#which he proceeded to shout a dozen times

[eastern-lights]

(once again, english version follows)

(Link to part 1)

(Link to part 3)

Další random fakta, která jsem se o našem prezidentovi dozvěděla z audioverze jeho životopisu, za kterou jsem ochotně vysolila 300 korun českých:

páně prezidentův pan otec Josef Pavel zásadně odmítá, že by synovi v armádě poskytoval jakoukoli protekci. Jako plukovník měl ale kancl hned naproti kanceláři Petrova velitele, a tak se vždycky dozvěděl jako první, když neměl poručík Pavel správně uklizenou skříňku. Petr po čase otce obvinil z toho, že s takovou tam nevedou velitelství, ale spolek rodičů a přátel školy.

jednou měly jednotky obou Pavlů společné cvičení, přičemž Pavel junior a jeho výsadkáři hráli roli diverzantů a celou noc se v lese leželi v listí a číhali. Panu Josefovi se jich zželelo, protože byla noc a tma a hlavně 20 stupňů pod nulou. A jak sám přiznal, to, že tam mrznul i jeho Petr mu taky fuk nebylo. Zašel tedy za kuchařem, vzal několik termohrnců párků a teplý čaj a vyrazil za nimi. Na místě se mu dostalo vřelého přivítání v podobě tlupy z ničehož nic se objevivších umouněných paragánů, kteří ho okamžitě začali “píchat bajonety do ledvin”, načež se Pavel starší hájil slovy “Nechte mě, vy pitomci, nesu vám párky!”

během mise v Jugoslávii, když Pavlovu jednotku zajali Srbové, a hnali ji před sebou jako živé štíty až k přední linii, strávil tehdy už podplukovník Pavel celou cestu zpátky na Srbskou základnu (během které mu drželi u hlavy samopal) tím, že svému vězniteli sprostě nadával. Když dorazili na místo, zařval na onoho Srba “Dej už to do hajzlu!”, otočil se, odkráčel za srbským velitelem, po cestě odstrčil stráž se slovy “S tebou se bavit nebudu!”, a velitele zjebal na tři doby, že se nechovají jako civilizovaný národ, a že jestli se budou k mírovým jednotkám chovat takhle, tak všichni půjdou před válečný soud. Velitel nechal Pavla i jeho jednotku okamžitě odejít.

More random facts I learned about Petr Pavel from the audio-version of his biography, which I have purchased for 300 czech crowns:

Mr. president’s father Josef Pavel has categorically denied having provided his son with any protection during their time in the army. As a colonel, however, his office was right down the hall from the office belonging to Petr’s commanding officer, so he was always the first to know whenever lieutenant Pavel failed to properly clean his locker. After a while, Pavel junior accused his father of running a parent-teacher conference instead of a military command.

on one occasion, the two Pavels’ respective units had a shared military exercise. Pavel Junior’s paratroopers played the role of diversionists, so they spent the whole night lying in wait on the forest floor. Mr. Josef ended up pitying the boys, because it was the middle of the night, it was dark and, most importantly, negative 20 degrees celsius. And as he later admitted, the fact that it was his Petr freezing his butt off there also played a part in that. So he went to the field kitchen, got several pots of sausages and some hot tea and went to the “enemy’s” position. His welcome came in the form of a dozen filthy paratroopers appearing out of nowhere, who immediately “started pricking at my kidneys with bayonets”, at which point the colonel defended himself with the words “Stop that, you idiots, I brought you sausages!”

during the UNPROFOR mission in Yugoslavia, Pavel and his unit got captured by the Serbs. Having been forced to drive all the way up to the front line and ordered to turn back under croatian fire, the relatively newly minted lieutenant-colonel spent the whole trip back to the serbian base yelling profanities at the man holding an assault rifle to the back of his head. On arrival, he shouted at his captor to “Shove that thing up your arse!”, stormed off to talk to the serbian commander, shoved the guard out of his way with the words “I’m not talking to you!” and proceeded to dress down the commander for not behaving like a member of a civilized nation and tell him that if his men kept treating the UN soldiers as they had, they would all stand before a war tribunal. The commander released him and his men immediately.

[ivankahasbeentreatedsounfairly]

By Rachel Maddow

On Dec. 1, 1960, the far-right preacher and racist demagogue Gerald L.K. Smith sent out a fund-raising appeal, headlined with a shocking claim in red type across the top: “HOLD YOUR BREATH: KENNEDY MAY HAVE LOST.”

The 1960 election had indeed been close, but the Democrat, John F. Kennedy, had prevailed, and his Republican opponent, Richard M. Nixon, had congratulated Kennedy on election night, over shouted protests from his supporters.

Three weeks later, Smith, the leader of what he called the Christian Nationalist Crusade, was telling his followers it was possible to reverse that result.

If Smith’s followers would only send him money, he would continue what he called his “subtle campaign of pressure” to persuade governors in states won by Kennedy that they should refuse to send Kennedy electors to Washington for the Electoral College count.

“This,” Smith promised, “could turn out to be the most shocking and sensational Electoral College vote in history.”

It was not. There were no shenanigans in the Electoral College count. Kennedy received 303 votes to Nixon’s 219, and the transition of power proceeded peacefully.

Today, it may be worth remembering Smith’s nut-ball campaign to overturn the 1960 election if only to see how far we’ve sunk. You used to have to get out into the far-flung wilds of American political life before you’d find people trying to persuade state or local officials to monkey-wrench the Electoral College by refusing to send their states’ real results to Washington for the Electoral College count. Not anymore.

Since Donald Trump and Ronna McDaniel, the then-chair of the Republican National Committee, phoned local officials in Michigan in November 2020 to encourage them not to certify vote totals, Republicans have quietly seeded county and state election boards with eager allies. Election boards across the country now include Republican officials who have not only propounded Mr. Trump’s lies about the last presidential election being “stolen,” they have tested how far they can go in denying the certification of the vote.

Republicans tried this ploy more than two dozen times in at least eight states since 2020. Two refusenik Republican election board members were indicted in Cochise County, Ariz. That case is pending. Two others were removed from their positions in Surry County, N.C. In New Mexico, Pennsylvania and Nevada, Republican officials who delayed or refused to certify the votes ultimately relented under legal pressure.

But in Georgia, the State Election Board approved a rule this month that gives election officials in each of the state’s 159 counties the option to delay or refuse certification in order to make a “reasonable inquiry” into the results. What counts as a “reasonable inquiry?” The new rule does not say.

Because Georgia law holds that election boards “shall” certify results within a week of the election, this rule almost certainly will face legal challenges. But in a state where Republicans have delayed or refused certification at least seven times since 2020 — more than in any other state — the rule injects a new layer of murk into the legal waters less than 100 days before the election.

On Monday, the board is expected to consider yet another revision to the rules that would afford members of county election boards an additional option for delaying or refusing certification. The rule would allow local board members to demand “all election-related documentation” before certifying the results.

Imagine an election night this November in which the two parties are trading swing-state victories. The Democrats capture Nevada, while the Republicans take Arizona. The Republicans win the big prize of Pennsylvania, while the Democrats top them in Wisconsin and Michigan. The nation is waiting on Georgia. If Georgia goes red, it’s President Trump; if Georgia goes blue, it’s President Harris.

Then, local news headlines start to circulate. There are reports of unspecified “problems” in the vote in Fulton County. And in Gwinnett County. And in DeKalb, Coffee and Spalding Counties. Republican officials are refusing to certify the results in their counties. They say they are making “reasonable inquiries.”

As legal challenges wend through the courts, a wave of disinformation, confusion and propaganda swells, fueled by unproven claims that something is amiss in these Georgia counties, and also by similar noise — and possibly also certification refusals — in Michigan, Pennsylvania, New Mexico and Nevada. (All have seen local Republicans try the certification refusal ruse since 2020.)

Under recently revised federal law, each state has until Dec. 11 to send official, certified state results to Washington for the Electoral College count. But if a state doesn’t meet that deadline, then what?

The point of these certification refusals may not be to falsify or flip a result, but simply to prevent the emergence of one. If one or more states fail to produce official results, blocking any candidate from reaching 270 electoral votes, the 12th Amendment prescribes Gerald L.K. Smith’s dream scenario: a vote in the newly elected House of Representatives to determine the presidency. Each state delegation would get one vote; today, Republicans control 26 state delegations; Democrats control 22; and two are evenly divided.

Our democratic system is not invincible, but it is strong. Certification of election results is a ministerial responsibility that is not discretionary. Legitimate election challenges are handled with recounts and litigation, not by individual election board members. There is no loophole that allows bad-faith officials to so flummox the electoral system that they take the choice of the next president away from the American people.

But in the past three and a half years, the ad hoc certification ploys that failed to flip the last presidential election to Mr. Trump have been professionalized and systematized by Republican officials and their allies. A recent report in The Times quoted an official with the conservative Heritage Foundation saying that “the conditions” in the country are now such that “most reasonable policymakers and officials cannot in good conscience certify an election.” Michael Whatley, the chairman of the Republican National Committee, has declined to answer when asked if the party intends to try to block vote certifications.

A contrivance like this is as nutty today as it was when Gerald L.K. Smith tried to make a version of it seem plausible in 1960. But this year, the firepower being brought to bear on the issue by the Republican Party is much more than a “subtle campaign of pressure” from a direct-mail grifter.

Opponents no doubt will fight any certification denials in the courts. Those efforts are important, and every state should be shoring up its own legal and electoral system now to prepare for, deter and defend against any effort to sabotage certification. But stopping such subterfuge also depends on an informed public that refuses to let false narratives take hold.

A cleareyed look at Republicans’ handling of the administration of elections since Mr. Trump’s effort to overthrow the last election should prepare us: Refusals to certify results should not necessarily be seen as indicating real electoral problems; they are more likely part of a bad-faith strategy to mess with the democratic process.

Now is the time to get to know your local election board, especially if you live in a place where election denialism has taken hold, and where certification refusals may be coming. Public awareness and vigilance can make a difference. No one should be surprised when certification refusals happen or when they are then exploited to try to maximize chaos and upset.

After all, the Republican nominee this year is no Richard Nixon.

[lazaruspiss]

Fallout

Page One

“Your honor,” Gordon shouted, “The man’s insane!”

“For the last time, Commissioner. We are not here to discuss the prisoner’s state of mind!” Judge Wessel looked across at Gordon from the parole board panel, a look Jim had seen a dozen times this morning. Please, Wessel’s watery eyes were saying, don’t make this harder than it is.

Gordon shot a more succinct look back. To his left the prisoner started talking. Again.

Page Two

“Come now, your honor. As slanderous as the commissioner’s comments are, he’s only expressing his frustration at the farcical nature of this so-called legal proceeding. Perhaps he doesn’t understand that his presence is merely for appearance’s sake. You are decorative, detective,” Riddler concluded, flashing Jim a smug smile.

Gordon understood alright. Thousands of prisoners, all held illegally, and then nearly murdered by Hugo Strange. The inevitable class-action lawsuit had left this tedious, soul-sapping exercise in its wake: hundreds of “parole hearings” that only went one way. The prisoner got their freedom back and Gordon got a signed declaration that the offender promised to be on their best behavior from here on in.

Page Three

“Now,” Riddler continued. “Given that our poor commissioner must endure several hundred more of these hearings, why don’t you spare us the tedium of forcing him to reiterate the state’s legally soiled case against me, and simply grant me the freedom to which I’m entitled?”

The entire parole board spluttered indignantly.

“Man’s got a point,” Gordon conceded, as he walked out the door.

[gingersnap2010]

Yandere Platonic Lelouch x male Autistic! Kid! reader (Code Geass)

Name: Lelouch

Type: Platonic, Protective, Possessive, Delusional, Obsessive, and Controlling

Nickname: Name, possum, chaos in the flesh, and lord of discord

 Lelouch at first has no idea what to make of you. He probably meets you at one of Nunnally’s special classes. He’s shocked to discover your just a kid. Though with your needs it makes sense why you were here since Nunnally attending special classes for people who need it had greatly increased. 

 When he finds out you are autistic, he isn’t very sure what that means. He literally has to ask more than a dozen people, before researching it online himself.

 Eventually, you come over with Nunnally for dinner and he gets to see your quirks in action. You eat out of a compartment box, which has the correct amount of portions you can handle. You hate veggies with a firey passion, more so than his hatred towards his father. You proceeded to tell him your conspiracy theory on the veggie industry and how they will take over the world. 

He pretended to be interested even though he had absolutely no idea what you were even saying to him at the rate you were going. He learned you talk fast and loud when excited. Personal space is a word that is not in your vocabulary, also privacy.

You are very blunt and see the world bluntly, if Nunnally needs help getting into her nightgown. You offer with absolutely no intentions of doing anything funny with her. It makes sense for your age but with sex questions well…

He’s worried that no one has told you about how babies are made. Only to be proven wrong with your very open discussion on the topic. He learns you like being prepared for future events, your boldness of sex. Is a copping measure to make sure you don’t do sex wrong.

 He finds it endearing in a strange way.  Though you couldn’t discuss sex so often, then again you were one to discuss open issues in society so he doesn’t mind. Though he does keep ohgi the hell away from you!

However you have no table skills, you use sporks only, with the occasional spoon for deserts /cereals, and soups and a knife for meats. You have a variety of strange interests. You know more about zero than the average joe, which makes him sweat like you wouldn’t believe. 

Then there’s your animal hobby, you just love possums hence the nickname. He actually learns more about the animal than he used to because of you. Then there's the time you spout some random ass animal fact out of the blue and it catches him off guard. 

“ Hey lelouch! Kangaroos pause their pregnancies in times of drought! Isn’t that neat?!” you yelled rushing into his bathroom as he was getting out of the shower.

Cue him being perplexed as to why you are there and then you follow up

“ also there’s soap on your-” he cuts you off before you announce it to Nunnally

“ ah I see thanks name! Got it!”

“Also Nunnally says hi!” you chirp

“ hi back!” Lelouch yelled trying to cover himself 

Then there was the whole fancy dinner incident. Truthfully he should have told Milly you wouldn’t understand caviar.

” Where are the nuggets?”

“ name this is a fancy restaurant they don’t have chicken nuggets,” Lelouch whispered

“ macaroni?” you ask

“ no,” Suzaku said eyeing you 

“ Is there a kid's menu?!” you shout at the waiter, who turns confused

“ oh my god……” Milly groaned

“ Can we go to Mcdonald's?” you ask

Lelouch smacked his head on the table.

He  becomes your dad, without realizing it. He’s like Mr. mom, seriously he figures out a schedule for you after he convinces your guardian to let you move in. May have used his geass for that. 

Your social skills are zero to none, and so, is the perception of volume.

“ HEY LELOUCH!!!! NINTENDO!!!!” you scream happily pointing to a  pokemon manga

“ name!! shush we’re in a library!” Lelouch hissed 

 When you get hurt or sent to an area he’s gonna wreak havoc on, that's when yandere mode goes on full. He keeps you locked up after that. He feels a bit guilty but he may use your trust in him, to make you stay away from the television if he’s not there, and so on. But it’s honestly for your own good. 

He goes permanently after a bullying situation at school where someone calls you a retard after you did not understand something. He was livid at the person and has a smile the next day when they are found dead. 

This is a good display of his protectiveness, his delusion is in the thinking you are like Nunnally who he perceives is made out of glass. So instead of helping you in a way that would let you become more independent, he caters to your needs.  

  Don’t like watching movies if there's a sad moment in it? Perfect he’ll set up animal documentaries, and animal learning shows instead.  Or craft shows, you name something g rated he’s got it hooked up to the tv. C.C. is like a mum to you so he sees you often cuddling up to her. It makes him jealous, though when you cuddle him he gets flustered easily. He’s shy about hugs sometimes.

C.C. basically gets you stuff to keep busy with, she also teaches you about the history she had experienced. So your understanding of history greatly improves, and you learn a few more languages. She also is great to teach you anything since she is patient and mellow, and has also learned various teaching methods over the years. 

So while your skills don’t improve with people, academically you skyrocket. You're able to get your point across faster with higher-thinking words. Such as parched, instead of thirsty, and so on. It helps you fit in with the higger standing kids when you do go outside so that’s a plus.

  Lelouch calls you chaos in the flesh after the tube city incident in the club room, your idea which you somehow convinced Milly of. Then again she’s had outlandish ideas too. Was to make a giant system of tubes for hamsters. Then set them loose across the school as animal enthusiasm and awareness. 

  You also drench yourself in paint and tried to paint with your body. So yeah, chaos in the flesh. He calls you the lord of discord for the poker game incident that drove him and Suzaku up the wall. When they learned you had somehow been playing with Uno cards. Then said Yahtzee at the end. Truth be told he should have guessed that smile did not seem to get the point of the game. 

C.C. then congratulated you on the discord you created. Hence the nickname.

 You also hog the blanket, yeah you sleep in his bed. You have trouble sleeping alone. Your mind at night tells you that if someone is there they will protect you from whatever monster may come after you. You are not wrong in his case, but the point still stands. Every night you also sleep walk so he has put up baby gates and extra walls, in order to prevent you from getting hurt.

 When he becomes king, he’s hesitant about how you’ll take his death. Since you seem not to deal with the concept very well. So he may tell you he’s gonna be back. This is before he knows he's got code. You also like stealing his hat and sitting on the throne with your favorite drink and people watch. It spooks the guards that’s for sure. 

 You also like playing with the limo’s buttons. Much to the annoyance of the driver. Your favorite thing to do though is to sneak under his robes without him knowing then pop your head threw them scarring him every single time!

You also take a fancy to watch sleeping beauty. He’s not sure why though….

When’s he back with memories and code, you launch yourself at him before kola hugs him. He’s trapped by you and knows it. It takes bribing from Suzaku before you even consider letting go. You watch him like a hawk since he was gone for so long. 

  Lelouch sighs and lets you lay on him as he walks with C.C. to their next location. Yeah, he’d figured out how to keep you with him, so you ain’t dying anytime soon. When you ask what the funny tattoo is for, Lelouch just tells you it’s like a bracelet.

C.C Has dubbed you The Jelly bean of absolute Mayhem. You like it cause it makes you sound powerful, as you try to imitate what Lelouch does with his eyes. Lelouch just sweats in confusion when he sees you trying to act all threatening. 

He tried teaching you chess once, and he watched in horror as you ate the pieces. C.C. learns you are more of a tic-tac-toe person. You do it in the dirt with a tree branch you found.  The most recent incident was when you managed to find a possum and wanted to keep it. It liked you, but it hissed at Lelouch with fiery hatred! The possum had to go, but he got you a plushie which you dubbed mrs. possum.

All in all, not the worst yandere…. right?

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

The Meeting.

pairing: COD OC!Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x MootOC!Meabh "Pirate" O'Malley (platonic) words: 1.7K~ cw: canon-typical violence/talk, use of weapons, attempt at military accuracy(?? idk)

November 12th, 2015. 0632 hours 12 Miles off the coast of Romania.

Command: "Shamrock, this is Command. Requesting status update, over."

The Black Shamrock: "Command, this is The Black Shamrock. We have visual on the cargo ship. Cargo ship identified as target vessel. Standby for interception coordinates, over."

Command: "Roger that, Shamrock. We cannot let them cross into Russian waters. Standing by for coordinates and situation report, over.”

…

The Black Shamrock: "Command, this is The Black Shamrock. Target cargo ship intercepted, speed successfully reduced to 5 knots. We've cut them off right before international waters so this has to happen now. Transmitting coordinates, over."

Command: "Copy that, Shamrock. Good work on slowing down the cargo ship.”

Command: “All units, this is Command. Urgent update. Eagle Eye, you have limited time for insertion. The success of the operation depends on The Black Shamrock holding down the cargo ship. Expedite your approach. Over."

Eagle Eye: "Command, this is Eagle Eye. Copy that, limited time for insertion. We're three mikes out from the current coordinates. Ready to expedite approach. Over."

Command: "Shamrock, keep them busy! Eagle Eye, you're clear to proceed with insertion. Approach from the North. Expedite your approach and secure the cargo ship. Weapon’s hot. Over."

Eagle Eye: "Command, this is Eagle Eye. Copy that, proceeding with expedited insertion. Will confirm drop zone secure before departure. Eagle Eye out."

Command: “Roger, Eagle Eye. Shamrock, standby for immediate support and prepare teams for follow-up action once the ship has been secured.”

The Black Shamrock: "Roger, Command. Will stand by for support. Continuing to monitor the situation and standing by for further instructions. Shamrock out."

-

“Time to move, SEALs! Hope you’ve got your sea legs on!” Lieutenant Alex "Ace" Rodriguez’s voice reverberated through the headsets before he got up from his seat, and approached the exit.

The remaining SEALs sprung to their feet, getting into formation. One group dropping at the forecastle, another downrange at the poop deck. Five SEALs in each, meeting in the middle.

A young Victoria Callahan rappels down the line and drops atop a cargo container, immediately opening fire on the hired guns controlling the cargo ship, to cover the descent of her crewmates. 

The helicopter’s blades are loud, and, mixed with the sound of gunfire, it prevents her from hearing the Russian commands being shouted by the traffickers around the ship. But nothing they can say would stop the assault. She downs three hired guns in the time it takes her squad to fully insert.

Dropping from the cargo containers, the team slips into an assault formation, marching forward and peeking between the rows of cargo containers, clearing them efficiently.

They quickly continue taking out the majority of the traffickers, plucking them out one by one, as they come out to try and defend their precious ‘cargo’. As if human beings could or should be considered such a thing.

Once they lock eyes with the crew coming from the back, they split again: 

a group of four led by Lieutenant Alex "Ace" Rodriguez going up to the bridge and crew deck;

four others led by Chief Petty Officer Michael "Bulldog" Thompson heading below deck to clear all the halls;

and the last two, amidst which is Senior Chief Petty Officer David "Wolf" Miller, going container-to-container, popping them open and looking for ‘stragglers’ (aka other hired guns, mixed amidst the terrified, groggy victims, to keep them secure).

Victoria descends the stairs in the second to last spot of the standard CQC formation, right behind her squadron’s leader. As the only woman in the whole team, she’s given the ‘less burdensome’ task of carrying a bag with dozens of flexi-cuffs in her pack, so they can restrain whoever they find.

After they start clearing room-to-room, restraining or killing whoever they find, Bulldog’s radio goes off: “All stations, this is ‘Ace’, we have taken control of the ship. I repeat: target has been seized.”

Command: “Copy that, Ace. Shamrock, you are clear to onboard.”

The Black Shamrock: “Roger. Sending a vessel lead by Lieutenant-Commander O’Malley, callsign 'Pirate', over.” 

“Ace to Bulldog, how copy?”

“Go for Bulldog.” Cobra answered, stopping the crew’s march so he could respond.

“Bulldog, finish clearing below deck and standby until we get back to land.”

“Copy that, Ace.” 

“You heard the boss, team. Let’s continue clearing these rooms.” Bulldog said as he looked around at his small crew.

“Yes, sir!” The group replied.

-

After clearing all the rooms and securing all the not-neutralized prisoners below deck in a locked room with Special Warfare Operators Third Class William Brown and Cole Johnson watching over them, Victoria was left pacing the halls, some of the other Second Class operators being sent down to assist her, pacing the entirety of the below deck, in alternate hallways.

It’s during her pacing that she suddenly hears steps behind her, echoing on the metal platforms above and coming thundering down the staircase. Assuming it to be a straggler, one of the traffickers, making some sort of break for it, Victoria whipped around, aiming at the unknown intruder on the stairs. “STOP!” The girl shouted.

A woman. With wild curly brown hair, wearing a Navy uniform, stopped in her tracks, hands already reaching for a pistol at her hip. “Don’t you fucking DARE. Who the fuck are you?” 

Standing a few feet from one another, at an impasse, stood the only two women aboard the entire cargo ship… Other than the poor trafficking victims still inside the containers.

The woman’s eyes locked onto Victoria’s uniform, seeing the American flag she wore front and center on the chest panel of her chest rig. Then, she stopped reaching for her pistol and said something in reply, hands held out openly on either side of her, to demonstrate she wasn’t a threat. Unfortunately for her, Victoria didn’t understand it.

“What the fuck kind of gibberish was that? English or Russian, pick one, damnit.” The American raised her voice, her southern accent becoming increasingly stronger as she shouted commands at the other woman who was only looking at her with a softened gaze and a bit of a smile.

The woman before her simply turned a bit to display the sleeve of her uniform. The Irish flag. “Lieutenant-Commander O’Malley, soldier.” Her voice was a lot easier to understand this time, a conscious effort to soften her strong brogue for the American to understand her.

“Oh SHIT!” Victoria said as she quickly lowered her rifle under her arm and raised her hand, saluting the foreign Lieutenant with a sharp, respectful salute. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Didn’t know who you were and didn’t expect anyone to come down here without communicating-” Victoria was quick to justify herself.

O’Malley descended the last few steps. “At ease. You don’t need all that formality with me.” She assured the American as she approached, hands on her hips.

Victoria nodded fervently. “Sorry…” She huffed and fixed her grip on her rifle, holding it at a ready carry. 

“What’s yer name?”

“Special Warfare Operator Second Class Victoria Callahan, ma’am.” She replied.

“Christ, that’s a mouthful.” O’Malley replied. “I’m Meabh.” She introduced herself. “And I think Imma call you Tori, if that’s alright with ye.” The Irish one replied with a smirk.

Blinking a bit, Victoria nodded. “This is the weirdest interaction I’ve ever had in my time in service. But, yeah, that’s okay.”

“You Americans are so serious.” Meabh teased with a smile. “Walk around like you’ve got a stick up the arse.”

Victoria couldn’t help but laugh at that, looking away for a moment, to try and conceal it, still too molded into the standard ‘Don’t get too friendly with superiors’ mantra.

“Oh, come on, I told ya to stand at ease. C’mon!” Meabh teased and nudged Victoria with her elbow before she started walking off to go retrieve whatever she came below deck for.

“Sorry. Not used to this…” Victoria admitted and gulped as she walked by Meabh’s side. Should she, realistically, be walking along with the Lieutenant Commander and deserting her position in the hall? No. But she was going to.

“How old are you?” Meabh asked her, causing Victoria’s eyes to widen a bit.

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four?! I’m twenty-two!” Meabh replied cheerfully. 

Victoria’s eyes are widened. Not because Meabh was young, she looked it! But because she was extremely cheerful, almost like she was trying to make a friend out of Victoria, rather than walking around like they were mere colleagues.

It was bizarre.

“You’re very…” Victoria dared to speak, her voice level and even. “...bubbly.”

“Should I not be?”

“I had a rifle pointed at you a minute ago.”

“But now you don’t!”

“I could’ve shot you.”

“But you didn’t!”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Really? I’m trying to soften my accent for you!”

“No, your personality!” Victoria explained as she looked to the side at Meabh, her head craned. “Is it an Irish thing or a you thing?”

“Probably a me thing.”

“Oh.”

“I just don’t see the point in being serious and bossy when I don’t have to be.”

“Hm.” Victoria murmured as she looked away, lost in thought. 

“You’re a stunner.”

Victoria’s head snapped to the side, eyes widened as she stared at Meabh. “Huh?”

“A stunner. Pretty. Beautiful.”

“Thank you…?”

“You’re welcome!”

As they reached the room Meabh had to get to, Whiskey opened the door with one of the ID cards she had swiped from one of the hostage traffickers, allowing Meabh inside.

“You’re… pretty too.” Victoria ended up returning the compliment just as Meabh was going in the door.

“I like you. We should hang out after this. Get a drink. Do you drink?” Meabh asked, excitedly. “Where are you stationed?”

“I do. And, uh… Italy, supposedly. Naples. But… all over Eastern Europe really.” She admitted. “Haven’t stopped in the last six months.”

“I’ll write you, then. We’ll plan something while we’re on leave! Could have a ceilidh.”

“A... what?”

"A party!"

"Oh. Okay..."

Meabh turned to gather the ship logs she had wanted to get before she bounded back down the hall. "Come with me."

"I can't desert my station-"

"Yes, ye can. Your CO's 'Ace', right?"

"Yeah?"

Meabh turned and grabbed her radio from her belt. "Ace, this is Pirate, how copy?"

"Send traffic, Pirate."

"Relieve Petty Officer Callahan of her duties ASAP. I'd like her assistance up in the bridge."

Victoria's brow raised in surprise when she heard Meabh and her CO discussing it.

"As you wish, ma'am...? Copy that."

Victoria's radio buzzed on her shoulder strap with Ace repeating the command, causing Meabh to smile broadly at Victoria, showing off her gap tooth.

Victoria meanwhile simply blinked in surprise and shook her head, before smiling in amusement. "I think I like you too."

@crashtestbunny for you bestie

[chocoblep]

#22: Home Invasion

Prompt: Free Day (Warning)

Qorin reached up to give his chocobo’s head a pat once he’d dismounted. The bird replied with a soft little bunt–he knew not to make noise, not when they returned home to the wards having been tripped around the perimeter of his yurt. Typically, an animal made its way in, and he had to shoo it away if it hadn’t already left. Most of the time, nothing got into the yurt itself, though there had been cases of small critters finding their way in every now and again through a seam in the mostly sealed panel. He’d upgraded the wards and the boundary since the last animal invasion, though, so what could have tripped them this time?

He passed through the invisible barrier that kept his home safe and repelled most intruders, noting that the flap that acted as the door to his home was not sealed exactly as he’d left it. Well, that was concerning. Someone who had been here before had been here again, and if they were still inside, he ought to prepare himself for the worst. Usually in circumstances like these, someone was either injured or hiding or both, and when he walked in he was bound to have to fend off an attack before the person realized it was, in fact, the person they’d been waiting for.

He paused to listen first, and when he heard nothing but the wind in the grass and the chirp of distant crickets, he undid the flap and threw it open. It was dark inside, and no movement came from within, but he still proceeded with caution, his staff pulled from his back and one hand free to manipulate the elements. He crept along the yurt’s wall, and when he reached the first lamp he knew to be on the bookshelf, he activated it. Little mage lights flared to life, illuminating the inside of the structure just enough to see into the further reaches if he squinted. When he saw no one, he moved along the wall to the next light, and the next, and the next, until he stood there, puzzled, in his fully-lit–and very much unoccupied–home.

It wasn’t until he saw the package on the little cooking counter near his cookfire that he finally understood, and he moved over to it to pluck the little note from atop it that was addressed to him and unfold it, snorting at what he read.

Dear Qorin, Thank you for healing Hinan’s ass injury. I feel much better. We came by to thank you in person but you weren’t home, so we dropped off your thank-you gift. We hope you enjoy! Rhuk & Hinan

The handwriting was sloppy and unsteady, which led Qorin to believe that Rhuk had, indeed, written the message (considering Hinan had taught him the basics of writing and he still likely needed practice). He unwrapped the parcel and gasped at the dozen or so mini rolanberry tarts wrapped up inside–and then swore when Hoots swooped in and stole one.

“Hey! Damn it, Hoots! That’s mine!” he shouted, chasing the owl out into the night.

[ingek73]

After Harry’s phone hacking victory, is it last orders for tabloid top brass?

Some commentators now believe that the duke’s crusade against the popular press will finally bring about a reckoning

Inside the ballroom of the Hilton Bankside on Thursday evening, the mood among journalists was high. Prizes were being handed out, celebratory toasts were made and backs were slapped. Officiating at the annual press awards jamboree was a bow-tie-wearing Dominic Ponsford, the editor-in-chief of the industry journal behind the event, who even took a moment to joke about past clashes with Prince Harry, the fabled “ginger whinger”.

Seated at the tables around him were many of those newspaper editors and columnists who have been publicly warring with the King’s errant second child, including Piers Morgan, the former gossip journalist, talent show judge, ex-editor of the Daily Mirror and television presenter. At one point towards the end of the night the group of singers hired to jolly up the lengthy proceedings, burst into the chorus from the song The Final Countdown. Great fun.

But a day later and some in the room are facing their own ominous countdown, or at least a potential final reckoning. Could the landlord at that famous “last chance saloon”, the watering hole at which Home Office minister David Mellor once warned the “gentlemen” of the popular press they were drinking in, really be shouting out “Time, please” once again, twenty years on?

The ruling from Mr Justice Fancourt in the High Court on Friday, one which found the Duke had been subjected to damaging, illegal press activity between 2003 and 2009, has had some immediate effects. The Mirror Group of newspapers, in the frame during the legal proceedings, “apologised unreservedly” for “historical wrong-doing” later that day. But the impact of Fancourt’s 386-page judgement on the reputations of other British newspaper businesses may take a little longer to show.

“Thank goodness for Prince Harry. The police now need to look at this and promptly,” said Brian Cathcart, the media campaigner and Hacked Off founder. “There are many people involved who are still in prominent, opinion-forming positions on newspapers.”

Dr Evan Harris, a former director of Hacked Off who has spent the last few years carrying out legal analysis for the claimants in the hacking litigation, also believes the torch of justice has just been relit by the duke. “Since the contentious decision by the Crown Prosecution Service in 2015 that there was insufficient evidence to prosecute any Mirror journalist or executive for phone hacking, tens of thousands of documents have been disclosed in this litigation, and as they were deployed in open court, many key documents are available to the police to see.”

There are also dozens of new witnesses and extensive judicial findings, Harris added. “The claimants stand ready to assist the police and CPS with identifying such material relevant to the original criminal conduct and to the new questions of perjury and perverting the course of justice,” he said.

Writing in Prospect magazine, its editor, Alan Rusbridger, who edited the Guardian when it broke the hacking story in 2009, argues that Fancourt’s words have cut through years of deceit. “We know that newspaper managements at two of our biggest media companies have consistently concealed and denied the truth about what went on,” he wrote. “They have issued dishonest statements and have lied to parliament, the stock exchange, to other journalists, to regulators and even the Leveson inquiry, set up to establish the truth. And now some have been caught telling porkies in court.”

Nick Davies, who first broke the hacking scandal while at the Guardian, was quick to express his more limited hopes for change on social media. “If the UK were just and democratic, Murdoch’s Talk TV would now have to consider suspending Piers Morgan and Richard Wallace, and the Met police would have to scope an investigation into Mirror Group crime. If,” he wrote.

More than a billion pounds has already been paid out in costs and damages, Rusbridger emphasised, without any admissions of guilt implicating senior editors or owners. And key emails have been deleted and documents lost. Speaking to the Observer this weekend, he added: “The press managed to sidestep the second part of the Leveson inquiry, which was supposed to deal with past wrongdoing. So it’s now been left to individual litigants to drag the truth out into daylight. It’s not very satisfactory, and probably can’t be fully achieved until everyone involved in past misdeeds has moved on – or been moved on.”

One of the stories produced in evidence during the recent MGN phone hacking trial. Photograph: PA

The focus is now likely to switch to the Daily Mail, against which the Duke of Sussex still has many outstanding allegations. It could even be the beginning of what critics of British “tabloid culture” are heralding as an era of serious redress that, for them, would make up for the dropping of the planned second part of the Leveson inquiry, a decision taken against the judge’s wishes by former Tory culture secretary, Matt Hancock. Murdoch’s newspaper group, owner of the Sun, does look vulnerable. Many of those implicated in the judge’s ruling are working there. Former editor of the rightwing popular titles the Sun and the defunct News of the World, Rebekah Brooks, who once avoided disgrace, is now CEO of News UK. This weekend her rehabilitation looks wobbly.

Morgan, now a presenter on Murdoch’s Talk TV, gave an angry doorstep statement on Friday and still appears to be banking on dodging bullets. His carefully worded defence did not deny knowledge of the practice of phone hacking and so did not contradict the judgement, as the performer and campaigner Steve Coogan, who settled a claim in 2017 for a six-figure sum, wryly noted on Saturday morning. More optimistically, Coogan added that there now seems a chance that the protective “omertà” guarding the guilty editors has begun to weaken.

He told the Observer yesterday: “We now have a high court judge making clear that a judge-led public inquiry was misled by multiple witnesses , namely Sly Bailey, Paul Vickers, Lloyd Embley, Piers Morgan, Tina Weaver, Neil Wallis and Richard Wallace, and of course that public inquiry was cancelled halfway through, against the wishes of Sir Brian Leveson, by Matt Hancock at the behest of the newspapers – including Mirror Group – who were being investigated.”

Prince Harry has described his chief virtue as patience, but Coogan now calls him “brave” for breaking the “Faustian pact” he claims some royals have had with the press, drawn up for reasons of self-preservation.

Prince Harry’s attitude diverged from the family path well before the birth of his sonArchie in 2019, but he became much bolder after that. Later that year his wife, Meghan Markle, announced that she was suing the Mail on Sunday for printing parts of her letter to her estranged father and the duke also revealed he was taking action over alleged phone hacking.

Two years ago, the Prince won an apology from the Mail on Sunday over an article claiming he had turned his back on the military and the high court in London ruled that the same paper had breached Meghan’s privacy by publishing extracts from her letter. A year ago Harry started a libel claim against the Mail on Sunday over an article claiming he had tried to keep official protection for his family and then, in October last year, he joined the singer Elton John and others in suing the publisher of the Daily Mail, alleging phone tapping and other breaches of privacy.

The Duke’s unexpected, even historic, appearance at the high court at the beginning of his lawsuit against the Daily Mail’s publisher took place in March, and then, in early June, he arrived to give evidence at the Mirror Group phone hacking trial, arguing that about 140 articles published from 1996 to 2010 contained information obtained via unlawful methods.

There are accusations of vendettas on both sides, of course. It is a term the duke used on Friday when speaking of the vitriol he had detected, ever since he was first exposed by the tabloids as a teenager for smoking cannabis and then for rowing with his brother about whether or not to meet up with Paul Burrell.

Both of these gobbets of information reached the public through illicit means, according to the Fancourt verdict. Yet a former executive at Reach, the national news group that owns the Mirror, suspects the duke and his fellow campaigners are being disingenuous. He may not have gone as far as Morgan, who called the “California-tanned” Duke “greedy” yesterday, but he does believe the celebrity campaigners are out for revenge. “They are settling scores. We all know that, whatever they say in public about their motivation,” the former editor said.

Other more measured defenders of the press, such as Sir Alan Moses, a former chairman of the Independent Press Standards Association, are concerned about attempts to set up a phoney “licensed press” that would operate only within government restrictions. Speaking on the Today programme on BBC Radio 4 this weekend, he said the press should ideally be “unruly”, although subject to the law. There was, Moses argued, an exceptional case to be made for the industry to protect freedom of expression.

For the experienced Guardian journalist Polly Toynbee, the prize of a reformed press can now at least be glimpsed, although a fatal wound inflicted to an ailing newspaper title would not be a good thing: “I am delighted to see press standards called to account and I hope that the people behind this do now get called to account,” she said. “IPSO and press regulation are a disgrace for not investigating this themselves years ago. But it would be a tragedy if we lost the Mirror as a result, an all too rare non-Tory newspaper.”

[boombambaby]

Drabble; Pizza

Several hours have passed since the guards first arrived to bring his belongings into the hut, and there was still no end in sight. Kuzco’s bed made it safely into the attic room, wedged inside of a small nook off to the side. With a little finagling, it was able to fit relatively well with Chaca and Tipo’s bunk beds in the small room; Not that it made him feel any better about the situation. Or him being ‘wedged’ anywhere.

Now that the guards had been shouted into submission and were listening to him (somewhat), Kuzco orchestrated the move in by ordering them around, telling them where to put his stunning stone carved busts (‘The table in the dining room is fine, it’s supposed to be a conversation starter!’) and the other knick knacks he brought from the palace. It worked for a while; until Chicha saw Kuzco trying to replace a chair with a mannequin designed to show off his imperial robes, and put her foot down. (‘Absolutely not, Kuzco. This is our home; NOT a museum.’)

With Chicha now in charge, and ordering most of the unnecessary items down to the basement, Kuzco sullenly retreated into the living room to relax on the couch and watch the proceedings from afar. He’d spent the better part of the day dealing with all of this, and he was exhausted. It had to be the most work he’s done in. . . he can’t even remember.

When one of the guards comes back from the attic empty handed, he snaps his fingers and waves him over. “Hey, do me a favor? Head down to Mudka’s and pick up a dozen pizza’s.” The guard nods, straightening and turning on his heel to head out of the hut.

This was much better.

Sure, it wasn’t his opulent palace. . . with his gourmet chef, and his money stuffed pillows, heated floors and vanilla scented bathrobes. . .

But maybe this stupid ‘school’ thing wouldn’t be so bad if he still had his Royal guards around.

He relaxes back against a pillow with his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and smiling to himself at the thought. Maybe he’ll even see that hottie-hot-hottie he’d noticed last week when he came to Pacha’s hut to let him know about the news. What was her name again?. . . Malina! That’s it.

She’s bound to be impressed when he shows up at the school; especially if it’s with his guards. He can see it now.

Guard #4 returns a short time later carrying a large stack of pizza boxes, which at Kuzco’s behest, he places on the floor next to the couch. Chicha chooses that moment to come in, Pacha on her heels and she stops mid stride when she notices them. “Oh, how nice Kuzco. You ordered pizza for everyone helping you move in. That’s. . . actually pretty thoughtful.”

Kuzco already has the top most pizza box open, and is mid reach to tear a slice out. “What? Oh, no– silly Chicha.This is lunch! For me.” He chuckles, taking a large bite out of the bottom of the slice and reclining back against the couch again. Mouth still full, he continues; “I am one HUNGRY, King of the World.”

Chicha and Pacha can only stare, dumbfounded, at the lazy teenager.

“Hey chief, keep em’ coming will ya? I don’t want this stack getting down below three boxes.”

Chicha closes her eyes in an attempt not to lose her temper, and Pacha– sensing her struggle– reaches out to place his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, why don’t you go relax and check on Yupi? I’ll take it from here.”

A snort-growl ensues, and without a word Chicha stomps her way up the stairs, fists balled at her sides. Pacha watches her go, then turns towards the lazy-would-be Emperor with his hands on his hips.

Kuzco, oblivious, is already reaching for another slice of pizza and chuckles at Chicha’s reactive snort. “Sheesh; what was her deal?”

[lightsalt94]

Death of a Centurion

AD 70

The warm night air brushed across the face of Sextus Junius Marius as his cavalry file proceeded on its patrol. To his right the city of Jerusalem smoldered, to his left, past his second in command, the twinkling of torches outlined the mighty legions as they competed amongst themselves to build the wall which the brave general Titus had commanded. Pride had begged Sextus to refuse tonight’s patrol so that his company could share in the honor of the contest, while duty compelled his heart to keep safe his brothers while they laboured. Deeper in his heart the viper which dwelled in the darkness had whispered “this patrol may lead to the pleasure of a whetted blade.” And now his unit cantered south from their post on the usual patrol. “What ails you brother?'' Tiberius Felcinius Cordus, second in command and longtime friend. Where Sextus was the epitome of the Roman man Cordus took more after his Gaulish mother. “Surely,’ Tiberius continued “it cannot be that you pine to lift stone all covered in dust and sweat when there is hunting to be done?” “what is there to hunt out here?’ Sextus retorted ‘the hungry and starving scavengers that slink from the walls as soon as the dark can cover them in obscurity? Or perhaps the prey you speak of is that of those seeking to escape with a belly full of gold?” Sometimes, Sextus remarked to himself, it was hard to tell if the viper in the dark spoke with Tiberious’ voice or Tiberius with the viper’s. Tiberius laughed, “you speak well, but those like us must seek quarry where we can lest we grow dull like a hound no longer set to work. For then what would happen, if in such a state, the hounds fall in among the boars?” Sextus quickly gave the halt signal, ahead in the dark something moved. Possibly a dozen or so people carrying a box. With quick commands the file switched to a charge line and in moments had efficiently struck down the those fleeing the city. As the line wheeled around from the charge it appeared that the unit had done their job as well as any legionnaire could be expected to. Until one of the slain who had fallen over the box started shaking. Laughing at the feeble efforts of the wounded man the new recruit Julius spurred his mount closer. The rest of the unit, minus Sextus, started to dismount for looting.Julius leaned over and lanced the man through the chest with a sickening shatter mingled with breaking wood as the spear came out of the man and embedded itself in the box underneath. As Julius went to remove the spear, Sextus came to a realization. The man had been dead since the first attack, there was something in the box. In the time it took for this thought to race through Sextus’ mind, Julius pulled loose his lance and the night was shredded by the howl of one facing torment with even the gates of Tartarus being closed. As the echo faded 3 of his men lay already dead as the creature moved like Mercury through them, taking heads, limbs, and flesh in a vain attempt to sooth its own pain by inflicting what it could on others. With a thrill from the viper in his heart Sextus reflexively spurred his stead into a charge, burying his lance halfway up the haft through the creature. With a savage and flailing blow it tried to reach up for Sextus and instead backhanded a hole into the skull of his horse, dropping the beast and pinning one of Sextus’ legs underneath. Tiberius with a howl of delight launched his spear adding it to Sextus’ in the creature's chest. Not phased by the new lance protruding from its torso it leaned over Sextus, plunging a hand into his chest. As he roared in pain he could feel the being squeeze tighter and tighter for what felt like an eternity until, in what at first seemed to be a trick of pain, the creatures’ head slid off its shoulders spraying Sextus and Tiberius with blood. With a triumphant shout Tiberius lifted his gladus in celebration, never seeing the arm of the creature flailing towards him in the final spasms of death. “Well’ Sextus thought to himself as his mind faded, “we got it.”

[larrylimericks]

14Aug22

Lou hyped up the Lokeren crowd While letting his ancestors down; Who’s gonna tell him— A one-sixteenth Belgian— That Brussels is one hour south?

[itscominghome]

Summary: Mason and the reader have an argument, but with Y/N already stressed from her mentally taxing job, disaster strikes for the young couple.

Notes: This wasn't requested, but I felt like writing something and my asks are dry asf. This is going to be a little mini-series kind of thing (if I can manage to keep my levels of motivation up). Also feels weird writing in 3rd person :/. So, yeah, requests are very much open! xx

Warnings: Seizures, mention of suicide, mentions of death

Just Tell Me It's Not The End Of The Line - Mason Mount

"Y/N, we barely spend time together anymore!" Mason said, voice raised slightly. This was a new experience for the both of them. Not once in their four years of being together had the two of them raised their voices at each other. I mean, they'd barely even argued.

"Mase, we can't help it, can we!? You're always at training during the day, I'm always on the night shift. I don't know what you want me to do! Seriously, tell me how I can fix this and I'll do it!" she said back, exasperated. Y/N had already had a stressful week, well a stressful couple of months. Her new job was mentally taxing, but something that needed to be done. Working at an emergency call centre wasn't the nicest of jobs. Sure, you got the calls of cats being 'stuck' up trees or calls from drunks on a night out, just wanting to say hello. But more often than not, Y/N had been dealing with the more serious calls. Either other operators (usually new) didn't know how to deal with these calls, or for some reason, all these calls just happened to be ones that she picked up. The last week had been particularly hard, having dealt with three suicides, two of which she had been unable to prevent, about a dozen calls from distressed children who had been unable to wake their relative from their 'sleep', and you get the idea.

"I don't know! I don't know if there's anything we can do! Even on your days off, all you want to do is lie in bed, in silence. It's like I don't matter to you anymore,"

"Mase, do you have any idea how hard my job is, the sort of things I have to deal with and hear on a daily basis!?"

"Look, Y/N, I don't know what you want me to say, but this relationship won't work if we barely see each other. Maybe we're best off-" But the rest of the sentence had cut off for Y/N, the room now appeared to be spinning, her left arm had fallen numb and limp at her side.

"M-Mase..."

"What!?" Mason shouted unexpectedly, frustrations growing at the situation. Emotions were running so high, the thought of having to split from his girlfriend of four years blocking out the obvious struggles Y/N was having with her speech.

"S-Something... S-Something doesn't f-feel r-r-right..." she slurred. And that's when it happened, Y/N fell to the ground, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and she began to convulse. Mason dropped to his knees next to her, panic flooding his face.

"Y/N! Y/N!" he screamed, reaching for his phone and dialling 999.

"Ambulance service," he said the second someone started to talk to him on the other end of the line. He was put through to someone and quickly began to explain what was happening.

"Move everything out the way so she can't hit her head, and start a stopwatch, stop it when I tell you to," the woman on the other end of the call ordered calmly.

"A stopwatch!?"

"Just do it," He put his phone on speaker ,before switching to his stopwatch on his alarm app, starting the timer and then proceeded to move everything in the close vicinity away from Y/N's head. He was then talked through how to put her into recovery position, laying her on her side to begin with and ending with tilting her head up.

The ambulance only took five minutes to arrive, but those five minutes were possibly the longest few minutes of Mason's life. He spent them trying to reassure both himself, and Y/N, saying things along the lines of, "You're gonna be okay," "Come on, baby, stay with me," "Please don't leave me," "I love you," and "You're gonna be just fine, the ambulance is on its way."

When Mason heard the streets fill with the sound of sirens, he rushed to open the front door before dashing back to his girlfriend's side. She was still violently convulsing. The ambulance crew ran in, making a quick job of putting Y/N onto a stretcher and carrying her into the ambulance. Mason followed closely behind, tears threatening to spill over and down his cheeks.

"Was anyone timing it?" the paramedic asked, Mason pulled out his phone, showing it to him and staring at it himself. Y/N had been fitting for about 8 minutes now, the paramedic immediately calling a medical emergency. A few minutes later, and Y/N's seizure had stopped, she was breathing, but unconscious. Mason sat next to her, holding her hand the whole way. When they arrived, Mason was forced to wait in the reception of the hospital, with the promise that as soon as they had any news, he would be the first to know. So whilst he was waiting he made some calls, first to her parents, next to her brother, Dan, letting them all know of the current situation, and finally to Declan, tears that had been developing since the moment Y/N's seizing had begun, finally streaming from his eyes.

"It's my fault Dec,"

"How can it be? She had a seizure, how can that be your fault?"

"We were arguing, I was shouting at her, and seconds later she was on the floor. What if I lose her Dec... I don't know what I'd do without her... I can't believe I actually thought I could end things between us. I'd be lost Dec, I'd be lost without her. And I almost ended things with her, just because she'd been struggling with work and not being able to spend as much time together because of it,"

"Mase, I need to go, I'm getting in the car now, let Kepa and Kai know. They're her best friends, they'll want to be there when she wakes up" Declan sighed, hanging up the phone. Dan stood metres away, listening to the whole conversation, racing towards Mason, his head in his hands.

"It was your fault! If she dies- If she dies, it's all your fault Mount!" he shouted, grabbing Mason by the collar of his coat and shoving him against the walls of the waiting room.

"I know! I know..." Mason cried as hospital staff rushed to pull Dan off of him.

"Sir, we're going to need you to leave until you've calmed down," the receptionist said, pointing towards the door, Dan went to protest, but looked at Mason's sobbing form and his and Y/N's parents stood there, giving him a look telling him to just leave for a bit. He turned around and walked back out of the hospital, going to calm down until someone came to let him know the state of his little sister. Paul, Y/N's Dad, walked over, pulling Mason into a hug, Claire, her Mum, unable to anything but watch the scene unfold.

"It's alright son, it's gonna be alright, it's not your fault, you couldn't have known that your argument would've caused this, and who says it even did, come on son, calm down," he looked at Claire as Mason's sobbing came to a stop. He lifted his head up and pulled away, sitting back down in his seat, not saying a word. Claire knelt down in front of him.

"If the seizure was due to stress, you and her arguing can't have been the only thing stressing her out, plus lets be honest, she'd forgive you for anything, she would, she loves you and she knows that you love her, anyone who has eyes can see that you love her," she said smiling, "ignore Dan, he's scared, and he's protective of his little sister, but that doesn't mean that what he said was right."

"How about we go and get some coffees, we might be here a while, you stay here, okay?" Paul suggested. Mason just nodded. He sat there, watching the door that Y'N had been rushed through, just waiting for someone, anyone, to come and tell him that his girlfriend was okay. After a few minutes someone did come out and was heading in his direction, he stood up instantly.

"Mason Mount?"

"Yeah," he replied, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He could only imagine how he looks right now.

"We've found a large blood clot in one of her brain's main arteries," Mason was stunned to silence, "unfortunately, the clot isn't responding to any of the medication and we're under a lot of pressure to get this done, as we don't have a lot of time..., we'd like to try a procedure called the clot retrieval surgery. We would feed a wire through an artery in her groin, up into the brain and pull the clot out. On one hand though, it is an experimental surgery and carries an element of risk,"

"What could happen..?" Ben asked, scared to know the answer.

"The clot could get pushed further into the brain, or the artery could be damaged in the process, we need permission from a family member to go forward with the operation. Is there anyone currently here?" the doctor finished.

"Yeah, but they're in the canteen. I'm her boyfriend, surely I can make the decision too?" the doctor nods, "Do it, if that's the only way," Mason said. Nodding, the doctor retreated back into theatre as Y/N's parents came back into the room with the coffees.

"What did they say?" her Dad asked. And Mason explained it all, how the surgery would work and the possibility of complications, and now all they could do is wait. Paul went out to explain it all to Dan, whilst Claire remained by Mason's side, her hand resting on his arm in attempt to comfort him.

"She'll pull through, I know she will, she's strong. You know she is," Claire's words of comfort put Mason's mind slightly at ease. But, all they could do was wait and hope for good news of the surgery going well. Mason knew he was in for a long night of worry and frustration towards himself.

[renatapatata]

UNUS ANNUS GOODBYE LIVESTREAM HIGHLIGHTS;

(From someone that watched it completely despite completely ruining their sleep schedule as a result,, worth it tho ✌)

They rented and set up an Unus Annus themed room and had a laptop between them to directly check out videos on, as well as a timer on a screen to remind us of their impending doom.

Amy (bless her soul) was the true moderator who from a?? Tech spot above them would speak into her mike like God and direct them to looking at out of context screenshots, memes and fanart from over the past year.

They scrolled through the channel from beginning to end and had the time to watch a dozen of them - particularly like a video from each 'era' ish of the channel, like the first ones or Camp Unus Annus as well as fan/their favorites.

All the editors got shout outs + were probably tasked to make a compilation video of the edits they were individually tasked to do and ended up making just absolute masterpiece tributes 😳

They watched videos such as Mark and Ethan Attempt an Escape Room, DIY Chiropractor, DIY Geriatric Simulator and so on...

Mark had never seen one of their last videos, Ethan Kidnaps Mark, which was the pre 'The Truth of Unus Annus' video and was basically Ethan's version of the Mark's Outside Escape Room from Camp Unus Annus.

DJ Burt Blackarach sent them a cake + bottle of champagne and ☠ y'know Ethan doesn't play with baked goods due to his peanut allergy and Mark cant drink alcohol but they appreciated the sentiment (we all did c'mon it was super sweet)

Mark got the bug watch for Amy that he'd accidentally donated in that early on video with Sean about Donating Toys to Charity!!

They almost killed a video that they found mediocre (but that is actually one of my faves ngl) aka How Much Caffeine Can Kill a Man but at the Last Second they realized that they probs shouldn't get rid of a video beforehand fnfnfn with the reasoning being that it could be someone's birthday video and that it deserved to live till the bitter end (that being of like. 5 extra hours)

There was lots of general shenanigans and ramblings/bits from time to time, with Mark and Ethan being pretty content and ready to say goodbye to the channel.

Oh yeah and then like at 2 hours and a half before it ended Ethan got a live tattoo done of the counted down to 0 timer as Mark failed to be normal around the tattoo artist and 'hAd' to mention the Pee Sauna and Pee Soda to her-

On the subject of tattoos they went through some amazing tattoos that fans had gotten and sent pictures of

Hashtags on Twitter were being flooded, with things such as #Unusannusisoverparty, #WeWereHere, #MarksNewHat - which, yeah Amy got him a top hat and I don't think I've ever seen such pure joy on his face than in that moment.

+++ Amy was wearing an epic suit which was their main aesthetic of half white half black...

Mark reiterates how proud he is of Ethan, of Amy... of the whole team!!! I got emo it was starting to get too real

AND THEN MARK HAD SURPRISE CUSTOM UNUS ANNUS POCKET WATCHES FOR AMY AND ETHAN,,,

So then ya they started getting a bit more speechless/emotional near this bitter end, and at an hour ish left I want to say was when they hit 1 million likes on the stream - and they kept pushing to hit that milestone since if they reached it they would reveal what was inside the coffin...

Plottwist!!! The coffin was empty but they decided to test it out and take turns in it (the material inside was apparently very soft).

So then Ethan gets in the coffin which commences a string of eulogies between em which got me way too emotional and was like a part of the stream that was just Being Brutally Honest With Each Other 2.0.

Mark basically talking about how proud he is of Ethan + how he's excited for his future endeavors and knows that despite the goofy exterior he shows he has such potential and then Eef gets out of the coffin crying which then proceeded to make chat (and me) cry fukcC

Mark gets in the coffin and Ethan talks about how hardworking and no bullshit a person Mark is and how he's learned so much from him and how Mark has never given up on him and his constant presence and support has changed him-

Mark gets out of the coffin crying, they hug it out and ya everyone's crying emotions r healthy gang and damn did we go through a rollercoaster of them...

So I'm weepy and dont necessarily remember exactly what was next, but Amy also got in the coffin which prompted Mark to just go off and give her the most well deserved praise ever since she was the one behind so many of their most creative/cursed ideas and was ghaaa Mark obviously could have talked about her for forever it was super sweet and shes just so deserving of all of that 🥺🥺🥺 gosh we really have her to thank for all the hard work that was put in and resulted in such an amazing payoff...

The last video they watched was The Barrel Song by the way with Schmoyoho, which was weirdly??? Really fitting since it was about saying goodbye and destroying something that you'd become fond of.

Evan then ominously says in response to being offered to get in the cry coffin with like. 5 minutes left on the timer that he totally went in it earlier which was him just politely saying No💖

Oops also forgot to mention but in the last hour they slowly deleted/privated the Instagram, Tumblr, Reddit and Twitter accounts.

And for the ultimate end which wow really came too fast once the numbers dwindled down to 10 minutes left Amy sat in frame in between Mark and Ethan as they clicked the delete channel button and the stream went dead.

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know. 

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry! 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes. 

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run. 

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder. 

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand. 

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will. 

Oh, if Fives could see him now. 

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?” 

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space.  “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha. 

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?” 

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. 

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame." 

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!” 

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.” 

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?” 

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling. 

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.  

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. 

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands. 

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear. 

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.” 

Or not. 

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at. 

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking. 

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”   

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp. 

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’ 

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone. 

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could. 

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all. 

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town. 

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy. 

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment. 

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away. 

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to  the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days… 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’ 

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious. 

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building. 

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers. 

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock. 

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock. 

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself. 

He looked ridiculous. 

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death. 

What if she was with someone new? 

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all. 

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open. 

Two Y/C/E eyes met his. 

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face. 

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him. 

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter. 

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand. 

He guarded his heart. 

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back. 

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?” 

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.” 

“...good.” 

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten. 

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear. 

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear. 

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty. 

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes. 

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling. 

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing. 

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were. 

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation. 

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face. 

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.” 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

It’s Always Been You ~ 147

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,320ish

Summary: The final battle begins....

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time.

Y/N was lost in the midst of the chaos. Her unconscious body getting caught in one of the lower levels of the rubble. Tony was up first, searching for Y/N. He found the shield and Steve instead.

“Come on, buddy,” Tony urged, kneeling beside his brother-in-law. “Wake up.” Steve groaned, coming to. “That’s my man.” Tony held the shield up. “You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“You messed with time. It tends to mess back. You’ll see.” Tony helped Steve to his feet.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“I was hoping she was with you. FRIDAY?”

“I am searching for her location, boss” FRIDAY responded.

“Please tell me that she’s alive."

“She has to be,” Steve said. “The Stones won’t allow anything to happen to her.”

“I’ve located Mrs. Stark,” FRIDAY announced. “She’s underneath the rubble.”

“Great, where?” Tony pressed.

“Tony,” Steve said, “maybe we need to deal with—“

“Deal with what?! Your sister—my wife is down there in who knows what kind of condition! We—I need to get to her!”

“Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted, “I don’t know if Y/N would see that as the best idea.”

“What?! Why are you choosing now to talk back, FRIDAY?”

“Because Thanos is here. Thor is currently watching him not too far from where you are.” Steve and Tony made eye contact.

“Y/N can protect herself,” Steve told his worried friend. “The she’ll be fine because the Stones need her.”

Tony nodded and the two walked out of the rubble they were in. They found Thor intensely watching Thanos, who was sitting on something not too far off.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Thor answered.

“Where are the Stones?” Steve questioned.

“Probably somewhere under all this,” Tony responded. “FRIDAY’s looking. All I know is he doesn’t have them.”

“So we keep it that way.”

“You know it’s a trap, right?” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “And I don’t much care.”

“Good. Just as long we are all in agreement.” Thor stretched out both hands as thunder cracked. He summoned both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir, which he had stolen during the time heist. HIs casual clothes transformed into his armor and cape, with his beard forming into a braid. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

The three walked down the rubble towards Thanos. All of them were very serious and ready to end this once and for all.

“You could not live with your own failure. And where did that bring you? Back to me,” Thanos stated, as the three heroes slowly moved to surround him. “I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yep. We’re all kinds of stubborn,” Tony replied.

“I'm thankful. Because now, I know what I must do.” Thanos stood. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He placed his helmet on his head. "And then– With the stones you've collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what it has been given.” Thor began crackling with lightning. “A grateful universe.”

“Born out of blood,” Steve said.

“They'll never know it. Because you won't be alive to tell them.”

And the fighting began.

~~~

Y/N groaned as she came to. Her head was pounding, it had obviously been hit during the chaos. She was breathing heavily as she took in her surroundings. There was a large metal beam trapping her against broken concrete.

“Hello!” She called out. “Is anyone there?” 

No response. And she instantly regretted not putting a comms device in her ear. Y/N grunted as she tried to push the beam off of her, failing. Looking up, she studied the rubble barely hanging on above her. She needed to be careful or it was going to completely crush her.

“Use us,” a rough voice whispered to her in her head. “Use us.”

“It has always taken a lot from me to control you,” Y/N responded, aloud. “How am I suppose to do what I have to if I’m weak?”

“You’ll be fine.” 

“What the hell am I even supposed to do anyway?”

“When the time comes, you will know.”

“You guys are incredibly unhelpful, you know?” She groaned as she tried to wiggle herself free again, without help from the Stones.

“You are wasting time.”

“Fine!” Y/N huffed. 

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the Stones.

~~~

“Okay, Thor! Hit me!” Tony exclaimed, the back of his suit opening up.

Thor banged his 2 weapons together, each loaded with lightning, and aimed them at the back of Tony’s suit. The Iron Man suit sucked up the energy and he shot it out at Thanos using his hands and body. Thanos twirled his blade really fast to divert the energy. Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat Mjolnir to hit Thanos. Thanos used Tony as a shield, knocking him out and away.

“Boss, wake up!” FRIDAY pled.

Steve tried to attack Thanos but was easily shielded away. Thor’s attack was quickly blocked by Thanos’ sword. Thanos grabbed onto Thor and lifts him up by the neck, choking him, before slamming him down and punching him. Mjolnir is flicked away as Thanos relentlessly beats up Thor, throwing him into a tree and socking him before throwing Thor over rubble and socking him again. Thor tried to grab Stormbreaker but Thanos grabbed it and used it against Thor. 

Form not too far off, Mjolnir began to float off the ground. Thanos was digging Stormbreaker into Thor, when suddenly Mjolnir flies into Thanos. It zoomed past, stopped, and then flew back the way it came. Both Thanos and Thor looked back in amazement as Steve wields the hammer.

“I knew it!” Thor said.

Frustrated, Thanos kicked Thor to the ground. Steve charged at the Titan, swinging Mjolnir, and hitting him in the face, knocking him down. Steve threw his shield and Thanos deflected. Steve threw Mjolnir to his shield, creating a shockwave and knocking Thanos off his feet. 

Steve then threw his shield at Thanos, quickly hitting it back at the Titan again with Mjolnir. He lined his arm up with Thanos to channel lightning his way. 

Thanos eventually got the upper hand, removing his helmet. He stabbed Steve’s leg and knocked Mjolnir out of the Captain’s hand. Thanos proceeded to destroy Steve’s shield with his double-bladed Soward and threw him across the battlefield. Steve staggeredly tried to get up.

“In all my years of conquest, violence, slaughter,” Thanos said, “it was never personal. But I’ll tell you now, what I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet—I’m gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.”

The entirety of Thanos’ army was then summoned to the ground. Upon seeing the army descending onto Earth, Steve slowly got back to his feet. With a fierce determination, he tightened his broken shield to his arm and stood against the army. Alone. Suddenly, a crackling came in on his comm.

“Hey, Cap, you read me?” 

Steve stopped and looked around.

“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?”

A portal began to form behind the Captain.

“On your left.”

Steve looked behind to see the portal on his left side. Three figures stepped through; Okoye, Shuri, and T’Challa, all ready to fight. Sam then zoomed in from above. As he did, dozens of more portals opened up all around the battlefield. Through one of the portals, Doctor Strange appeared, joined by Drax, Mantis, Star Lord, and Spider-Man. Everyone on the battlefield watched in confusion and awe as more and more heroes arrive through the portals from all the corners of the universe. 

Giant-Man (Scott) appeared out of the rubble with Rhodey, Bruce, and Rocket. Every one was lining up behind the Captain, all the teams and armies that Strange and the other sorcerers brought in to help. Tony was sitting up, finally coming around from the hit on his head. Suddenly, the ground in front of him began to tremble and crack. He pushed himself back as something blasted through it and into the sky. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was his wife.

Y/N was glowing with the power of the Stones. Each of the colors were circling around her, all six colors clearly defined. She slowly set herself down in front of Tony, the power fading away as she rushed to him.

“Tony! Are you okay?” She worried as she helped him to his feet.

“Am I okay?” He questioned. “You just shot up from the ground. You were glowing!”

“I’m okay. I’m ready to finish this. Once and for all.”

Tony pulled her in for a desperate kiss. Like he was terrified it would be their last. Y/N quickly reciprocated the desperation.

“I love you,” Tony breathed out as he pulled away.

“I love you too,” she responded.

They turned to join the group of heroes. Tony suited all the way up, while Y/N began to channel the Stones.

“AVENGERS!” Steve shouted, everyone gearing up as she summoned Mjolnir. “Assemble.”

Thor made a battle cry, as did T’Challa, and the heroes charged towards the opposing army. Thanos raised his sword towards the Avengers, signaling his army to charge as well. As the two armies collided, everyone short of paired up. Tony and Y/N were working together, keeping each other safe. Steve and Thor were doing the same thing, both switching off weapons. Steve had Stormbreaker in his hand while Thor had Mjolnir.

“No, no, give me that,” Thor said, tossing Mjolnir to Steve and signaling for Stormbreaker. “You have the little one.”

Steve passed Stormbreaker over and the two nodded to each other before running back into the battle. Y/N and Tony had gotten separated. Y/N could sense the Stones and knew she needed to get to them before Thanos did. It seemed that Thanos and his army knew that and were sending their biggest creatures to slow her down. 

Despite her trying, Y/N was thrown down, plowing through the ground. She was panting, and groaning in pain. The creature stalked towards her as she tried to get back up. It raised its claws above its head and was just about to ship down on Y/N when someone stepped in-between her and the creature and killed it. Y/N inhaled sharply, still slightly panting, as she took in her hero. Bucky had turned, looking down at her with those eyes she had fallen in love with. But it wasn’t the same anymore. Y/N now knew that she was over him, though he would always have a place in her heart.

“Bucky,” she breathed out.

“Hey, doll,” he smiled softly, helping her off the ground.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Bucky.” She practically jumped on him, hugging him tightly. He held her close. “We did it… you’re back.”

“I’m back. Though it’s been mere seconds for me.”

Y/N pulled away. The two studied each other’s faces. Y/N was trying to figure out how to say what she needed to. Bucky was studying her, knowing what she needed to say.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I kept you waiting too many times. I get it.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re happy, right? He treats you right?”

“Yes. He treats me like a queen. We have a daughter. Morgan Howard Stark.”

“Howard?” Bucky chuckled lightly. 

“Yeah, I was hesitant on it too. But Tony did some pretty good persuading.”

“I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey! Can you two old people stop catching up and come help us with the fight?” Sam exclaimed over the comms.

“Be right there,” Y/N responded. She shot out her hand to the side, blasting a creature into pieces. “Thanks for the save though, Buck. But I could have handled it.” She smirked before running off.

~~~

Tony was fighting by himself, creatures and one of the Children of Thanos were after him. He was punched at the ground and he was going to get back up when Giant Man stopped on the Child of Thanos. Peter swung in, immediately going to help Tony up.

“Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty?” Peter rambled after both his and Tony’s helmets disappeared. Tony was looking at Peter, trying not to brake out in a total grin. “I must've passed out, Because I woke up, and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like, "It's been five years. Come on, they need us." And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time–“

Tony took steps towards the teen. “He did?” He mumbled. “Oh, no.” He opened his arms and pulled the teen into him. “Hold me.”

“What are you doing?” Peter hugged back. Tony slapped Peter’s back and closed his eyes, holding him tighter. “Oh, this is nice.”

Y/N had noticed the two and had allowed them some time while she fought off the army. Finally, she was done. She landed behind them.

“Okay, boys, party’s over,” she commented.

“Y/N!” Peter exclaimed, rushing over to hug her.

“Hey, Peter,” she welcomed him into her arms. “I’m so glad you’re back. Now,” she pulled away, “keep fighting.”

“On it!” His helmet closed and he swung away.

The couple watched before making eye contact.

“We did it,” Tony whispered, coming closer to his wife.

“But it’s not over yet,” Y/N replied. She leaned in and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

next chapter >

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[iblameashley]

Shoker Day 3

I wrote this a year ago, and thought I posted it but apparently not. Then I lost the file. Thank GOD I have friends you enjoy smut, I randomly happened upon a copy in my email that I had totally forgotten about. So... here is is the next installment.

Day Three

Repairs to the Normandy were proceeding quite slowly as many of the crew were still recovering from the encounter with the Collectors. Tali was working with Ken and Gabby on the long-range communications; which had to be rebuilt from scratch. Garrus had completed work on the weapons systems, and in typical Garrus fashion, was now going through endless calibrations.

The elevator doors opened and Joker slowly emerged. Shepard was at his personal station working away. Since the mission he had all but abandoned the Cerberus uniform, and walked around the ship in his military pants and either a tank top or tight black t-shirt. Shepard managed to fill them out quite nicely, and Joke couldn’t help but give him a once-over and smirk.

“Commander,” Joker said as he approached the station. He turned and rested on the edge of the Galaxy Map frame, taking the weight off his legs. He handed the data pads to Shepard.

“Joker.” Shepard replied. He took the pads from joker and kept working. “Thanks for these. I’m sure Yeoman Chambers appreciates the help.”

“You would be wrong.” She replied from her station. “Er, Commander.”

Shepard smiled.

“There isn’t much for me to do on the bridge,” Joker began, “There isn’t much between Collector space and the nearest relay. Glad to help any way I can right now.”

“I appreciate that,” Shepard said still reading the pads. “It appears repairs are coming along nicely. Since the crew is still recovering, I need all the help we can get.”

He tapped the pad a few times and then handed it back to Joker.

“Think you can handle these repairs?” He asked.

Joker took the pad and gave it a quick skim. “Yeah, I think I should be able to handle most of this on my own, might need Solus for two or three of these.”

“Perfect. When you’re done, come see me, I have something I’d like to discuss with you. In private.” He taped Jokers thigh with one of his pads and walked away.

Shepard entered the elevator and disappeared to another part of the ship.

Kelly stared at Joker.

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” Kelly smiled.

“Spill it, Kelly.”

“You and the Commander, huh? I never would have guessed.”

“There’s nothing between the Commander and I.”

Kelly just smiled, and continued to work.

“Whatever.”

Joker pushed himself off the Galaxy Map and walked towards the lab, his face red with annoyance and embarrassment.

Joker had spent the better part of eleven hours working on the list of repairs the commander had given him. Solus had been a great help, and most of the minor repairs to the Normandy had been completed. Aside from half a dozen repairs that only a dockyard could handle, they were in good shape.

The downside to an eleven-hour day was Joker was now grimy, sweaty and starving. One fifteen-minute break and a ration pack weren’t nearly enough.

“Oh well,” Joker murmured. He was standing just outside the Commanders quarters. “EDI, let the Commander know I’m here.”

EDI didn’t respond, but a moment later the door opened.

“Come on in.” Shepard yelled from the lower level. “Take a seat at my desk, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Joker didn’t reply but made his way in and took a seat at the desk. There were data pads everywhere, the terminal was active and there was an incomplete message drafted to Anderson. ‘none of your business’ Joker thought to himself, and fixed his gaze upon the wall of starship models the commander had collected.

Without warning, Shepard plunked a chair down beside Joker.

“Jesus, Commander…” Joker shouted, “A little warning next time.”

“Sorry, Joker.” Shepard replied.

Shepard sat facing joker. One leg was extended towards Joker like Shepard was trying to box him in, but he was relaxed and resting with one elbow on his desk.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Joker managed to choke out.

Shepard grinned. “I did.” He said very matter-of-factly.

“…about what?”

“I guess we should get the work-related stuff out the way first.” He sounded disappointed. “I want your opinion of the Cerberus crew.” He continued.

“You’ve asked me before, Commander. I’ve already told you how I feel. Cerberus as a whole can go all the way to Hell, but the people on this crew… I think mostly they’re good people who fell in with the wrong crowd.”

Shepard gave a breathy laugh. “Not quite what I was getting at.” He cleared his throat. “I’m thinking we drop them off before heading back to the Alliance.”

Joker took a deep breath and shifted in his seat.

“The Alliance will be pretty pissed if you do that.”

“I know, I just think people like Gabby, Ken and Kelly deserve better than a life sentence and a window-less cell.

“Cerberus is a terrorist organization, Commander. We’ll be lucky if we all we get is a life sentence and a cell.”

Shepard sighed. He knew there were no good options, but he wanted to do something for the crew. He tapped his foot and thought for a moment.

“How about this,” He said. He leaned forward. “We give the crew a choice. We’ll give them a chance to return to Cerberus if they want – and for those we do, we can drop them off at Omega – and I’ll offer my testimony in their favor when we return. Try to get them a lower sentence.”

“After everything you’ve accomplished, I’d imagine your voice would carry some weight.” Joker mused. “That’s still going toff the brass.”

“I know. I’ve been writing Anderson about it. I just wanted someone else’s opinion. Someone who isn’t Cerberus.”

“I likely won’t be Alliance after this, either.” Joker smiled. “Doubt they’d take a traitor back.”

“They’ll take you back, you’re the best fucking pilot in the fleet. They’ll take you back.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.” Joker laughed. “If that’s all, Commander, I need a shower and a hot meal.”

Joker went to get up, and Shepard moved in closer to further box the man in. “That was the business stuff.” He said intently. “Joker, there is a good chance that when we get back to Earth I will be arrested.”

“Not a chance –“ Joker began.

Shepard moved his hand across the desk until it was on top of Joker’s. He wrapped his fingers around Jokers hand and squeezed.

“Jeff.” Shepard said with a warm, serious tone. “You know very well what is in store for me. That’s why I don’t want to let this chance slip by.”

Jeff? Joker thought. He’s never called me that. His heart was racing and he felt light-headed. He looked down at his hand. Shepard was holding his hand. He was so warm, and slowly getting closer. Joker looked up into Shepard’s eyes; they looked sad.

“You’ve been with me every step of the way.” Shepard continued. “I admit I was an ass to you at first, and I know I’ve never been clear with how I feel..” Shepard looked away. “This is harder than any mission I’ve undertaken.”

“I love you too.” Joker blurted out.

Fuck.

Shepard stopped and stared at Joker. “You…?”

“Love you. Yes.” Joker replied with a tinge of annoyance.

“I love you, Jeff.” Shepard leaned in so he was inches from Jokers face. “I needed to say it. And I want to spend my last few days of freedom with you.”

Shepard closed the distance until their lips were touching. Shepard slowly kissed Jeff’s soft lips. His hand wrapped around Jeff’s jaw and he pulled the man in closer. He felt Jeff’s hand tenderly make its way to his neck, until his hand was cupped behind his ear.

The Kiss broke for a moment, and the two took a breath.

“Commander.”

“Shut up, Joker.” Shepard said before moving back in for another kiss.

He couldn’t get enough of Jeff’s lips. He slipped his tongue in the man’s mouth; it wriggled and explored Jeff’s mouth. Jeff’s body felt a surge of energy through him as Shepard ventured deeper. He felt the tightness in his pants as he got more excited.

When Shepard pulled away, they were both out of breath. A moment passed between them.” You need a shower.” He said.

“Yeah… Sorry about that Commander.” Jeff felt embarrassment wash over him.

“I’d be happy to join you, if you want to use mine.”

Shepard stood up and pulled his tank top over his head. He tossed it to the floor carelessly. He moved closer to Jeff. I’m all yours, if you want me.

If you want me. What a fucking stupid thing to say. Of course I want you.

“You’re free to explore every inch of me,” Shepard continued.

Joker removed his boots and socks at a speed that surprised Shepard, then quickly got to his feet and began stripping.

Joker was down to his briefs when he hesitated. His heart was beating hard in his chest, but it wasn’t excitement; it was fear.

“Something the matter?” Shepard asked. He too was in standing in nothing but his briefs now, his erection outlined by the tight fabric.

“Its just…” Joker looked at the floor. He covered his erection.

“Ah.” Shepard said. He grabbed one of Jokers hands and pulled him into the bathroom. “EDI, shower.” He commanded.

The shower began to spray hot water, and the room began to steam up.

“Joker, I’ve been admiring you for a long time. You will never disappoint me.”

He put his hands on either side of the waistband and pulled his briefs off in one quick motion. He stepped out of them, and tossed them past joker. He took a few steps back and let the water fall onto him.

“Don’t be shy.” He grinned. “Waters warm and my cock is hard.”

Jokers eyes drifted to Shepard’s groin. He felt his own cock throb with excitement. Shepard was a little larger than average; uncircumcised. It was pulled back to expose the head of Shepard’s cock. Water beaded down the shaft and through his pubic hair.

There was no turning back at this point; Joke pulled his briefs down and threw them into the mess of clothes behind him.

Shepard took in every delightful inch of Joker’s exposed body. Jokers chest and abs were covered in a thick coat of ginger-brown fur. He bit his lip as he let his eyes wander down to Jokers member. He wasn’t as big as Shepard, but he was surprisingly thick. He too was uncut, his head mostly exposed from the under the tight skin, and precum slowly dripping down the shaft.

“You’re perfect” Shepard said. “Now get in here.”

Joker stepped under the hot water and straight into Shepard’s soaking wet body. Their cocks rubbed up against each other, and Shepard wrapped his arms around Jokers body, and grabbed tightly to the man’s ass.

He leaned in and kissed Joker again. He loved the taste of his lips, the feel of their tongues playing with each other.

Shepard began to slowly finger Jokers asshole. Small strokes with one finger at first, then two fingers and venturing deeper. Joker moaned loudly.

“Fuck.” His voice trembled.

He made his way to Shepard’s deltoid and bit him playfully.

Shepard was fingering his ass hard now. Joker was trembling in excitement, and he was barely able to stand. If not for Shepard’s other hand holding him up, he was sure he’d have dropped to the floor.

“I’m going to cum,” Joker huffed.

Shepard slowed his fingering and pulled back.

“Too soon for that.” He said.

“…and…” Jeff said. He almost sounded delirious.

“And?” Shepard inquired.

Joker slipped out of Shepard’s grip and lowered himself to the floor. Joker had always wanted to do things with another guy, but had never had the opportunity. There had been a few men at the Academy he had tried to flirt with, but none had ever given him the time of day. That hadn’t stopped him from jerking off to them later that night. But now he was about to go down on his Commander. One of the most famous humans in the Galaxy. Hero of the fucking Citadel.

His lips gently caressed the tip of Shepard’s cock. It was soft and warm. He began to stroke himself with one hand, and played with Shepard’s balls with the other. Shepard let out an almost feral groan.

“Harder.” Shepard demanded.

Joker squeezed and tugged Shepard’s ball sack. His cock throbbed in Jokers mouth and he could taste something salty on his tongue. Joker took more of the man in his mouth, until he could feel him at the back of his throat. His nose was buried in Shepard’s pubic hair.

He began to move back and forth along the shaft. It was a slow motion at first; he wasn’t used to having something so thick in his mouth. He stopped pulling at Shepard’s balls and grabbed the shaft of his cock tightly. The motions became faster, and Shepard filled his mouth with squirts salty precum. Joker swallowed the oily treat happily.

Shepard’s hands made their way onto Joker’s head, running through the soaking wet hair. He thrust himself into Joker; groaning and growling.

Joker pulled away and took a deep breath. He continued to stroke Shepard, and gazed upward. Shepard’s eyes were closed, and there was a wide smile on his face. Joker licked his lips. “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Is that so?” Shepard laughed. “Then get back to work.”

Joker took Shepard’s member back in his mouth, and worked it hard.

He felt Shepard tense and gasp. His cock throbbed. Joker was shocked when the first spurt hit the back of his throat. Shepard came again, and again. It was hot, thick and salty. Joker loved every second of it. Shepard was groaning louder than ever. He Gripped the side of Jokers head and gave a few deep thrusts.

Shepard pulled out of Jokers mouth and got down on his knees. He pulled him in and kissed him deeply. He could taste himself on Jokers lips and tongue.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He moaned.

“So do you.” Joke smile.

Shepard pushed Joker backwards until he was laying on the floor of the shower.

“Don’t think I forgot about you.” Shepard said.

He grabbed Joker by the thighs and pushed them back, being careful not to push to hard. His head moved down towards Jokers still very erect, very thick cock. And Joker sucked in a deep breath as Shepard surprised him. His tongue began to lap at Jokers ass. Licked and lapped at the hole like a hungry animal. Joker pushed Shepard’s head deeper.

“You really know how to use your tongue,” Joker whimpered.

Shepard plunged deeper and hardener. He explored his pilot’s asshole with so much enthusiasm, it was bringing Joker to the edge.

Shepard came up for a breath and smiled at Joker. He smiled back.

He released Jokers thighs, and ran his tongue up Jokers shaft until he reached the tip. He took the head in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Finger my ass again, Commander.” Joker begged. “I’m so fucking close.”

Shepard obliged and slowly worked two fingers inside Jokers ass. He moved his tongue between the foreskin and the head like he was French kissing Jokers cock. Jokers member throbbed. He was breathing so hard he thought he was dying – but damn did dying feel great. Two large fingers were massaging his prostate and it happened. Suddenly an explosion of semen filled Shepard’s mouth. It hit him hard, and his eyes widened as the stream didn’t stop.

Shepard massaged Jokers ass harder, he was going to drain the main dry. He swallowed in large gulps as Joker filled his mouth again and again.

Fuck, how much cum does this man make? Shepard thought to himself.

Joker rubbed his hand over Shepard’s shaved head. His chest heaved up and down. His eyes closed for a moment as he regained himself. When he opened them, Shepard face was there to greet him. He gave Joker a peck on the cheek before resting his forehead against Jokers. His fingers slowly pulling out. Joker’s body trembled again.

The world came back into focus, and Joker remembered they were still in the shower. The hot water still coming down hard on them. They were soaked and on the floor.

“Might be a good time to take that Shower.” Joker laughed.

Shepard kissed Joker a few times on the cheek and neck and then pulled away, allowing Joker to sit up.

“Might be.” He grinned. He got to his feet and helped Joker off the floor. “You’re staying the night, yeah?” He asked.

“Commander, I can barely walk on a good day. With the workout you just gave my ass, I’ll be lucky to make it your bed.”

“Good, you better get used to that workout.” Shepard began to lather up his hands with soap, rubbing it into Jokers chest. He only had three more days of freedom, and Joker would be lucky if he could stand by day six. He was going to milk every pleasurable moment from the next few days, and from Joker.

[billyhargrovebabe]

Thank youuu for the tag!! @lovebillyhargrove 💞💞💞 I love reading everyone’s pieces!!

WIP TAG GAME

Rules: Share the latest line however much you want from your work in progress and then tag as many people as there are words in the line as you want.

I’ve got about a hundred half-written Harringrove pieces bc I have commitment issues apparently lol. I also hate my writing but that’s besides the point…

Anyways… here’s one.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Steve knew it was his fault.

The last time he and Billy had been together, he had said the word — blurted it out when their skin was flushed together.

He's in love with Billy Hargrove. Had told Billy so much himself.

And Billy had just gone rigid beneath him, his bright eyes fading into something reserved, something Steve hadn't understood as he pulled himself up from the blond's chest, stricken with panic.

"I'm not— I didn't..."

Billy never responded, not really. He hadn't said those words back, he had just said shut up, pretty boy, and pulled him back down to his body, pressing his lips to Steve's blazing cheek.

He hadn't seen Billy since then, after he had vomited his feelings at the poor guy, when they weren't even official. He knew he was the reason Billy had just disappeared — scared of commitment, not feeling the same way, blah, blah.

It’s been a month. A whole ass month. No golden curls or baby blues in sight.

And sure, he’d noticed the bruises now and then, dusted across Billy’s ribs or occasionally his face, but he’d never thought anything of them other than Billy being Billy. He liked to fight, whether it be Tommy H or some nameless stranger on the other side of town. Billy came with bruises — that was just Billy.

Except he storms into Hopper’s office, ignoring Flo’s protests about it being too early, that the chief’s having his coffee time, and slams the door shut behind him.

“How has a teenager being missing for over a month and you’ve not done a damned thing about it?!” He spits out, not bothering to sit in the chair opposite Hop, that he gestures to.

Hop drinks his coffee so scalding hot that the steam escapes his mouth, blinks sluggishly, and says nothing but a grumpy, “Huh?”

And Steve wants to shout, to scream, why does nobody give a fuck about Billy?! Instead, he stares down the older man with narrowed eyes.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove. He’s been gone an entire month to the day. He could be dead for all I know! And you— you’ve just sat around drinking coffee and eating donuts!”

Hopper sends him this calculated look as he sets his giant mug down on the wooden desk top. Steve’s expecting something — an excuse, a lie — but he’s met with the smoke of the cigarette Hopper plucks from his breast pocket and lights up instead.

He slams a hand down on the desk, the coffee mug jumping at the impact. “There's a loving family back at home for him, who you told there was nothing you could do to find him! What excuse for a chief are you, Hopper?!"

The older man, calmer than a dove floating in the wind, rises to his feet. He yanks open his top drawer, empties the contents on the desk in front of him. Spreads the small squares across the glossy surface.

Steve furrows his brows, seeing the polaroids Hop was spreading out in front of him. He leans closer.

“Does it look like this kid is from a loving family, Steve?”

The smoke he huffs out is sour in Steve’s nostrils, knocks his stomach queasy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It sours more when he picks up the first of many and eyes it carefully.

Billy.

He’s looking away from the camera, baby blues focused on the floor, with a bloody and bruised face. One of his arms is held close to his chest, bent at an ungodly angle and his t-shirt is stained, soaked in several places, notably from his dripping nose.

Steve’s stomach violently lurches.

“The kid’s lucky to be alive if I’m being damn honest.”

He picks up another, sees a trail of marks stomped into Billy’s ribs, skin broken in some places and swollen. Blood is etched across his chest, trailing down his neck.

The next is a close up of his face. His bright blue eyes behind splats of bruising, one eye almost closed off entirely as he stares directly into the camera. And his lips — those soft lips that Steve knew well — were cracked with bloodstained teeth poking from behind.

There was still maybe half a dozen more.

He’s never felt so dumb in his life. Being a kid who’s parents were distant to him entirely and permanently disproving of him, he should have spotted the signs. Billy’s dad was a cold-blooded abuser.

The date printed in the corner of each square makes his breath catch in his lungs, that night. The one where Billy fled in the middle of the night after Steve confessed his love for him. He probably got caught sneaking in by his dad because Steve couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

“Not convinced? Take a look at the damned report." Hopper jerks, flops down this thick file that claps against the wood of the desk and sends the polaroids flying.

Steve reaches for it, flips it open with a harsh swallow past the lump in his throat.

William 'Billy' Hargrove described the assault against him by his father after coming home late at night. He says he was pushed to the floor and landed on his arm. His father then proceeded to inflict more damage to his body — specifically using the force of his boots against Billy's ribs. Billy explained how the injuries to his face came after his father had picked him up from the floor by his collar, and verbally assaulted him. Finally, Billy left their family home and drove off in his car, to which he was met by Chief Jim Hopper less than an hour later.

His heart thunders in his chest. If he had known— he would’ve done something about the bruises earlier. He would have told Hopper or… shit, he would have even given Billy a key to his house to keep him away from his dad.

“That's no loving family, Steve.”

“I didn’t know,” he confesses to the older man. He lets out a shaky breath, wills the tears in his eyes to stay put. “Is he okay?”

Hop grunts. “He’s fine. He’s safe now.”

“Where is he?”

“That I can’t tell you just yet — for his protection and for the sake of the case. I’m working on the case day and night to get the kid’s old man behind bars. And before you start— he doesn’t appreciate being kept away from everyone either. Especially you.” Hop points his burning smoke pointedly at Steve, his cheeks burn instantly.

“Here…” The older man scribbles on one of his notepads, tears the sheet off before handing it to Steve. “One phone call a day, alright? That’s it.”

Steve nods immediately, catches sight of Hopper’s phone sat on the desk.

“Nuh-uh. You can use your own landline, kid. Don’t want you blocking up my line all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Hop.” Steve spins on the spot, heads for the door with a rush in his steps. He needs to get home and to dial the number, needs to apologise and maybe tell Billy he loves him again now that he’s safe.

“And remember— one call a day only!”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Polaroids will forever be one of my favourite prompts for these boys… this one just went a different way to usual? Don’t hate me lol.

Steve’s an oblivious bean, a little dumb too… but that’s okay — he figures it out eventually. Also, I think y’all can kinda guess where Billy is, no?

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Everyone who made it this far, this is my personal nomination for you to participate!!