#heart’s munition series

[crazyunsexycool]

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 3

Pairing: mob boss!steve rogers x maid single mom!reader

Word count: 3.2 k

Warnings: implied smut, sick child, vomiting but not graphic, asshole steve

Series masterlist

Ch 2.

“This is where we keep the cleaning supplies for the first floor. If you go up the stairs and to the left you’ll find the same set up on the second and third floor. That way we don’t have to carry anything up and down the stairs.” You explained to the new maid, Lily.

She was cute which worried you. But until now you hadn’t seen the petite blonde do anything out of line. You had hopes that she would be around for a while.

“Let me show you around the areas that you’ll be responsible for. Although most of them we can switch around there are some that are solely my responsibility. Like the boss’ bedroom and his office. If anyone on his team says it’s off limits then it’s off limits. It’s best to listen to them and keep your head down.”

“Wow, if I go somewhere I’m not supposed to, am I fired? I mean if I didn’t know I couldn’t go in there?” She asks, concerned.

“Coulson would most likely talk to you about it first. Unless it’s one of the private areas. But I’ll show you those as we go along.” You say as you get closer to Steve’s office. “This is the boss’ office. Never just walk in there, always knock and wait until you’ve been allowed in.” You point at three more doors. “That’s the library, that is a movie room and this is the other bathroom.”

“Hey doll, I thought I heard you out here. What’s going on?”

“I’m just showing Lily around the house. She is the newest member of the house staff. Lily, this is James Barnes, he’s friends with our boss and his right hand.”

“Pleasure to meet you Lily.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She smiled sweetly up at him.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Doll? Privately.”

You follow Bucky to the end of the hallway as you have a whispered conversation about keeping Lily as far away from Steve as possible. Only it was too late because he opened the door to find her just standing there. You mutter a curse before walking back to Lily while he introduces himself.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m Lily. Thank you for this opportunity, I promise I’ll work very hard.” She beams.

Things had been tense since you confronted him about Peter following a few days ago. Since then he’s been distant and if you walked into a room he was in he’d either stop talking until you left or he would walk out. There was something else going on, you were sure of it, but his attitude towards you was irritating.

Steve looks up and catches your eye for a moment. The second you notice his attention on you, you mouth ‘please don’t.’ Which makes him smirk before looking back down at the new maid. His demeanor changed completely and you crossed your arms before looking back at Bucky. He gives you a tight lipped smile in return. Steve flirts a bit with Lily before you stop the interaction from going further.

“Alright, well we have a very busy day ahead of us, so if you’ll excuse us.” You put a hand around Lily to usher her out of the hall.

“I was just getting to know my new employee. I’m sure you can make time so that I can get to know her better.”

“Then have someone follow her.” You whisper yell in his direction when she’s around the corner. His flirty demeanor is gone and again Steve glares at you for a moment before walking back into his office.

Bucky gives you a thumbs up while he chuckles, following Steve.

Who Steve slept with was none of your business, you were very aware of that. But if it affected your job you had to try to stop it. The extra money was good but you needed to be with Elijah too. With that in mind you decided to talk to Lily about it. You waited until the end of the day and stopped her just outside of the gate.

“Before you leave for the night I need to ask for a favor.”

“Anything.” Lily says with a smile.

“I’ve been here a while and I know the boss enough to know when he’s flirting.”

Her cheeks turned red at your words and she had a small smile on her lips.

“Just please read your employment agreement again and don’t sleep with him.”

Her smile dropped as concern took over her features. “But why would he flirt with me if I would get in trouble?”

“Because he can? Just please remember that.”

“Ok, thank you for the heads up, I wouldn’t want to lose this job. Have a good night.”

“Good night.” You said as you both parted ways.

A few minutes after starting your walk a car slowed down beside you. Your heart slammed against your chest until the window came down and Peter called your name.

“Do you want a ride? I’m heading in that direction anyways.”

You rush to the passengers side and get in, a little sigh of relief escapes you.

“Thank you, my feet are killing me.”

“Don’t mention it.” Peter smiles and starts driving. You rest your head against the window and watch as the world passes by.

****

“Y/N.” You feel a light shake. “Y/N, wake up we’re here.” You open your eyes and look around. Sure enough you’re in your neighborhood.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it. You work hard and it’s better that it happened here and not on public transport.” He assures you. “Would it be ok if I came in and said hi?”

“Of course, Eli would be happy to see you.”

Peter looks around until he finds an empty parking spot. You walk ahead of him and lead him up all the way to your apartment where Mrs. Fields was making dinner.

“You’re home early, dear.”

“Peter gave me a ride today.” You motion behind you and the older woman smiles at him. “How is he doing?”

“He was able to keep some food down and he’s watching a show in his room.”

“Good. That’s really good.” You say as you rush to Eli’s room. With a knock on the door you poke your head in to find him sitting up on his bed. “Hi baby, how are you feeling?”

“I’m ok. I missed you.”

“Oh baby I missed you too.” You say as you bring him in for a hug. He still looked weak but after a few days of barely eating and being sick it was expected. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Someone is here to see you.”

“Is it uncle Peter?” Eli perks up at the possibility.

“It is.” Peter says from the door. “Hey little man, how are you feeling?”

“Better. Ma can I play some games with uncle Peter?”

“Of course sweetheart. I’m going to go shower really quickly.” You excuse yourself and take a few minutes to yourself in the shower.

Once you’re done and out of the bathroom you head to the kitchen. Mrs. Fields was putting the finishing touches on dinner. After dinner Peter leaves and Mrs. Fields leaves with him. Now it’s just you and Elijah. You grab the medicine bottles that he needs to take before bed and a glass of water.

“Mommy I don’t want to take them anymore.” Your son pleads with teary eyes.

“I know baby but they’ll help you feel better.”

You measure out the first medicine and hand Eli the cup. He grimaces at the taste and you hand him the cup of water. Once he’s done you give him the three pills he also has to take. Eli pouts once he’s done but you ignore it.

“How about some dessert for taking all your meds?”

“Ok.”

You get up and serve yourself and Eli a bowl of ice cream. In his room you sit with him in your lap and watch a few episodes of power rangers. He starts to doze off a few minutes into the fourth episode but before you’re able to put him down and tuck him in for the night his eyes snap open and the sick look in his face has you grabbing the bucket you keep by his bed. Elijah empties the contents of his stomach and then lays back down. He immediately starts to cry and you can’t do much other than hold him. After having him brush his teeth you lay Eli back down and read him a bedtime story.

Once you know he’s asleep you clean up the mess and head to the living room where you make up the couch in order to lay down and get some rest of your own. In the dark of night while no one is awake to hear it you cry for your son. You cry in fear that you might lose him and that doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him. You’ve never felt as powerless as you do at this moment because your baby’s life is slipping through your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The following few days are the same. You get to work, you show Lily around and Peter drives you home. At home you have dinner and before bed Elijah is sick again. You’ve barely slept because you’re constantly going into his room to make sure he’s still breathing. In short you’re exhausted.

The only thing that was going well was work. Well it was going well until you walked by one of the guest rooms and heard two people going at it. A sinking feeling hits you square in the chest and you stop what you were going to do and search the house only to find your suspicions confirmed. Lily was nowhere to be seen and neither was Steve.

At some point Bucky and Sam walk in to start their work for the day. It was a perfect storm really because just then Lily walks down the stairs to be met with everyone’s prying eyes. Her clothes were disheveled, cheeks were flushed, lips were slightly swollen and her hair was a mess. Bucky shakes his head in disapproval and looks your way. You only manage to shrug but really you wanted to cry. Not because Steve was sleeping with someone but because you were running on fumes. Having someone else to share the workload was the relief you needed.

“You were right, I don’t know why I didn’t listen.” She says to you before walking away.

Just as she steps out of the living room Steve walks down the stairs. A huge smile adorns his face and he even winks at you. You ignore him and turn on your heel and head to the kitchen.

“Really? That’s a new record, three whole days before seducing an employee.”

“Couldn’t help myself, she’s so cute.”

Steve had a smirk on his face that disappeared the moment both Sam and Bucky shot him disapproving looks. They headed toward Steve’s office without a second glance and left him wondering if he had fucked up.

****

About an hour later Steve is knocking on Coulson’s door after having his calls ignored. Without waiting for an answer Steve opens the door to find you wiping away tears and Coulson handing you a tissue.

“Just go home for the day. We can manage.” Phil says before looking up at Steve. The same disapproving look is in Phil’s eyes.

“No, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. You have paid vacation days. As a matter of fact I won’t even count them as vacation days. These are extra days.”

“But…” you wanted to argue that you needed them in case of an emergency.

“I’m not going to hear any of it. Go, I’ll have Parker take you home. Come back on Monday well rested.”

“Fine.”

At that moment Steve realized how tired you truly looked. The guilt settled over him quickly, it was never his intention to have you be overworked because of him. You get up and walk out of the office only offering Steve an angry look.

“What was that about?”

“She’s tired and upset because her boss keeps making her job harder than it needs to be. She’s been without help in her duties for weeks.”

“It can’t just be that.”

“You’re right. It’s not just that. There are other things going on in her personal life that add stress but you…” Coulson struggles to find the words he wants to use. “Keep fucking up.” He spits out.

“If you haven’t noticed this is my home. I do what I want and whoever I want. I’m under enough stress myself, I don’t need you or the maid to judge me for how I decide to relieve that stress.”

“Yes, but unlike you Y/N didn’t choose the life she has. It was handed to her and she tries her best. So why don’t you try to keep it in your pants or at least don’t sleep with the house staff.”

Steve is taken aback by his employee’s attitude. Coulson has never been one to talk back in this manner.

“Hey, is everything ok with Y/N? It seems like she was crying.” Bucky had stopped at the door to Coulson’s office.

“Why don’t you ask your friend? He’s the one making her cry.”

“Steve what did you do now?”

“I did nothing. And since when are Parker and Y/N friends?” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

“Since you had him follow her a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Bucky is taken aback by the revelation. “What has gotten into you, punk?”

Steve just rolls his eyes and walks away from the questions. He felt like he was out of the loop on a lot of things. Why was everyone so protective of you? What could be happening in your life that you were so stressed out about? He could fix it all if you would only let him in.

The weekend flew by but you were grateful for it nonetheless. Elijah had a good day which was all you could as for. You spent it cuddled up watching movies, getting some much needed fresh air and playing video games. He beat you a few times but you’d lose a thousand times over if it meant hearing him joke and laugh. You were able to catch up on some sleep as well which you had desperately needed.

Now you are back at work. The morning had been pleasantly uneventful but something was happening. There were extra guards milling about. Murmurs and whispers about someone coming to visit in the afternoon. You couldn’t be bothered with the information.

There were two good things about the day. First Coulson had told you he had an interview for another maid and he felt good about this person. Second, you hadn’t seen Steve all morning. You were still pissed off at him for the stunt he pulled, it’s like he was doing it on purpose just to get under your skin.

“Mia Cara, can you do me a favor?” Dom called out to you from the kitchen.

“Anything, what do you need?”

“Take this into the boss’ office please. He’s in the middle of a meeting so make sure to knock and wait for an answer.”

“Sure thing.” You grab the tray and head toward Steve’s office.

It wasn’t uncommon for Steve to have meetings in his home but there was something off about this. Normally Coulson handled taking anything into Steve’s office but he was busy at the moment. There were guards standing in the hallway, they gave you a hint of a smile as you passed by. At the door you knocked and heard a muffled come in.

Inside Steve was sitting at his desk, Bucky and Sam were sitting on the couch and someone you didn’t know was sitting opposite of Steve. You silently moved to serve the drinks you had on the tray. Setting it down on the edge of Steve’s desk you have your back to the stranger. You offer Steve his drink first and the. You turn around to give the man with the mustache his. Turning your back to him again you move to grab the tray but everything stops suddenly.

“Thanks, sunshine.” The stranger had smacked your ass.

It all happened so fast, you turned on your heel and slapped him hard. Then Steve was on him, hands gripping the other man’s shirt as Steve dragged him up from the chair and got in his face. Sam pulled you away from them while Bucky tried to separate Steve from his guest.

“Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again, Hansen.” Steve was red in the face. His handsome features twisted by rage into someone you didn’t know.

Was this why he was so feared?

“Oh come on, Rogers. She knows I was just kidding, right pumpkin?”

“You touch me again and I’ll cut your hands off you prick.” You snap back but it only made his grin wider.

“Oh she’s feisty. I can see why you have her around. That attitude and that ass?” Hansen groans as he imagines who knows what in that sick head of his. “Bet she’s all kinds of fun when she isn’t wound up so tight.”

Steve pulls back and connects his fist to Hansen’s face. That’s the last thing you saw before Sam pulled you out of the room. He motioned for the guards to go in there and help while he took you to the kitchen.

“What the hell happened?” Dom asked as he took in your bewildered expression.

“Hansen was inappropriate toward Y/N and you know how he feels about it.”

“Inappropriate how?”

“He smacked my ass as a thank you for handing him his drink. I slapped him back. Now Steve is handling it.”

“It’s the least he could do.” Dom said before he started muttering in Italian.

There’s a commotion in the living room and Hansen promptly walks out of the house. He caught a glimpse of you though and winked in your direction. Bucky was at the end of the line of guards and informed you that Steve wanted to see you.

****

“You wanted to see me?” You ask from the open door.

“Yeah, come in. Close the door.”

You did as he asked but leaned against the door.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what? You weren’t the one that grabbed my ass.”

“I never wanted you to see that…” he waves his hand in the air vaguely as you walk closer to him. “I don’t want you to be scared of me. I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that right? The other day with Lily, I’m sorry about that too.

You nod but don’t say anything. Instead you focus on his hand. His knuckles were bloody and instinctively you take it to inspect for any injuries of his own.

The gesture seemed too intimate for Steve. He had wanted you close but not like this. Not in a way where you could see his weak points. Somehow you were turning into one of them.

“It doesn’t hurt does it?” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“No, nothing I haven’t done before.”

“Thank you.” You say as Steve turns in his hand to hold yours this time.

“For what?”

“Defending me.”

Steve brings your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss, a huge contrast to his attitude earlier.

“I’d do anything for you.”

You didn’t know it now, but in the near future he would prove to you just how much he meant it.

Ch 4

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[myfanficlibraries]

Steve Rogers

Alpha!Steve

1) Grain of Truth by @biteofcherry       Soft Dark Series

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

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

Fluff

1) Air Conditioning by @bict

2) Hand Holding by @angrythingstarlight       Biker!Steve

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

4) Society Says by @invisibleanonymousmonsters       Tall Reader

5) Threadbare by @ronearoundblindly       Completed Series       Some violence

6) Too Many Wingmen by @beccaanne814

Mafia AU

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

2) Cherry by @biteofcherry       Enforcer!Steve       Smut

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

4) Mafia!Dad Steve Rogers by @sweetsbfreex

5) Nesting by @biteofcherry       Soft Dark

6) Sink Into Me by @simmerandwrite       Ongoing Series

Smut

1) Cuffed by @sidepartskinnyjeans

2) Music to My Ears by @royalsweetteaa

3) Overstimulation by @myfictionaldreams       40′s Steve

4) Steve Rogers Alphabet Masterlist by @universitypenguin

Soft Dark

1) In the Balance by @goodgirlofglory       Ongoing Series

[mariacallous]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[levi-venn]

My Favorite Meatbag

(Tech & TAY-0)

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

Also found on AO3 here

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you coming?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tech's eyes narrowed.

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

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

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

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

"I don’t understand the question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh…"

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

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

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

Tech’s eye twitched. “I see…”

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

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

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

Tech smiled faintly. "Perhaps we can."

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

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

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

To the West was home.

“This…is Pabu.”

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

TAY-0 gasped. “Wow…”

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

“...this place is cuuuuuute.”

Tech’s lips thinned. 

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

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

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

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

Another mention of friendship…

…Tech waited for the punchline. 

There wasn’t one. 

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

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

“Sure I do, human.”

“...it isn’t-”

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

Tech tilted his head.

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

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

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

Tech frowned.

“...short.”

“Brevity is the spice of life."

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

“Obviously.”

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

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

“Oh yeah? How many friends you got?”

“Apart from my siblings?”

“That…sounds like the number's zero.”

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

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

Tech didn't push the issue. 

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

“Are you ready to go outside?” 

“Wait! One more thing,” TAY-0 said.

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

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

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

"Full of sunshine and confetti?"

TAY-0's eyes flashed with apparent mirth.

"Exaaaaactly!" 

Tech snorted a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

"This is a peaceful island, TAY-0.”

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

“It's Tech, and we’ll see.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tech."

"That's what I said!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt very human. 

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

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

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

"You're welcome, my friend."

***

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

***

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

[i-gwarth]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It could work

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Ten

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

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

Word Count: 3527

Series Master List

Chapter Nine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.” He says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll help you relax.” He insists. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you deserve all this pain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doing so good.” 

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

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

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

“But,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does pushing people away help?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Eleven

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[usafphantom2]

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

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

Thomas NewdickPUBLISHED Jul 27, 2023 5:37 PM EDT

Lancaster bomber over the German city of Hamburg

Photo by SSPL/Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[t-kiss]

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

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

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

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

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

❣️ Tell us about your F/O

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

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

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

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

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

And, as a bonus, He Scrunch.

👀 What drew you to selfship with them?

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

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

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

🤝 Describe your S/I's relationship with them

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

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

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

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

🔥 Share some kinky headcanons you have for them

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

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

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

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

🌈 Share some other headcanons you have for them

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Conclusion: I love my urban cowboy. 💕

—

[kryptonitecore]

Reread: All Hail Megatron, Part 2

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

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

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

[roseclothes]

Max Mara SS24

Luke Leitch's full review for Vogue:

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

[andronetalks]

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

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

[crazyunsexycool]

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 1

Pairing Mob boss!Steve x single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Series masterlist

Warning: Steve is a slut (he will be through part of the series), talk of throwing up, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of cutting off hands, Elijah is our sweet boy (he deserves a bit of a warning) mentions of medication.

A/N: here we go with a new series! I know this is just the first chapter but the story I have envisioned is just ✨🤌🏻💋👩🏻‍🍳✨ both series and permanent taglist are open for 18+ only dividers related by the lovely Em @writing-for-marvel (originally made for is it a crime? But I thought they fit this fic!)

The sun hadn’t risen yet but you were already awake. There was a list you went over every morning before you could even step out of your small one bedroom apartment. It didn’t simply consist of making sure you had your keys, purse and phone with you, it was more complicated.

“Elijah,” you called softly from the side of your son’s bed. “Wake up my love.” You caressed his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning baby.” You leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“Morning ma.” Elijah smiled sleepily at you.

“How did you sleep?”

“Good. I had a dream that I was riding on a giraffe but I was hanging on to it’s neck so I could see everything”

“That’s good baby, means the medicine is working. Did you have fun riding the giraffe?” He nods and you snicker while getting up to grab one of the many medications he’s on and prepare the first dose of the day. “Now, Mrs. Fields is going to be here in a few minutes, I already have your breakfast ready. All she has to do is warm it up for you. If you don’t feel sick afterward she’ll take you to school and pick you up after and then I’ll see you later tonight ok?”

“Ok.”

He accepts the medicine you give him and scrunches his face in disgust as the liquid goes down his throat. You sit with Eli for a few minutes and he sits in your lap, his face hidden in your neck. These little moments were everything to you because you weren’t sure why he was sick and if he’d survive it.

“Alright baby, I love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you to the moon and back ma. Have a good day at work.”

“Have a good day at school.” You smile and kiss his forehead.

In the living room you look over which medication needs to be refilled and you make an online request for them. Then you set a reminder on your phone to pick them up on your break. The door to the bathroom closes and you stop to listen to see if Elijah is throwing up but to your relief he isn’t. Soon enough the front door opens and Mrs. Fields walks in.

She had been your saving grace after moving to this new apartment. She lived in the building across the street and you ran into each other at the corner store. After knowing each other for a few weeks she offered to look after Elijah after school for you. At first you weren’t sure if it was a good idea but if you wanted to keep the job you had there was no other choice. Once Elijah started getting sick she stepped up even more. Without her you’d be out on the street by now.

She smiles at you causing the wrinkles around her eyes and the laugh lines to deepen. Her salt and pepper hair is up in a twist with a clip holding it in place. The older woman holds out a cup of coffee and a bag for you.

“Here, breakfast and before you complain remember you have to keep your strength up too.”

“Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.” You take the coffee and the bag and hold it in one hand while grabbing your bag. “Eli took his medicine already and he seems to be feeling good. I think today might be a school day.”

“I’ll get him ready then. Have a good day at work and don’t worry about a thing.”

“Bye, call me if you need anything.” You say before heading out of the door and in the direction of the nearest subway station.

The house, or better yet, the mansion was quiet which was a relief. It meant you had enough time to change into your uniform and get a second cup of coffee. As you put away your bag in the locker your employer had set up in a room by the kitchen. Just like always, you were one maid short and the other was late considering her locker was wide open.

“Morning Dom.” You greet the cook as you enter the kitchen.

“Ah, my favorite coworker.”

“And apparently your only coworker.” You tell the older man.

Dominick has worked at the mansion for a long time before you ever started working there. He was in his early fifties with a beer belly, chubby cheeks, tattoos covering all of his arms and a bald head. Your favorite thing about him was that he looked deadly but was the sweetest man on earth. In a weird way he had become a sort of father figure in your life. He was only one of the two people that knew about Elijah’s existence at the house. The other being Coulson, the estate manager.

“She’s probably running late, you know how that ditz is. I don’t even know why they hired her because she isn’t good at her job.”

“You know why she was hired.” You bat your lashes at Dom and smile sweetly. “Oh no, do you think you could get that for me, my skirt is way too short for me to bend over. If I do, you'd know I’m not wearing any panties.” You say in a high pitched voice. Dom laughs as he makes you a cup of coffee.

“You are trouble, Mia Cara.”

“Only the fun kind.”

“What’s the fun kind of what?” Dom turns to the stove while you turn around to see your Boss’s best friend and right hand walking into the kitchen.

Long brown hair, steel blue eyes and a smirk that could make anyone’s knees weak. Bucky Barnes takes the seat next to you at the breakfast bar and smiles in your direction while he awaits an answer.

“Nothing Mr. Barnes. It was just a conversation between Dom and I.”

“Don’t be like that doll. I just wanna be your friend is all.”

You roll your eyes and stand to wash the mug you’d used. “I don’t need friends, I need to get started with work seeing as I’m the only one here today. Have a good day Mr. Barnes.”

“Why don’t you ever call me Bucky?”

“I’ll call you Bucky the day you stop calling me Doll.” You give him a fake smile and walk out.

“Have I done something to make her so standoff-ish?”

“It’s got nothing to do with you. She just has her reasons, she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“She didn’t have an issue being friends with you.” Bucky says annoyed at the fact.

“That’s because I’m charming and the ladies love me. Especially Y/N.”

“There’s no way, her heart is made of ice.”

“Fortunately for the rest of us, not everything revolves around you. Now let her be if she wants you to be her friend, she’ll let you in.”

Bucky just scoffs and takes the cup of coffee Dom puts in front of him.

Steve groans as he sits up in bed. Usually he’d already be up and down in his office by this time but he’d spent the better half of the early morning getting information out of some idiot that thought it’d be a good idea to steal from him. The rest of the morning was spent with the newest maid in bed.

She was pretty but she wasn’t anything special. He regretted taking her to bed the minute she started writhing beneath him like if she was possessed. He was good, he was great even, but she was just putting on a show as if that would prevent him firing her after this. Steve looked over his shoulder one more time before heading into his bathroom for a shower.

****

Once he got into his office Steve saw both Bucky and Sam waiting for him. By Bucky’s face alone Steve knew he had something to say.

“You really need to stop sleeping with the maids.” Bucky said as soon as he closed the door.

“Why does it matter who I sleep with?”

“Because you keep screwing Y/N over and I like her. She minds her business, turns a blind eye if we come in bloody and bruised and doesn’t ask any questions.”

“You’re trying to be friends with her aren’t you?”

“So what if I am? I think it would be good to befriend her, make sure she really won’t spill the beans if cops come asking questions.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He didn’t want any of his men to be friendly with you. Mostly because he wanted you for himself. So if his men did in fact become friends with you, getting you into his bed would be even more difficult. If he got what he wanted, which he always did, Steve would have to fire you. It was written into the employment contract as a way to protect himself. Steve knew his best friends and right hand men thought you were sweet, he did too. It was in your smile the first day Coulson introduced you.

The first time he made a pass at you though he also saw how angry you could get and you shut him down immediately. In all honesty your attitude turned him on so much he ended up having to take care of his hard on before he could continue his meetings. It had been a few months since then and you still wouldn’t sleep with him. So Steve getting you in his bed became a game for him. He liked the chase and you gave him the satisfaction of not being easy. But he knew it would be a matter of time before you caved and once you did he would make sure to give you a hefty sum of money and send you on your way. It didn’t matter that you were in fact a really good employee. Or that he was starting to care for you more than he’d like.

“Stop trying to be friends with the people I hire.”

“She’s different and she isn’t going to sleep with you. From what I can tell she needs the job more than she needs to get dicked down by you.” Sam finally chimed in. “Also I agree with Buck, stop fucking every woman you hire. Get someone at one of your clubs like a normal person.”

“I do who and whatever the fuck I want. That’s enough for this conversation. Do you have the buyers lined up?”

“Yes, our only issue is the Black Order. They’ve tried to corner at least three of our runners in the last few days. If we make the sale we’ll need extra bodies to make the delivery.” Bucky said, leaving behind the previous conversation and getting into work mode.

“Have Barton and Romanoff come in this afternoon so that we can plan a few routes. And have Belova and Bishop come in too, I want them on this issue with the runners.”

After that the three of them kept going on with different deals they were getting ready for. The last few months the Black Order had been trying to take over the city. Something Steve had worked hard to do and maintain. He wasn’t going to let a bunch of nobodies take over and push him out.

You’d just finished dusting the shelves in the living room and were heading to the kitchen to get some water when you see Jessica, the other maid, walk down from the second floor wearing one of Steve’s shirts. She smirks in your direction and walks straight into the kitchen with you following behind.

“Dom, make me an omelet for breakfast.” She demanded.

Dom looked at her and then at you. You only shrugged in response and grabbed a glass to get some water.

“Shouldn’t you be in your uniform? Why are you wearing that shirt?”

“Not that I have to answer to you but I won’t be needing my uniform anymore.”

“And why is that?” He asks amused.

“Well a lady shouldn’t kiss and tell but after weeks of flirting and dancing around our feelings, Steve and I have taken a step towards starting a beautiful relationship.” She says with a smile before it drops and she glared at Dom. “So unless you want me to have Steve fire you, you’ll do as I say.”

You laugh at the last part of her statement and Dom joins in.

“What is so funny? And don’t think that I haven’t seen the way you look at my Steve. You’re already on thin ice so you better show me some respect.”

“Why should I show you any respect?” You say once you’ve calmed down.

“Because I’m the lady of the house now, that’s why.”

That only makes you both laugh more and she lets out a frustrated whine.

“You obviously didn’t read the employment contract before you signed it.” You say as you wipe a tear away. Dom was still laughing, red in the face. “Coulson is going to flip out. You know how he gets all flustered when he has to fire someone.” You tell Dom and that only makes him laugh harder.

“We’ll see about that. And you can consider yourself fired after this.”

Jessica gets up and stomps her way toward Steve’s office. You and Dom follow her and watch as she opens the door without knocking and you cringe. That was a big no-no.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steve’s tone made it clear that he was pissed.

“Stevie, will you please tell Dom that he has to do what I say?” Jessica said in a sickly sweet manner.

You rolled your eyes when you finally stepped in front of the doorway.

“Why would I tell them that? Last I checked, Coulson was responsible for the house staff.”

“I know,” she walked around his desk and sat on his lap. “But since things have changed between us and I’m now the lady of the house-“ Steve raises his hand to shut her up.

Sam and Bucky snicker. The latter looking in your direction and you mouth ‘delusional’ which only makes him laugh more.

“Where did you get the idea that you were the lady of the house?”

“Well after last night I thought that we would be together. Also I want Y/N fired.”

Steve runs a hand over his mouth and down to smooth out his beard.

“I’m not going to fire her. Now tell me, you do know what a one night stand is right?” He says as he gently pushes her off his lap.

Jessica looks at him dumbfounded while Steve picks up his office phone and asks Coulson to come into his office. The older man walks in a minute later and sighs as he realizes what’s going to happen next.

“Phil could you please explain to Jennifer the guidelines in the contract and handle whatever else is necessary.”

“My name is Jessica.” She stomps her foot like a child having a tantrum. She looked around to see if anyone was going to speak up but when no one did she focused on you. “I bet you’re really enjoying this aren’t you? He’s going to do the same with you.”

“Why do you think I haven’t slept with him?”

“Jessica, could you please follow me?” Coulson says already over the situation. “I need a meeting with you later, sir.”

Steve just waves him away and Jessica stomps all the way out of the office. Dom follows but heads to the kitchen and you remain where you are. Your attention is on the stairs as Jessica goes up to get her clothes so you don’t notice that Steve has moved to stand in front of you. When you look back he’s too close for comfort. You place your hand in the middle of his chest and push him back.

“I want a raise.” You say as you cross your arms.

Steve smirks as his eyes roam your figure and you roll your eyes.

“And why should I give you a raise?”

“For starters I’m doing the job of three people because you keep getting your dick wet with everyone Coulson hires. Also I’m a damn good employee. I deserve a raise.”

“You know I could just take care of you. All you have to do is say the word and I’d give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

You lean to the side to look at Sam and Bucky who are further in the office. “Is he always like this?”

“Unfortunately for all of us, doll. I mean Y/N.”

“You should have given me a heads up on day one Buck.”

He smiles, happy that he’s getting somewhere with you.

“I’d rather keep my job. So the raise?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for a million fucking dollars.” You scoff. “Oh and I get to help Coulson hire the next two employees.”

“You’d make a good lady of the house and you would never have to lift a finger again.”

“Just get tested often.” You scoff. “Get it through your head. I will not be sleeping with you ever.” You say and you turn on your heel and leave.

Steve groans as he closes the door. His forehead rests against it as he tries to ignore the fact that he’s hard, again, because of you.

“I really like her.”

Sam agrees with Bucky as Steve turns to look at both of them with a scowl on his face.

“Just give her the raise, she deserves it.”

“I’ll think about it.” He sits behind his desk again. “Where were we?”

You ended up working until at least 7:30 because you were the only one but at least it was some extra money for you. Fortunately the day was finally over and you were grateful for that and the fact that it was Friday. That means you had two days to be at home with your baby to take care of him the way you wish you could all the time.

“Hey Mrs. Fields, how did today go?” You asked as soon as you walked through the door.

“Apparently school was very good. They had some type of group project to work on. And he seems to be feeling very good today although he did lay down for a little nap around five.”

“Ok good. Here you go.” You place some cash on the table in front of her. “Thank you for everything.”

“Please take this back, I’ve told you that you don’t have to pay me. I have my husband’s pension.”

“It’s the only way I’m comfortable with you doing so much for us. Please just take it.”

“Fine, but I’m still not going to use it. If you have an emergency just know you can come to me.”

You appreciate the gesture but you worked hard so that you didn’t have to depend on anyone. It was a lesson you learned the hard way when you found out you were pregnant at sixteen. Elijah’s father disappeared and your family turned their back on you for being a so-called disgrace. Not so long after informing your mom and stepdad of the pregnancy they kicked you out. They said they couldn’t have you giving your younger stepsister a bad example. So your entire pregnancy was spent in a shelter for women. The first few months of Elijah’s life hadn’t been easy but you figured it out. You were able to finish high school while working at the same time. It was shitty pay but it was something and you haven’t stopped working since.

“I’ll never tire of saying it Mrs. Fields but I really appreciate you.”

“Oh honey, you’ve given this old woman something to look forward to. If it wasn’t for you and Eli I think I’d lose my mind all alone. Now why don’t you get some rest.” She pats your back gently. “Have a good night.”

“Good night.”

You lock the door once she’s left and head toward Eli’s room. Sure enough he’s sleeping and considering it’s evening he’d probably sleep through the night. Some of the medication tended to make him drowsy. You sit on the couch with the intention of taking off your shoes and checking your bank account so that you can pay some bills before showering and changing into pajamas. Instead you end up asleep, it was where you slept every night anyways.

“Ma.” Elijah calls out just above a whisper but it still startles you awake. The first thing you think is that he doesn’t feel well but when you sit up and look at him, he gives you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s ok baby. What’s up?”

“Nothing really. You just never came in to say good night. Then I woke up to use the bathroom and saw you asleep and you weren’t in your jammies.”

You look down and groan, causing Eli giggles.

“I’m going to take a quick shower and I’ll be right back.” You do as you said but took some extra time to let the warm water relax your muscles a bit.

It was almost midnight and yet your son sat up on the couch waiting for you. There were two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with chips and two cups of milk waiting on the coffee table. The couch also had the sheets, pillows and blanket you used all set up for you.

“What is this?” You ask as you sit down and turn on the tv just to have something on in the background while you talk.

“I set up your bed because I know you’re tired. I didn’t have dinner and I know you didn’t either. You take care of me so I can take care of you too, ma.” He said before you could protest. “Also Mrs. Fields made something but it didn’t look good so I just said I was tired and that I’d eat later.”

“So you lied?” You ask while before taking a bite of the sandwich Elijah had made.

“I didn’t want to be mean and hurt her feelings.” He frowned as he thought of his action.

“It's ok baby, I understand why you did it but we’ll talk about that later. Now this is the best Pb and J I’ve ever had. Maybe you should make dinner more often.”

“Wait until you try my cheese sandwich.” He smiles.

“If you keep it up I’ll send you to one of these cooking shows for kids. They would love you.”

“Gordon Ramsey would lose his shit if he had my cheese sandwich.” He laughs when your jaw drops.

“Elijah!”

“What? You say it all the time.”

You glare at him playfully and he just laughs more. “That’s a good point, maybe you’d be better as a lawyer.”

“I don’t like arguing. It would probably get boring because I’m pretty sure I would be right all the time.”

“At least you’ll be humble.” You chuckle.

After you’ve finished eating Eli crawls onto your lap. Fortunately he still likes to be cuddled. You put on some show he likes and when his breathing has evened out you carry him to bed and tuck him in.

You clean up quickly and lay down on the slightly lumpy couch. It doesn’t take much to fall back asleep although your back will ache lightly the next morning like it always does.

“You have got to stop.” Coulson said as he walked into Steve’s office late on Friday night. “How many more times am I going to have to deal with the same issue? It’s been at least fifteen women this year alone and it’s barely June.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he was scolded yet again for the same reason. Still he kept his mouth shut as Coulson paced the length of his office.

“And I swear you better stay away from Y/N. She’s the best damn employee I have and if she leaves because of you I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“Ok tough guy why don’t you sit down before you fuck up my floor.”

“I’m serious Steve, I know that you want her because she’s giving you a run for your money but please back off. I need her here because she keeps to herself and she won’t run her mouth with what she sees. And I know she won’t run to the cops because she needs this job more than she needs more problems.”

Steve perks up at the last part of the of his statement.

“What problems does she have?”

Coulson closes his eyes as he realizes what he’s said. You had trusted him with the information about your son in hopes that if you had to leave suddenly it wouldn’t affect your employment. Of course you had asked that he wouldn’t say anything, especially to Steve or his friends because you were afraid they might use your son against you.

“Normal people have problems Steve. Mundane problems that you’ve probably haven’t had since you became the king of New York.”

“Wait a minute, if something is wrong though I want to help her. Me wanting to sleep with her had nothing to do with that. You know I want the people that work for me well taken care of. So what is it Phil?”

“I can’t say,” Coulson shakes his head. “She asked me not to say anything and I’ve fucked it up already. Just stop trying to sleep with her, Y/N really doesn’t need to be harassed every single time she comes in to work. She’s a good kid.”

Steve studies Coulson’s face, seeing how genuine he’s being with the request. He nods, accepting what he’s been told. But the moment the door is closed he picks up his office phone and makes a call.

“Hey Parker, are you busy?” He asks one of his younger associates.

“No, do you need me for something boss? I can be there in a few minutes.”

“You don’t need to come in but I have a job for you.”

“Anything sir.”

“I need you to follow Y/N and tell me if anything is going on with her. I think she might be in some trouble and I want to help.”

“Miss Y/N, boss?” Peter sounded unsure of the request.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No sir, it’s just… she’s really nice and I wouldn’t want her to not trust me if she finds out that I was following her.”

Steve wonders what exactly it is that you’re doing to have his men question their loyalty to him.

“Then don’t get caught.” With that Steve hangs up the phone.

Steve’s willing to do whatever it takes to figure out what’s going on with you. He doesn’t know when it happened but he can’t stop thinking about you. The side of him that he locked away long ago that believed in love and yearned for it is trying to claw its way out. You had done that, with your smart mouth and no bullshit attitude. He moved past wanting you in bed for a night to needing to know more but he was very good at shutting down whatever those emotions were.

Steve sat back in his chair, his mind racing and thinking of the worst case scenarios and how he would help you out of them. Maybe it was an abusive boyfriend. If that were the case it would be an easy fix. Just cut off his hands for even touching you.

The last thing on his mind is that you have a child. A sick child you’d do anything for. Neither of you are prepared for everything that would be coming your way. It would be harder still to realize you’d need each other if you want to survive.

Ch. 2

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[gayforbees]

Alternate Future History

A worst case scenario written with the aid of ChatGPT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[greysdownloads]

Borderlands 2 psycho pack for ps vita

BORDERLANDS 2 PSYCHO PACK FOR PS VITA FULL

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

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

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

[benk625-blog]

The Madness of Human Mating Season

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[End excerpt]

[kaminocasey]

On the Ghost

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

Pairing: Rebels!Rex x Reader

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

WC: 1.5K

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

Rexhibitionism Masterlist

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

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

You open the door more, slightly angry.

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

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

“What are you doing?” He fires back.

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

“G…get out.” He demands, shakily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He opens his eyes, immediately staring into yours.

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

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

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

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

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

“Kanan made me.” He whispers.

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

“What?” You ask, angry and confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not possible.” You tell Rex.

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

“No we do not.” You roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-” You go to apologize.

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

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

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

“Fuck me, daddy.” You beg.

He smirks before pulling your lips into a kiss.

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

“I missed you too.” He murmurs.

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

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

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

“It is… please.” You beg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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