hit-squad

anonymous asked:

describe the one direction fashion during their album eras.

Up All Night.

Pastel twinks. Giving off that vibe that makes you think they smell like an Oceanside Yankee Candle and freshly cut springtime grass. Would defo date you, open doors for you and smile at you with some sugary fucking tooth-rotting grin. Defo gonna have you back home 15 minutes before curfew with a wink at Mama as he leaves to drive the car that tells your mama he paid for the meal and could probably pay for her house too.

Take Me Home.


Sassy rich-boy fucks. Got that ‘lost my car keys so daddy brought me a new car’ vibe. Wears bowties to a casual as fuck house party. Other dudes think they’re twats but girls think they got dollar dollar hiding in their fancy fucking breast pockets. Lots of monochrome colours, wears white jeans and would probably wink at you as you notice the grass stains.

Midnight Memories.

Greasy gas station rent-boy chic. Excuse me m’aam, our car seems to have broke down can we borrow your cell so we can call a towing service“ Totally not passed them to throw you on the back seat and have the whole squad hit it in their cheap as fuck dodgy car whilst they wait for the tow truck tho. Smell like sweat, tequila and smoke. Bad-boy assholes that don’t believe in money as a concept which is an excuse for them being broke as fuq. Would get drunk with you and complain about captalism and the bourgeoisie. 

Four.

Slayin in all black cos it’s everyone elses funeral. Take me To Church plays in the background of them wherever they go. Has the ‘Daddy-doesn’t-talk-about-his-business-with-you’ vibe and you cool with that. Smells like overpowering Gucci cologne on a soft autumn breeze. Hair constantly in a state of ‘i woke up like this but it took an hour to get right’. Most likely actually has money falling out their pockets. Shoes pointier than cheekbones.

Made In The AM.

We’re not like regular dads we’re cool dads. Relaxed and chill vibe, just guys being dudes. The kind of guys who know how to bleed a radiator but know the best guy to get cocaine from at short notice. Would probably reference memes in conversation but only the relevant ones. If you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, they are wife material.

Somewhere

Somewhere someone is having the worst day of their life.
Their child stopped breathing.
Their spouse is not waking up.
Their brother was in an accident.
Somewhere someone is crying out for help.
An abused wife.
A neglected child.
A drug addict.
Somewhere someone is counting the seconds until help arrives.
A single mom who’s house has been broken into.
A daughter watching her dad hold a gun to his head.
An aunt not knowing what drugs her niece is on.
Somewhere someone is in shock.
The 30 year old that just became a widow.
The once happy parents of a 6 month old.
The sister who found her sibling after losing to cancer too soon.

Somewhere. Someone.
Is throwing on boots, and running to the squad.
Hitting the emergency lights while pulling out of the bay.
Hoping a car will stop so they can pass the red light.

Somewhere. Someone.
Will see the blood left on the wall from that dad.
Will hold that baby knowing he’ll never breath again.
Will listen to the screams of family members in heart break.

Somewhere. Someone.
Woke up at 2am to save that drug addict for the 8th time this year.
Skipped dinner to go help a man with a stubbed toe.
Missed holidays, birthdays, soccer games to answer the call of duty.

Somewhere. Someone.
Worked 25 years just to get ptsd and lose their job.
Finally passed all their schooling and tests just to have a career ending injury day 1.
Mixed paths with someone in such a hurry they didn’t stop for the flashing lights.

Somewhere. Someone.
Left at 7am for their 24 hour shift.
Made it till 3pm without lunch.
Was hit head on at 7pm by a car not paying attention.

Someone. Somewhere.
Answered a call for a suicidal male.
5 minutes later was looking eye to eye with the man that would kill her.
A mayday. Shots fired. Is being echoed on radios.

Someone. Somewhere.
Makes 16 cents more then minimum wage.
Works 100 hour weeks to pay the bills.
Gives their life to others, to be paid less then fast food workers.

Someone. Somewhere.
Will see their partner more then their spouse.
Will skip more meals then they can sit down for.
Will wake up more times then they get to lay down.

Someone.
Somewhere.
Won’t.
Go.
Home.

“Hit the Diamond” will forever be my favorite Steven Universe episode.

Ruby squad is introduced.

“Oh honestly, you call everyone a clod.”

“That’s my word.”

Ruby and Sapphire!

“Yeah, casual!” *walks like a dumbass*

“Well, she’s definitely not in that barn!!”

“LETS AMBUSH THEM!!”

“YUP NOTHIN’ IN THERE BUT US HUMAAANS.”

“I saw that this was a possibility, though I am surprised that this is the path we are taking.”

“This plan sucks.”

STEVEN

EARL

AMY

BOB

SOPHIE

RUBY RUBY RUBY RUBY RUBY RUBY

Lapis putting zero effort into catching the ball.

Amethyst showing off, and Pearl going “NICE”.

Rupphire flirting.

“You’re lying to me!!” … “To make you feel better!” … “THANK YOU.”

Sapphire being a badass and winning the game.

“A HA AH HA HA HA… whoops.”

Peridot trying to run to everyone, falling over twice. Calling herself the leader of the CGs.

Peridot looking to Pearl because she doesn’t know how to answer the Rubies, Pearl shaking her head “no”.

“NEPTUNE!!”  “Well why didn’t you say so!”

“Man… Rubies are DUMB.”  “Not all of them.”

shakedown-1977  asked:

But how did you discover Russia's illegal annexation of Crimea

I was on assignment in early 2014.  It was February, I remember, and it was very cold, especially for Crimea, which the Russians generally considered somewhat equivalent to our Florida.  I was then a wildlife photographer (mostly marine) working there on behalf of the BBC, but occasionally I would dabble in urban photojournalism or human-centric stories when the need arose or I had free time. That’s how I found and grew to know Anna.

She was tall, stocky, built like a machine.  Her arms were cranes and her shoulders were bulldozers. Her long, flowing, ultra-brown hair was the only thing out of place, and her disposition was quite compatible with her physique. When we met for lunch every other week, she used to charge down the Sevastopol street when she caught glance of me, tearing through the other pedestrians and causing quite a stir. When she reached me, she usually knocked me into a lamppost or cafe table, and I would sometimes get a mild concussion, but I didn’t mind.  She was an excellent source and a better friend.

Now, I want to make one thing perfectly clear: the cafes of Sevastopol are exquisite, and for a moment if you closed your eyes you may have felt that you were in a seaside Paris, or a slightly more historic Genoa. The waiters and waitresses, dressed in all white outfits, their sole duty to cater and serve, were well-trained, and the chefs were obviously quite good at their task.  It was this setting that I grew to love, and that Anna had already loved since her childhood.

Anna would always tell me that she “could never ever leave” the city she resided in, and that she would rather “eat locusts” than move from her home.  Yet, in that brisk winter, I noticed that things were changing, and that perhaps, the locusts were more of an option than she led me to believe.

“My friend told me about good nursing jobs in Krakow,” she said to me at one of our cafe brunches. “A high need for them and good pay.”

The next week she told me that she had begun to brush up on her Polish, but she said it in such a way that I could sense the pain exuding off from her.  Each word, each sentence, was like acid on her skin, permeating her very being. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to leave. Yet she did.

The day after the armed hit-squads casually marched through the streets and  the Novofedorivka airbase fell, I missed a call from Anna.  I already knew what she had to say, but I played the voice message anyway, eagerly contemplating every true word.  She had lost her state, her home, her independence. She didn’t feel right, she said, living in another man’s country under another man’s flag.  It just didn’t feel right.

I stayed for four more months, documenting the crisis in the best way I knew how, but there was always something missing – Anna.  She and I lost touch over the months, our cafe rendezvous a long-forgotten thought, and I flew back home when there were no more photos that hadn’t been taken, no more words that hadn’t already been committed to type.  The city, and the region, had been lost, but all I could think about was how Sevastopol lost Anna.

Jason Todd- Phone Call

Masterlist


Jason had finally gotten back to the apartment. He ripped off his hood, and threw his holsters onto the coffee table. He looks around the empty living room, and walks to the fridge to get a beer. It was going to be a long morning. 

Usually after his patrol, he would come to the apartment and find you sitting, but mainly sleeping, on the couch. You would wait at his apartment to make sure that he was okay. It didn’t matter that you had work the next morning. When you knew he had patrol, you would bring overnight clothes, and sit and wait on the couch for him. But tonight you were gone.

It’s been about two years of you dating. The first year was rocky since Jason didn’t really open up to you. But then you stayed at the mansion one night with him, and saw Dick in his Nightwing outfit. You wanted to see where Jason was growing up, so you had diner with Bruce, but nobody told Richard. 

So Jason told you most things. And that acceptance was good enough for you. When he was ready, he was ready. And he told you everything. About the Pit, his death, his plans as Red Hood. 

And after a while, Jason wanted to hit himself. Because he loved you. And he had told you everything one of his enemies would want to know. So he made you move in. So today and tomorrow is packing day. 

Jason had told you he didn’t go on patrol so you would finish packing quicker so he could live with you catch up on sleep. 

You weren’t on the couch tonight, but soon you would be every night. Or in the bed. He wouldn’t want you to sleep on the couch. He’d want you to sleep safe in his arms, on the queen sized bed. 

He sat on the couch, looking at the picture of you on his phone. But the screen soon showed your contact name. 

You were calling.

His brow raised, and he answered, putting you on speaker phone. He bends down on the couch to start untying his shoes, 

“Hey babe. What’s up? How’s the unpacking going?” 

“There’s a guy. He has been in a van across the street all day. When I moved the truck into the parking lot, I notice that the building he’s in front of is for sale.” Jason straightened up at all of this, quickly retieing his boot. 

“Are you sure he wasn’t waiting for someone inside the building?”

“I’ve been in the walkway, which is mainly window. My apartment, which looks over the van. And I’ve been outside. Nobody has come in or out all day. No lights on, and the front door is padlocked.” Jason grabbed his belt, putting it back on.

“Stay inside. Act like we didn’t have this conversation, and warm up leftovers. Read. Put on a show about reading, but once you have established that you aren’t paying attention, get away from the window. Lock the door. Stay in the bathroom until I say so. I hid a gun in the cupboard.”

“Okay. I love you. Don’t get hurt. And thank you.” That put a smile on his face. Love. He loved you more than anything, and he would do anything for you. 

“I love you too.”


‘Okay (YN), it’s clear.” Jason rapped against the door, out of breath. You opened the door to find him, blood on his face. He decided to wear a domino mask without his helmet. Jason quickly wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest. You were right. And that van was filled with a squad of Black Mask’s goons. It was a hit squad.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” You sigh into his chest.

“You aren’t dragging me, if I want to be where you are, stupid. I love you. You’re my world.” Jason smiled, but at the same time, his heart broke. He didn’t want to put you this close to danger, but the only way to be okay is by staying at his side. 

What a double edged sword. 

But you could never be a sword.

You are the sun to Jason.

His everything, and he wouldn’t give you up for the world.

Fog (Part I)

Pairing: Finn x Reader, Balor x Reader
Summary:
  His eyes, his normally oceanic eyes, were no longer the blues of the sea, but matched the attire he had on his body. His pupils were past being blown, the black covering his eyes almost entirely, save for the crimson red that had spider-webbed its way out from where his irises should have been.
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: Nothing I think in this part…? I’ll tag warnings in each individual part though.
A/N: So originally I had this as an idea in my head for like, a 500-700 word drabble… and whoops, here we are with what will probably end up being a series. The first set of text in italics is a flashback, the second set is a dream. Hopefully they make sense.

Also, this series is dedicated to the very lovely and dear @castielscamander. Without her, this may not have turned into anything and she has been such a huge help for me fleshing this out. Babe and Bubba forever.

GIFS NOT MINE

———

Getting the word that not only was I being called up to the main roster, but to Raw specifically, was a dream come true. I remember Hunter pulling me aside at one of the NXT TV tapings and letting me know I had to pack my gear up after this last set because I was heading to the red brand and just… sobbing into his shoulder. Not my finest professional moment, but at least he knew how badly I wanted it. I made my debut a week before SummerSlam last year and put all the girls on notice, letting them know that things were going to be different now because The Ringleader was there to run the show.

After just over a year of being on the main roster, you’d think by now I would have gotten used to it all; the get-up-and-go schedule, the flights, the driving, the almost non-existent days off. It sure was a lot different than how things were in NXT, yeah, but having this career was all I had thought about since I was literally eight years old. It’s something that I felt was in my blood and a part of my DNA, so if that meant I had to acclimate to functioning on an average of three hours of sleep and living out of a couple suitcases, then so be it.

But one thing I still hadn’t gotten truly used to? The mercurial nature of Finn Balor’s eyes.

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