiar   enough   sensation   that   he   didn’t   mind   it   all   that   much.   But   god,   he   could   get   off   on   the   sight   of   this   alone.   Undoubtedly.   Effortlessly.   And   maybe   he   would,   at   his   leisure,   in   a   way   that   Soap   could   not.   Just   to   showcase   who   was   in   charge   and   tease   the   man   further.   

In   a   moment   of   contemplation,   Ghost   could   sense   from   the   miniscule   expressions   and   noises   spilling   out   from   Johnny’s   mouth   that   he   was   dangerously   close,   and   that   simply   wouldn’t   do.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ Stop. ”

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . FOR: ROACH.

'That’s a gruesome thought.' @pseudowar signed his words carefully - if only because he's not sure if he can get away with the sloppy shit yet. Roach's sign is naturally abysmal, usually shorthanded to shit, making him a difficult read. But with the Lieutenant, he actually tries. Sign incredibly proper despite the tilt to his mouth that suggests his amusement. 'You got any more morbid jokes or should we move on to the puns?'

“ HEY, WHAT’S   THE   DIFFERENCE   BETWEEN   ME   AND   CANCER? ”   There’s   a   pause,   deadpan   gaze   falling   upon   the   other   man   as   the   mental   drumroll   paved   way   for   a   bad   punchline.   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ My   dad   didn’t   beat   cancer. ”

One   last   one,   just   for   the   hell   of   it,   more   truth   to   the   quip   than   he   was   willing   to   admit.   There   was   a   cacophony   of   bad   jokes   lodged   into   the   back   of   his   mind,   a   rolodex   of   the   worst   puns,   stored   for   a   rainy   day.   Ghost   thought   it   boosted   morale.   Everyone   else   would   happily   disagree.   ( YOU   MADE   THEM   ANYWAY. )

“ If   we   move   on   to   puns,   we’ll   be   here   all   night,   mate. ”   He   said,   a   hint   of   a   smile   brandished   against   thinned   lips.   The   two   were   sealed   away   in   the   privacy   of   his   seldom   used   office,   balaclava   tucked   away   carefully   inside   a   desk   drawer   for   a   later   time.   He   felt   …   exposed,   though   there   was   a   distinct   lack   of   judgement.   The   air   around   him   didn’t   feel   as   suffocating   as   he   thought   it   might.   “ You   want   a   drink? ”

"do you seriously think you're above the rules" the stupid ones yeah

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . 𝙵𝙾𝚁: 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝙴𝚈𝙰.

“ Do you mind if I sit with you? ” @vihrago asked.

𝗧𝗛𝗘   𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡   𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗦   𝗢𝗡   𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗙𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗗   𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦.   The   obnoxious   ringing   brought   on   by   gunfire   had   only   just   started   to   fade,   leaving   a   headache   in   its   wake   and   a   litany   of   spots   in   his   eyes.   Glancing   over,   Ghost   takes   note   of   Mireya’s   presence.   Standing   there,   as   though   she   was   waiting   for   him   to   respond   to   …   something.   He   was   slow   to   process,   his   mind   blurred   with   smog.   

“ Hm? ”   he   grunts,   clearing   his   throat   in   a   piss   poor   attempt   at   gathering   what   was   left   of   his   bearings.   “   ⸺   Uh   …   yeah.   Yeah. ”   

The   doctor   had   cleared   him   and   said   he’d   be   fine,   skin   sutured   up   with   tightened   precision   and   a   painkiller   prescription.   𝘛𝘸𝘰   𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴   𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵,   he’d   recommended.   𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦   𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺   𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭,   Ghost   responded.   He   was   almost   certain   Mireya   would   say   the   exact   fucking   same.   

“ If   you’re   here   to   tell   me   I   need   rest,   you’re   wasting   your   time. ”

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗢𝗨𝗧   𝗙𝗢𝗥   𝗔   𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗞𝗘.   That’s   what   he’d   said.   It   was   a   half - truth   at   best,   because   Ghost   can   recall   lighting   a   cigarette   with   the   blood   of   a   bastard   spattered   across   his   face,   dripping   down to   his   lip   and   soaking   the   filter,   wiping   a   blade   clean   against   the   rough   material   of   his   pants.   Problem   solved.   

“ Ghost   …   ?   What   happened? ”   @peacedomain   had   asked,   concern   washing   over   the   little   dove’s   face.   

Peeling   the   shirt   off   his   back   and   rinsing   his   face   in   a   faux   marble   sink,   watching   as   the   red   trickles   down   the   drain,   rendering   him   clean   …   or,   as   clean   as   a   man   like   him   could   get,   sin   festering   beneath   his   skin   from   all   the   things   he’d   done   across   the   years.   He   ignores   the   question,   wiping   the   wetness   from   his   face   with   the   shirt.   ( 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳𝙽’𝚃   𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃   𝚃𝙾   𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙽   𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚂𝙴   𝙷𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙻   𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝙻𝚂. )

ㅤ “ Took   care   of   a   problem.   Nothing   to   worry   about. ”   

Silent   vows   had   been   taken   …   𝘣𝘺   𝘢𝘯𝘺   𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴   𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺,   𝘺𝘰𝘶   𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭   𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵   𝘩𝘦𝘳.   To   kill   a   man   was   commonplace,   just   another   notch   in   a   belt   he’d   worn   since   he   was   not   quite   a   boy   but   not   yet   a   man.   ( 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴   𝙷𝙴   𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴   𝙰   𝙼𝙰𝙽   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙳𝙰𝚈   𝙷𝙴   𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃   𝚃𝙾𝙾𝙺   𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴   𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴’𝚂   𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴.   𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳𝙽’𝚃   𝙱𝙴   𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴. )   Though   it   should’ve   been   startling   how   little   it   affected   him,   he   couldn’t   find   it   in   himself   to   care.   Jaded   towards   his   own   greyed   out   morality,   but   safer   because   of   it.  

ㅤㅤㅤThe   dead   were   not   often   fond   of   the   living   anyway.

TOP 5 SONGS FOR SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY.

𝗦𝗨𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗨𝗣 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗙𝗨𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘, QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE.

I'm gonna suture up my future I ain't jaded, I just hate it See, I've been down too long It's kinda hard to explain Burned and buried, all I carried All my evil's through a needle As it pulled through the eye What was and what will They're all gone Don't sweat it Thread it, to forget it To feel like you're already gone To the rest of, the rest of the life that you've got Take a picture and bury it all away Bury it all away

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗥, NINE INCH NAILS.

Gun fire in the street Where we used to meet Echoes out a beat and the bass goes Bomb right over my head Step over the dead [ ... ] Blood hardens in the sand Cold metal in my hand Help you understand the way that things are gonna be There's nowhere left to hide

𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗘𝗫, TOOL.

It took so long to remember just what happened I was so young and vestal then You know it hurt me But I'm breathing so I guess I'm still alive Even if signs seem to tell me otherwise Got my hands bound And my head down and my eyes closed My throat's wide open

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦, SLIPKNOT.

Sitting in the dark, I can't forget Even now I realize the time I'll never get Another story of the bitter pills of fate I can't go back again, I can't go back again Traded my emotions for a contract to commit And when I got away, I only got so far The other me is dead, I hear his voice inside my head We were never alive And we won't be born again But I'll never survive With dead memories in my heart

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗡, JACK WHITE.

The arms will go where the army goes A raven black in the fallen snow A palpitation from a heart of gold A bit of salvation in thе bitter cold [ ... ] My uniform is invisible My camouflage is invisiblе I dip my hands into sand and I'm visible Sewing leaves onto my skin and my material My motives are invisible My armor is invincible

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣   𝗪𝗔𝗦   𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬   𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗟   𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛   𝗛𝗜𝗠.   Even   then,   sometimes   it   wasn’t.   While   Soap’s   mere   presence   was   often   enough   to   keep   the   night   terrors   at   bay,   there   were   some   evenings   where   the   anxiety   would   override   all   the   comfort   he   felt   and   betray   him.   But   there   were   more   good   days   than   bad,   which   is   what   mattered.   It’s   what   made   him   feel   safe.

❝ I like to watch you sleep sometimes. You look happier in your sleep, y’know, peaceful. I wish I could keep you like that. ❞ @siabann said.

There   he   laid,   white-blond   hair   dishevelled   to   shit   and   lids   still heavy,   gazing   up   at   the   other   man   with   a   palm   pressed   against   his   face.   Fingers   carding   through   Soap’s   hair,   barely   roused   from   his   sleep   but   smiling.  

ㅤ( 𝙶𝙾𝙳,   𝙷𝙴   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶.   𝙷𝙴   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙸𝙽   𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙿.   𝙸𝙽   𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴. )   

“ Fuckin' creep, ”   he   says,   voice   raspy   from   slumber,   reverberating   in   his   chest   and   deepening.   “ You   can   blame   yourself   for   that   one,   Johnny. ”   

His   other   hand   scaled   the   side   of   Soap’s   face,   gripping,   pulling   him   down   until   their   lips   met   in   a   kiss.   It   was   soft.   It   was   tender.   It   was   loving.   Until   it   wasn’t.   The   other   man   had   a   magnetic   pull   that   Ghost   was   powerless   against,   unable   to   touch   him   without   wanting   to   ruin   him.   He   deepens   the   kiss,   tongue   pushing   past   teeth,   breath   hitching   in   his   throat   trying   to   savour   the   taste.   Ghost   wanted   to   devour   him   right   then   and   there,   stalled   only   by   the   fact   that   he   couldn’t.   Not   yet.   Cockblocked   by   a   pointless   meeting   that   could’ve   been   a   fucking   email.   ( 𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴   𝙷𝙴   𝙳𝙸𝙳   𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴   𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼   𝙾𝙵   𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵   𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻   𝙻𝙴𝙵𝚃   𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽   𝙸𝚃   𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴   𝚃𝙾   𝚂𝙾𝙰𝙿. )

With   a   groan,   he   withdraws,   keeping   Soap   clasped   between   his   hands   and   brushing   stray   curls   back   into   place.   “ Should   be   getting   ready   about   now, ey? ”

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

IT  WAS  AS  IF  HIS  LEGS  WERE  BUILT  FROM  LEAD.   Unable   to   lift   himself   and   rise   to   his   feet,   stuck   on   pause   and   bolted   to   a   chair.   The   two   sudden   taps   on   his   shoulder   felt   like   an   electrical   current   shocking   the   system,   fist   tightening   in   a   classic   case   of   fight   or   flight,   held   back   only   by   his   inability   to   make   use   of   his   limbs.   Heavy   lids   flickering   upwards   as   his   brain   makes   one   final   desperate   attempt   to   process   his   surroundings.   It’s   Roach.   It’s   just   Roach.   

'Do   you   mind   if   I   sit   with   you?'   @pseudowar   signed   to   him.

Slow   blinks,   brain   nearly   bursting   at   the   seams   as   it   tried   to   put   together   the   pieces   and   make   sense   of   what   was   being   communicated   with   him.   C’mon,   you   know   this.   You   learned   this.   For   him.   There   was   a   brief   moment   of   clarity   as   some   of   the   fog   lifted,   lips   parted   beneath   a   mask   to   speak   but   no   words   came   out.   Excruciating   seconds   that   felt   like   minutes   passed   between   them,   the   clock   in   his   brain   wound   tight   with   gears   falling   out.   

“ Sit. ”   Ghost   said,   eventually.   Inevitably.   Less   of   a   response   and   more   of   a   command.   Single   syllables   were   easiest.   His   neck   cranes   slowly,   painfully,   to   peer   at   the   man’s   hands.   Watching.   Waiting,   for   him   to   say   something   more.

⁽ ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ⁾ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . .

“ Is it okay if I touch you? ” @croftborn had asked.

“ 𝗡𝗢. ”   The   response   is   immediate,   an   overwhelming   bite   to   back   up   the   bark,   teeth   gnashing   in   hopes   he   could   just   be   left   the   fuck   alone.   Alone   …   is   that   not   how   you   got   yourself   into   this   predicament   in   the   first   place?   Triggered   beyond   repair,   tail   between   your   legs,   trying   to   flee   the   situation   before   it   was   too   late.   ( 𝙸𝚃   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂   𝙰   𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴   𝚃𝙾𝙾   𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴. )   Alone,   brain   festering   and   fizzling   out   until   your   body   was   nothing   more   than   a   hollowed   out   shell.   A   corpse.   𝗔   𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧.   No,   alone   was   worse.   Far,   far   worse.   No   matter   how   much   he   didn’t   want   to   admit   that.   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“   …   Yes. ”

Muscles   constricting,   tense,   jaw   clenched   hard   enough   to   shatter   teeth.   This   will   be   different.   This   has   to   be   different.   Lara   was   gentle   in   ways   his   father   had   never   been,   and   this   was   the   only   reassurance   that   maybe,   just   maybe   …   for   once,   being   touched   wouldn’t   make   him   want   to   crawl   out   of   his   skin   and   clock   someone   in   the   face.   It’s   Lara.   It’s   just   Lara.   Fight   the   instinct.   𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦   𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨   𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦,   𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺.  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThere   is   no   other   option   than   to   be   fine.

⸻ ❝ 𝙸'𝙼 𝙿𝚄𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝚈 𝚆𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝗚𝗢𝗟𝗗.

#𝙵𝚄𝚁𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙴 : LOW ACTIVITY, MUTUALS ONLY & ICONLESS BLOG FOR 𝙺𝚈𝙻𝙴 "𝙶𝙰𝚉" 𝙶𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 OF THE 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝚄𝚃𝚈: 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙵𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙱𝙾𝙾𝚃. COMMANDED BY 𝗟𝗘𝗫. MINORS & NON-RP BLOGS PLEASE DNI.

❝ 𝙸'𝙼 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗘 ... 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝚈 𝗧𝗢𝗘𝗦. 𝙸 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗕𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗗 𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝚈 𝙽𝙾𝚂𝙴.

[ #𝚂𝙸𝙰𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙽 ] : 「 selective & low-activity roleplay blog for 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽 "𝚂𝙾𝙰𝙿" 𝙼𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙰𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙷 of activision's 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝚄𝚃𝚈: 𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙵𝙰𝚁𝙴 reboot series. loved & commanded by LEX (they/them). 21+ only; minors & personals, please dni. 」

— ANNE SEXTON, from Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward.