#hearts munition series

[crazyunsexycool]

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 7

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!reader

Word count: 6.3k

Warning: mention of blood/blood splatter, gun use, gunshot, knife use, non-con touching (not Steve), SA, attempted rape, bruises, beating, angst, protective Steve

A/N: I really liked writing this chapter. Here we have a situation in which reader knows that Steve is in the mob but has never been in direct contact with any type of violence or anything until she is… We also find out who the woman that broke Steve's heart is (Are we surprised who it is?) We'll find out why later on so here we go....

Series Masterlist

“One more piece of tape.” You said as you held your hand out. 

“Here you go.” 

You place the tape on the last corner and then smooth it out to make sure it stays in place. 

“Mom are you done?” Eli pops his head into the room you’re in. “They’re downstairs.”

“Yes, come on.” 

You and Eli were two balls of energy. Everything was in place and Regina was more than supportive in your excitement. For the last two days you had been working on getting a room ready for Peter. He was finally being released from the hospital and considering how things were going Steve thought it would be better if Peter stayed for a while. 

There’s voices coming from the hallway so you and Eli stand together and wait for the door to open. Steve smiles as he opens the door and steps inside. Peter is right behind him. 

“Welcome home.” You and Eli yell at the same time. Peter, still being medicated, is startled before he starts laughing. 

“Thanks guys. Did you help decorate?” He asks Eli who walked up to Peter and hugged him gently. 

“Yeah. Do you wanna watch a movie?” 

“That sounds like a great idea bud.” 

“Eli, let Peter get settled first. Why don’t you go help Dom make some snacks for the two of you?” 

“Ok ma. I’ll be right back.” Eli says before he’s running out the door. 

“It’s good to see you’re back.” You said as you gave Peter a hug of your own. 

“Glad to be back too.”

You smile as you help him get comfortable in bed. Regina helps by getting his bags from Sam and sorting out the items. 

“Who’s she?” Peter nods in her direction. 

“This is Regina, the newest member of our staff.” 

Peter gives her an awkward smile and his eyes dart to Steve. He thought he’d find the boss checking her out but his eyes were only on you. Peter knew from the first moment Steve liked you but he was stubborn. He wouldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. Steve had warned him to keep a level head and to keep feelings out of the business. But seeing him now it would seem as if his boss was going against his own advice. 

“Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need anything.” Regina offers. “I’m going to get back to work.”  

“Thanks.” Steve says as he moves so that she can reach the door. 

You stay for a few more minutes catching up with Peter before you excuse yourself too. Bucky and Sam walk out with you.

“We’ll let you get settled but we do have to talk about what happened at some point.” Steve says. 

“Of course boss.” Peter nods. “I’m glad you brought them here. Y/N and Eli I mean. It was just the two of them and with Eli as sick as he is Y/N needs all the support she can get.” 

“And she has it now. Why didn’t you tell me about her and her son?” 

Peter looks down at his hands. 

“You’re not in trouble.” 

“She asked me not to. Simple as that. Eli is her priority and I respected that.” 

“You’re loyal, I like that about you kid.” Steve says. “You’re not keeping any other secrets from me are you?” 

“No sir. Eli is the only thing I’ve ever kept a secret.” 

“Good. Now get some rest.” 

Steve flexed his hand, assessing the damage on his knuckles from the interrogation he’d been a part of. He hissed when the cold alcohol swab touched the open skin on his other hand. 

“Don’t be a baby.” You murmur as you throw away the used alcohol pad. 

You turn away from Steve to grab some ointment and when you turn back he’s lighting a cigarette. 

“Hey.” Steve protests when you snatch the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What the hell, I need a smoke. I'm stressed.” 

“No smoking in the house.” 

“It’s my house.” Steve argues back. 

“Elijah can’t inhale smoke so either quit or go outside to the other end of the yard where he doesn’t play.” 

“So now I can’t do whatever I want in my own house?”  Steve glares at you but you aren’t intimidated by it. 

You roll your eyes before taking his hand again and finish cleaning it up before moving around to the next one. 

“I didn’t ask you to move in. You brought me here and told me this place was safe for me and my kid. Now if you go and trigger an asthma attack it won't be good for him.” 

Steve huffs but agrees. He sits silently for a moment as he watches you.

“You know maybe I should get you a sexy nurse uniform.” 

“And who would I wear it for?”

“Your only patient.” Steve says, matter of fact. “Do you think I’d let anyone else see you dressed in something like that?” 

“I don’t know, I thought it was my choice who I let see me with or without clothes on.” You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips when Steve’s jaw clenched. “What? Does it bother you that I could go out there and find someone and let him take me home?” 

Steve stands abruptly and spins you so that you’re chest to chest with him. His hands lay flat against the flat surface of the desk  behind you, his eyes darkening at just the thought of someone else putting their hands on you. Your breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze. 

“Do you really think I would let that happen? Let some asshole touch you.” 

“It’s not up to you, Steve. I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want. Why do you care anyway? Are you still just trying to get me in your bed? Is this why you’ve been so helpful, you think that helping me with Eli will get me to sleep with you? I won’t risk it. My job is much more important than a one night stand with you. Besides I thought we were past this you sleeping with your maids thing.” 

Steve groans in frustration, his head falling to your shoulder. You smile and play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No. I’m helping you with Eli because I genuinely care.” He pulls back to look at you, his gaze much softer now. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before but I will be now. I want you. Not just for one night.” 

“Well two nights isn’t going to cut it either.” 

“You’re being a brat, you know that? I'm going to win you over.” 

You laugh and get closer to his face, his eyes immediately going to your lips. 

“Well I’m not going to make it easy for you.” You murmur and kiss the tip of his nose just as the door opens. 

Bucky walks in, his steps falter as he watches the two of you separate yourself from one another. 

“Hey Buck, right on time I was just finishing up here.” You say as if he didn’t walk in on the two of you in a compromising position. 

“Uh-ok cool.” 

You pick up the first aid kit and place it back in its spot within Steve’s office. As you head for the door you stop and turn to look at both men.

“How much longer is that mess going to be downstairs?” You asked about the nameless idiot that shot Peter.

“It will be cleaned up soon.” 

“Ok, just let me know if you need me to take Eli out for the day. I don’t want him to see any of that.” 

“Of course.” Steve smiled and you walked out.

“What was that about?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve waves his hand dismissively. 

“Ok? Anyways, Beck still won’t talk. We’ve tried everything.” 

Steve sighed as he ran a hand over his beard. “We’re going to have to call either Lloyd or Loki in. But we’ll move Beck first. I don’t want that done here.” 

“I’ll figure out where to move him to.” 

“Thanks, I’ll make the call.” Steve leans forward and grabs the phone while Bucky heads back out. 

You heard Steve’s voice before you walked into Elijah’s room. Almost as soon as you had moved in, Eli requested that Steve read with him at night before bed. You told your son you weren’t sure that was possible but in the short time you’ve been there Steve hasn’t missed a night. Although reading didn’t take long, all of the medication Eli was on made him sleepy. It didn’t stop him from fighting it and trying to stay awake for just a few more minutes. You lean against the doorframe and watch Steve tuck Eli in and turn off the lamp next to his bed. 

“Hey.” Steve says as he walks out of the bedroom. 

“He didn’t put up much of a fight did he?” 

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I think all of the excitement of having Peter here wore him out.” 

You smile while looking back into the darkened bedroom. “I’m not surprised. He loved when Pete would come over and play video games.” 

Steve’s eyes were still on you when you looked back up at him. There was an intense feeling of need between the two of you as you stood in the quiet dimly lit hallway. One that pulled you closer to each other. He cleared his throat and you looked away.

“I have some business to attend to at one of my clubs. Will you be alright here alone?” 

“Yeah. Peter is sleeping too and I think Dom had a poker game. I’m just gonna enjoy a nice bubble bath before bed.” 

Steve groans and closes his eyes. You bite back a laugh. 

“Do you need a hand with this bubble bath?” 

You smile and shake your head before starting to walk backwards toward your own room. “I’m good, thanks. I can take care of myself just fine.” 

“Tease.” Steve mutters as he watches you walk into your room. 

****

Steve shook hands with his newest associate, Erik Killmonger. They had worked together before but this was going to be on a more permanent and lucrative basis. The two men were in the vip section with a drink in hand celebrating their new business deal. 

They looked down at the sea of people dancing and drinking as they talked about logistics and expectations. 

“Good evening gentlemen.” A sickly sweet voice called out from behind them. 

It was a voice Steve recognized and immediately tensed because of it. He turned slowly, anger already rising within him. A glare was sent in the direction of the uninvited guest but she was unphased.

“What are you doing here, Sharon?” Steve demanded to know. 

“I just came by to say hello, see how my old friend was doing.” 

“You shouldn’t be here. Not my club and not in New York.” 

She rolled her eyes and sat at one of the plush couches, motioning for a waitress to get her a drink. “I heard you were doing business and I have a proposition for you.” 

Erik looked between the two and excused himself after mentioning something about someone catching his eye. It left Steve alone with Sharon although Bucky quickly and quietly joined them. 

“So what do you say, Rogers? Want to make a deal?” Sharon asked as she batted her lashes at Steve. 

“No. You shouldn’t even be in New York but I’ll be a gentleman and give you twelve hours to leave.” Steve nods at Bucky who moves and grabs Sharon by the arm. 

“You can’t be serious? Is this because of Peggy?” 

Steve tensed at the mention of her name. It brought back bitter and hurtful memories. He kept his expression unreadable though and looked back at the blonde. 

“I’m a man of my word. I said I’d never work with The Carter Family again and I intend to keep it. I also told you that you have twelve hours to leave.”

Sharon pulls her arm away from Bucky’s hold. “It’s a shame you’re letting your emotions get in the way of a very lucrative deal.” 

“Sharon-” Steve raised his hand to stop her from talking when she opened her mouth.

“Steve.”

“What Buck?” He looked over a Bucky, annoyed that he was being interrupted. 

“We have to go. Check your phone.” 

Steve pulls out his phone to find a few missed calls and texts from your phone. 

Y/N: Steve mom needs help. 

Y/N: Come home now!

Y/N: Please!!

Y/N: Answer your  phone.

Steve immediately called you back but you didn’t answer. The urgency came from the first message that was obviously from Eli. He wasn’t sure how he missed yours and Peter’s calls but he left Sharon forgotten in his VIP section and headed back home with Sam and Bucky.

Eli and Peter were sleeping. Dom had gone to a weekly poker game with his friends. The house was quiet and you have wanted to take advantage of the bathtub in your room for a while. So that’s what you did. You lit some candles and added epsom salts and oils into the water. It was perfect. With some music playing softly in the background the only thing missing was a glass of wine. You grabbed your robe and headed downstairs with the intention of pouring yourself some. 

It was while passing Elijah’s room that something felt off. While you left the door ajar it was opened a little too wide. Then there was a smell of cigarette smoke that bothered you. Especially after asking Steve not to smoke around him. You knew that request bothered him but he wouldn’t go do anything to harm Eli either. So you crept up to the door and peered inside just to make sure Eli was still asleep. You could see him on the bed sleeping soundly but the cigarette smoke clung in the air heavily. Since the room was dark other than the sliver of light that illuminated the bed you struggled to make anything else out. 

You hear it before you see it. The deep inhale in the corner of the room. Then the lit cigarette. The person smoking takes a step out of his hiding place and you can barely make out his short slicked back hair and large frame. Your breathing stops as you stare at this stranger in your son’s room. 

“Well what do we have here?” It’s almost a whisper but it sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine. 

“Get out of this room right now.” 

The stranger walked closer to you. He was tall and obviously strong. You were sure he would overpower you but he was a threat to your son. You’d do anything to protect him. With every step he took you took one back in the hopes of leading him out into the hallway. 

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? Rogers must be treating you well if you walk around like that.” He motioned toward your robe which had loosened and revealed your bra. He licked his lips as he eyed you. “The kid might be a bit of a mood killer though.” 

You wrapped the robe around yourself tightly and headed towards the stairs. He stalked towards you with a predatory gaze in his eyes. Before you could get to the top of the stairs he grabs the back of your neck, pressing his body against your. One hand wraps around your throat and the other starts roaming your body.

“That’s no way to treat a guest, Honey.” He whispered in your ear before sniffing your hair. 

“Let me go.” 

“Show me a good time and maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll keep you.”  

He started dragging back into the hallway and opened the first door he found. 

“No. Please don’t.” You tried to push against him in hopes of avoiding being thrown into the bed. But he was taller and obviously stronger than you. 

“You should cooperate sweetheart. Maybe I’ll go easy on ya.” 

You're thrown onto the bed. The robe you were wearing is now open, exposing your bra and revealing the shorts you were wearing. You cry and beg as your attacker moves to crawl over you, his lips find their way to your neck as he holds your hands above your head with one hand. His grip is hard and painful. The other he uses to keep your face still as he kisses you. He pulls back and smirks down at you. 

“Look at you, you’re so pretty when you cry.” He laughs as he moves around in order to undress you. In a moment of desperation you kick your feet up and manage to kick him in his groin. “You fucking cunt.” In his moment of weakness you kick higher this time and your foot connects with his face. He grabs his nose and starts cursing at you but you’re moving away from him.

You ran faster this time in hopes of getting down the stairs. As long as he was away from Eli you didn’t care what happened to you. 

“Dumb whore. I was going to be good to you but now you’re fucked. When I’m done with you, you’ll never see the kid again.” He yelled as he followed you down the stairs. “Stop running or I’ll go back up there and shoot the kid.”

Turning to look over your shoulder slowly you saw the gun aimed at you. 

“I really only came here for one thing. You see your little fuck buddy, Rogers, he has an associate of mine.” He says while taking a few steps down towards you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Elijah creep out of his room. He stood there unmoving as he watched a stranger pull a gun out on his mom. You prayed he would go hide again and were relieved when he moved away from the railing. 

On the landing that led to the second floor you stood looking up at the intruder. He takes slow deliberate steps just to show you that he was in control. Your tear stained cheeks do nothing to deter his attack.

“If you tell me where he is,” he pulls his phone out and shows you a picture. “I won’t have the kid watch what I do to you. I won’t sell him off to the highest bidder either.” 

A door opens up at the end of the hall. He stops on the last step so that he’s hidden from whoever is there.

“Y/N?” Peter’s sleepy voice breaks the tense silence. “Y/N, I need some help.” 

The stranger takes a peek around the corner and sees Peter making his way down slowly. You take his distraction and charge at him full force hoping to at least knock him down and get the gun away from him. Barreling into him, shoulder first, he falls back. It wasn’t so much your strength but catching him off guard that helped you. He groaned as he grabbed his head, a small amount of blood started to trickle from the apparent gash at the back. While it looked like it hurt it didn’t completely knock your aggressor out. 

“Peter, get back in your room. Call Steve or anyone tell them to get back now.” You yelled before running down the stairs with the gun in your hand. 

Not even hitting his head against a few steps slows down your attacker. It forces you to head into the kitchen instead of outside. You turn on your heel and hold the gun up, pointing it at him.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot you.” You say.

“Really? I don’t think you’ve ever used a gun before.” 

“First time for everything.” You reply. “On your knees.” The gun is still pointed at him but it shakes almost violently in your hands. 

He smirks and takes another step closer. The gun goes off but it hits the floor. It makes your hands shake even more.

“Don’t. Move.” You say through gritted teeth. 

There’s movement behind him and then Peter is telling you to move. The intruder turns around to face Peter knowing you won’t be able to shoot. He still gets shot once in the shoulder and in each kneecap forcing him to the ground. When you stand from behind the kitchen island you see Peter standing with a gun in his hand, suppressor attached. 

“Are you ok?” He asks while keeping his gun aimed down at the intruder. 

“I think so.” You say with a shaky voice while looking him over. “You’re bleeding.” 

“I think I ripped my stitches.” 

“I’ll get you cleaned up. Let me just-“ you look around unsure of what you can use to restrain him.  “I’ll be right back.” You run down the steps to the basement on wobbly legs. 

“We can use this.” 

You say as you get to the top stair with some rope. Peter nods but grimaces at any slight movement. 

“What do I do?” You look up at Peter.

“Y/N, Peter?” 

“In the kitchen.” You yell out. 

Coulson’s quick steps echo throughout the otherwise quiet home. He stares at the scene in front of him bewildered for just a moment. 

“Give me the rope.” He says and moves into action. 

You help Peter get to the couch. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit ok? I’ll be right back.”

“Hey,” he catches your hand. “Go check on Eli first, this can wait a few minutes.” 

He saw the relief in your eyes and the way your tense shoulders slumped. 

You run up the stairs and head directly to his room where you find the door locked.

“Elijah, baby it’s me.” You knock. “Baby please open the door. It’s ok.” 

The door opens and Eli’s crying face comes into view.

“Mom.” He rushes to you, burying his face in your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“It’s ok, it’s safe now. Are you ok?”

You feel him nodding against you. The only thing you can do is hug him back and assure him that he’s ok. After a few minutes you pull away, kneeling to get a better look at him and make sure there are no marks on him. 

“Why was that man here? Why did he want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know, baby.” You brush away his tears. “Let’s go sit.” 

Eli takes your hand and walks back into his room. You aren’t sure if it’s him shaking or you but it’s almost uncontrollable. 

“I tried to call and text Steve but he didn’t answer.” He holds out your phone.

“You did a good job, come here.” 

You take your phone and call Steve immediately but there’s no answer. Then you call Sam and Bucky and still nothing. You send them all a few texts and you start to worry that they have been hurt. Dom answers right away and he tells you that he’ll be back in a few minutes. After that you sit against the headboard and bring Elijah to sit on your lap and you hold him tight like when he was a baby. The only thing you could do now was wait. 

Steve flew through traffic in order to make it back as fast as he could. His mind raced as he tried and failed to get an answer from you. He came up with the worst case scenarios of what could be happening. All Steve hoped was that you and Eli were ok no matter what the issue was. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to either of you. 

 Sam and Bucky weren’t far behind when Steve finally pulled into the driveway of his mansion. Immediately he knew something was way off. The normal guards that were posted around the perimeter were missing. He grabbed his gun as he stepped out of his car. When he looked backed, Sam and Bucky also had their guns out. 

Steve rushed to the door, opening it without warning. His gun was up as he walked in with Sam and Bucky behind him. They walk into the living room only to find Peter sitting back on the couch, his hand putting pressure on the area where he had been stitched up previously. Dom was fussing over him trying to help stop the bleeding.

“Peter? What happened?” Steve asked, getting the attention of the semiconscious young man. 

“There’s this guy. He broke in.” 

“I have him down in the room.” Coulson stepped out of the kitchen. “I got an alert from the security alarm. I got here just as Peter shot him. It seems he had his eyes set on Y/N.”

“Where is she?” 

“Upstairs.” Peter answers. “With Eli.” 

Steve looks back and Bucky lifts his chin up towards the stairs. 

“We’ll go see who this idiot is.” 

“Get Peter medical help and find out what happened to the guards.”

“Clint and Nat are on their way.” Coulson says. “I’ll have them take Peter in.”

Steve nods and heads upstairs. He takes two at a time until he reaches the third floor. His heart is beating out of his chest as he walks up to Eli’s room, worried about the state he would find you in. He knocks but doesn’t get an answer so he opens the door and takes a peek inside. The cigarette smoke still lingers but he doesn’t find either you or Eli. Steve walks out and heads to your room, knocking a bit more harshly than he intended too. 

“Y/N? Can you open up?” Steve calls out. After a minute the door opens and your tear stained face peeks out. 

“Steve.” You whimper when you finally see him.

“C’mere, baby.” Steve pulls you into his chest. He feels your whole body trembling and his arms tighten around you. “Are you ok? Is Elijah?” 

You nod against his chest and begin to sob now that Steve was there. 

“It’s over. You’re safe.” Steve murmured.

He kept as calm as he could but he felt nothing but rage. Not only did someone think they could just walk into his home without any repercussions, they also terrorized you. There would be hell to pay once he was downstairs to get the necessary information. 

“Do either of you need to see a doctor?”

“No. We’re ok, just shaken up a bit.” You reply as you finally look up at him again. 

“Alright. What about you? Are you sure you’re not hurt? Did he do anything to you?” 

You avert your eyes and Steve’s stomach drops. 

“What did he do? Did he touch you?” Steve’s voice hardened. There was this underlying and unsettling sharpness to it.

You nodded. Steve took a deep breath while he slowly pulled away and turned his back towards you. He ran a hand over his beard as he thought about all the ways he was going to rip the asshole that dared touch you apart. 

Steve turned back to look at you. “Did he force hi-“

“Tried to. I got away from him before he could.” 

“Ok.” Steve takes a deep breath. “C’mon let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.” 

Once Steve realizes that you’re asleep he leaves the room quietly. He walks down to the first floor to find out what the hell is going on in his own home. There will be hell to pay for this, not just for the disrespect of breaking into his house but for what you went through.

“Update, now.” He demands.

“The idiot that broke in is none other than Jack Rollins. Apparently he was looking for Beck when he stumbled upon Eli’s room.” Bucky says. “He’s a sick twisted bastard from what Peter told me he heard.” 

“Did he say anything else?” 

Bucky shakes his head. Steve starts rolling up his sleeves. He heads for the basement door with Bucky on his heels. 

“What are you going to do?” 

“What do you think?” He growls but continues toward the basement door. 

“Steve, think about this.” Bucky says. “We could get information out of him if we do this right.”

Steve stops and turns to look at Bucky and the rest of his team. 

“He put his hands on Y/N. I don’t give a fuck about information.” 

Bucky’s eyes harden at the new information.

“I’ll come with you.” 

The two men walk down to the basement and into the soundproof room. Sam was standing over Rollins, who already had a few cuts and scrapes along with the gunshot wounds. Steve doesn’t waste any time at all as he connects his fist with Rollin’s jaw. The man, who had been tied to a chair, falls backwards. 

“I’m guessing that pretty little thing you have upstairs told you about our time together.” Rollins chuckles. “She was real sweet.0

Steve lands a few more hits before he stretches his hand out behind him. Bucky already knows what Steve wants and hands him a knife. Steve inspects it carefully before looking down at the man below him. 

“Oohh should I be-Aahh.” Rollins screams when Steve plunges the knife into the bullet wound on his shoulder. Blood splatters into Steve’s face but it doesn’t deter him.

****

When Steve finally stopped his assault he was covered in blood. Steve’s anger hadn’t subsided even as he walked back into the kitchen. The others were gathered around the island talking about what happened when he joined them. 

“Has anyone checked in on Y/N?” He asked. 

“Still sleeping boss.” 

He nods and starts walking out. “I’ll be back in about 10 minutes. I want to know everything when I come back.” 

Steve goes up to his room to shower and change quickly. Then he heads back down to the kitchen. Dom has a cup of coffee ready for him. The sun was just starting to light up the sky. Steve grabs his cup and takes a sip. 

“What do we have?” He asks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

“Rollins killed some of the guards around the perimeter, enough to slip by undetected. He hacked the security system. He couldn’t completely deactivate it but he delayed the notification Coulson would get.” Clint said. 

“He was looking for Beck. But he won’t say anything else.” 

“What should we do now?” Bucky asks. 

“First I want him out of the house. Get him some medical attention, I’m not done with him just yet.” Steve orders. “Let’s double up the guards. Let’s have Jensen double check the security system and upgrade whatever needs to be upgraded.”

“How is Peter doing?” 

Steve and the rest of the group turn to see you standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Even though you slept most of the night you look exhausted. Eyes are red and slightly swollen as if you’d just been crying. 

“Peter’s fine. He just ripped some stitches, he’s in his room sleeping.” Nat tells you. 

You nod as Dom walks over to you. 

“Want some coffee, Mia Cara?” 

You shake your head. Dom opens his arms for you and you step into his embrace. The older man pats your back in a comforting manner. 

“You’re safe now, Mia Cara. We won’t let anything like this happen again. You hear me?” He reassures you. 

You just nod against his chest. Everyone silently shuffles out of the kitchen. Dom places a chaste kiss on your forehead and leaves, giving you and Steve some privacy. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks as he gets up and moves towards you.

You shrug. Other than being worried about Eli you were numb to the whole situation. 

“Baby, look at me.” Steve says softly.  He tucks a finger under your chin and pulls up so that you have to look at him. 

You’re fighting back tears for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Tell me what you need?”

“I don’t know.” 

“How about some time away from here? We can get away for a weekend and take Eli somewhere fun. What do you say?” Steve offers.

 It angered him all over again to see you like this. A shell of who you really are. Your arms wrapped around yourself. Steve didn’t like seeing you down like this although it was completely understandable. 

You shrug again in response and he sighs. 

“Why don’t you go rest for a little bit longer and I’ll have Dom make you something and bring it up.” 

“I can’t.” You mumble as you look around the room. 

“Why?” 

“I have to work.”

“You’re joking right? You aren’t going to be working today. Regina will be in any minute now, she’ll do what she can. You worry about taking care of yourself and Eli.” Steve says as he leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

In the distance you hear the door that is normally used by the house staff to come in and out.

“See, that's probably Regina right now. I’ll talk to her.” 

You gasp when Regina appears in the doorway. She’s sporting a black eye, busted lip, bruises around her throat and she’s holding her side as if it hurt. You rush over to her to make sure she’s ok. 

“What happened?” 

“The-these men they-they broke into my house early this morning.” She sobbed before hiding her face in your shoulder. 

“Fuck. Bucky, Sam.” Steve yells for them. The two men rush out of the hallway that leads to Steve’s office. 

“What happened?” Bucky asks once he sees Regina crying. 

You tell them what she had just said since she couldn’t control her crying. Both men look back at Steve, the same anger in their eyes. Dom and Coulson soon join the others.

“Do you know who did this?” You ask her as you guide her to the couch. 

“No. I’ve never seen them before. I was sleeping when they broke in.” Regina sniffles.

“Did they say what they wanted?”

Regina nods. “They told me that I had to get whatever information that I could on you and report back to them.” 

“I have a few questions.”

“Ask away.” 

“How did they know you work for me?” Steve asks and you look between him and Regina.

“I don’t know, maybe they had been following me?” 

“Why tell me?”

Regina swallows thickly as tears well up in her eyes again. “Well everyone here has been so nice to me, and this is the first job I don’t have to get almost naked to get money for,” She sighs, wincing due to her injured ribs. “I didn’t want to ruin what I had here. But my grandma, she’s in a nursing home and they had pictures of her. They said that they’d hurt me and make her watch.”

“They said the same about me and Eli.” 

“Wait what?” Regina looks at you confused. 

“Someone broke in last night.”   

“What is happening?” Regina asked. She was scared and so were you. The only difference was that you knew Steve would make things right. 

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out. In the meantime you can’t go back to your place.” Steve tells her. “We’ll have someone pick up some clothes for you and have a doctor look you over. Do you think you could recognize these men if you saw them again?”

“Maybe. Oh wait,” Regina grabs her phone. “Would a video help?”

“You have a video of them?” 

She looks at Bucky and nods. “I installed a doorbell camera and a camera in the living room. Here, you can definitely see their faces.” 

“You have a camera in your living room?” Sam asks suspiciously.

“I live alone and I’m single. There have been some break ins around the neighborhood. I was trying to protect myself.” She says as she hands the phone over to Bucky.

Sam and Steve huddle around Bucky to look at the video Regina had. They see her being dragged out of her room and beaten. Unfortunately they didn’t recognize the men in the video but they would find them nonetheless. 

“Thank you for this. I don’t know who they are but we’re going to find them.” Steve tells her. “Y/N can I talk to you for a minute?” 

You get up and follow Steve into his office where he closes the door behind you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask Steve after watching him pace back and forth for a few minutes. “Is it about whoever broke into Regina’s place?”

Steve leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I’ll most likely have to be out more. At least while I track these sons of bitches down.”

“Ok, and?” 

“Will you be ok here? After last night… I’m doing everything to make sure this place is more secure.”

“Ok.” 

“I’m also going to assign Nat to be with you whenever you go out. I know you’re independent but I need you to do as she says if something were to happen.” 

“Do you think someone would try to hurt me again?” 

“Honestly? I don’t know. I mean look at what they did to Regina and she hasn’t even been here that long. I’m not going to risk you and Eli being in danger again.” Steve pushes himself off the desk and walks over to you. “It should’ve never happened in the first place. I’m going to handle this.”

“I’m more worried about Elijah than myself.”

“Of course you are because you’re a good mom.” Steve cups your face when he sees your eyes start getting glassy. “You just take care of him like you always do and I’ll keep you both safe.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” 

Permanent taglist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10 

@nalny5 

@Sturchling 

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@writing-for-marvel

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@almosttoopizza 

@littleseasiren 

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@talesofadragon

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Series taglist:

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@sebsgirl71479

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#hearts munition series #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #mob boss!steve rogers #mob au #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x mom!reader #single mom!reader #Captain America au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #Steve rogers series #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you

[myfanficlibraries]

Steve Rogers

Alpha!Steve

1) Grain of Truth by @biteofcherry       Soft Dark Series

2) Halloween With Your Werewolf Knight by @witchywithwhiskey       Princess Reader       Smut

3) Why Can’t We Be Friends by @cockslutpadalecki

Fluff

1) Air Conditioning by @bict

2) Hand Holding by @angrythingstarlight       Biker!Steve

3) Nice to be Kneaded by @rogersideup       Nomad!Steve       Ongoing Series

4) Society Says by @invisibleanonymousmonsters       Tall Reader

5) Threadbare by @ronearoundblindly       Completed Series       Some violence

6) Too Many Wingmen by @beccaanne814

Mafia AU

1) As Long as You’re Mine by @secretswiftymarvelfan

2) Cherry by @biteofcherry       Enforcer!Steve       Smut

3) Heart’s Munition by @crazyunsexycool       Ongoing Series       Single Mom Reader

4) Mafia!Dad Steve Rogers by @sweetsbfreex

5) Nesting by @biteofcherry       Soft Dark

6) Sink Into Me by @simmerandwrite       Ongoing Series

Smut

1) Cuffed by @sidepartskinnyjeans

2) Music to My Ears by @royalsweetteaa

3) Overstimulation by @myfictionaldreams       40′s Steve

4) Steve Rogers Alphabet Masterlist by @universitypenguin

Soft Dark

1) In the Balance by @goodgirlofglory       Ongoing Series

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #soft dark!steve rogers #alpha!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers master list #steve rogers masterlist

[mariacallous]

The Biden administration’s decision to transfer dual-purpose improved conventional munitions, or DPICMs, to Ukraine as part of a new assistance package has provoked a series of diplomatic rebukes from Washington’s long-standing allies and security partners, including Britain and Canada, which reiterated their opposition to the weapons banned by 123 countries.

U.S. President Joe Biden conceded that it was a “very difficult decision” to send DPICMs, better known as cluster bombs, to Kyiv but defended the transfer to CNN, saying: “This is a war relating to munitions. And they’re running out of that ammunition, and we’re low on it.”

Speaking as a British Lebanese conflict journalist, I have seen firsthand the impact of these horrific munitions on the civilian population of my own country, with unexploded submunitions causing death and injury decades after these weapons were last fired. It was partly Israel’s use of cluster bombs in the 2006 Lebanon war that pushed states to draft the 2008 Convention on Cluster Munitions (CCM), banning the use, transfer, production, and stockpiling of cluster munitions.

This is a treaty I have long advocated for, and I took pride in Lebanon becoming the first Middle Eastern state to ratify the CCM in 2010. In more recent years, I have documented countless instances of Russian war crimes using cluster munitions against civilian targets in Syria and the devastation these indiscriminate bombs have on human life. Yet I find myself reluctantly supporting the Biden administration’s decision.

I understand the impact these weapons have on civilian populations better than many of the decision-makers in Washington and, in an ideal world, still wish that the United States, Russia, and Ukraine had signed and ratified the CCM and eradicated all remaining stockpiles.

But we don’t live in that world. Not only has Russia used cluster munitions extensively in its invasion of Ukraine, but it has repeatedly used these indiscriminate weapons on civilian targets, which amount to war crimes under international law.

With a heavy heart, and in a decision that weighs heavily on me as both a journalist and a human rights activist, I must put my own ideals aside and support the decision made by the White House. I stand respectfully in disagreement with my allies and colleagues working in the human rights community, including at Human Rights Watch.

This was not an easy decision to come to but one I made based on my professional assessment of the war in Ukraine as it stands at the time of writing. Under these strict and deeply tragic conditions, I believe that it is both militarily necessary and morally justified for Kyiv to receive these weapons.

The 21st century has seen largely asymmetric, low-intensity conflicts and insurgencies, and as such many of the signatories of the CCM could not ever imagine finding themselves, as Ukraine is today, fighting a 20th-century trench war. It is admirable that so many states opted to ban these weapons outright, but just as they could not ever imagine finding themselves in Ukraine’s position, many, too, fail to understand the existential nature of Ukraine’s struggle or the consequences for the Ukrainian people should that struggle fail.

While I agree with the vast majority of the arguments made regarding any use of cluster munitions, in the context of the war in Ukraine I have come to the same conclusion as Jack Watling and Justin Bronk of the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI), who laid out their arguments for approving the transfer of DPICMs in a recent commentary.

It helps to fully understand why so many states have banned these weapons. DPICMs are not inherently more dangerous than other conventional weapons used on the battlefield. There are far more deadly and devastating weapons used in conflicts across the world that are not banned by international conventions, such as the Russian “bunker buster” KAB-1500L-Pr and the U.S. GBU-43/B MOAB, called the “Mother of All Bombs,” notably employed by former U.S. President Donald Trump in Afghanistan.

There are three main arguments against sending U.S.-manufactured DPICMs to Ukraine, and they are strong ones often made in good faith by principled people. Broadly speaking, they are related to three areas: the indiscriminate nature of submunitions, failure rate and unexploded ordnance, and arms proliferation.

Firstly, there are many different types of cluster munitions, with four main delivery methods: tube-launched (e.g., artillery shells), air-dropped container, aircraft dispenser, and conventional missiles. Given that Ukraine is currently only requesting and receiving 155 mm DPICM artillery shells, we can ignore the other types of cluster munitions also banned by the CCM as being irrelevant to the ongoing war in Ukraine.

Unlike traditional artillery shells, which explode on impact, DPICMs disperse dozens of submunitions, spreading the explosive impact across a wider area.

They are, by their very nature, indiscriminate, in the same way firing a shotgun from a distance is, causing damage across a widespread area from just one artillery shell. It is this characteristic that makes these weapons such powerful tools on the front line against entrenched concentrations of infantry. It is also what makes their use in civilian residential areas, as Russia has done throughout this war, undoubtedly a war crime.

Given how Kyiv has prosecuted this war since Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022—taking care to avoid collateral damage, trying to protect the lives of Ukrainian troops, and respecting the Geneva Conventions with regard to Russian prisoners of war—Kyiv’s usage will be far different from Russia’s. I think it is reasonable for Washington to conclude that it can trust the Zelensky government’s word that it will not use these weapons to commit war crimes on its soil or on Russian soil, which would answer the first argument against providing DPICMs to Ukraine.

The next major issue, and the strongest argument against these weapons existing at all, is unexploded ordnance. Cluster submunitions have a failure rate, which means that sometimes they do not explode on impact. Instead, they can lie dormant on the ground for years until they are disturbed by an unsuspecting civilian, leading in many cases to serious injury or death.

While all munitions have a failure rate, and unexploded ordnance remains a significant problem even in post-conflict regions that have not seen the use of cluster bombs, the sheer quantity and small size of cluster bomb submunitions mean that even DPICMs with very low failure rates can render large swaths of land where these weapons have proliferated uninhabitable without extensive demining operations. Children are particularly vulnerable to picking up unexploded submunitions in post-conflict areas.

This alone is a strong enough reason to advocate for a total ban on DPICMs, but in the context of their continued existence and their widespread proliferation during the Russo-Ukrainian war, there are clear military and humanitarian justifications for providing an exemption for Kyiv.

The context of the war as it stands in the summer of 2023 is critical to understanding why these justifications exist.

To begin with, large parts of Ukraine’s territory are occupied by Russian troops, stretched across more than 745 miles of an active front line. The tens of thousands of square miles of land in between those military forces is currently uninhabited, covered with trench lines, and littered with months of unexploded ordnance from the most intense artillery war in Europe since World War II.

There are no civilians in these areas; in fact, some have been bombarded so heavily that there are barely even any trees. While Russia clearly failed to conquer Kyiv in 2022, it has no intention of abandoning the areas it has occupied since last year, and it is heavily dug-in, hoping that the current lines of control at the very least become the new de facto borders of Ukraine.

While unexploded ordnance will be a significant problem for these tens of thousands of square miles of Ukrainian land for years to come, regardless of the outcome of the conflict, it will only become a threat to civilian life once the people themselves return. But if Ukraine fails in its goal to push Russia out of the land it currently occupies, these areas will remain permanently unoccupied, scarred by many more years of warfare.

This is not only a possibility; this is Russia’s overall goal in this phase of its war against Ukraine—to create new realities on the ground and to prevent Ukrainians from ever returning. Without a decisive Ukrainian military victory over Russia, there will be nobody left in these areas for unexploded ordnance to impact.

The final argument against the transfer of DPICMs is that by ignoring the CCM, the United States and Ukraine risk legitimizing the use and proliferation of cluster bombs in conflicts throughout the 21st century. My response to that is simple: The consequences of legitimizing a Russian fascist victory over Ukrainian democracy would be far worse, and that catastrophic scenario is significantly increased if Ukraine cannot overcome its artillery deficit.

That deficit, of both artillery and ammunition, is the gravest and most pressing issue for Ukraine and the reason Biden cited for sending the weapons. Ukraine already has an artillery disadvantage against Russia. Artillery ammunition stocks in the West among Ukraine’s partners have rapidly dwindled, and the failure to ramp up production of ammunition to meet Ukraine’s needs has resulted in a bottleneck for the Ukrainian counteroffensive.

Ukrainian forces cannot advance without artillery, and they are running out of artillery ammunition to build on their advances, with no alternative supplies to replenish those stockpiles available anytime soon. The arguments made by human rights groups against Ukraine receiving DPICMs do not reflect an understanding of that shortage. If Ukraine had an unlimited supply of 155 mm ammunition, then perhaps this situation would not have arisen at all. And perhaps, as Biden implied, when the supply of 155 mm ammunition is no longer running critically low, further such transfers will not be necessary.

Furthermore, as Watling and Bronk wrote in their commentary, DPICMs are far more effective than traditional 155 mm shells at clearing the kinds of entrenched positions Ukrainian forces are coming up against right now. Every inch being fought for here in Ukraine costs Ukrainian blood to liberate, and every trench that can be effectively cleared using artillery saves the lives of Ukrainian troops. In response to the transfer’s announcement, Ukrainian Defense Minister Oleksii Reznikov said as much: “The more losses we inflict on them the more lives of Ukrainian people we will be able to save.”

Ukraine is experiencing significantly more artillery ammunition shortfalls than Russia, and DPICMs can have a decisive impact on a critical stage of the conflict over the next few months. There are no readily available alternatives to their use, and the risk of collateral damage from Ukraine’s stated intention of use is fundamentally low.

Reznikov made it clear that Ukraine will not use DPICMs in inhabited areas, that it will keep strict records and logs of their use, and that it will undertake extensive demining operations to deal with unexploded ordnance in areas liberated from Russian occupation. It is reasonable for Ukraine’s international allies to trust that Kyiv will use these weapons responsibly and that it can be trusted to protect its own population from the unintended collateral damage of unexploded ordnance. Even without these transfers, these areas will need to be extensively demined.

The consequences of refusing Kyiv’s request for DPICMs during an artillery ammunition deficit, however, cannot be overstated. Ukraine is facing an existential threat from a Russian genocidal war of conquest, and the best way to protect Ukrainian civilians going forward is to provide Kyiv with the weapons it needs to win this war against its much more powerful foe.

While I empathize with the Western capitals criticizing the Biden administration’s decision, from the military context of this war the consequences for Ukraine of not overcoming this artillery deficit are too terrible to be ignored.

The signatories of the CCM are not powerless to change the situation facing Ukraine. The first thing they can do is dramatically ramp up the domestic manufacturing of 155 mm artillery shells to finally solve the ammunition shortfall. The next thing they can do is start pledging the billions of dollars and the years of support that will be required to assist Ukraine’s postwar demining programs. The last is to finally start understanding that Ukraine’s fight for its survival is existential and that questions about what a postwar Ukraine will look like are completely irrelevant if there is no postwar Ukraine.

[levi-venn]

My Favorite Meatbag

(Tech & TAY-0)

(w/ special appearance by Crosshair and Egg the Crow from the Cross and Crow series)

Also found on AO3 here

"We're baaaaack!" Omega's voice bounced with her steps as she bolted down the Marauder’s ramp. She was greeted by a crowd of Pabu villagers who responded to her cheer with equal excitement. 

Tech was hoping no one would notice their arrival, yet it sounded like the whole island was present.

"Yeah! Woo! We made it!" Wrecker shouted, shaking the whole ship as he ran down the ramp after Omega.

Tech was still seated on his bunk as he watched Hunter and Echo follow Wrecker. They graciously accepted pats on the back and warm hugs from the villagers as they descended, expressing a level of ease and good humor that eluded Tech on even his most social days.

He wished they had arrived in the dead of night, so that he may sneak off to his assigned quarters, decompress, and then acclimate to this new life on his own schedule. 

"Are you coming?" 

Crosshair stood at the top of the ramp, his newly befriended crow, Egg, sitting on his shoulder. 

Crosshair and Egg gave Tech an intense stare, and they both had a toothpick in their mouth and beak respectively. 

"Not yet," Tech said. “I will be along shortly.”

He wasn't making an excuse, but it was a convenient last errand before he unofficially retired with his siblings.

“Suit yourself,” Crosshair shrugged. “We’re going to the beach. Less people. C’mon, Egg, let’s stretch our wings.”

Tech waited until Crosshair exited the ramp before closing the hatch. Not being interrupted by loud, friendly locals was preferable, especially during this rather delicate procedure.

Tech sat at his work bench and produced a soft cloth bundle from his munitions cache where he had stored the racer droid’s head over a year ago. 

The sudden destruction of TAY-0 was jarring to say the least, and it had felt wrong to leave him behind on Safa Toma to be melted down and turned into who-knows-what.

Tech removed TAY-0’s faceplate, studying the tangled and frayed wires within and seeing a clearer path here than he did in his own future. Beyond the Marauder’s ramp there were too many variables to quantify, but here he still had some semblance of control and he wasn't going to leave the ship until TAY-0 was up and running.

It took twenty minutes longer than he anticipated, but by the time he was done the cacophonous joy outside the ship had dissipated, and was replaced with the crisp sounds of TAY-0’s circuits jolting to life. 

Tech replaced the faceplate just as the three eyes and series of rectangles that shaped the droid’s mouth began to flicker.

“I…regret…nothing!” TAY-0 said, repeating his final words expelled moments after being blown to bits by a fellow riot racer’s pod. 

"Hello," Tech greeted. "How are you feeling?"

“Woo! What a rush!” TAY-0’s triple eyes flashed and his face plate tried to spin, but was blocked by the workbench. He bobbled clumsily across the surface. “Safa Toma’s finest is back, baby! Can’t keep a good TAY-0 dow-…wait…what?! Why can’t I move?!”

Tech picked up the disembodied head. “I’m sorry to have brought you back in such a state, but I wanted to make sure I could restore you, before building you a body.”

TAY-0 flipped his face plate around once. Then twice. Then spun frantically. “Where is my everything, human?!”

Tech adjusted his goggles. “In a scrap pile, I imagine, to be melted down and reused for future Riot Racer repairs.”

"Well, aren't you just a meatbag full of sunshine and confetti? TAY-0's in pain here, human, how about a little sympathy?"

“You don’t have any pain receptors,” Tech said.

“Emotional pain!” TAY-0 said. “TAY-0’s heart is broken, literally and figuratively!”

“It…isn’t ideal, I admit,” Tech said. “Now that we've docked however, I can put together something more mobile for you. I again, apologize for your condition and how long it took me to revive you."

“What do you mean ‘how long’?” TAY-0 balked. “Give it to me straight, doc. How long was TAY-0 out for?”

Tech did a quick calculation, subtracting the two initial attempts to revive TAY-0. “Fourteen standard months, and thirteen days.”

“A whole year?!” TAY-0 cried. “An entire year of my life gone?! What about TAY-0's family, huh?! TAY-0's wife probably ran off with some smarmy R2 unit! Soooo typical."

Tech's eyes narrowed.

"I am not a stranger to sarcasm." Tech said, dryly. This was…partially true. He did miss sarcasm more often than not, but TAY-0’s sarcasm was as thick as Crosshair’s and easily identifiable. 

"Caught on, huh? Fourteen months is nothing," TAY-0 said, cheerfully. “I'm gonna live forever.” His face plate did a 360 turn. "So, when's the next race? You better not have trashed my pod while I was out of commission."

Tech frowned. "There is no race. I don't believe this planet has racing of any kind."

Surprisingly, TAY-0 didn’t have an immediate response. In fact, he looked at Tech with what could be described as a blank expression. “Hey, not to look a gift eopie in the snoot, but why would you bring TAY-0 back if not for racing?"

"I don’t understand the question.”

"My owners bring me out for two things: Racing and Prepping for a Race. If I’ve completed those tasks, boom, TAY-0 is shut down and shoved in a locker until the next race. So what’s the play here? Why bring me out if I’m not useful?”

“I…” Tech blinked. "I was unaware of this arrangement. Did you not have a choice in the matter?"

"Hah, a droid with a choice? Cute, human, real cute. Droids get powered up to make credits for the meatbags, that's just how it is."

"It isn't like this everywhere. Certainly not here."

Again TAY-0 was quiet, tilting his face plate down as though deep in thought. "Okay…so…you still haven't answered my question, human."

"It's not a complicated reason." Tech said. “It bothered me that you were destroyed. I wanted to restore you.”

After a moment, Tech added. “You also call me ‘human’, and I find it fascinating.”

“Okay, wow…well, if calling someone by their species is all the criteria I need for a friendship I’d be much more popular.”

Tech hadn’t mentioned friendship. This was simply a gesture of good will. Nothing more. Probably.

“I am a clone of a human," Tech clarified. "and what’s more, I am a variant clone, an experimental project. As such I grew up being called all manner of things, but never 'human'. My brothers and I have owned the moniker ‘bad batch’, but I do not believe I am ‘bad’. In fact, I feel far superior to regs…regular clones and humans.”

"Huh…"

Tech waited for a snarky reply, mocking him for just the simple pleasure of being considered human.

Surprisingly, all three of TAY-0's eyes dimmed briefly, with some sort of emotion Tech couldn't immediately decipher. 

“TAY-0 knows how lonely it is at the top. It's hard being this good-looking and talented, y’know? Well you probably don’t know, but trust me. Everyone is jealous of me on Safa Toma.”

Tech’s eye twitched. “I see…”

“Well anyway! So you freed TAY-0 and that’s great news and all, but I have a pretty big existential question here, human: TAY-0 is good at racing, right? And if there’s no racing then what am I good at exactly?”

The question struck Tech like clanker shrapnel to the heart. "As it happens, I have been asking that very same question of myself. I was a soldier, then a mercenary of sorts, now…I have a stable home, and no mission. The future is uncertain and it bothers me greatly."

"Same boat, huh? Well, human, you're in luck, because I have an exceptional mind and you're pretty smart, too. We're going to come up with new purposes. Between the two of us we can figure it out, yeah?"

Tech smiled faintly. "Perhaps we can."

“Sooo, where did you bring me, human? Where are TAY-0’s new stomping grounds, assuming you’re going to give me some stomping feet?"

“You may receive treads, but we’ll deal with that later,” Tech said. Holding TAY-0’s head-frame firmly, he went to the cockpit, bringing up a holomap to accompany the rather spectacular view. 

To the East was an uninterrupted landscape of calm ocean, the sapphire waters wearing the golden sunlight like a shimmering cape. 

To the West was home.

“This…is Pabu.”

The single mountainous island was a quiet sentinel in the dreamy sea, rich in natural history, peaceful at times, violent in others. The domestic structures built all over the island seemed to add to the beauty, not tame it, as if the island itself granted permission to let these villagers thrive.

TAY-0 gasped. “Wow…”

Tech’s smile widened, with an unexpected sense of pride.

“...this place is cuuuuuute.”

Tech’s lips thinned. 

“And by cute, I mean tiiiiiny. Did you find this place at the bottom of a mantell mix box? Where are we going to live? In conch shells? Like hermit crabs?! Ahahahaha.”

Tech turned TAY-0’s head frame sharply toward him, cupping the face plate so he couldn’t move, forcing TAY-0 to look directly at Tech in his goggled eyes. 

“When we leave this ship, you are going to behave yourself. You will be gracious. You will be respectful. This island is a safe haven and a carefully guarded secret. Kindness to these very generous people will go a long way if you are to make any friends here.”

“Friends?” TAY-0 asked. He looked…hurt. “But, TAY-0 thought we were friends.”

Another mention of friendship…

…Tech waited for the punchline. 

There wasn’t one. 

TAY-0 looked quietly at Tech as if waiting for a response.

Tech hesitated.“You…don't even know my name,” Tech reasoned.

“Sure I do, human.”

“...it isn’t-”

“It’s not human,” TAY-0 said, quickly. “I know that!”

Tech tilted his head.

“Ah ha, trick question,” TAY-0 ventured. “You don’t have a name.”

“This is not how a friendship starts,” Tech said, not knowing the first thing about cultivating an actual friendship. Though he imagined an exchange of names would be included. “My name is Tec-”

“Tech!" TAY-0 took over. "Your name is Tech. Uh yeah, of course it is, how could TAY-0 forget a name like that. It’s so…” 

Tech frowned.

“...short.”

“Brevity is the spice of life."

“Uh huh, yeah, That's not something TAY-0 will crosstitch on a pillow anytime soon. TAY-0 doesn't do brevity.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, Tech, you’re in luck because it just so happens there's a vacancy for TAY-0’s best friend. You’re it! Congratulations!”

Tech considered this, pressing the edge of his finger to his chin in thought. “I’ve…never had a friend that has elevated me to a ‘best’ status before.”

“Oh yeah? How many friends you got?”

“Apart from my siblings?”

“That…sounds like the number's zero.”

“Correct. It is zero. And how many friends do you-”

“Hey, hey, we’re not talking about TAY-0 here.”

Tech didn't push the issue. 

They were a pair of friendless entities, brilliant and unappreciated though Tech had far more humility regarding how superior he was to others. Naturally.

“Are you ready to go outside?” 

“Wait! One more thing,” TAY-0 said.

Tech held TAY-0 up to his face again. “What is it?”

TAY-0’s eyes flickered, and while the blinking facial expressions were unknowable to Tech, he had the impression that TAY-0 was growing emotional again.

“I’m glad it was you who brought me back, human. Tech. You're my favorite meatbag.”

"Full of sunshine and confetti?"

TAY-0's eyes flashed with apparent mirth.

"Exaaaaactly!" 

Tech snorted a laugh.

And with that, Tech punched the button for the ramp, relieved to find the crowd had indeed dispersed. 

Tech took TAY-0 to the beach where only Crosshair sat, boots beside him as he hid his feet in the sand, watching Egg soar around his new home. 

“This is an ideal stretch for Riot Racing,” TAY-0 said, eyes glowing, face plate spinning enthusiastically.

“As I said before, there is no racing here.”

‘Well, we’ll just have to change that. This island is in dire need of a little TAY-0 style.” 

"This is a peaceful island, TAY-0.”

"Ugh, fine. We’ll have Quiet Racing. Quiet Riot Racing! Hey that could be your name, Texx: The Quiet Riot Racer!"

“It's Tech, and we’ll see.” 

It wasn't a bad nickname. The announcer at the Safa Toma Riot Race seemed disappointed with announcing the winner as just "Tech".

"Or you can continue being the Spectacled Spectator! Your brother loved it.”

“Technically, you’re the one spectating, as that's all you can do currently.”

“Oh haha, you're hilaaaarious, y'know that, bestie?"

"Let's start with 'friend', first," Tech said, sitting on a bench just behind the beach line. He set TAY-0's head beside him so he could also enjoy the view. 

In the distance, Crosshair and Egg tossed a piece of shiny shell back and forth.

"We can revisit our status when you remember my name." Tech decided.

"I haven't forgotten it, human…it's…Ted."

"Tech."

"That's what I said!"

Tech's laugh came out loud and unexpected, a short burst of mirth that was unfamiliar to his own ears. These days mild amusement was most he could conjure as it had been a hard year. A harder several years actually since the Empire took over.

And even before then…when had he felt comfortable enough to laugh?

The sound carried to Crosshair and Egg who both whipped their heads back in equal startlement.

"What's that about?" TAY-0 challenged. "Ol' toothpick over there never heard a human laugh before?"

"Not this…human." Tech felt something loosen in his chest, like an overtightened gear cog finally shaking off the rust of fear and worry and instability. 

He took a deep breath of the salty, fresh air.

He felt very human. 

"Tech…" TAY-0 said, his gaze fixed to the ocean. "Thanks. I mean it. You didn't have to bring me back and you did. TAY-0 doesn't forget kindness like this."

Most likely because few have shown TAY-0 kindness at all, but Tech kept this observation to himself.

He put a hand on TAY-0's head frame as the sun meandered its way towards the horizon. 

"You're welcome, my friend."

***

If you enjoyed my writing, please consider checking out my queer sci-fi murder mystery novel “Error: Detective Not Found (A Cake Pop Noir)”. You can also find more info on it and my original works on my main tumblr account @blueberryhelper

***

My Taglist is currently one person, but thank you for being on it @motte-the-goblin :3

#tbb #tbb tech #tbb Crosshair #tbb tay-0 #tay-0 #badbatch #badbatch tech #badbatch Crosshair #tbb egg #egg the crow #was anyone else as upset as I was when TAY-0 exploded #fixit fic no one asked for #i love him youre honor #an excuse to give egg his own toothpick #Bad Batch

[i-gwarth]

There's whisperings on the online winds of a Dishonored 3. Gonna be honest - the existence of such a title is artificial, synthetic. The story arc of Dishonored was wrapped very neatly, with a bow and a Morleyan rose, in DOTO. It's fairly evident that creatively, they didn't plan for a third one with that ending.

What they may have been planning for is Deathloop. Twisting the dark fantasy of the setting into scifi, while simultaneously making it more light hearted and funny. It was a good turn. It refreshed the series and didn't let it stagnate. Deathloop didn't need to be a DOTO sequel, didn't need to be set in the same world. The fact that it did is nothing but a fun little easter egg.

What would Dishonored 3 even be about? Well... I have some ideas.

Deathloop carries some hints that in the century since DOTO, something big went down in the Isles. It's all but confirmed that a massive war was fought. The evidence of industrialized militarism on a scale previously unseen in the setting is littered all over Blackreef. So far we'd seen city guards and patrol ships in the Dishonored games, with vague whispers of an army and a Navy. Blackreef has tanks, planes, more munitions stockpiles than you can shake a stick at and... as of the Goldenloop Update... "Fissile Arms"? As in nuclear fucking weapons? This points to a massive amount of escalation in armament within 100 years (consistent with real life, let's face it). It's not confirmed but it's also suggested that the Empire disbanded. The two, I believe, are connected. The red yarn that links the Empire with War also ties into Tyvia.

Tyvia, the problem child of the Empire. Remote, rich, all but self-governing. A committee of "elected representatives" (read: stalinist-style apparatchiks) led by 3 judges control every aspect of life, ever since the old Princes were overthrown. One of the first notes we find in Dishonored 2 is a demand for more Tyvian independence in the form of trade inspections.

A destabilizing, looming conflict in the Isles, with Tyvia agitating for more autonomy or even complete control of its neighbors, is my bet for the background setting of a third installment. The Judges are known to dispose of lackeys they have no further use for; they did it to Zhukov. So, in keeping with the title of the series and the necessity for the protagonist to be "fallen from grace", perhaps the third Dishonored game will have us playing as a Hero of Tyvia, working to foment or prevent a catastrophic war with the other isles.

Keep the dark tone of the previous Dishonored games but use a more scifi aesthetic for the magic powers. Pursue further the trend of the games paralleling the advent of political modernity, with the monarchy of the Empire being under threat from a populist dictatorship with revolutionary rhetoric. After all, like I told my mother - revolutions don't bring out the best in people. And such a historical junction point would be an excellent framing for a story where, once again, your bodycount directs the course of events.

It could work

#or it could be something completely fucking different #set it before the Great Burning and have us play as the baby Outsider for all I care #I'm gonna play it anyway #dishonored #deathloop #gaming sauron

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Ten

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: as usual, mentions of torture, trauma, ptsd, Poe is an idiot but we love him.

Word Count: 3527

Series Master List

Chapter Nine

Poe’s meeting with the General took hours. She asked him about every detail of what happened. What did their base look like? Was it old looking? Had they been there a while? Did they build it or just find it? You apparently left out a lot of details of what happened to you and Leia wants him to fill in the blanks. She needs to know that you’re okay if she should ever need to send you on a mission again. 

Poe has had plenty of practice shoving his emotions into a box where they’ll never see the light of day. Those unpleasant things he sees stay locked away. It’s harder this time because of you, but he can do it. Also because of you. 

He glances at the clock, sighing internally when he realizes it’s past dinner time. You probably haven’t eaten, so focused on your work. He’s gonna have to do something about that. 

“Alright, Commander Dameron.” Leia says finally. She sounds exhausted. “You’re free to go. We’ll pick it up again tomorrow.”

“Get some rest, General.” He says gently before leaving her office. He rounds the corner in the hallway, headed for your lab, only to run into Snap.

“Poe.” He rushes, pulling him to a stop. 

“Hey, man. You get your ship fixed?” He asks curiously. 

“Yeah. Had to have Y/N help me.” He scratches at the back of his head. 

“Is she still in her lab? I bet she didn’t eat.” Poe turns to keep walking. 

“She’s not there.” Snap blurts abruptly. 

“Okay?” Poe frowns. “Is she in the mess hall?”

“There was an… incident… outside her lab today. A bunch of greenhorns were moving munitions and some crates tipped over. Blasters misfired.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Connix came in to tell Leia.” Poe nods. 

“It happened right outside her lab.” Snap says with a sigh. “She was pretty shaken up so I gave her a sedative and left her asleep in her room. She wanted me to tell you so that you wouldn’t think she just forgot about you.” He says. 

Poe’s blood runs cold. “Is she okay?” 

“Yeah-no injuries or anything. But she said something about feeling like someone was behind her, stalking her. She didn’t look like she was going to calm down any time soon.” He says apologetically. 

“It’s okay. She’s been having that feeling lately. I think it’s just because of what happened.” Poe says, rubbing a hand over his face. “She was okay when you left her?”

“I waited until she fell asleep.” Snap nods. 

“Thanks, man.” Poe says, feeling his heart sink a little. He was really looking forward to seeing you. 

“Hey, I know what she means to you. Why do you think I like her so much? She’s just about the only one that can keep your dumb ass in line.” He says with a grin and Poe has to laugh. 

“True. I’ll see you later.” He says, heading for the dorms instead. He wants to check on you, to see you with his own eyes. He guesses this answers Leia’s question, at any rate. You’re gonna need more time. It took him a long time to learn not to freeze, either. 

He turns down your hallway and freezes as Bryce enters your room. He looks disheveled, hair a mess. His stomach turns and he wants to just go yank him out of there. He doesn’t fucking deserve you. Not that Poe does, either. But at least he doesn’t treat you like you’re something to be owned. 

He turns and stalks towards the hangar, needing to be working on something other than his rage.

***

Hours have gone by, alone-just the two of you. Strapped to those tables. Poe doesn’t speak. Maybe he thinks they’re listening, so he doesn’t want to give them anything to use? Or maybe he’s still pissed at you for kissing him in the river and getting you caught. You think back to your joke earlier about him wishing he had a more competent partner. He probably wishes that more than anything right now. 

So, you’re left with your thoughts, your guilt, your pain. Until a trooper with a red shoulder pauldron comes in, looking between the two of you. He’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time before he turns to his two subordinates. 

“Take her to the other room. I’d like to ask her questions in private.” He says. 

“No!” Poe growls, struggling against his binds. “You bastards!” He shouts. 

“Let him listen. I want him to hear her give up everything.” The trooper says, leaving the room. You struggle as they release you, but you’re still weak and in pain, so you don’t get far. They drag you out into the hallway and into a room a couple doors down. There, you’re strapped flat onto a table, head clamped in a vise so you can’t move one inch. 

“All you have to do is tell me where your base is. And then you don’t have to feel any more pain.” He says, bracing a hand against your shoulder and across your stomach to lean over you. “We can avoid all of this right now.” He tries. You spit in his helmeted face. 

“Fuck off.” You say quietly. He grabs your throat and squeezes until he’s cutting off your air completely. You begin to panic, trying to suck in air, but he has your windpipe choked off. 

“I tried to do this nicely. But now I get to have some fun.” He growls, releasing your neck violently. You cough, sucking down air. “You know,” he starts thoughtfully, “I heard once that Rebellion scum hide trackers in their bodies so that their rat friends can always find them.” He says. “What do you say? Let’s open her up, see if we can find out if the rumors are true?” 

One of the others picks up a blade, the edge is jagged. The other one pulls your shirt up, exposing your torso to them. The one with the blade presses it to your stomach. You can feel the pinch of it, turning white hot, blinding, then cold. It drags through your flesh, you only hold out for barely a few seconds before you start to scream in pain. The sound rips from your throat and you try to thrash him off, but you can’t move. 

He makes a long, deep gash, and then he sticks his gloved fingers inside it. You can feel them moving around inside you, ripping at your muscles as he searches for something they know isn’t there. You sob and scream, running out of air. 

“Nothing.” He says.

“Move on. Next area. Maybe over here.” The leader says and another jagged gash is made, ripping apart your skin. His whole fist is pushed inside this time and your voice breaks as you scream. 

“And here? This seems like a logical place.” Another cut, deeper. And another. Finally- “hmm. We’ll have to look in other places tomorrow. Close her up. Put her back in the room.” He says dismissively. 

You’re nearly blind with pain, great body wracking sobs are tearing through you. And then come the staples. They don’t sew you closed, or glue, or cauterize. They staple you shut. You’ve lost so much blood as they wrap a bandage around you, holding you together until they can take you apart tomorrow. 

They wheel you back in and strap you to the prison table again, no fight from you this time. You’re too weak, you have nothing left to fight with. 

“What did you do to her? What did you do?” Poe screams. 

“Same time tomorrow, then.” The leader says, leaving the room. 

You can hear Poe saying your name, calling you. You flash on a conversation you had a long time ago with him on how to handle the torture, in theory. 

“You just have to find something you’re afraid of more than the pain, I think.” He said, laying with his head in your lap. “I think of all my friends here, back home. The ones still fighting for the soul of all the galaxies. If they die because I fail, because I can’t handle a little pain? That’s something I can’t live with. The pain ends, one way or another. The pain ends. They can still fight because I was strong enough.” 

You just have to find that one thing you’re afraid of more. Letting Poe down, betraying that confidence he has in you. Even if you die in here, you won’t do it knowing you’ve betrayed him and everything he’s fought so hard for. 

“I’m okay.” You tell him, dropping your head back. “I’m okay.”

You bolt upright, pain flaring through your torso, hitting your head on something hard. 

“Fuck! Babe!” Bryce groans, rolling over. You cover your mouth, stifling a cry. “That fucking hurt.” He complains. You twist your head away, unable to speak just yet. Your shoulders shake as you try desperately to get your crying under control. “Oh.” He says simply. “Come here.” He pulls you back against his chest, holding you. But it’s not a comfort. It’s restrictive, controlling. “Let me help you.” He murmurs, his hand sliding down your arm. It ghosts over your hip and starts to head between your thighs. 

“N-no!” You push his hand away. You don’t want this, not right now. You’re fucking crying and he thinks this is the solution?

“It’ll help you relax.” He insists. 

“Stop, Bryce.” You grab his wrist and try to pull his hand away.

“You know, you’re being so fucking selfish. You’re not the only one who suffered for the last three weeks.” He grumbles. “I’m trying to help you. Cumming will make you relax.” He says, fighting against your hand to keep his own where he wants it. 

“Maybe, if you actually knew how to make me cum!” You fire back, not even registering what you said at first. He stops then, just for a second before he pushes you off the bed and climbs out, himself. 

“Fuck you. I was only trying to help. You’ve been back for almost a week and we haven’t once had sex. I haven’t pressured you or anything.” He pulls on his pants. 

“I was unconscious for three days, you asshole!” You shout, reaching for your own pants. 

“Yeah? And whose fucking fault was that? Huh? Yours.” 

You grab your shoe and throw it at his head. “Get the fuck out!” You scream, voice breaking. 

He ducks and grabs your shoe, throwing it back even harder and pegging you in the stomach with it. “Gladly! Crazy bitch.” He retorts, opening your door and leaving. You double over, gasping for air. Pain echoes through your body, reverberating from your stitches. You can’t breathe, this room is too small, everything is too close. You grab your favorite hoodie, and your blanket, making your way out to the tower. 

You can’t stop crying, your eyes are raw as you climb the ladder. It’s empty, which is good-but also disappointing. You could use Poe right now. But you don’t wanna have to explain why you can’t stop crying. He never found out what they did to you in that room, you never told him. And you don’t want him to find out like this. And then Bryce. You don’t want him to go after Bryce, you couldn’t stand it if Poe got hurt again because of you. 

You’ve already done more than enough damage to both of them. And maybe Bryce is right, you are being selfish. 

You sit on the floor of the tower, knees tucked up to your chest, pressing into your eyeballs to soak up the tears as they fall. Your ribs hurt from sobbing so hard, your throat is scratchy and raw. 

Maybe you deserve all this pain. 

The hatch door opens and a head pokes through. “Y/N?” Poe’s voice reaches your ears and you hunch over tighter, a whole new and different kind of pain taking over. “Sweetheart?” He pauses. “If you don’t want me here, I can go.” He offers. 

You hold out your hand, begging him silently to take it. You don’t want him to leave. You are selfish. His hand slips into yours and he climbs the rest of the way up. He sits next to you and pulls you close to him. When you don’t relax into his arms, he shifts you onto his lap, bracing his feet against the floor to cradle you on his legs. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks softly and you shake your head, keeping your face covered. “Okay. As long as you’re not mad at me.” He says softly, stroking your hair. Another round of sobs starts and he holds you close. His mouth presses against the crown of your head and he starts to hum softly. His voice breaks in places when it goes too soft, or too low, it’s rough, scratchy, but you love it. 

He never shifts, never complains that you’ve made his legs fall asleep. He just holds you until you stop crying, just letting you get it all out. Eventually, you stop. The crying fades to quiet sniffles, and you go to move out of his lap, but he holds you tighter. 

“Your l-legs.” You croak, and he shifts you so you’re facing his chest instead, legs on either side of his hips. 

“I’m fine. Just stay with me.” He mumbles, pulling your hair back from your face. That sets you sniffling again and he chuckles. “Sad girl. I’m sorry I wasn’t there earlier.” He says, tilting his face into your neck. 

You groan. “Of course, Snap told you.” 

“You asked him to.” He says, wrapping his arms around you. “Is that what you’re crying about?” He whispers. 

“Not… not completely.” You mumble, squeezing your arms around your torso. 

“I’m ready to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.” He promises. “Until then, we can just sit here.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, the closest part he can reach and you whine, reluctant to start crying again, but he’s just tugging at those strings. 

“Were you mad at me? For not being there when you got out of your meeting?” You ask, for a distraction. 

“No, sweetheart. Snap was right there. Told me everything. I actually was going to come see you, make sure you were okay.” He says, trailing off. 

You remember who you woke up next to and your distraction hasn’t worked out so well. “You saw B-Bryce come into my room?” You guess, voice wavering. 

“He beat me there by mere seconds.” He sighs. 

“Wish it had been you.” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Did you two fight?” He asks, his hands rubbing gently on your back. 

“Sort of. It’s a long-“ you cut off. Why are you defending Bryce? He hasn’t done anything lately but pick fights with you, be insensitive, uncaring, rude, and downright violent with you. He doesn’t deserve your good graces. 

But Poe. He’s going to be mad. You don’t want him to get hurt, but should he know? 

“I’ve got all the time in the world, cariño.” He whispers. 

You should tell him. It’s eating you alive to keep this inside, already you want to start crying again. “I had a nightmare, about… a-about the planet, and when I woke up, Bryce was there. And he,” you sigh, the words sticking in your throat. Why does admitting them make you feel so weak? “He got mad because I accidentally hit him.” Poe chuckles at that. “And then he tried to start sex, saying it would calm me down and I didn’t want it. Then he called me selfish for withholding it from him. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was suffering for the last three weeks. And it’s been almost a whole week since I’ve been back and I haven’t given it up for him yet.” You say, your anger rushing back to you. “I threw my shoe at his head.” You say. 

“Did it hit him?” Poe asks. His voice is dangerously quiet. 

“No, he caught it and threw it back. It hit my… my stomach.” You say, changing your words at the last minute. He still doesn’t know about all your stitches. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, his hands coming to a standstill on your back. 

“No. I’m mad. And everything hurts. And I’m so tired.” 

“Wanna come back to my room? We can sleep on my bed. Nice and comfy.” He offers. 

“You’re not comfortable there.” You remind him. 

“That’s because I’m alone. If you were there, I think I would be.” 

“Poe,” you lean back a little and he cups your face. There are so many emotions crossing his face. Worry, stress, anger, but most predominantly, affection. “Okay. We can try.” You nod. 

“Whenever you’re ready.” He says softly.  

“I’m getting up.” You mumble and he grins, watching you not move at all. 

“Doing so good.” 

You sigh and brace your hands against his shoulders, pushing yourself up. “I hope your bed is really comfortable.” You say, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. 

“You’ll be comfortable.” He assures you. He heads down the ladder first, checking to make sure the coast is clear. Not that anyone is awake at three in the morning anyway. 

You climb down and follow him towards the dorms. “Go ahead to my room. I’ll be right there, okay?” He says and you frown. 

“But,” 

He kisses you softly. “I’m just gonna grab something. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Alright. Just… please don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He nudges you and you traipse towards his quarters, letting your thoughts drift towards what he could be getting. Your imagination must be too tired to think of anything good, because all you can come up with is a toothbrush. 

Maker, you’re exhausted. You haven’t slept right in over a month. Plagued by nightmares, torture, both on an endless loop. Your eyes itch to slide shut, your body craving that sweet release of letting go. But your mind can’t seem to get the message. Any time you have a free moment to yourself, it wants to dredge up those worst memories, making it impossible to relax. 

You find the button for Poe’s door and release it, stepping inside. The room is… a mess. Clothes, his helmet, flight suit, papers-everything tossed around in a sort of organized mess. You can see, from the way it landed, where it originated from. His papers had been on his desk, clothes on his dresser, helmet most likely on his bed. It was like he threw everything in a fit of rage or something. 

Not that you didn’t understand that sentiment completely. There have been a few moments with Bryce where you’ve wanted to do something similar. Not having anything else to do while you wait, you carefully pick up and fold his clothes, setting them back on the dresser. His papers, you pile neatly on his desk. His heavy helmet, you set on top of his papers as the door hisses open. 

Poe enters with a duffel bag over his shoulder and two cups in his hands. “Oh, I forgot about the mess.” He says, his ears twinging in embarrassment. 

“Does it help?” You ask, taking the hot cups so he can set the bag down. 

“Does what help?” He asks, unzipping it on the bed. 

“Throwing things, when you get pissed, does it help?” You ask.

He thinks about it for a long minute. “No. Not really.”

“Does pushing people away help?” 

“No. It just makes you alone.” He shakes his head.

You give a little sigh. “What did you get?” You ask, peering over his shoulder. 

“Your pillow and an extra blanket.” He says, spreading them out on the bed. He climbs under the covers, getting himself in position and then gestures for you to join him. 

The pillow taunts you, mocking your lack of ability to sleep. Poe’s warm smile is patient. You feel like he could never be mad at you when he looks at you like that. 

“I’ll keep you safe.” He promises, lifting the covers for you. Reluctantly, you climb under and shift, laying your head on his chest. 

“If I wake up from a nightmare, you might get hurt.” You whisper, head lifting gently with every breath he takes. 

“I can handle it.” He says softly, stroking your hair and down your back. 

Words bubble up to your lips, safe in the darkness like this. But you can’t say them, you don’t deserve to say them. Poe deserves better than you, what you’ve done, what’s been done to you. He deserves to find someone unbroken, undamaged. 

You twist your face into his chest to stifle the tears. He holds you tight, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” He says softly. 

It takes you a lot longer than you’d like to admit to get yourself under control, but eventually you fall into an uneasy sleep. 

Chapter Eleven

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[usafphantom2]

Horror Of ‘Firestorm’ Introduced By Europe’s Deadliest Bombing Raid 80 Years Ago

Operation Gomorrah, a combined British and U.S. raid on the port city of Hamburg left unimaginable destruction and a problematic legacy.

Thomas NewdickPUBLISHED Jul 27, 2023 5:37 PM EDT

Lancaster bomber over the German city of Hamburg

Photo by SSPL/Getty Images

Britain’s King Charles recently visited the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight at RAF Coningsby, Lincolnshire, in eastern England, to pay tribute to the veterans of Bomber Command, who took the air offensive to the heart of Nazi Germany during World War II. The focal point of his visit was the 80th anniversary of the legendary Dambusters raid in May 1943. This daring — and very costly — raid, which has near-iconic status in the United Kingdom, is very much how the country likes to remember Bomber Command’s contribution to victory over Hitler’s Germany. The Dambusters’ targets were dams in the industrialized Ruhr region, their aim to diminish Germany’s ability to produce armaments.

Less well-remembered is another raid, or series of raids, which took place two months later, in July 1943, 80 years ago this week. This was Operation Gomorrah, and it brought destruction on a terrifying scale to the port city of Hamburg in northern Germany.

A well-known photo showing an RAF Bomber Command Avro Lancaster during an earlier attack on Hamburg, on the night of January 30/31, 1943. The bomber is silhouetted against flares, smoke, and explosions. This raid was the first time that H2S radar had been used by the Pathfinder aircraft to navigate the force to the target. Crown Copyright

While the bombing of Hamburg in July 1943 actually involved six separate raids, including direct cooperation by RAF Bomber Command and the U.S. Army Air Forces’ Eighth Air Force, the raid on the night of July 27-28 was the most devastating. It killed around 20,000 in a single night. By comparison, the most lethal night of the German Luftwaffe’s Blitz offensive against London in 1940-41 killed around 1,400 people. No other single Allied air attack in the European Theater of Operations during World War II would come close.

Operation Gomorrah — its name grimly appropriate, for the biblical city destroyed by God with fire and sulfur — represented a change in tactics for Bomber Command and it would also usher in new technical developments, including the use of radar-spoofing chaff countermeasures. Meanwhile, the combination of high-explosive and incendiary bombs, placed accurately over a given residential area, would introduce the world to the terror of the firestorm.

Initially, the RAF had sent its bombers against mainly industrial targets in Germany, hoping to have an impact on the production of weapons as well as hinder other war-critical functions. But at this stage, the ability of aircraft to put their bombs onto such targets with the required accuracy meant much of this was a wasted effort, taking a very heavy toll on aircrews.

The thinking of the British war-planners began to change. Where once an individual munitions factory might have been targeted, for example, the next logical step was to attack also the entire area surrounding such a factory. Finally, the target was extended to the workers that this factory relied upon. This meant launching raids against the sprawling residential areas of the cities where these civilians lived.

Two RAF Bomber Command aircrew, Sergeant J. Dickinson from Canada and Sergeant F. Gilkes from Trinidad, waiting to board their aircraft for a raid on Hamburg in 1943. Photo by Press Agency photographer/Imperial War Museums via Getty Images

A joint decision by the British War Cabinet and the Air Staff in 1942 called for the targeting of “the morale of the enemy civil population — in particular the industrial workers.” The RAF would achieve this by launching massed raids against German cities with populations over 100,000. The aim of the ‘area bombing’ campaign was to kill and make homeless workers, disrupting industrial output while also sapping civilian morale — although this last one is something the Luftwaffe had singularly failed to do when targeting British civilians in 1940-41.

By 1943, Bomber Command had assembled a powerful fleet dominated by modern heavy four-engine bombers — Avro Lancaster, Handley Page Halifax, and Short Stirling — and was ready to put the new strategy into practice.

[t-kiss]

Meet My T-Kiss F/O: John Pope from Falling Skies

The time has finally come to Unleash the Beast that is my literal actual special interest in this man and give y'all some much-needed context for my flailings. I tried to make this a reasonable length, but it's still Pretty Long because I have Many Thoughts, so apologies in advance.

🗺️ Give us an overview of your F/O's canon

After an alien invasion takes out Earth's technology and leaves less than 10% of the population alive, Tom Mason, history professor turned second-in-command of the 2nd Massachusetts Militia Regiment, leads the few who remain in rebellion against the alien overlords.

Falling Skies is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi TV show with cool alien designs, stellar practical effects, strong characters, and a sense of self-righteous patriotism that never fails to drive me nuts. :P Despite its flaws (and the fact that it jumped the shark within two seasons of ending), it still holds a special place in my heart.

❣️ Tell us about your F/O

Pope is an ex-con, gang leader, and gourmet chef who attempted to ransom Tom Mason and his squad for a .50 cal machine gun in S1 E2. Because of his obvious potential, he was given a literal "join or die" ultimatum (which he refused, but they took him prisoner anyway). This began his long and strife-filled career as the 2nd Mass's munitions expert, resident troublemaker, voice of dissent, and narrative foil to Tom, for whom he holds endless outrage but grudging respect.

He's snarky, selfish, crass, and trigger happy, but there's more to him than meets the eye: he has a soft spot for kids (he was a divorced father of two before the war), he genuinely cares about his crew of Berserkers, and he can be achingly tender with his girlfriend Sara (whom we love and support in this house—she's an awesome character and I ship us as an OT3 in some 'verses). Pope may be a loose canon, but the 2nd Mass wouldn't be the same without him. (We don't talk about season 5 unless we're Going Off about it.)

📷 Show us some pics of them/Give us a description of what they look like

Pope is a white man in his 30s with shoulder-length brown hair, blue-hazel eyes, a scrubby beard, and tattoos on his arms and chest. His typical outfit is jeans, a T-shirt, a flannel, a leather jacket, and a few necklaces, including a set of claws from (if I remember correctly) the first Skitter he ever killed.

Below are some screenshots of varying quality, starting with a shot from the scene that first inspired me to start self-shipping with him way back when.

And, as a bonus, He Scrunch.

👀 What drew you to selfship with them?

To be honest, what first drew me to him was that he was a funny, handsome bad boy with roguish charm and a soft belly. What can I say, I'm a simple virl.

But beyond that, I strongly believe that Pope had the potential to become a better person and likely would have if his contributions had been appreciated by the 2nd Mass, especially Tom. I don't deny that he did and said some genuinely shitty things (especially in season one), but he did improve in subtle ways over the course of the series. Growth cannot occur without social and structural support, and I don't think Pope was given enough of either, even before the apocalypse.

In summary, I find him a compelling and attractive character, and shipping with him is my way of giving him the love he needed more of and the chance to grow he deserved but never got.

🤝 Describe your S/I's relationship with them

He's the grizzled trucker and I'm the beanie baby on his dashboard. /j

We're two outsiders who reject the norms and question authority, drawn together by our need to be understood and appreciated. He steadies my anxiety; I give him the freedom to be soft. He gives me the courage to fight; I give him something to fight for. We nurture each other's strengths and shore up each other's weaknesses. We take care of each other, and we fight for the hope of a better world, one where we can finally rest.

I have multiple AUs for us, each more self-indulgent than the last, but the main 'verses I like to work within are canon-verse (my version of the show's events, with several deviations and multiple timelines cuz it's my selfship and I get to explore all the possibilities) and domestic-verse (a "real world" AU in which the invasion never happened and we can just be cute together). Domestic-verse is particularly fun because it allows much more freedom for emotional exploration and kink shenanigans.

I consider Pope my literal actual boyfriend even outside of fictional scenarios, and I always appreciate when we're treated as such. 🤎💙

🔥 Share some kinky headcanons you have for them

Pope isn't necessarily into tummy kink for its own sake, but he loves how flustered it makes me and relishes the attention he gets as a result (particularly the belly rubs, which he genuinely enjoys).

Despite the austerity of our canon-verse situation, he indulges me when he can, whether by chugging a beer while I watch, scraping together enough food for a modest stuffing, or just letting me enjoy his belly. He also plays along in weaving hypothetical kink scenarios during late-night talks where food isn't scarce and we can really go all out. (These scenarios frequently involve lavish home-cooked meals we make together.)

He carries a lot of tension in his tummy. When he eats a lot without being properly relaxed, his stomach muscles gets tight and uncomfortable, and he needs belly rubs to help him loosen up and digest properly.

He gets a kick out of teasing me in public: stretching his arms over his head so his tummy peeks out from under his shirt, guiding my hand to his belly any time it won't be super obvious, making seemingly innocuous comments calculated to make me blush, etc. Most of the Berserkers have picked up on this, since they're around us a lot and we aren't particularly subtle, but only the inner circle of Lyle, Tector, and Crazy Lee knows the full extent; most of them find it oddly endearing, or at the very least just one of the many weird things about our relationship.

🌈 Share some other headcanons you have for them

Pope is autistic and doesn't realize it. (It took me a surprisingly long time to reach this conclusion, but once I did it made A Lot Of Sense.) Below are some specifics:

> He struggles with emotional regulation and chafes against social norms, especially the parts that value tone and appearance over content and character.

> He's largely hyposensitive (meaning he's generally sensory seeking as opposed to sensory avoidant), but his sensory issues get a lot worse when he doesn't have his weight/pressure stims (his jacket and his gun).

> His special interests are cooking, munitions, and mechanics/vehicles (especially cars and motorcycles).

> He gladly surrounds himself with fellow weirdos and outcasts because they're the only ones who value his competence and treat him with any respect.

He's bi-demisexual, but because he enjoys casual sex and finds people aesthetically and sensually attractive regardless of emotional connection, he always assumed he was a typical Red-Blooded Heterosexual Male™ without realizing that he experiences attraction very differently from most people. His sex drive is also a lot lower than he thought it was, but that doesn't become obvious until he gets with me and realizes that, even after the sexual attraction kicks in, he's perfectly content with our cuddles, kink, and nonsexual passion (much to the bewilderment of everyone around us).

In Conclusion: I love my urban cowboy. 💕

—

#submission #t-kiss #meet my t-kiss f/o #belly rubs #bloating #stuffing #tummy appreciation #stomachaches #t-kiss john pope #t-kiss falling skies #t-kiss pope's girl #t-kiss lessthanconventional #sexuality mention

[kryptonitecore]

Reread: All Hail Megatron, Part 2

This series is very variable in terms of art, especially as it gets into later issues and the mini-stories, each of which brings someone new. I don’t loathe the art style for the most part and I don’t love it either. A recurring issue, however, is the way human characters are drawn, with specifically darker skin tones having been put through the wringer, emerging with this sort of dark green tinge? I’m not knowledgeable enough about art or comics production to say why this is happening, but it’s very noticeable. The look of certain characters is also inconsistent - Sarah is another big example, as her facial features, hairstyle, and hair colour change between issues.

Otherwise, the book tends to go into a few moments where it comes across as a bit daft. Admittedly, this adds to the entertainment value, but not necessarily in the way the author might have intended. McCarthy’s books tend to be a bit… cinematic, I suppose, might be the word for it? As in, there will be moments where you can tell the writing and art are working together very hard to try and convince you that something is very, very, and this will either work or trip and fall into funny instead. Sometimes you can imagine where characters are supposed to be moving in slow motion or with epic music blasting and depending on your temperament and mood I think that might just bounce right off you. For sillier moments that work, see Cliffjumper’s ‘show time’ panel, for ones that don’t… I mean, for me that was quite a lot of the book. One of the generals referring to Megatron’s quite basic plan of ‘dump a bunch of soldiers in the middle of a city and cut off easy access routes, so that it’s difficult for the opposing side to reach us or use heavier munitions’ as ‘facing off against a sadistic military genius the likes of which we’ve never seen before’ was… certainly something. I can only assume this man has not met a lot of people.

A saving grace of this series is the directions that it sets a lot of the characters off in. For example, McCarthy seems to have been the one to really kick off the Thundercracker-Earth connection that recurs throughout the rest of the continuity. Although I have some mixed feelings about that whole thing, some of McCarthy’s takes on these characters end up having a lot of influence on later canon. His takes on Ironhide, Mirage, and Sunstreaker all hold on, as does the dynamic amongst a lot of the Decepticons, or between the Autobot teams of the Wreckers and Special Ops. Jazz and Prowl also gets some interesting moments here, but admittedly Prowl’s personality is about to whirl between McCarthy’s version, Costa’s version, and Roche’s version, so that ultimately doesn’t come to much. Interestingly, McCarthy’s Bumblebee is a bit of a dick and he really, conspicuously does not like Drift, bringing up how little he believes in Drift’s change of heart: ‘True to [who we are] - where do you get off saying that? The last thing we want is you being true to what you are?’. Although I complain about posturing, I actually found a fair bit of the Autobot infighting pretty engaging. I’m not a fan of this series’ human side, particularly, but some of the interpersonal drama is interesting and it occasionally produces a nice character moment.

#transformers #rereading! #the grand reread 2023-2024 #all hail megatron

[roseclothes]

Max Mara SS24

Luke Leitch's full review for Vogue:

Formed during World War I and mobilized anew for World War II, the Women’s Land Army recruited up to 80,000 females to farm while Britain’s men took up arms. Along with the women working in munitions factories, as nurses, in auxiliary military service, as air raid wardens, and in many other vital non-combatant roles besides, the so-called Land Girls were a vital part of the war effort. By fortunate necessity they also in part catalyzed the emancipatory precedent for women to take their place in the workforce. The Women’s Land Army proved a fertile source of inspiration for Ian Griffiths at Max Mara this morning. The collection that flourished from it was cultivated rather than rustic—more Phoebe Waller-Bridge channeling Monty Don shot by Sam Mendes at Sissinghurst and less tilling for beetroot—but it contained many authentically researched touches while also working wonderfully as a luxuriously utilitarian woman’s wardrobe for now. Bill Cunningham bleu de travail in various garment-dyed shades of cotton was applied to long Don-style work jackets, backless narrow-cut apron-front pencil dresses, double-kneed narrow-cut work pants, and bellows-pocketed and epauletted shirt-skirts and overalls. The palette pivoted to rosy pinks as Griffths pruned his hemlines high with patch-pocketed hot pants under a tunic and a romper. Gorgeous leather-edged canvas gardening bags and bridle-leather binocular cases were tucked under the arms of high-waisted green blousons and washed cotton wide-lapel varieties of Max Mara’s heritage-specialism coat. A wide-gauge knit jersey in green featured irregular cotton patches on one shoulder and the opposite arm in tribute to the source-era’s make-do-and-mend ethos. A highish-hem fishtail parka over wide-cuffed shirt signaled the switch towards more autumnal shades, and the inevitable harvest of core-to-the-house camel. The hotpants and work jackets we’d seen earlier were iterated as knits, and the camel coat in a generously-volumed satin finished fabric. Jodhpur pants, a parachute-strapped corset and what looked like a Pacific-theater US officer’s tunic rather widened the scope of operations before a series of monochrome chintz looks closed this bountiful Max Mara show. Idealized 1940’s Ipswich by way of Emilia Romagna, this classy collection was clearly close to Griffiths’s gardener’s heart.

[andronetalks]

Video Series by InvestigateJ6 Shows Police and Govt. Agents Spray J6 Crowd with Rubber Bullets, Explosive Munitions, Sound Grenades 

The Gateway Pundit By Jim Hoft November 20, 2023 Four Trump supporters were killed that day, including Benjamin Phillips and Kevin Greeson, who were killed when police started firing munitions on the crowd. The fake news reported the two men had heart attacks – without adding that the men were being bombarded with exploding munitions without warning while they stood in the crowd with tens of…

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#Alternative #Crime #Disclosure #News #Politics

[crazyunsexycool]

Heart's Munition

Chapter 6

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of a stab wound, blood, fluff

A/N: Just some fluff here for you. Steve is slowly realizing he wants reader more than for just one night.

Series Masterlist

Steve didn’t like what he was seeing at all. This place was too small and too cramped. The building itself looked like it was about to fall into pieces around him and should be condemned. How had he not known? 

“That can be thrown out.” Your voice breaks him out of his deep thoughts as he watches you tape up another box. 

His eyes continued to travel around the small one bedroom shoebox you called an apartment and he sighed. You hold out a box for him to take which he does gladly because another box in the truck means he can get you out of this place faster. Fortunately Sam and Bucky are there with him and are making it a lot easier. 

****

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Mrs. Fields says as she walks out of the building with you. “Do you really have to go? You know I don’t mind looking after Eli, he’s like my grandbaby.” 

“I know Mrs. Field and I appreciate everything you’ve done but this place is so much better for him and I can keep a closer eye on him. I’ll even be able to get a tutor for Eli so he doesn’t fall behind on his schoolwork.” 

“Well whatever is best for him. Promise me you’ll come visit.” 

“Absolutely, I could never forget everything you’ve done for us.” You hug Mrs. Field tightly. She has truly been such a great help to you and you will miss her but you have to think about what’s best for Eli. “Call me if you need anything. No matter what.”

“I will. Give Eli hugs and kisses from me.”

“Sure thing, bye Mrs. Fields.” You say as you get in the car. Steve closes the door behind you and moves to the driver’s side. 

“She’s a neighbor?” 

“Yeah and Eli’s sitter. She was a life saver but now I can keep Eli closer which I prefer. I used to feel so guilty by having to leave him when he was sick.” You look over at Steve and smile. “So thank you for everything. It’s not easy for me to accept help.” 

“You? Having trouble accepting help? I would have never guessed.” Sarcasm dripped with every word he said. 

You scoff and roll your eyes while Steve laughs. 

“I’m never accepting anything from you again.” 

“Ok fine I’m sorry.” He chuckles. “Really, I’m glad to be able to help you and the little guy out.” 

“You know, he asked me for a suit so that he can get all dressed up like you.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “I can get him the same exact ones in his size.” 

“No. He’d probably go to sleep with them on or wear them in the shower.” 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. 

“But seriously, Steve, thank you for everything, again. He’s never had a man in his life that could set an example for him. Eli really likes you.”

“I like him too, he’s a good kid, smart too. But what about his ma? Does she like me too?” 

You scrunch up your nose and shrug. “Meh, you’re alright.” You say as your heart skipped a beat with the look he was giving you, it was mischievous but heated. Did he know the effect he was having on you? 

“Just alright?” 

“I can take it back.” 

“Fine, I’ll take it for now. But you’ll change your mind.” 

“Bring it on, Rogers.” You challenge. “Oh wait before we go home can we stop at one store? I want to get a surprise for Eli.” 

“Of course.” Steve says. Although he would take you to the moon if you called his house your home again. It was probably a slip of the tongue but he didn’t care. “Where to?” 

“Put that back and we can pretend like this never happened.” 

“I don’t have to listen to you. I can do whatever I want.” 

“You and I are going to have a problem if you don’t put that back right now.” 

You heard this back and forth once you got out of the car. Eli and Regina’s voice carried from the backyard and you ran at the thought of someone mistreating Eli. Steve was right behind you as you rounded the corner. 

“Take that!” Eli yells as he swings his lightsaber, it clashes against the one Regina is holding. “You’ll never defeat me.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

“Get her kid.” Dom cheered from one of the lounge chairs.

There are little grunts and giggles as Eli and Regina battle it out. You take a moment to watch him play and tears start to form. Steve stood beside you and smiled until he looked down at you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sniffle. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him this energized and happy. I’ve missed this.”

“Well wait until he sees the gift you got him.” 

“Ma,” Eli calls out between giggles. “Look at what Reggie taught me.” He says as he takes the lightsaber and throws it in the air before catching it and spinning it around. 

“That’s amazing.”

“I hope it’s ok that he’s out here.” Regina says as she walks up to you. “He was bored out of his mind just sitting in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, it’s ok. Thanks for playing with him for a while Regina.”

“Don’t worry about it and please call me Reggie. Everytime someone calls me Regina I feel like I’m going to get in trouble with my parents.” 

“Well thank you Reggie.” You smile at her. This was still her first week but she has been amazing. She does her job and doesn’t ask too many questions. Now it also seems like Eli likes her. “Hey Eli, come here for a minute.”

Elijah does as you ask and stands in front of you unsure of what is about to happen next.

“I brought you a present.”

“Really?” Eli smiles up at you. “What is it?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

You walk back to Steve’s SUV and he opens the trunk and pulls out the gift.

“You got me a bike? I love it.” He says as he hugs you and then runs to his bike. 

“I got you a helmet too and yes you have to wear it.”

“But I’ll look like a dork.”

“But you’ll be safe kiddo.” Steve says with a chuckle. “Now your mom says you don’t know how to ride a bike, is that true?”

“Yup. Do you know how to ride one?”

“I do.”

“Will you teach me?” Eli looks up at Steve and Steve looks up at you. You smile and nod.

“Of course I can.”

“Boss.” Nat’s voice cuts through the backyard. She was still recovering but that wasn’t going to stop her. “I got a call from Clint.” 

Steve nods and Nat disappears back into the house then he turns his attention to Eli. He lowers himself to Eli’s level but his eyes go to you for a moment. 

“You have to work?” 

“I do bud. But I promise that I’ll teach you how to ride a bike soon, ok?” 

“Ok.” Eli says as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind him. 

“I’ll let you know when I get back and I’ll help you move your things then.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I can handle it.”

Steve just nods as he gets up before heading into his house. 

“Would you like some help moving your things?” Reggie asks.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it.” 

All of Steve’s men had left which meant that whatever Nat spoke to him about was serious. Regina had been so helpful in getting your most important items out of Steve’s SUV and up to both yours and Eli’s room. It was nice to have someone close to your age to talk to. You don’t even remember the last time you had a friend. Regina also respected your privacy which you appreciated even though you could see that she was dying to ask what was going on between you and Steve. A question you wouldn’t be able to answer. He was still flirty but not being pushy, he was spending time with Eli because he genuinely wanted to. Although you didn’t know what Steve got up to when he went to his clubs, he could still be sleeping with women there. So for now you just accepted his help because it meant help for Eli and you’d do anything for your son. 

At Steve’s insistence you took two of the rooms on the 3rd floor. His reasoning was that he wanted to be close in case anything happened with Eli. You were stubborn but he won this round. So now in the late evening you were walking out of Eli’s room after making sure he was ok for what felt like the 100th time when there was an argument down on the main floor. From the landing on the 3rd floor you were able to look down to watch as Clint and Scott dragged a man through the living room while Steve, Nat, Bucky and Sam were in the middle of a heated discussion. From there you could see how Steve was holding his side and you wondered if he was hurt again. As if sensing your eyes on him, Steve looked up and connected his gaze with yours. The angry expression on his face softened when he saw you standing there and he ended the conversation. Everyone went their own direction and Steve headed up to you. 

“What happened?” you asked when you saw the bloodstain on his shirt. 

“Knife wound, no big deal. It’s practically a scratch.”

“It’s not a scratch if you’re bleeding through your shirt. I’ll clean it up.” You stared at him wide eyed and with disbelief.

“You know if you keep cleaning up my wounds I’m going to think that you care.” 

“Don’t get too excited. If you die I have to find work somewhere else and I like working here, plus I already have seniority. The benefits are pretty good too.” You take Steve’s hand and lead him to his room. Steve laughs as he follows you.

“That hurt more than getting stabbed.”

“You’ll live.” You grab the first aid kit. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but I can decline to answer.” 

“Of course. Who was the guy that was brought in?” You ask as you begin to treat the wound.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. He watches as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“This is going to sting.” You say in warning and he hisses.

“You signed an NDA, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” You stopped what you were doing to look up at him. 

“Because I need to know that what I’m going to say won’t leave this room.” 

You scoff, “I trust you, all of you, why can’t you trust me?” 

“You trust me?” Steve asked with a bit of disbelief coloring his words. 

“You think I’d let you anywhere near my son if I didn’t.” 

Steve studied you for a moment trying but failing to find a lie in your statement. 

“He’s the man who shot Peter.”

“And he’s still alive?” There’s a hint of anger in your voice and it takes Steve by surprise.

“Unfortunately he has information we need. He didn’t try to hurt Peter out of his own free will. Someone instructed him to do it and we need to know who.” 

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you finished bandaging him up. 

“So do me a favor. Keep Regina away from the basement, you know the room.” 

He was referring to the soundproof room he had down there for things like this. You’d accidentally stumbled upon it on one of your first days of working there. 

“Of course.”

“Ma?” Elijah’s sleepy voice rang through the hallway.

“I should go.” 

“I do trust you. I just don’t want you involved in this work. The less you know the easier it is for me to keep you safe.”

“Maybe don’t bring work home then.” You give him a mischievous smirk before going to find Elijah. 

Steve couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread on his face. This was the second time you’d refer to his house as your home. He really liked it. Steve was still trying to understand what it was about you that made him so protective over you and Elijah. Steve didn’t really do emotions unless they were lust and anger. But you were softening his edges. Would it be bad if he allowed himself to care for someone that deeply again? 

At the end of the day you weren’t like her. The most selfish thing he’d seen you do was take an extra five minute break. Steve would give you everything and anything that you wanted if you’d let him. 

All he had to do was show you he was willing to do it. 

CH. 7

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#Heart's Munition series #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #mob boss!Steve rogers #mob boss!Steve Rogers x maid!reader #steve rogers x single mom!reader

[gayforbees]

Alternate Future History

A worst case scenario written with the aid of ChatGPT

In the annals of history, a tumultuous chapter unfolded during the early years of the 21st century—a period that would forever alter the course of nations and shape the destiny of humanity. It was a time when the Donbas region, in the east of Ukraine, became a battleground, igniting a conflict that embroiled global powers and unleashed a series of events with dire consequences.

It was February 24th, 2022 when tensions between Russia and Ukraine reached a crescendo. In a bid to reclaim what it perceived as its sphere of influence, Russia launched a direct assault on the Donbas region, marking the beginning of a brutal war. Ukraine, bolstered by military aid from NATO, valiantly defended its sovereignty, pushing back against the Russian incursion.

For many months, the war raged on, each side locked in a desperate struggle for dominance. As the conflict wore on, the scales of fortune began to tip against Russia. Significant territorial losses compounded the mounting frustration within Russian ranks, driving them to make more desperate efforts and begin using unconventional tactics. In late 2023, in a bid to stamp out popular western support for the war, Russia launched a large-scale cyber attack across much of Europe, crippling transportation infrastructure and leading to over a trillion dollars in economic losses. In a few months, however, it became clear that this only bolstered western support for Ukraine.

By early 2024, the complete erosion of Russia's war effort became increasingly apparent. The Russian forces were not only grappling with significant territorial losses but were also confronted with a dwindling pool of competent soldiers and military leadership. The strains on the supply lines were equally severe, with shortages of crucial resources ranging from armor and aircraft to artillery and munitions. On top of the faltering effort to hold annexed territory, Russia began suffering more frequent strikes within their borders by an emboldened Ukraine.

In the face of such dire circumstances, desperation took hold within the Russian ranks. The urgent need to reverse the tide of the war and the lack of conventional options prompted a momentous decision—to deploy the last and most powerful measure of force they possessed: a nuclear warhead. This audacious act aimed to showcase their unwavering resolve and serve as a chilling warning to both Ukraine and NATO.

On the fateful day of March 10, 2024, the skies above the majestic city of Kyiv became a canvas for devastation and despair. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the ancient streets, the world held its breath, unaware of the cataclysmic events about to unfold. In a blinding flash of light, a nuclear warhead detonated in a calculated airburst over the heart of Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine. The shockwave rippled through the city, obliterating everything in its path, reducing buildings to rubble and scattering debris like haunting confetti. The once-vibrant streets and bustling neighborhoods were transformed into a desolate wasteland, shrouded in a toxic cloud of destruction. The somber aftermath bore witness to the horrors of that fateful day, etching indelible scars upon the collective memory of a city forever altered by the unfathomable power of nuclear warfare.

Following the detonation of the nuclear weapon, the world recoiled in horror. The shockwaves reverberated across the globe as the international community grappled with the implications of this brazen escalation. A terrified global populace began preparing for the worst. There were widespread shortages of essential goods, and unemployment and crime rates skyrocketed. The fallout from this unprecedented event laid bare the fragility of the global order and compelled world leaders to act swiftly in search of a resolution.

In the aftermath, a treaty was forged, an uneasy compromise that recognized Russia's annexation of the Donbas region. However, the international community imposed conditions and established mechanisms of oversight to safeguard the rights and security of the local population. It was a delicate balance between acknowledging Russia's territorial ambitions and ensuring stability in the face of growing tensions.

Regrettably, the use of a nuclear weapon, even as a deterrent, had profound and far-reaching consequences. The global stage transformed into a theater of fear and suspicion. The delicate equilibrium that had characterized the post-Cold War era gave way to a renewed period of nuclear brinkmanship. 

The following period of escalated tensions stretched across a span of six years. This prolonged escalatory period became a breeding ground for the development of new nuclear devices, advanced defense systems, and strategic doctrines aimed at countering potential threats. Each armed nation, acutely aware of the fragility of the global order, embarked on an unprecedented race to stockpile weapons to levels never before witnessed in human history. 

As the arms race unfolded, the world stood on the precipice of catastrophe, caught in a delicate balance between the pursuit of security and the ever-present threat of annihilation. In the face of escalating tensions and the proliferation of nuclear weapons, diplomatic efforts to de-escalate and find common ground struggled to gain traction, hampered by deep-rooted mistrust and the weight of historical grievances.

And then, in a fateful moment, the unthinkable became reality. On May 5, 2030, a large-scale exchange of nuclear weapons erupted between NATO and Russia, for reasons that remain unclear to this day. It is believed that a Russian AI-assisted launch detection system malfunctioned, triggering an automatic response. Missile silos were opened, strategic targets locked in, and the machinery of destruction set in motion. The cataclysmic consequences of this catastrophic exchange reverberated across the globe, leaving in its wake a desolate landscape of ruins and despair.

Cities reduced to smoldering ashes, once-prosperous nations rendered uninhabitable, and the fabric of civilization torn asunder—the toll exacted by the devastation was immeasurable. The loss of life, the irreversible damage inflicted upon the Earth, and the unraveling of the bonds that had held humanity together stood as stark reminders of the consequences of unchecked aggression and the terrifying power of nuclear weapons.

[greysdownloads]

Borderlands 2 psycho pack for ps vita

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Moxxi is all boobs and big hat, Tiny Tina’s eyes pop with crazy schemes as she yells at you at the citizens of Sanctuary are on every street corner. The cel-shaded graphics mean that this wasn’t trimming down versions of photorealistic models and in general, the character designs are still brilliant. Thanks to Gearbox’s artistic choices when designing the game, a lot of the inherent style of Borderlands has held up in the move to Vita.

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This is an ambitious port that nails certain things, but a series of technical shortcomings really let things down. Much has been said already about Borderlands 2 on Vita and I’m going to echo a lot of that here. The fact it all takes place on Pandora which is filled with life and personality in every zone you visit through its environmental design is just icing on the cake for the story package. It really makes you root for the Crimson Raiders. He’s charismatic yet completely psychotic, often contacting you by your ECHO systems to tell tales of how he killed people in cold blood and that you’re next. There’s tonnes of exciting events to keep you pushing forward without ever losing interest twists in the narrative and Jack himself is an incredible bad guy. Even the missions are constantly hilarious, a particular favourite being fighting an AI who constantly begs you to upload him somewhere else after you best him in combat, where he inevitably tries to kill you again (eventually he settles into a life of being a noisy shotgun).Īt the heart of it all though is the story of the Crimson Raiders trying to stop Handsome Jack and it’s here the game truly succeeds. It won’t be for everyone, but I found myself constantly chuckling at one wheeled robot Claptrap’s remarks (“This party is worse than stairs”) and his driving round Sanctuary blasting out dubstep. You might have guessed from the paragraphs about but Borderlands has a killer sense of humour too. You’ll then meet her sister in Sanctuary and have a chance to hear her side of the ‘conflict’ – everyone has a backstory and it’s fun to unravel it all. Lilith might send you to meet Ellie, a large mechanic, in the desert and when you’re there she’ll tell you that she left Sanctuary as her sister Moxxi kept encouraging her to lose weight so she could work as a waitress in Moxxi’s bar. What I liked most here is that there’s an interplay between the NPCs that I rarely see in games. Even shop vendors are bursting with personality, like Marcus the munitions guy exclaiming “Don’t die… I need your business” after every purchase. There’s Tiny Tina, an excitable teenage explosives expert, Sir Hammerlock, a posh big game hunter and Dr Zed, a surgeon with questionable morals. Thanks to the legions of loot crazy psychopaths that have come to infiltrate Pandora’s Vaults, the majority of residents are more than just a little mad and Borderlands revels in this by introducing all sorts of bonkers characters into the mix. Introducing the cast of the first title as NPC’s here is an inspired move that allows great continuity between the games, but even without this it’s very easy to pick up on the plotting and history here. He’s assisted by Lilith, a Siren (read: magical woman) who defends the city of Sanctuary, Mordecai (a Sniper who brings his pet eagle Bloodwing) and Berserker Brick, now in charge of his own army of psychotic bandits. The leader of this group is Roland, one of the playable characters from the first Borderlands and a no-nonsense soldier. It creates an incredibly interesting scenario – you’re just David fighting the Goliath in a sense – and is assisted by a secondary cast of characters calling themselves the Crimson Raiders whose goal is to stop Jack opening the Vault and unleashing a being called the Warrior.

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See this time around, the Vault Hunters come into conflict with the Hyperion Corporation and its deranged, enigmatic leader Handsome Jack, who wants to open the Vaults for his own gain and has the full resources of a gigantic company at his disposal. Returning you once again to the planet of Pandora, Borderlands 2 casts you as one of four new Vault Hunters (six if you include DLC) aiming to find fame and fortune, who run into an altogether different threat in the process. First-person shooter Open-world Role-playing

#Borderlands 2 psycho pack for ps vita

[benk625-blog]

The Madness of Human Mating Season

[Excerpt from Xanthar’s Guide to Human Cultural Cycles]

Humans observe a peculiar series of observances during their mating season. Some say it starts with the Danse Macbre. This particular author concludes that event is to be too far removed from the actual uptick in human mating to include it at a proper member of the Mating Holidays. Rather the Holiday that begins this period of the annual cycle is The Gorge.

During Gorge humans prepare for the mating season with a feast of significant caloric intake. They venerate the conquerors of the past and humiliate the people who were subjugated with narratives of generosity and mutual respect. The Gorge represents the rapacious appetite humans have for food and the acquisition of territory to produce that food.

Immediately following the Gorge comes the Commercial District Riots. Humans descend on locations of commerce to battle each other over consumer goods. Curiously the violence is directed at fellow consumers and not the merchants as one might suspect. Non-humans learned very quickly to steer clear of markets the day after Gorge.

After the Riots comes the Mating Display Season. Humans adorn their space ships and domiciles with bright colors and twinkling lights to attract mates. Mating calls are broadcast through any means of audio transmission. These songs are only broadcast during this time of year. Common motifs and symbols include: Miraculous Infants, Family Gatherings and precipitation of solid hydrogen-oxide.

The height of Mating Season events is the Day of Mandatory Consumption. This display of surveillance and symbolic munitions delivery strikes fear into the heart of non-humans everywhere. On the day of Mandatory Consumption every living thing wakes up to The Package. Children open these with joyful abandon.

The adults are disquieted. How did the humans know? How did The Package get delivered? The contents are different for every recipient, but one thing is the same. The Package contains one item that was desperately desired by the owner. This broach of personal privacy is terrifyingly accurate. If they know what to give, they know what to take away…

Every government has tried and failed to prevent this massive psychological attack. No amount of shielding can prevent the transport of quintillions of personalized, hand wrapped items from appearing in every residence in the galaxy. If anyone asks a human how this is achieved, they make a smug mocking face and say “magic.”

Woe unto the tyrants who receive the so-called “death rocks”. Upon receiving a lump of solid hydro-carbon, a war-lord’s days are marked. Their people have received independent confirmation that their oppression is seen by the Human Empire and it will be tolerated no further. No regime, not matter how feared has survived the issuance of a death rock. This has led to many end-of-year reforms and releasing of political prisoners as the Human mating season approaches.

The last significant event of this cycle, and of the annual cycle as well, is The Purge. During the Purge humans ingest an astounding number of emetic solvents. The outcome is often successful mating or regurgitation; sometimes both. In the days and weeks following the Purge transmissions of Mating Calls cease. The mate attracting colors and light displays are packed up and stored until next year.

One last note of historical significance are the spontaneous treaties. On Mandatory Consumption Day human soldiers will approach enemy combatants and offer limited cease-fires. When the commanders of all the involved military forces communicate to confirm the legitimacy of this cease fire, human commanders insist that the governments remain at war. These “illegal” cease-fires are almost always expired by the Purge.

[End excerpt]

#humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are aliens #humans are deathworlders

[kaminocasey]

On the Ghost

Summary: You confront Rex on why he hasn't talked to you since that day on the munitions crate.

Pairing: Rebels!Rex x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; SMUT, Shower Sex, Daddy Kink

WC: 1.5K

A/N: SO, this is going to be a part of a series, the first part being On the Crate. I'm such a sucker for Rebels Rex and every time he pops up in an episode of Rebels, my heart flips.

Rexhibitionism Masterlist

The Ghost was quiet as you were in hyperspace, on your way back to base, aside from Ezra and Zeb and Chop all fooling around. Hera, Kanan, and Sabine were in the cockpit and Rex was around here somewhere. He hadn’t said two words to you since that day on the munitions crate two weeks ago… It didn’t make any sense. He had called you his… Why would he suddenly change his mind?

As you make your way to the fresher to get a shower before you get to base, you hear some muffled sounds coming from the fresher. It sounds like Rex… in pain? You raise your fist to knock on the door but hear your name groaned on the other side of the door. Why would he say your name? You open the door slightly and then realize they weren’t painful sounds he was making… They were pleasurable sounds.

You open the door more, slightly angry.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, a little more hostile than you meant to sound.

He looks up at you from the shower, covering himself with his hands while looking surprised and confused. Then, he looks angry.

“What are you doing?” He fires back.

“I heard my name and thought you were in pain. Clearly I was mistaken.” You cross your arms.

“G…get out.” He demands, shakily.

You almost listen to him, he’s never used that tone with you before. But, he doesn’t sound convincing.

“You really want me to leave?” You ask him, eyeing his hands covering himself.

He looks away from you. You can tell he didn’t. You sort of hate that you still want him this bad.

“You ignore me for two weeks after fucking me… after telling me you think about me every night… after telling me I was yours and you were mine… but you can’t even be decent enough to tell me why you won’t talk to me now, out of nowhere?” You ask him.

“I…” He still won’t look at you. “I just realized it was a mistake.”

“A mistake…” You repeat, “and yet you’re moaning my name while getting yourself off in the shower.”

You unbutton your pants, letting them drop to the fresher floor. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he looks conflicted. You take your shirt off next. His fists clench in front of his clearly hardened length. You bite your lip, waiting for him to tell you stop. You give him plenty of room to tell you to get out again. If he tells you again, you’ll leave.

You drop your underwear and then your chest binder. He tears his gaze away from you, closing his eyes. You step into the fresher with him.

“Tell me to stop…” You sigh, repeating his words back to him from the first time you fucked, as you run your hands up his chest.

He opens his eyes, immediately staring into yours.

“Do you still-” You start but he cuts you off by shoving you up against the fresher wall and crushing his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss, running your hands up and around his neck. He picks you up like you weigh nothing to him and you wrap your legs around his waist. His length rests against your warmth, so you grind against him causing him to moan, proving that he still wanted you as much as you wanted him.

When he moves his lips to your neck, you gasp. “I knew you still wanted me.”

He chuckles softly. “Fuck mesh’la… I never stopped.”

“Then, why have you been ignoring me?” You whimper when he bites.

“Kanan made me.” He whispers.

Wait, what? You push Rex away from you slightly.

“What?” You ask, angry and confused.

“He told me that you deserved better and that I should leave you alone.” He shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”

“I’m going to kill him.” You start to try to wiggle out of Rex’s arms so that you can go give Kanan a piece of your mind, but he holds you in place.

“You shouldn’t be upset with Kanan. He’s just trying to look out for you.” Rex tells you, pulling your chin to look at him.

“Why are you defending him?” You ask Rex, even more confused.

Rex shrugs. “I think he feels about you the way that I do.”

You actually laugh out loud. There’s no way that’s possible. Kanan hated you half the time. You both always ended up yelling at the other over something stupid and petty on missions. He’d tell you to just stick to fixing the ship and you’d tell him to stick that fancy lazer sword up his ass.

“That’s not possible.” You tell Rex.

“You two do flirt a lot.” Rex teases you.

“No we do not.” You roll your eyes.

“If you say so.” He says as he pushes his length into you slowly, causing you to moan.

He puts his hand over your mouth so no one will hear you. All you knew was that you without a doubt wanted Rex. You wanted him every single day for the rest of your days. When you imagined your future, he was always in it.

“It’s okay if you do.” Rex whispers. “I’d never tell you who you could or couldn’t be with. As long as I can be with you too.”

He thrusts in and out of you evenly and you let your head rest against the fresher wall. When he moves his hand away from your mouth, you kiss him desperately. You needed more of him. “Fuck, daddy.” You moan before realizing what you just said.

You open your eyes and his eyes are wide for a split second before darkening.

“I-” You go to apologize.

He starts bouncing you on his cock even harder, at a relentless pace.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” You smirk.

“I really… did.” He grunts as he slams into you. “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, daddy.” You beg.

He smirks before pulling your lips into a kiss.

“Maker, I missed you.” You pant against him.

“I missed you too.” He murmurs.

The water flows over the both of you and causes the wet sounds to sound even more wet. It was all so erotic. You had never had sex in a shower and normally, you’d be terrified of being dropped, but you completely trusted Rex.

“Promise me you’ll never make me go without this or you again.” You gasp against his lips.

“I’ll fuck you every morning and every night if that’s what you wish.” Rex promises you.

“It is… please.” You beg.

Rex pulls your wrists above your head, pinning them to the wall underneath his hands and looks down at your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust. “Look at these perfect tits.” He sucks a nipple into his mouth and you whimper softly, trying your best to be quiet.

Rex lets go of your breast and continues thrusting as hard as he can into you. The wet sounds of his cock slamming into your pussy were unmistakable. If someone walked by, they’d definitely know that you were being fucked within an inch of your life.

You secretly hope that Kanan walks by so that he can get the message that he had no right to do what he did. Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Want you to come on my cock, mesh’la.” Rex grunts, obviously close.

You reach a hand between the two of you and start playing with your clit, automatically making you clench around Rex’s cock, causing his legs to buckle slightly.

“You sure you got me?” You tease him, lovingly.

“I’ll never let you go.” He promises you in more ways than one, smiling.

You kiss him again, your tongues and teeth clashing together. Neither one of you are able to care, you just can’t get enough of each other.

You apply a little more pressure to your clit as he starts thrusting harder and you try to keep your moans in but you must be doing a terrible job of it because he releases your wrists so that he can put a hand over your mouth again.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He groans, resting his forehead against yours.

“All for you, daddy.” You promise him.

“That’s right, cyar’ika.” He hums, kissing your nose.

You whimper underneath his hand, feeling your orgasm nearing a little quicker than you’d like. When you come, your pussy spasms around his cock so much, Rex comes at the same time with a strangled moan, biting your neck at the same time.

You gasp loudly and he just starts sucking, marking you for the galaxy to know you were his. You wanted this man more than anything in the world. There was no way you could ever want Kanan like that… right? If that was true, why was your next thought about being nervous about what Kanan might say about Rex’s mark on your neck?

TAGS: @livi-s @studioramekin @zoeykallus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @wolveria @misogirl88 @rexandechosandwich

#Rebels Rex #Rebels Rex x You #Rebels Rex x Reader #Captain Rex #Captain Rex x You #Captain Rex x Reader #Star Wars Rebels #SWR #SW Rebels #kaminocaseyfics