deals with the gulf


US just signed a $12b weapons deal with Qatar.

Trump administration is going to make the gulf go into war while selling arms to both sides.

The British cruiser HMS Euryalus takes aim at an Italian warship as the cruiser HMS Cleopatra lays a smoke screen during the Second Battle of Sirte, an engagement between a British convoy and a much stronger Italian naval squadron, credited as a British victory due to the failure of the Italian Navy to halt the convoy despite dealing significantly more damage to the enemy. Gulf of Sidra, Mediterranean Sea. 22nd of March 1942.

[in the dark of the night demons will find her]

Merry Christmas, @accioecho! It was a lot of fun to be your Secret Santa! And here’s your gift: almost six thousand words (because I have no self control) of Captain Swan x Marvel, because we’re both MCU fans, yay. The prompt was “lovers on opposite sides of the war.” Hope you enjoy it! Hugs!


It started, as most things destined to go well did not, in a dive bar in Moscow three days before Christmas. Zero fahrenheit would have qualified as a heat wave. The city was buried in a foot-thick layer of deceptively beautiful white cement, tea poured piping hot was somehow only lukewarm when you lifted it to your lips, and hard as Emma tried to blend in with the impervious comrades thronging past, she was increasingly convinced that the weather was far more of a hazard to her health than any number of ex-KGB commandos with Kalashnikovs, and she was expecting quite a few of those if this didn’t go well. Maybe this was SHIELD’s way of throwing her into the deep end and seeing if she could swim. Now that she thought of it, probably. Kind and gentle job training wasn’t exactly their thing. She had finally decided to go straight after years working around, over, behind, and below the law, only to find herself doing essentially the same thing all over again, this time for them. The big difference, she supposed, was that if she got herself killed, someone would retrieve the body. Plus the money. She’d done fairly well as a freelancer, but never six figures a paycheck.

Not that she did intend to screw this up. She was, after all, a professional, and had tracked down rogue vigilantes, Hydra agents, mad scientists, and wealthy tech entrepreneurs a lot more dangerous than this guy. Not that she was underestimating him. The only name she had was Hook. He appeared in their files here and there, financing illegal weapons deals in the Gulf or rebel organizations in Sokovia (well, before Ultron had wiped it off the map), connected to a mysterious computer virus called “Neverland” that had taken the entire Internet hostage, and rumored to have bought or stolen an Infinity Stone – to name the very least of the reasons why SHIELD was keenly interested in putting him out of business. They’d tried to investigate his background, but he or whatever black hat he was working with had taken care to erase all records of his past before he embarked on his global crime spree. The only thing Emma had to go on were a few brief video clips and eyewitness descriptions. That line about being tall, handsome as hell, and so good at being so bad apparently fit him to a tee. English accent, not that that meant much in pinning down his origins. Incredibly charming, intelligent, witty, and ruthless – by that description, probably a textbook psychopath. And, assuming their intelligence was correct, going to be here at this no-account bar in Russia in the assblast of winter, tonight, to pick up some unspecified material for his next and greatest scheme.

And she, Emma Swan, was going to be waiting for him.

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