#and that in the face of a total lockdown being uhhhh

[bitterdancer-everturning]

perhaps it is unfair to moralize masking and make judgements against individuals when the state has failed us. sure.

but i have a lot of empathy, tons, for the disabled and immunocompromised people begging the communities around them to step up to protect them where the state has failed. it is okay to divest from the state and ask for community care instead. it is okay for disabled people to be angry that people with the means and ability to mask consistently refuse to, sometimes because they have given up bc of the failure of the govt and some because they genuinely do not care about the lives they may be endangering. someone who might die going to the grocery store has every right to be angry at someone who has the money for good masks and no pressure from the workplace to take it off and chooses to not wear one anyway. if your disabled comrades cannot ask this small sacrifice of you, how can we trust you to defend us when your lives are on the line?

“work on complete lockdown instead of telling people to wear masks” do you think it will be easier to grind the machine to a halt than to fundraise for kn95s and educate people on wearing them. do you think it will be easier to convince politicians that restaurants are unnecessary or your friends and comrades to do what they can to protect their communities. the state has failed. that is not reason to give up, it is reason to do everything we can.

christ.

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Prologue

A short introduction to: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

Hurley stood over Mitch with his eyebrows furrowed. "Rapp, listen to me kid. I can't keep helping you out like this, you need to make a choice and quick. They're on my ass about your stupid fucking behavior in Thailand."

"Oh come on, Hurley, you know that situation wasn't my fault. It would've been even worse if I hadn't been there!" He pleaded with Hurley, insisting for the hundredth time that day that his actions on the last mission had been unavoidable. "Do I? Do I know that? Because those four collapsed buildings and seven video cameras with your face all over them would say otherwise, Rapp." Mitch stood up now, his face growing red as the vein in his neck protruded slightly. "You weren't there... Sir. You didn't see what was going on. There was no other option, I couldn't get to the guy in time and he was wearing the fucking bomb, Hurley. What else did you expect me to do?" "I don't fucking know, Rapp, but they're pinning this on you so now you have to choose. And if you don't choose you're done for good." He paused, "I know you don't want that and I sure as hell don't either, you're one of my best damn recruits." Hurley rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to think of what to say next. Mitch banged his fist against the cold, grey wall. "Couldn't they give me some better options? I mean seriously, I either an eight-month suspension or go undercover for a year? Jeez, Hurley. I know the Agency is already prepared to send me undercover but I don't want to do undercover and I sure as hell am not letting you suspend me." The door opened behind them as Stansfield walked in. As if his position as the CIA's Director didn't already give him enough power, his perfect posture and perfectly kept suit-and-tie made him even more intimidating. "Rapp, buddy, Hurley over here tells me you're giving him a tough time. You went rogue, okay? This is what happens when you go rogue, you're not giving either of us much of a choice here." He patted Mitch on the back as he shook Hurley's hand. "I did not go 'rogue'. I did my job, Director." The Director ignored him, moving on with what was most likely a pre-rehearsed speech to convince Mitch to fold. "Look, you already know that you've got two options. You get an eight-month suspension, which will put you on complete and total lockdown. No going to the grocery store, no running in the park, no eating out. Nothing. Or, you can take the open position in the Undercover Division. Cooper is out for the year on 'paternal leave', whatever the hell that means, so we need someone to fill in. We can't have you working in Orion for now, you're a liability, but we also don't want to lose you. So, give me a straight answer, Rapp. It's up to you." Mitch sat back down, burying his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark brown strands, and muttered quietly. "Fine. I'll take the job." "I'm sorry, what was that?" Hurley jokingly tapped a finger against his ear as he let out a deep chuckle. "But! Only if I get to go overseas. I don't want to have to deal with any of those useless, domestic undercover operations that end up helping no one." Hurley looked at Mitch, "I knew you couldn't say no." "Yeah, yeah, so what's the job?" "What makes you think we've already got a job for you?" Hurley was still poking fun at Mitch. "I know you, Hurley, you wouldn't push for it if you didn't know I would actually be working." "Well, you're right. We do have a case for you, Hurley and Bennett will brief you in a few minutes. Welcome back to the Agency... Officially." The Director approached Mitch with his hand outstretched, waiting for him to shake it. Mitch shook his hand hesitantly, wondering what kind of operation they'd be sticking him on, and hoped that this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to babysit him from within the Agency. The Director quickly left and Hurley sat down in the chair next to Mitch, tapping his fingers against his thighs impatiently. Hurley turned his head to face Mitch. "See? This isn't so bad. You still get to work and you get to travel.

"You know it's not, but it is better than a suspension." Mitch rolled his eyes lightly. "Hey, you know what I just realized? You're actually perfect for this job. Didn't you get a minor in French? I'm almost sure I saw that before I burned your nasty excuse of a resume." "Gee, thanks, Hurley. Yeah, I got a major in International Business and minored in French. Why exactly is this important?" He paused for a second as Hurley let him think. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. France? Really? That's probably going to be just as boring, if not more boring, than a domestic case." "Stop that, Mitch, just wait until you're briefed and you might even like the case. Plus, I can't believe you're judging this case for being boring when you're the domesticated dumbass who dropped out of your last year of training at the Academy just to be with Maureen." Hurley waved his arms around jokingly, mimicking a despaired Mitch. "'Ahhhh. She was so scared. Blah blah blah. She didn't want me to get hurt.' Can't believe you ever gave up this life for a chick... and a dead one at that." "Can we not talk about Maureen? Please?" Mitch slumped in his seat, still haunted by the wounds that never seemed to heal. "Fine, Agent Cry Baby. I mean you lost your lacrosse scholarship for that position in the FBI and you still threw it away for her. I don't know, I'm just shocked is all." He clenched his fists and spoke slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "I know. I get it, Hurley. You've made your point now drop it. And where the hell is Bennett with the briefing?" Almost as soon as Mitch had voiced his complaint, Agent Bennett walked in with a laptop and two paper files in hand. "Hurley, Rapp. Are we ready here?" "Yeah, whatever, get on with it Bennett." Hurley waved his hand dismissively at the young agent who was struggling to connect his laptop to the television in front of them. Bennett was finally able to put his presentation up on the screen. "Okay, Agent Rapp, you leave in a week and a half and when you arrive in Paris, you will be meeting up with Agent Russo, or as he is known to the Celestins, Axel Didier. Try not to blow his cover, please. He's the only person we've ever managed to get into the Celestins' inner circle and he's also the only one who can get you in." "The who's?" Mitch looked up at Bennett and his presentation with confusion. "The Celestins. France's biggest mafia family. Originally from Italy, they changed their names to assimilate to Parisian norms over seventy years ago. Since then, they've managed to infiltrate every aspect of life possible, ranging from politics to agriculture, and no one has ever come close to stopping them. Your job, Rapp, is to infiltrate that same inner circle and gather intel so that we might have a real shot at taking them down. Nothing more, Rapp. I know it's not what you're used to, but please don't kill anyone and don't even try to talk to Marcel Celestin's daughter. He'll rip you in half before you can say 'hello' to her." "Who are you to tell me who'll 'rip' me in half or not, Bennett? You've never even been in the field before." "My talents were needed elsewhere." Bennett retorted at the comment. Even Hurley joined in, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. Just get on with the presentation, please. Don't make me do your job for you." "Fine. Rapp, you will be there for the next year and at the end of that year, we will fake your death and you will return to Orion, living the same life as before. You'll have to go through a few minor adjustments with your appearance to fit in better there but it's nothing major, just a few tattoos and getting rid of that beard should do the trick. And you need to attend a four-hour French intensive every day before you leave just to make sure your French is up to par. Other than that, you should be good to go, Agent." "Really, Bennett? 'Good to go?' You're not forgetting anything?" Hurley leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring incredulously at Agent Bennett. "Uhhhh... No?"

"Gah-damnit! You didn't tell Rapp his undercover name, you idiot."

"Oh yeah. I did forget that."

"What's my name supposed to be then?"

"Mitch Stilinski. We wanted to keep your first name the same for ease, but we wanted to add in a vaguely European last name to adapt your name better to the setting." Bennett smiled at his fix.

Mitch got up and walked to the door, opening it slightly as he sighed, "Well then, I'm going to go home to prep for this upcoming year in hell. Thank you very much for all of that very insightful information, Bennett."

[studentville-struggles]

Lockdown Luck

Part 2!

A short Draco drabble I thought up in the shower during these strange quarantine days. I’ve got some cute plans for part 3, sorry part 2 is so late!

Pairing: Draco x reader Words: 1,250 Summary: Experiencing the muggle world was what you had planned post Hogwarts, a pandemic was not on the cards, nor what you discovered during it

Masterlist / Part 1

You sat in your living room for hours, catching up on the seven years you had missed. Draco was less spoilt brat come desperate for parental approval and more his own person now, oh, and he was a healer now.  

It turns out, with the whole pandemic thing going on, some healers from St Mungos were volunteering to come into the muggle health industry and help out in hospitals – Draco being one of them. So not only did you now apparently have a fiancé, you also had a roommate. Wonderful.  

Draco had a small tendency to not think things through properly, you’d seen it a few times in school. You had also met enough children of your parent's friends to make the assumption that they probably all had the same tendencies.  

Call it one of the less helpful Slytherin traits; we all tend to get what we what for the majority, no matter what.

You didn’t mind putting Draco up really. Especially if he was volunteering at a hospital, and he had said he picked this one so that he might be able to be near you and make an effort to be with you before the wedding. You just wished he would’ve had a bit more tact in asking. It was in one way, annoying and obnoxious, and in another, totally sweet and heart-warming.

Within the next few days, the two of you apparated to and from Dracos flat to grab everything he might have needed at your flat, given he would be working now. You had asked him over dinner one night how he felt about working in a muggle hospital, given you knew his parents were pretty strong on the anti-muggle front. To your surprise, he had mentioned that a lot of healers were now being trained in muggle medicine to help in emergencies given the increased frequency that they were finding novel diseases. You were impressed, this was a change to the snarky, rude, confused boy you knew at Hogwarts. Or at least the Draco you remembered the most.

The more time you were spending with Draco, the more you were seeing, and remembering, the softness in him. You know you’d seen it in the past, when you were a lot younger, even a few sweet moments at school, but not for a long time really. It was unnerving at first, so stark in contrast to what you remembered everyone saying about him, what you remembered mostly, but it soon became lovely, warm and, in a way, safe.  

It was worrying to you just how quickly you were used to having Draco around, even more so with how much you were quite liking having him around. How could you trust someone so quickly, no matter how long you knew him before.  

Though the Draco from your memory still reared his head on occasion. Though each time he snapped or talked down to you he would always take himself for a short walk and come back with flowers or wine or sunset picture and apologise for his outburst. You were unnerved at first, worried this was a slippery slope to emotional abuse. However, it did not take long, mearly the second outburst, to see the grief and exhaustion in his face, eyes darkened with sadness. He was a work in progress, desperately trying to unlearn the terrible traits he developed younger in an attempt to gain his fathers praise. It made your heart break for him.

However, you were nearing closer and closer to your three week deadline and somehow you had to plan a wedding?! Were you going to do a small ceremony now and then do a bigger one with friends and a bigger party later? You knew your muggle friends from university would be quite offended if they found out you got married and didn’t bother to even tell them you were engaged. You had to meet the deadline, for your parents had made a contract – which they still hadn’t mentioned might you add -  though nothing incredible can be planned, bought and organised in that time.  

So. Much. Stress.  

The greatest surprise of having Draco back in your life; he planned and booked a fitting for you in Madam Malkins for your wedding dress and his suit. A very welcome surprise as you truly did not know where to start. Whilst Madam Malkins was more than a little surprised at your speedy turnaround time, she didn’t seem to be surprised at the pairing before her.

As you stood there with Madam Malkins draping fabric around you, stood as still as you could on that little pedestal, Draco chatted away. Keeping your mind off the ache in your legs, making you laugh, Draco was being a truly wonderful person to be around. Even if this marriage didn’t produce ‘love’ you knew you could at least see a strong friendship building.

---

The down side of being thrown into an engagement and co-living situation was that you, at any moment, were going to have him walk in frame while you were on a video call, and you hadn’t fully prepared an explanation to your office mates as to why you now had a man living in your flat with you. You managed for almost a week and a half to keep things unwraps; Draco being on shift at the hospital at times when you had meetings planned.  

That was, until Draco’s shift was sent home early, a team member having tested positive for the illness. This meant he was housebound for two days until his test results came back. You knew there was no chance you were going to make it without a slip up. You were only too right.  

“Is that a boy”

“uhhhh yeah?”

“You live alone though?”

“Uhh, not anymore.”

“Who’s that?”

“It’s a long story...”

A group meeting really wasn’t the place to start discussing your newly revealed arranged marriage so you were really hoping the point would be dropped; and it was for a bit. Until the social check-in call.

Informing people you work with that you were now getting married to a dude you went to school with went down interestingly. With Draco being home, it was clear some of the girls were playing their questions as innocent on the surface but with the underlying ‘do you need help’ clear for you to read into.

You were now two weeks into your three-week deadline; you were down to planning the final few bits for what you were calling your initial ceremony. Assuming this was a marriage that wasn’t immediately going to go to shit, you were hoping to have a proper party. Or maybe you’d still have one even if it all went to shit; celebrate the beginning of the end.  

Having eventually chewed your parents out for getting you a husband and not mentioning it for several bloody years, your mother offered to do a small amount of catering for an initial wedding reception.

Cake and snacks; sorted.  

All you really needed was a venue. You know, a place to actually get married. Draco had mentioned his family had a lot of land near the manor as an offhand comment and as the days passed you were starting to think it was his was of asking to get married at his home.  

They say communication is key, but how do you build consistent communication in three weeks? This certainly was an exceptional time; what was in the water.

--

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