#Launch is in jail for a long time...

[mariacallous]

This is a gift article

In the final week of this election season, the Republican Party is running two different campaigns. One of them is an ugly and angry but conventional political enterprise. Donald Trump and other Republicans make speeches; party operatives seek to get out the vote; money is spent in swing states; television and radio advertisements proliferate. The people running that campaign are focused on winning the election.

Last night, in New York City’s Madison Square Garden, we caught a glimpse of the other campaign. This is the campaign that is psychologically preparing Americans for an assault on the electoral system, a second January 6, if Trump doesn’t win—or else an assault on the political system and the rule of law if he does. Listen carefully to the words of Tucker Carlson, the pundit fired from Fox News partly for his role in lying about the 2020 election. Warming up the crowd for Trump, he mocked the very idea that Kamala Harris could win: “It’s going to be pretty hard to look at us and say, ‘You know what? Kamala Harris, she got 85 million votes because she’s so impressive as the first Samoan Malaysian, low-I.Q., former California prosecutor ever to be elected president.”

“Samoan Malaysian” was Carlson’s way of mocking Harris’s mixed-race background, and “low-IQ” is self-explanatory—but “85 million” is a number of votes she could in fact win. And how, Carlson suggested, could there be such a “groundswell of popular support” for a person he demeaned as a mongrel, an incompetent, an idiot? The answer was clear: There can’t be, and if anyone says it happened, then we will contest it.

All of this is part of the game: the Trump campaign’s loud confidence, despite dead-even polls; its decision, in the final days, to take the candidate outside the swing states to New York, New Mexico, and Virginia, because we’ve got this in the bag (and not, say, because filling arenas in Pennsylvania is getting harder); the hyping of Republican-early-voter numbers, even though no evidence indicates that these are new voters, just people who are no longer being discouraged from voting early. Also the multiple attempts, across the country, to remove large numbers of people from the rolls; the many claims, with no justification, that “illegal immigrants” are voting or even, as Trump implied during the September debate, that illegal immigrants are being deliberately imported into the country in order to vote; Vance’s declaration that he will accept the election results as long as “only legal American citizens” vote.

At Madison Square Garden, Trump doubled down on that rhetoric. He repeated past claims about the “invasion” of immigrants; about “Venezuelan gangs” occupying American cities, even Times Square; and he offered an instant solution: “On day one, I will launch the largest deportation program in American history to get these criminals out. I will rescue every city and town that has been invaded and conquered, and we will put these vicious and bloodthirsty criminals in jail.” But he left open the question of who exactly all these “criminals” might be, because he seemed to be talking about not just immigrants but also his political opponents, “the enemy within.” The United States, he said, “is now an occupied country, but it will soon be an occupied country no longer … November 5, 2024, nine days from now, will be Liberation Day in America.”

The insults we heard from many speakers at Madison Square Garden, including the description of Puerto Rico as “garbage” or of Harris as “the anti-Christ” or of Hillary Clinton as a “sick son of a bitch”—insults that can also be heard in a thousand podcast episodes featuring Carlson, Elon Musk, J. D. Vance, and their ilk—are part of the same effort. Trump’s electorate is being primed to equate his political opposition with infection, pollution, and demonic power, and to accept violence and chaos as a legitimate, necessary response to these primal, lethal threats.

As I wrote earlier this month, this kind of language, imported from the 1930s, has never before been part of mainstream American presidential politics, because no other political candidate in modern history has used an election to undermine the legal basis of the American political system. But if we are an occupied country, then Joe Biden is not the legitimately elected president of the United States. If we are an occupied country, then the American government is not a set of institutions established over centuries by Congress, but rather a sinister cabal that must be dismantled at any price. If we are an occupied country, then of course the Trump administration can break the law, commit acts of violence, or even trash the Constitution in order to “liberate” Americans, either after Trump has lost the election or after he has won it.

This kind of language is not being used accidentally or incidentally. It is not a joke, even when used by professional comedians. These insults are central to Trump’s message, which is why they were featured at a venue he reveres. They are also classic authoritarian tactics that have worked before, not only in the 1930s but also in places such as modern Venezuela and modern Russia, countries where the public was also prepared over many years to accept lawlessness and violence from the state. The same tactics are working in the United States right now. Election workers, whose job is to carry out the will of the voters, are already the subject of violent threats and harassment. At least two ballot boxes have been attacked.

The natural human instinct is to dismiss, ignore, or downplay these kinds of threats. But that’s the point: You are meant to accept this language and behavior, to consider this kind of rhetoric “baked in” to any Trump campaign. You are supposed to just get used to the idea that Trump wishes he had “Hitler’s generals” or that he uses the Stalinist phrase “enemies of the people” to describe his opponents. Because once you think that’s normal, then you’ll accept the next step. Even when that next step is an assault on democracy and the rule of law.

[pegging-satan]

Oh man I love casual banter so much. Sylus insists on calling Zayne “Zay-Zay” knowing it pisses him off because wtf kinda nickname is that “Sylus, how about you be Syl-ent for once” [said while settling down into his embrace after a long tiring day at the hospital, rubbing his head on the man like a cat (grown ass men btw)] and Caleb comes back to work seeing them all cozied up and looking at Zayne is just like “damn someone stole my bitch” so he just uses his evol to float him over like it’s not a big deal and Sylus is just there now, his lap empty being like “wtf man that’s MY bitch” because Caleb is possessive and Sylus is a dragon and neither of them like to share, poor Zayne is just suspended in the air in the meantime, both the gravity evol and energy evol wrapped around him in a tug of war. He eventually flicks their foreheads by softly launching some icicles at them being like “behave!😠” and they both cease before putting him down “…actually it felt kinda nice put me back up please” cut to them just. Chilling together suspended in the air 😭 mc comes home and is just utterly baffled at the sight but her boys are having “ceiling time” so she just. Lets them be and does her business around the house, before making them float her up to them too so now everyone’s having ceiling time in air jail (voluntary imprisonment)

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

[youlikegoodstuff]

Their anniversary (prologue)

All Might x arch nemesis! reader

Gender is neutral here. Reader is a villain called Highland Havoc

Summary: it’s All Might’s and his nemesis’s anniversary, and the fans are done waiting for the villain and hero duo to kiss.

Tw: none. Just a tensions and shipping. Swear words. Stolen stop signs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It Is Fine Now. Why? Because I Am Here!”

As always, All Might made a dramatic and enthusiastic entrance, even after years of duking it out with you.

“Took you long enough. You’re usually very early to our anniversary.” You said with a smirk on your half-masked face.

All Might’s signature smile only widened at this as his hidden eyes took on a slight mischievous look.

“My apologies, my arch nemesis! Allow me to make it up to you by making a special reservation for you in jail!” He said rather lightheartedly.

The bystanders who chose to stay looked on in anticipation, ready for an absolutely glorious battle like the ones before.

“Oh no worries! You don’t gotta make it up to me.” You said with a wicked grin before launching yourself at the man.

If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t last a second in the presence of All Might. Hell, he’d have them in front of a police station by now…

But you weren’t All Might’s arch nemesis for nothing.

Highland Havoc was the name, and causing havoc is your game.

Accurate to your villain name, you created chaos with your strength-based quirk, destroying government buildings, totaling police cars, tearing out parking meters, and stealing stop signs.

One thing that separated you from the rest of the villains wasn’t just your ability to rival All-fucking-Might, but your surprisingly noble morals.

You weren’t destroying small businesses or killing people, in fact, you’ve saved people on several occasions.

You were basically a professional villainess with standards.

You were a bad guy… but not a bad guy…

The worst you did was wreck a couple hero office buildings and steal thousands of stop signs, but you never ever stole candy from a baby.

In other words, you were just a cheeky little cunt.

You were a menace… but you were Musutafu’s favorite menace.

You casually tore out a stop sign that sat on the corner of the street (one that recently replaced the old one after you stole it) and placed it on your shoulders while smirking through your mask.

“So, what’s on the agenda today? You failing for the millionth time to land a good hit on me?” You teased.

All Might chuckled heartily, but he felt the same thrill coursing through his veins that he always felt when he was ready to fight you.

“I do hate to burst your bubble, my dear,” he began, using a nickname to tease you right back. “But I’m not about to go easy on you just because it’s our anniversary.”

“Oh I don’t expect you to hold back, I’ve been waiting for the opposite actually~” You said before lifting the newly acquired stop sign and twirled it expertly in your hand.

All Might’s eyes followed your every movement like a hawk. He never took his eyes off you these days when you were facing each other, and for good reason: you were not to be underestimated. He knew better than that.

“Still got that nasty habit of collecting those silly signs, I see.” He said with that signature smile as he flexed his thick muscles, getting ready for your first attack.

“You call them silly, but the city seems to take stop sign theft very seriously.” You said while getting into your own fighting position.

All Might scoffed as he rolled his shoulders to loosen up his muscles even more.

“And rightly so! Stop signs are important, you know.” He scolded before looking you up and down with a scoff “And that mask of yours is still downright hideous. How can you handle wearing that thing?”

“You and your issues with my mask. Always having a problem with it, lad.” You sighed and rolled your (e/c) eyes.

All Might looked around the city in feigned disbelief, as if searching for a nonexistent culprit.

”And whose fault is that?” He said, glancing at you again with a smirk. “If you just took the damn thing off, I wouldn’t complain all the time. Your face is probably the only nice part of you, but I have yet to confirm that.”

“Oh shush, you just want to be able to identify me so the coppers can hunt me down.” You said with a scoff.

All Might crossed his large arms over his built chest and let out a huff.

“Now that is the last thing I want, my dear.” He retorted, his smile faltering for a moment before a mischievous grin took over. “You’re my favorite villain to wrangle; I’d be devastated if you were taken off the streets.”

The bystanders who stayed to watch were getting restless, excited, or annoyed at the two…

All Might, the #1 hero who has been the world’s symbol of peace for years; and you: #1 super villain in the country and top ranked pain in All Might’s ass, has not once made any moves on each other.

Many years of rivalry… and their OTP still haven’t made a move on eachother…

…And it was driving the tabloids and the media batshit insane.

People were dying to know what was going on with the two, and for those who had that gut feeling, it was absolute torture for the hero/villain duo to not just fuck each other already.

Who would’ve thought the hero and villain would end up in a tango of sexual tension that lasted 15 years?

“Just kiss already!”

One guy in the gathered audience yelled loudly, saying what no one else dared to say.

All Might and you immediately both stopped what you were doing and looked over at the random citizen. You both had that “deer in headlights” look, and even with half of your face covered, the surprise on your face was obvious.

All Might actually went a shade of pink in the face.

The hero finally turned to the civilian. “S-Sir! This is a-ah-a battle! That would… be highly inappropriate in such an important moment!” He said firmly, but he looked so flustered.

“You have very interesting fans, All Might...” You muttered, glancing away from the hero.

“They’re your fans too.” All Might bickered.

Before he could retort against you, the same obnoxious idiot spoke up again.

“Maybe you two should just cut the bullshit and make out already!” He said, and several cheers came from the small crowd of onlookers.

All Might’s face went red again and he began to stammer. He was starting to get flustered by the comments. He tried to gather himself quickly, and he turned to the crowd again.

“T-This is not a performance! We’re not some dance for your e-entertainment! You people should take this seriously!” All Might protested, but the comments were getting to him.

More hollering and cat calling stirred from the audience; some were even chanting a ship name for you two.

You just deadpanned… but you were admittedly a bit amused.

“…you wanna just start the fight? Can’t really hear them over us throwing punches.” You suggested.

All Might looked back at you, a slight look of relief on his face.

“Y-Yes, an excellent idea! We’re wasting time here!” He said, flexing his arms and getting back into his battle stance.

The hero was trying desperately to ignore the chants and the cheers and whistles from the audience, which was only making him more and more flustered.

Even after 15 years, All Might was never bored of battling you. He was expecting your attack and was ready for you when you ran at him. He was also relieved that he didn’t have to listen to those insufferable comments for another second.

To add to that, Even though the crowd really, really wanted you two to finally French kiss, they weren’t disappointed when it came to you both fighting. For now, they didn’t try to push you two… for now.

You immediately launched yourself forward, leaving a small crater behind you. At the last moment, he sidestepped your attack and aimed a punch directly at your ribs.

You placed your free hand in front of your ribs and grabbed his fist as he unintentionally swung you around. Once you jumped away from him, you swung the stop sign at his head.

The man quickly blocked the blow with his massive forearm and pushed the sign away.

He wasn’t just going to accept any injury without at least putting up a fight. He was itching to actually land a solid hit on you, which was a challenge due to your strength and agility.

He took the opportunity whilst your stop sign was pushed away to aim a kick at your side.

All Might cringed inwardly when you were sent through a wall. He really was dreading the paperwork… Technically, you destroyed that building, he’s just doing his duty.

…Also, you had a tendency to let him strike on purpose so he could indirectly damage buildings *cough* *cough*-

As you were recovering from that kick and standing at the edge of the hole you left, the people in the audience were whistling and hollering at you two.

All Might stared up at you with a scoff before marching over to the new hole in the wall.

“Damnit, why didn’t you dodge???” He almost whined.

You chuckled as you placed your stop sign on your shoulder and jumped down, landing in front of him with a deep thud.

“C’mon… you know why~” You said cheekily.

Despite the mask covering your lower face, he could tell you were smiling.

He let out an aggravated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his signature smile up through gritted teeth.

“You’re terrible.” He muttered.

In the background, some of the more overbearing and blunt All Might and Highland Havoc fans in the crowd started shouting again.

“Get a room already!”

“The damn sexual tension is more thick than Midnight!”

All Might was blushing furiously, trying to tilt his face away from anyone’s sight.

‘If I hear one more comment from these people…’ he thought to himself, keeping up that friendly All Might front for his fans and for himself.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted by another loud comment.

“Stop being pussies and kiss already!!” A more blunt and shameless fangirl yelled from the crowd.

All Might looked at his nemesis with a strained smile on his face.

You… You just deadpanned.

“…I’m just going to swing this at your durable head, is that okay?” You asked plainly yet genuinely, holding up your stop sign to show off your weapon of choice.

All Might let go of his restraint and rubbed the bridge of his nose again.

“That is absolutely fine.” He replied in annoyance before pulling his hand away to look at you. “In fact, could you please hit me in the face? I’d rather we got serious.”

Just then, another shrill female voice cried, “Oh come on, a kiss would be soooo much better tho-“

All Might gritted his teeth and interrupted. “Please, random citizen, I’m trying to concentrate!!”

Unfortunately, because All Might lost concentration, you took this chance to slam the sign part of the stop sign into his face.

He took the hit like a champ and stumbled back, but it didn’t knock him down, just caused him to fumble with his massive feet until he got his footing again.

He clutched his now throbbing cheek and winced.

’Note to self: keep your focus from now on.’ All Might thought to himself as he righted himself.

He smirked through the pain and glared over at you again.

“…You’re going to pay for that.” He said.

Instead of trembling in fear, you simply blinked in surprise, amazed that you actually nailed him in the face with the metal sheet so easily, before looking at the stop sign.

Your shock quickly turned into amusement after you did a double take.

“Oh my God!” You laughed from amusement and shock as you stared at the imprint of All Might’s face in the stop sign.

All Might’s glare and smirk dropped for a moment, instead looking at her with a bewildered look before following her gaze to the sign.

When he saw the All Might face-shaped imprint, he actually snorted.

The fans in the background were cheering and hollering at the scene unfolding on the battlefield between their favorite number one hero and number one villain.

You continued laughing while leaning onto the pole of the stop sign for support.

It wasn’t even one of those taunting laughs he always heard from you, it was one of those rare, genuine ones.

The hoarse sound of your laughter was so unbelievably beautiful to his ears…

In all the years he’d known you, he rarely ever heard a genuine laugh, a guffaw or an eruption of amused cackling. He always thought you were a snickering or a scoffing type.

…In all honesty, the sound of your laugh was almost more damaging than a stop sign to his face.

“I actually managed to immortalize that face you made into the sign! Definitely going into my stop sign collection!” You laughed out, wiping a tear from your eye.

Your comment luckily broke him out of his smiling stupor.

“H-Hey, I do not make that kind of face during battle…”

“The sign says otherwise.” You said while getting control of your laughter.

All Might’s face was slightly flushed as he internally pouted at you but still kept his signature smile on.

“Well… that’s obviously not my normal look!” He protested before turning to a more playful tone.

“…Though you must admit, that is a lovely face, even imprinted into a sign like that. I can see why you’d want to keep it, Havoc.” He said with a cheeky lilt to his tone, trying to tease you back.

You smirked and brought the dented part down to your face to study it.

“…actually, you’re right… even caught that beautiful jawline of yours.” You said before lifting your free hand up to tug at your mask.

You pulled the mask down, and for the first time in 15 years, you exposed your lower face to All Might and the crowd.

All Might’s eyes went the size of saucers.

He was finally getting to see your face. He had been yearning to know what you looked like beneath that hideous mask of yours for years.

A little part of him had hoped you would unveil yourself to him in battle for years, yet here you were actually doing it, Freezing the hero from disbelief and awe.

The audience had gone dead silent at the sight of your revealed face, and more than one fan was filming the historic moment.

… and It was about to get more historical… cuz you lifted the All Might face dent and gave it a little kiss before lifting the mask back over your lower face.

It was almost like a scene from a film, except it wasn’t scripted at all.

All Might’s jaw had dropped to the floor the moment you kissed the imprint, but the realization of what had just happened didn’t sink in until your mask was over your face again.

Everyone in the audience was stunned, and for a moment, no one uttered a breath. The silence was so loud, you could hear a pen hit the ground.

Then the crowd roared.

The collective roar and screams of the audience were deafening, and they rang in the ears of both the hero and the villain.

All Might was still staring at you in disbelief, a bright red blush spreading over his face.

As was expected of people who were witnessing such a sight, the fans had their phones out and were taking pictures at record speed. One or two people were actually full on crying with tears of joy.

You stared back at All Might with an amused and mischievous look in your eye as the crowd and potentially the whole world were collectively losing their mind.

All Might tried desperately to find words to say, but he was so stunned that he couldn’t even process his thoughts.

The hero’s brain had short circuited and his jaw was hanging open. All he could do was gape at you while the people in the background were gushing and crying and screaming about a number one ship in history being finally confirmed.

But then, he quickly realized that he was just standing there like a fish out of water, and there are cameras surrounding both of them, filming the whole scene.

He quickly schooled his features and placed his hands on his hips and lifted his head.

“O-OKAY, LET’S BE CALM ABOUT THIS!” he bellowed, but the fans were still making sounds like they just won the lottery.

At this, he groaned in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. This was the worst. The fans are going to make this moment in history live on forever.

He finally removed his hand from his face and shot you a look.

“You did that on purpose….” he muttered to you.

“Oh did I?” You asked innocently while holding a dark gloved hand up to your masked face and kicking a foot up behind you.

All Might squinted his eyes at you in annoyance.

“Don’t give me that, you knew exactly what you were doing…” He grumbled.

The audience was still going berserk, cameras were flashing from all sides. The former hero was just so over it at this point.

You snickered like a little vixen while still holding your hand to your masked face. He was slowly getting more and more irritated at how amused you looked.

“…Why did you even do that!?” He demanded with a shaky tone.

The crowd was still hooting and whistling in the background, but All Might didn’t care, his focus was completely on you.

You simply shrugged.

“Sorry, my dear~” you purred out, using the pet name he used for you using your strength-based quirk to jump off to somewhere else, leaving All Might to deal with the damaged building and the crowd of shocked and excited bystanders… and a news helicopter.

All Might was so too caught off guard by his own pet-name being used against him that he forgot to give chase to you.

He eventually came to his senses and whipped around to search for you in the sky, but you were long gone by now.

Groaning and pinching his nose for the 5th… 6th time? 10th? The hero turned back to the aftermath of the confrontation and was immediately bombarded by the fans who were clambering around him.

That night…

Yagi Toshinori *hated* paperwork.

At this point, he was used to doing excessive amounts of paperwork, so he was able to get through it all rather quickly.

But today’s paperwork involved the entire incident that had occurred between you and him. His hands were cramping up from signing forms and writing down details of your little escapade.

He was just scribbling away as the TV played in the background, playing today’s news. And of course, the entire day’s events featured heavily on tonight’s broadcast.

Yagi lifted his head to take a break and watch the replay of the confrontation on the newscast. Once again, he was met with seeing himself standing on the battlefield with his jaw on the floor as cameras captured your little… display.

Immediately, he groaned and put his head down on the desk with a thump, mumbling into the wood.

“I actually can’t believe it, she really just made it known to everyone!” The news reporter said a little too excitedly for someone who’s supposed to be unbiased.

The news reporter had obviously been waiting for this moment her whole career. She was acting like a fangirl, which in a way, was very realistic of her since many people would react the exact same way.

“Who would’ve ever thought that the number one hero or number one villain would actually have some kind of affection for each other? Could it even be love?”

Toshinori was just sitting there, face on the desk, listening to the broadcast as his now deflated, fluffy hair draped over his desk.

The news reporters continued to talk about what had happened, but something said by the man reporter caught his attention.

”It’s been 15 years, today marking the 15th anniversary of All Might’s and Highland Havoc’s rivalry… it’s about damn time.” The older news reporter, a 50 year old man, said.

“Daikaku, you shouldn’t swear, we’re on live tv.” The younger news reporter said with a hint of worry.

But All Might didn’t focus on that…

15 years. 15 years of you being his nemesis…

He hadn’t even realized that it had already been that long. And he hadn’t realized that he had feelings for you for 90% of that time… that was… a really long time.

The news broadcaster interrupted the former heroes thoughts when the subject was changed to an All Might fan.

“Let’s listen now to what the fans have to say about the incident that unfolded in today’s fight.”

All Might groaned when he heard that. He just knew the first fan they were going to show was going to be an overly obsessed and delusional fan. And of course, that is exactly what he got.

“I CALLED IT! I KNEW the two of them have been dating in secret for YEARS!!” The first fan cried out through one of the speakers of the call, clearly a child.

All Might was so over it. He wanted to bang his head on the desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes. That fan at the end is 100% Midoriya.

This takes place 3 years before All Might meets Midoriya, which means he’s 11 and All Might is 46.

Let me know how well I did and if you’d like more 👍👍👍👍

…or don’t. I’m planning on making a lil series anyways, like it or not.

[wattpadbxtch]

All Falls Down

pt. 4

Azzi’s heart was beating so fast she thought it might give out.

She stood outside the jail, hands shaking, bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes locked on the entrance like she could will Paige to walk out faster.

It had been three months. Three long months.

And now, after everything—after the sleepless nights, after the fights, after the deals made in dimly lit offices and whispered conversations—Paige was finally coming home.

The doors opened.

Azzi sucked in a sharp breath, her whole body going still.

And then—there she was.

Paige stepped out, the setting sun hitting her just right, making her blonde hair glow. She had on a loose gray sweatsuit, prison-issued and baggy as hell, but it didn’t matter. She was here.

Paige blinked, looking around like she was still processing the fact that she was finally free. But the moment her eyes landed on Azzi, everything changed.

She softened.

And Azzi broke.

She didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

She just ran.

“Paige!” Azzi sobbed, feet barely touching the ground as she launched herself forward.

Paige barely had time to react before Azzi crashed into her, arms wrapping tight around her neck, legs locking around her waist.

Paige let out a breathless chuckle but caught her effortlessly, hands gripping the backs of Azzi’s thighs like it was second nature, like they hadn’t just spent months apart.

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s neck, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I missed you so fucking much,” she choked out, fingers digging into Paige’s hair.

Paige squeezed her tighter, pressing her face against Azzi’s shoulder, inhaling deep. “I know, baby. I know.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red, tears streaming down her face. “You good? You okay? They treat you right in there?”

Paige smirked, tilting her head slightly. “You crying ‘bout me or ‘bout you?”

Azzi sniffled and smacked her shoulder. “Don’t start, man.”

Paige chuckled, her grip tightening around Azzi’s thighs as she shifted her slightly, holding her up like she weighed nothing. “C’mere.”

Then, before Azzi could say anything else, Paige leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was desperate, messy, full of everything they had been holding back for the past three months.

Azzi whimpered against her mouth, arms winding even tighter around Paige’s neck, pressing herself as close as she could.

“God, I missed you,” Paige murmured against her lips, kissing her again, deeper this time, like she was trying to make up for lost time.

Azzi was still crying, still sniffling, but she didn’t care. “I told you I’d get you out,” she whispered.

Paige pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Yeah, baby. You did.”

And then she was kissing her again, like she never wanted to stop.

Azzi had promised to bring her home.

And now?

She was never letting her go again.

[speaknow-sw]

Illegal Racer! JAMES KELLY x Infiltrated Cop! Reader

A/N : I’m finally launching my new fic No Saints in this City. It’s a James Kelly x Reader little series I’m sure you’ll be thrilled. There’ll be illegal racings, alcohol, much swearing, stargazing, betrayal and many more… So buckle up your seatbelts, we’re going on a ride !

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

Seven Years Ago

“All souls are born shackled to something—memory, guilt, hope. But some, like his, are born trying to outrun a flame that began long before they were even old enough to understand it.”

IT WAS THE KIND OF NIGHT THAT DRIPPED LIKE MOLASSES OVER THE CITY OF NEW ORLEANS. Hot, slow, humming with secrets. Somewhere far off, jazz meandered through the open windows of Bourbon Street bars, tangled with sirens and the aching hum of restless hearts. But here, inside the Orleans Parish Prison, it was all stillness. No saxophones. No neon haze. Just cement, rusted steel, and regret echoing through long fluorescent hallways.

James Kelly sat on the edge of the metal bench in the phone booth, elbows on his knees, head bowed. He wasn’t the kind of man to fidget, but tonight his thumb wouldn’t stop grazing the side of the payphone receiver, back and forth like a nervous tick. His hands were oil-stained, even in here. It was like the past refused to wash off. The guards didn’t bother him. Not anymore. But time—time gnawed at the edges of his brain like rats behind the walls.

You’re allowed one call. One shot to reach beyond the wire and concrete, out into the world that kept turning without you.

But James had no one to call.

His brother hadn’t spoken to him in five years. His old crew were either in deeper trouble or pretending they’d never known him. And the girl he used to think would wait for him was now married, living in Florida with a mortgage and a golden retriever.

He stared at the phone like it might bite him. Then, on impulse, he picked it up and dialed a number—any number. His fingers moved without thinking, some half-remembered rhythm of digits once scrawled in a gas station bathroom or on the back of a receipt. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was a mistake.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

Click.

“…Hello?”

A pause. His breath caught.

The voice was soft. Feminine. Tired, but alert. Not what he expected.

James blinked, stunned for a moment. He should’ve hung up. Should’ve just stayed silent and let it pass. But he didn’t want to waste the call.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice low, lined with static and smoke. “Look, I know this is weird. I think I dialed the wrong number.”

“Okay,” you said carefully, suspicious but calm. “Who are you trying to reach?”

“No one anymore,” he muttered. Then leaned back against the chipped concrete wall. “Just… needed to hear someone who wasn’t behind these walls.”

There was a pause. A breath. You could’ve hung up. Should’ve.

But something in his voice held you there.

“…Where are you calling from?” you asked.

“Jail.”

That word landed heavy between you. He could hear it in your silence. The way you didn’t immediately end the call intrigued him.

“Well,” you said after a moment, your tone shifting from wary to oddly warm, “I guess I’ve got fifteen minutes free.”

He let out a dry, surprised chuckle. “You serious?”

“Don’t waste it.”

James leaned his head back, gazing up at the ceiling where a single fly buzzed around the flickering light. “Alright then. What do you wanna talk about, stranger?”

“I don’t know. What do inmates usually talk about?”

“Usually?” He grinned, the edges of his mouth cracking dryly. “How they got framed. How they’ll get out. Or how it wasn’t their fault. But me… I did what they said I did.”

“And what was that?”

He hesitated. Not because he was ashamed—James wasn’t wired that way. But because your voice didn’t deserve a lie.

“I beat a man half to death,” he said finally. “He laid hands on a kid who couldn’t defend herself. I didn’t stop until someone dragged me off.”

Silence.

You didn’t speak for a moment. But when you did, your voice was quiet.

“…Good.”

That startled him more than it should have.

James let out a breath. “You’re not what I expected.”

“You either. I don’t usually take jail calls from strangers at ten o’clock at night.”

“Hell of a first date,” he quipped dryly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, jailbird.”

He laughed—genuine, deep. It rolled through the receiver like thunder breaking through summer heat. You laughed too, before it faded into the low crackle of silence.

For a strange, suspended moment, the distance between you and him didn’t feel so wide. Just two voices in the dark, trying not to feel so alone. The kind of conversation that didn’t need names or details. Just breath. Just honesty.

“What’s your name?” he asked, quieter now.

“…Not telling you,” you replied, but not unkindly. “You?”

He smiled to himself. “Not important.”

The phone buzzed softly. One minute left.

James exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “Guess that’s it.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for picking up,” he said. And for the first time in months, he meant something without knowing why. “You made it feel like I wasn’t caged in for a second.”

“You’re welcome, stranger.”

“…I hope you never have to feel like this,” he added softly. “Locked out of your own life.”

You were quiet. Then, gently: “I hope you get another chance.”

The phone clicked.

James stayed there, holding the dead line to his ear until the guard came to nudge him.

“Let’s go, Kelly.”

He stood, jaw tight, eyes harder now. But as he walked back down the corridor of locked doors and stale air, something strange had settled inside him.

Not quite hope.

But a flicker. A match, barely struck.

He never knew your name.

And he never expected to hear that voice again.

But fate has a habit of remembering unfinished conversations.

Especially in a city like New Orleans.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

i keep laughing when i read the dnd campaign with the beast pirates-

now i need to see how it would go with shanks and his crew

Imagine DND game night with the Red Hair pirates

Yassop: *the reluctant DM* All alright, so you've all fallen through a sinkhole and landed in the goblin King's throne room. Benn's paladin lands directly on the heir to the goblin throne, dealing *rolls dice* 17 points crush damage, and you killed him.

Benn: oh come on, I didn't even do anything.

Yassop: the goblin king, with his too-tight pants, ruffly white shirt, and long blond hair, launches himself to his feet. And in a booming voice, he yelled out, "These outsiders have murdered my son! Throw them in the dungeon!"

You: but it was Benn's fat ass that did it! Why do I have to go to the dungeon?

Yassop: The goblin king pauses, clearly thinking it over, after a moment he says, "Fine, that one's excused," before yelling, "but the rest go to the dungeon!"

Lime Juice: fuck me.

Shanks: what the fuck, we just broke out of jail less than three in-game hours ago!

Yassop: *definitely not punishing them for murdering an important NPC, and is trying to buy himself time to figure out what to do* Huh, I hadn't noticed...

Lucky Roux: For the love of god!

Yassop: Anyway, the entire party, minus (y/n) Dragon born, is taken to the dungeon. The goblin king turns to your dragon-born and looks you over, "Now, what shall we do with you?"

You: I'd like to roll a perception check, I'd like to know the vibe of the goblin king's court, from the nobles to the servants. *Rolls a D20* Fifteen with my plus eight modifiers, so twenty-three.

Yassop: Both groups, nobles, and serfs, are terrified of their king. You can see that a servant in the far corner has bandages under his shirt. It appears that he's been flogged recently. You notice, the nobles' eyes darting nervously as they mutter to one another.

You: I'd like to offer my services to his majesty, as a bard.

Yassop: The king scoffs, "I have plenty of bards, I have no use for another, you shall tend to the hearths of my castle. Go, start with the kitchens." You are taken to the kitchens and see it's dark, humid, hot, and crowded. The servants are wary of you, you see many of them are injured, and gaunt. The châtelaine approaches you and hands you a large rusty ring of keys and a map. She tells you your responsibilities are to make sure all the fires in the castle are lit.

You: and how much am I paid?

Yassop: she scoffs, "Your pay is food in your belly, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back. Now get started." And she leaves in a huff.

You: I'd like to persuade the servants to work together to overthrow the Goblin King because they deserve fair wages and safe working conditions.

Lime Juice: *chortling,* of course, unionizing them is your first move.

Yassop: *frustrated,* roll a d20.

You: *rolls* nat twenty, let's fucking go!!

Yassop: you inspire a popular servant to take the lead, and they overthrow the goblin King. The servants beat him to death. *Rubbing his temples in irritation*

You: I free the group from the dungeon while the servants deal with the king, using the keys and map the châtelaine gave me.

Shanks: Before we leave, can we look for treasure?

You: .... let's only take a reasonable amount, we wouldn't want to make them our enemies.

Benn: very wise.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[m0rkl]

The People We Become || Reverse Portal AU || Stan Vs. The Multiverse

Back to talking about My Mans and this AU

Stan's Adventures Through The Multiverse

After tumbling through the exploding portal Stan ends up in this sort of between space, lost between dimensions where there are rifts steadily opening and closing around him. He has no idea really what they are or where they go, so he's lost and freaking out.

He's desperately calling out for Ford to come save him. For a while, he's determined to stay put in case the portal opens back up again, but his cynical side tells him Ford has already abandon him and he's stuck here forever. Stan fight back and forth with himself, both unwilling to believe that Ford would just let him stay here forever and uncertain that Ford doesn't think this is exactly what Stan deserves.

Bill senses the Dimension 46'\ Portal open and goes to the location only to find Stanley and no portal to be found. Seeing Stanley with the journal, Bill tries to manipulate Stan into giving him the journal, saying that he and Ford wrote it together long ago.

Bill says if Stan give him the journal, he'll send Stan home easy peasy. Of course, Stan knows a con when he sees one and tell him to go fuck himself. Bill is less than please, but keeps trying to manipulate Stan. It doesn't work.

Stan: You know, my brother might be the one with the brains, but I've got that other thing.

Bill: Oh? And what might that be?

Stan: PUNCHING!

[Stanley punches Bill in the eye and launches himself into a random rift.]

Luckily, Stan lands himself in a sort of interdimensional central hub where travelers can stop and rest for a time. Unluckily, this particular hub is dominated by a shitty totalitarian government and he gets stopped almost immediately by law enforcement. He doesn't have real ID on him, just one of his shitty fakes, which might have worked on random crappy traffic cops, but not dimension hopping violent super cops.

Stanley gets thrown in jail with some other petty criminals, which is truly his home element these days. He makes some quick friends and they break out, stealing some poor sap's a luxury ship mini cruiser along the way.

Now that he's made some criminal friends, he gets some totally absolutely completely legal ID and credentials and learns to pilot ships.

For a while, Stan travels around, taking sketchy jobs, running with various crime group and actually... having a somewhat good time? Turn out space crime is kind of more fun that normal crime, even if he feels like shit for doing some of it. It's just as dark and dangerous as the life he was living before.

Over the years he has a couple run ins with Bill and usually scrapes out of it more or less in one piece. None of it is pretty though. It is Bill, after all.

He runs with various crews, making money, losing money, racking up debt, going to prison, escaping prison, becoming a fugitive, becoming a hitman, a thief and all kinds of bad shit. But after twenty or so years, he gets tired of it.

He decides to settle on a quiet planet and lay low for a little bit with the small amount of money and connections he's made over the years. The planet he's on is like a small town. He's nervous around such 'normal' people, but does well with kids and ends up being the mysterious and gruff, but kind old man who feeds the kids who don't get enough to eat at home or don't have a safe place to stay. It's nice. But doesn't last very long.

He catches wind of a trans-dimensional locator that wouldn't necessarily get him home, but it would be a start. He'd have to find a way to hook it up to his Rift Hopper(the device he uses for dimensional travel) AND keep it untraceable to Bill. It won't be easy but it's closer to a way home than he's had since he got here.

He joins up with a rag-tag treasure hunting crew that might be a little morally gray, but they're better than a lot of the crime lords Stan has worked with. He travels with them for a while, being their main muscle and negotiator for jobs.

When there's trouble, he takes it upon himself to get them out of it and tends to be very self sacrificing. He is still Stanley Pines after all.

This crew LOVES their goofy violent self-loathing grandpa and are 100% on board with helping him find the translocator. Even if it means he'll leave them ):

But as Mabel and Dipper make progress on the portal back in their dimension, blips of Dimension 46'\ are sent into the multiverse. Which means Stanley can track a rift! ...But so can Bill.

Bill comes after Stan and his new crew, taking them hostage. Stan agrees to go with Bill if he lets the crew go. Bill tries to make a deal, but Stan tricks him, gives the crew the translocator and the crew narrowly escapes. Stan does not.

Bill holds Stan captive and tortures him, both to get the translocator and because he just fucking hates Stan after all this. Also, torture is FUN! (for Bill)

Stan can't escape and starts to think maybe this is just how he's going to spend the rest of eternity. He starts losing hope, thinking it's what he deserves for the life he's lead.

But then! His crew comes to the rescue! No way they were going to leave their weird violent human grandpa to Bill's wrath! They risk their lives to save Stan and escape Bill

... but bad news. The translocator device broke when they were making their initial escape. Stan is pretty okay with it, but then... the portal opens. It's definitely to his dimension, but it's locked onto his energy signal some how???

He's confused, because why would Stanford be looking for him after three decades of nothing? Could someone else be searching for him? What the hell is going on?

But the portal is right there and finally Stan gets to go home! But he knows Bill is still after him so he has to close this dumb reckless portal asap

....tbh now I just wanna write a bunch of shorts about Stanley's adventures through the multiverse

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

[howlingday]

(Side A)

DON'T FUCK YOUR SISTER!

SHE'S YOUR SISTER!

Now, you may discover that you, or your sister, are actually adopted. You might even be stepsiblings! Neither of you may be blood related to one another, or if you are, you are actually cousins. In these circumstances...

STILL DON'T HAVE SEX WITH HER, YOU DEGENERATE GARBAGE HUMAN BEING!

MONTY! H! OUM! WE LITERALLY JUST COVERED ALMOST A DOZEN GIRLS AND EACH OF THEM ARE A BETTER OPTION BECAUSE THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL AND NOT RELATED TO YOU! SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now that you have identified your harem, you can properly plan your escape. Assuming you aren't dead or in jail, there are one of two ways this can end.

Either the system maintains equilibrium and you maintain a status quo of hijinks surrounded by girls who won't have sex with you, or you can fucking pick one and spend the rest of your life with her.

After all, everyone knows 100% of relationships in high school last forever because they are the strongest bonds anyone can ever have, never once failing in terms of romance.

It is highly advised you pursue the latter option because the longer you maintain a harem increases your chances of death by yandere.

To escape, you must pick a girl. This will be hard for you. If making up your mind wasn't difficult, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

But I promise you this; realizing you have feelings for someone and then telling them how you feel IS NOT FUCKING ROCKET SCIENCE. People literally do it ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Some people even do it MULTIPLE TIMES IN ONE DAY. But their lives are complicated, and if you don't want your life to be complicated, you need to STOP WASTING EVERYONE'S FUCKING TIME AND MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND FOR ONCE! If you need help, just remember...

...the Deredere girl is usually the best girl.

Once you've accomplished your Herculean task of deciding which girl you're most attracted to, your next step is to CONFESS your feelings to her. Because if you wait for her to do it, trust me, you're going to be waiting for a while.

This will not go smoothly, so when you make your confession, you'll want to make a few backups.

WRITE DOWN YOUR FEELINGS: EXACTLY how you feel as clearly and plainly as possible in an impossible to misunderstand language.

BE CLEAR IN WHO IS FOR/FROM: SIGN YOUR NAME and explicitly state who specifically this letter is addressed to.

TAKE A PICTURE: WITH YOUR PHONE and make digital and physical copies.

GET A TATTOO: AND DOGTAGS, both with the message etched IN A PLACE WITH NO LEWD CONNOTATION AT ALL!

It might sound excessive, but it's honestly still not enough for you. When you confess, another girl will likely interrupt with or without the intention to trip you up and misinterpret your message for someone else. Thankfully, you've already slipped your note into her personal locker in the event of such an emergency, and when her locker is destroyed or launched far away, you, being prepared, have already texted the message to her as well. The image might be corrupted, which is where the dogtags come in. And... Well, I think you get the idea.

It is important to get your message delivered and understood by her without you misinterpreting her answer as a rejection. Otherwise, you could find yourself in an increasingly wacky set of hijinks as the harem system maintains the status quo for at least another 12 episodes unless you lock that down.

If you have made these attempts and still been rejected, then you clearly haven't weathered the harem system long enough. Pick a different girl and try again in another three-to-four weeks. In the meantime, while you are weathering this storm, remember your ABCDs...

Awareness, Balance, Clenched fists, and

DON'T FUCK YOUR SISTER

This message was sponsored and paid for by her holiness

POPE RUBY II

[commsroom]

mission launch for minkowski's crew was in march 2013. ostensibly, they were put through some mission training, though the extent and effectiveness of that is kinda dubious. pagliacci takes place in 2013, exact date unspecified. but it has to be early. let's say... mid-january.

eiffel thought he had ruined the rest of his life before he'd even turned thirty. he probably spent his thirtieth birthday in jail. and then... for some number of days, weeks, maybe even a couple of months, he exists in this state of, well. of limbo. cutter gets him released from prison, and flies him out to canaveral. he doesn't speak to his family, obviously. they don't want to hear from him, and don't even know. he's still a prisoner, but no one around him knows that, either. at some point in this time frame, goddard first exposes him to decima, before hilbert even knows who he is. and he lives wherever goddard is accommodating him, and he has to go about his day-to-day life in this transitory state between a 26-year sentence he'd just started really grappling with, and the very immediate reality he's now about to be sent into deep space instead.

they give him a certain amount of freedom; it's not like he can go anywhere. he doesn't do much, anyway, is not feeling appreciative for his momentary second chance at life, given the circumstances. he blows off most of his mission training, and they're surprisingly lax about that, which in retrospect probably should have been a sign. he sits around and smokes, mostly. gets takeout food. but he goes to see movies, as much as he can. as much as he wants to punish himself, he needs to do something, or he'll go crazy, and it's not like he'll get a chance to see a movie in a long time. he was already resigning himself to maybe never going to a movie theater again.

the film adaptation of les misérables was released in december 2012. it's entirely feasible it could've been one of the movies he saw in this time period. i think the idea adds some resonance to his shared reference with minkowski in the finale, at least, in the way it pulls things full circle. intentionally or otherwise. and, incidentally, the 2012 film adaptation of les misérables, a story that notably features an ex-convict protagonist seeking redemption, was released on december 25th. call that serendipity.

[gcldcnhour]

taylor swift - the tortured poets department as plots pt 1

fortnight

the two met by accident, but the draw between them was too much to deny. and now it's a whirlwind affair. that was until muse b decides that they can't be unfaithful to their partner and ends things with muse a. now muse a cannot get them out of their head, and finds themselves finding ways back into muse b's life. and muse b can't keep turning muse a away.

fresh out the slammer

troubled teens turned young adults, muse a and b were always bad news together. that was until muse a finds themselves tossed in jail, taking the fall for muse b in the process. muse b promises to wait for muse a. but ten years is a long time. once released muse a finds their way back to muse b, only to discover that muse b is a completely person - married, uppity, nothing like the person they had once fallen for. could they coax muse b back to their old ways? can muse a step it up and win back their love?

florida!!!

for whatever reason, maybe a crime or forbidden love or need for a new start, muse a convinced muse b to runaway with them. they find themselves in a small town in florida, taking on new identities and attempting to start over. but the past always has a way of catching up doesn't it?

i look in people's windows

muse a and b met one summer, a brief fling. but muse a can't stop thinking about them, muse b plagues their thoughts. they know the two are meant to be together, that their stories aren't over yet. and so muse a continues to make muse b care, but continually fails. that is until muse a is about to give up...and muse b is there again. who knows what happens next?

the manuscript

two artists (actors, writers, painters etc) have been together for years, both struggling to make it big. they finally work on a project together - but as soon as they finish it their relationship dissolves. they promised each other they would only publish their project together so it takes a backseat. that is until a few years later, muse b is desperate for new material, and finds their old project with muse a. now they publish it (a book, movie etc) and are launched into fame. everything seems great until muse a shows up again, hurt and angry and demanding that muse b share.

[eretzyisrael]

Read “THE LIES OF PALESTINE” (below), by Jay Gadi…a MOST excellent piece.

• Arabs were in the land first: Their 1,500-year-old mosque is built on top of the 3,000-year-old Jewish temple, which is proof that Israel was there long before Arabs. The Israelites are mentioned 43 times in the Quran and the Hadith, but there is no mention of Palestine, not even once. The Qur'an specifies that the “Land of Israel is the homeland of the Jewish people, that God Himself gave that land to them as heritage and ordered them to live therein.”

• All the land belongs to the Palestinians: Israel became a state in May of 1948. There exists an international doctrine called “Uti Possidetis Juris.” This doctrine provides that emerging states presumptively inherit their pre-independence administrative boundaries. Applied to the case of Israel, “uti possidetis juris” would dictate that Israel inherit the boundaries of the British Mandate of Palestine as they existed in May 1948. In the 1967 conflict, Israel absorbed additional territory from Egypt and Syria.

• Israel expelled thousands of Arabs: In May of 1948, Israel sent a letter to the Arabs living in the newly formed Israeli territory inviting them to stay and participate, with equal rights, in the future of the country. The Arabs of six countries refused to accept Israel as a nation and planned to destroy it and all of its population. They advised Arabs in the area to leave so as not to be caught up in the fighting. Hundreds of thousands of Arabs left their homes, voluntarily, on the advice of the attacking nations. Arabs that attacked Jews within Israel were expelled.

• Israel carried out ethnic cleansing in the Nakba: On the eve of May 14, 1948, the Arabs launched an air attack on Tel Aviv, which the Israelis resisted. This action was followed by the invasion of the former Palestinian Mandate (Israel) by Arab armies from Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Egypt. After 10 months, Israel won the war in which many Arabs were killed and many others became refugees. Arabs called this the Nakba (catastrophe), blaming Israel for the death and displacement of the Arabs when, in fact, they were just defending their newly formed country. The original reason for the term Nakba, was the embarrassing loss of all those Arab countries against tiny Israel. They adjusted the term to make themselves the victims.

• Israel has been attacking Arabs for 76 years: Every conflict Israel has had with the Arabs has been started by Arab aggression including the Nakba, when six Arab countries tried to wipe out Israel. The only time Israel ever fired first was at the beginning of the Six-Day War, in anticipation of the attack being planned by Gaza, Egypt, Syria and Jordan. Israel’s preemptive strike is why this conflict lasted only six days.

• Children in Gaza are starving: Israel has allowed more than 40,000 trucks carrying more than 500,000 pounds of food, water, medical supplies and other aid into Gaza. No other country does that for their enemy. (As of July 31, 2024)

• Israel is committing genocide: Hamas and hundreds of supporters, including nine UNRWA members, invaded Israel on Oct. 7th and INTENTIONALLY killed over 1,200 innocent civilians. When it is done intentionally, it is GENOCIDE. Israel has no intention of, or benefit from, the targeting innocent civilians.

• Israel targets women and children: Israel is the only military in the world that drops leaflets, sends text messages, uses “knock bombs,” announces their plan to attack by drones so that civilians can escape. The civilians who try to leave are often shot by Hamas and are included in their count of dead or injured civilians.

• Israel is holding Palestinian hostages: They are not hostages; they are prisoners being held in Israeli jails. They have committed crimes, from throwing rocks at the IDF to killing Israelis. They are not innocent civilians, like the Israelis taken on Oct. 7th.

• Gaza just wants peace: Arabs in Gaza get monthly cash rewards from the Palestinian Authority (PA) if they are injured, captured or killed while carrying out attacks on Jews. Hamas and their hundreds of supporters, including the nine UNRWA workers who carried out the attack in Israel on Oct. 7, are getting monthly rewards for their terror attack. The budget for these rewards is $300 million dollars a year. The Arabs are rewarded for genocide.

• Gaza is an open-air prison: In 2005, Israel removed every Jew, dead and alive, from Gaza hoping to bring peace to the area. The Arabs burned everything left behind by the Jews. Shortly after, rockets, suicide bombers, Molotov cocktails, explosives and knife attacks came from Gaza, so Israel was obliged to implement import controls to reduce rocket attacks and border checkpoints to prevent the other types of attacks on Israel. The Arabs turned their freedom into an “open-air prison.” They are posting pictures now of Gaza before and after Oct. 7 and it looked pretty good before.

[baileypie-writes]

I love coming up with ideas sm. This is one where the preteen!sister gets into a fight at school, and the reason is because the kid said: "That's why your siblings went to jail, they probably couldn't bear to see you anymore." And the sister basically LAUNCHES at the kid, and beings fighting them. (Pulling hair, punching, biting, etc)

And Velvet and Veneer are called down to the school since the parents are at work, and how they would react? (Oneshot please!)

Another Idea is that the preteen sister starts to mimic what she the older people do at school, like cuss, and have emontial outbursts, and what Velvet and Veneer would do to handle it. Also when the parents scold the sister, Velvet and Veneer stick up for her?

You can pick which one to do :)

(also I LOVE your blog sm)

A/N ~ I decided to do the first idea:) Hope you enjoy!

~You Did Nothing Wrong~

Velvet and Veneer + Preteen!Younger Sister!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: Velvet and Veneer get called to your school in response to you getting in a fight.

Warnings: Violence(punching, hitting, scratching), a bit of blood, swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for coming, Velvet and Veneer. I do wish your parents were able to make it, but hey, work is important.” The principal said as the twins took their seats across from his desk. You sat in the corner, arms crossed.

“So what exactly happened? You said that (name) got in a fight? Is she okay?” Veneer asked, concerned. He and Velvet looked your way, but you just stared at the floor.

“She’s fine. But the other kid… not so much.”

“What do you mean?” Velvet asked.

The principal sighed. “I’ll try to spare you the… bloody details, but basically, (name) attacked him. He ended up with many bruises, a black eye and a broken nose.”

Velvet and Veneer were stunned. They flipped their heads over to you, but again, your eyes remained glued to the floor.

“Why would she do that? That doesn’t sound like her at all!” Veneer stated, still looking at you.

“We don’t know. She won’t tell us.”

Veneer hummed, lowering his head to try to get a look at your face, but to no avail.

“Well, it had to be for a good reason. (Name), tell us what happened.” Velvet said, moving her seat to face you.

You slowly looked up. Your eyes were red and puffy, obviously from crying. With a sigh, you started telling them.

~~~~

It was lunch time, and you were on your way to the cafeteria. You recognized a specific boy standing by the lockers, and averted your gaze, praying that he wouldn’t see you. Unfortunately, your prayer was rejected.

The boy’s name was Zack. He’s always been mean to you, calling you names and whatnot. But a few weeks ago, he found out that you were related to Velvet and Veneer. Since then, he would not stop teasing and insulting you. He’d claim that you’re evil, just like them. And that you probably have a troll collection at home. You try your best to avoid him, but he always manages to find you.

“Hey, troll-napper!” He called out to you. You scoffed at the stupid nickname. Keeping your eyes forward, you ignored him.

“I heard your siblings got out of jail not too long ago.”

You stopped for a millisecond at the mention of Velvet and Veneer. But you quickly continued walking, trying not to engage.

“Must be pretty hard having to deal with you’re annoying ass all day. You know what? That’s probably why they went to jail. They couldn’t bear to see you anymore.”

That was it.

You launched yourself at him, knocking him to the ground. You threw a fist against his face, hitting him right in the nose. Blood ran from it immediately, and Zack cried out in pain. You didn’t stop there. You punched, hit and scratched him until his cries for help were heard.

~~~~

“So that’s what happened.” You finished the story.

Velvet and Veneer were in shock. The principal was clearly shaken too.

“So basically, you attacked him because he was bullying you?” Velvet asked, anger rising.

You nodded, looking down again.

“How long has he been mean to you?” Veneer asked.

“A few months.” You responded.

“Have you told anybody about him?”

“I tried telling teachers, but they didn’t do much.”

“But you must understand, (name), that violence is not the answer.” The principal stated.

Velvet turned her attention towards him. “But you heard her, no one did anything to help! Sometimes, telling someone to leave you alone doesn’t work, so you gotta knock it into them!”

The principal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is why I would’ve preferred your parents to come.” He mumbled. “(Name) is suspended for the rest of the week. And she will have detention for three weeks after that.”

“And what about the boy?” Veneer asked.

“What about him?”

“How long will he be suspended?”

“Zack isn’t being suspended.”

“Okay, well how long will he have detention?” Velvet chimed in.

“He won’t be having detention either.”

Veneer stood up. “So what you’re saying is: you’re not going to punish a boy who’s been bullying an innocent girl for months?” He was clearly getting angry, Velvet as well.

“Look, the poor boy had his nose broken-“ The principal started.

“So? That doesn’t matter! He’s a bully! Are you really gonna let a bully go unpunished?” Velvet said, volume rising.

The principal gave no response, and but his face didn’t spark hope for any form of justice.

“C’mon (name), let’s go.” Velvet said, grabbing your backpack from the floor, and placing it in your arms. You got up, and took hold of Veneer’s hand, which he had offered to you.

“Wait-“ The principal put his hand out, trying to stop you.

“Oh, no. We’ve had enough of your shitty system. We’re leaving” Velvet yelled. Then all three of you went out the door, not looking back.

Once you were in the car, you finally broke down. “I’m sorry!” You cried, trying to stop the tears that rolled down your face.

“Hey, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you taught that boy a lesson!” Velvet defended you, her hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah! That principal is nuts. Let’s get outta here.” Veneer added, backing out of the school parking lot.

You smiled. You may be suspended, and will have a few weeks of detention, but at least your favorite people are on your side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[ipractical-joker]

The Odd Man Out; Generation Kill, RPF, and HBOWar

What's been bugging me since having finished watching all 4 of the HBOWar installments has been how out of place Gen Kill feels when you lump them all together.

The obvious of course being the fact that Band of Brothers, The Pacific, and Masters of the Air are all WW2 (ETO & PTO) and GenKill is very much not, being focused on OIF in 2003. The difference are near endless, Tom Hanks vs Ed Burns, the time frame, 2-3 years vs ~3 weeks, the public perception of the war that they are fight/ invasion they are launching, even the names/number of episodes (BoB/TP -10, MotA-9, not having ep names, GenKill -7, having ep names ).

The names of the shows themselves even evoke very different feelings from the viewer. Band of Brothers and Masters of the Air are triumphant, unity, brotherhood, and victory, which I feel like reflects the view of the general (american) populace on WW2. Generation Kill on the other hand is ugly and direct, and outright violent and diluting from the jump (imho). It's a reflection of the people (men in this case) that fought it, where for some joining up was better than jail, fresh off the surge of American patriotism/Nationalism in the wake of 9/11, trained into red-blood American killers and 'liberators'. They came in and they killed, Operation Iraqi Freedom ringing severely hollow and ironic. It lacks the nobility of the prev 2 titles, its gritty and has an immediate negative connotation compared to BoB and MotA. The Pacific (w/ knowing the context of ww2) is a negative connotation but generally considered neutral (imo). The Pacific is a unique case for my point about naming conventions, because it covers stories about the 1st,5th,& 7th Marines, it has to be more general. The books subtitle "Hell was an Ocean Away", does help, but this is the show we are talking about.

So therefore --> You know what you're getting with each show, it's right on the tin. BoB is brotherhood, MotA is triumph, TP is the horrors of the Pacific, and GenKill is the result of the pressure cooker that was the War on Terror and American patriotism. Then again how much stock can be put into the names of these shows when they are based of books that were name by others, based on the stories that they were telling and vary, intentionally or not, at least somewhat from their source material. I guess I can take it up with Ambrose^2, Miller, and Wright on that point.

Even in their similarities the differences are still very stark. There are marines in TP and GenKill - but one group are volunteers, boots, and draftees (mainly regular people), the others are mainly highly specialized reconnaissance men. Ones beaches, jungles, mountains, and islands, the other is dry af desert in the Cradle of civilization. There is the idea of patriotism in all of them, obvs, and the idea of joining up after a foreign attack on American territory (Pearl Harbor/ 9/11) is present in both, but this is hardly unifying in meta as it's not especially the focus in any show from the point in time where the viewer joins the story, just the means to getting us there, the catalyst (both implied and stated) to the launch into their respective wars.

In the long and short, American patriotism is not the reason these shows are classifed together, though it does serve as a thread connecting them.

Culturally, the expanse could not be greater between shows that similarities begin and end with HBO (& AppleTV) and being about war (w/ BoB/MotA/TP vs GenKill).

So where does the RPF part come in? What I think is the biggest distinction between GenKill and the rest of HBOWar is proximity. It's the idea of historical research vs first hand journalism. 'But Sep!' I hear you cry, 'They [BoB/MotA/TP] are based on first hand accounts!'. Which, I agree! That is true! And I love that we have Parachute Infantry and Helmet for My Pillow, With the Old Breed/China Marine, and the like. I consider them invaluable. But I believe that GenKill is a far more direct page to screen adaptation, with literally word-for-word recitations of recorded conversations, with one of the Marines LITERALLY PLAYING HIMSELF (I can't even wrap my head around that one,,,Rudy Reyes, the man that you are).

That being said, this is not an attack on any of the shows! I love them all so much!! However because of the distance, in the time between the war and the accounts and the creation of the show, it allows a little more wiggle room for creative liberties to be expressed. Just ask Tom "rpf is fine" Hanks!

An interjection here, I've been told that S. Ambrose was more of a writer than historian,,,which doesn't instill the most confidence in his accounts towards historical accuracy. Additionally, in my own reading of him [BoB], I found it,,,underdeveloped? Or perhaps simple might be a better word. Which is good, when making military operations and jargon and further nuances of a World War palatable to the layperson 45 years after it happened. But when posed next to the rather elegant entries of David Webster, which were quoted often and at length,,,Ambrose came off as somewhat lacking. I by no means, mean to disparage S. Ambrose, he is the reason we have BoB in the first place.

So back to it. The aforementioned distance and time and rpf. It's my opinion that it allows for a certain character to be established that is, for the most part, separate from their real life counterpart. That's why there are the disclaimers on fics that establish that it's the show, the works of Tom Hanks or Ed Burns and the actors portrayals that they are basing their fic from, no intention of disrespect to the actual real life people. Because of the nature of Evan Wright's documentation while writing the articles that later formed Generation Kill (2004) and the fact that that was explicitly his job and he was not a marine or solider who also happen to document his experience in war, there is less wiggle room. That (assumed, no man is without bias) faithfulness to what he was seeing in Iraq and then the subsequent pretty dead on series adaptation makes it significantly harder, for me at least, to seperate the men that are portrayed in GenKill (2008) than the real men of 1st Recon that Wright depicted in his book. But that's just me! In the fandom space, GenKill, even if it's not explicit rpf, it does feel more like rpf than any of the other shows. I don't have a problem with rpf, I just don't personally engage with it. Certain details that often included in fics like Nate Fick's horseshoe necklace or Dick Winters engraved knife from Lewis Nixon, their signifcance is never mentioned in the show (nor the objects sometimes even shown) but is explored in fic. We are, at this point, about 20 years removed from the events of GenKill, but still, it feels a bit more invasive to include information obtained outside of that show than any of the others.

Additionally, a call back to the cultural aspect I mentioned before. There no over looking the differences between existing in war and just as a person in the 1940s and 2003. A distinct lack of Nelly in the 40s, for starters.

This had been touched on before by people far smarter than me but, BoB is pretty sterilized in its portrayal of war, it's lack of anger toward the enemy (barring Web's outburst), there 1 sex scene, and limited uncouth language (correct me if I'm wrong). This isn't the case in really any of the other shows in at least of manner or another. TP doesn't shy away from violence and is considerably more gory, but that tracks with the purpose of the show. In my Pacific rewatch I was promptly reminded the stark anger and racism towards the Japanese there was. The Pacific also potentially has the most sex featured in it.

GenKill is in a league of its own for bigoted language and considerable rauch with a distinct lack of both sex scenes, with the exception of combat jacks ig, and named female characters

So what is it? Is there one defining factor that makes GenKill the odd man out? Is it not being WW2, not being done by Tom Hanks, not having Dale Dye, the propensity toward rpf, the presence of Nelly?

What it really comes down to, is of course, the obvious, timing of release and subject matter. BoB was 2001, GenKill 2008, TP 2010, and MotA 2024 and they are all about war and on HBO (except MotA but it was adopted as it has Hanksian parentage). There doesn't seem to be a single unifying thing that holds everything together nor any entirely isolation that makes it so you can't draw parallels between all 4.

In the resurgence of the HBOWar fandom with the airing of MotA, I feel like GenKill has become the ugly stepchild of the fandom, even tho it was the 2nd aired show. Being relatively new to the fandom, I would love to hear from members of the HBOWar pre-MotA and how the dynamics between the shows worked previously. Was GenKill always the odd man out? Was it just with the addition of MotA that it got pushed to the side? Was it a dead fandom and got its own resurgence?

All this to say, PLEASE GOD LET ME TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT GENKILL. I FINSIHED WATCHING IT AND ITS CONSUMED BY BRAIN PLEASE

[covid-safer-hotties]

The US Government Has Abandoned Us to Endless COVID. We Can Do Better. - Published Aug 10, 2024

The pandemic isn’t over. Why is it so hard to find accurate information about it?

This week, Nassau County, New York, passed a mask ban. Those wearing face masks will now face the possibility of up to a year in jail or a $1,000 fine. Angry at the power of anti-genocide protests, lawmakers banned one of the most basic forms of disease protection just as the world is experiencing a record surge in COVID cases. While officials insist that the law will not be used against those masking for medical reasons, disabled activists protesting the move say they were intentionally coughed on during the city council meeting where the bill was passed.

In a world of airborne contagious diseases, everyone has a medical reason for masking. So why doesn’t our public health policy recognize that?

In 2020, at the height of the first wave of the COVID-19 pandemic, then-President Donald Trump was excoriated for saying that “when you test, you create more cases.” This statement was met with outcry by journalists and public health professionals and pundits from all major outlets.

Trump’s statements and policies on COVID were regularly and widely critiqued. In October 2020, CNN launched a tracker of “every time Trump said that the coronavirus pandemic was over, but it wasn’t,” which juxtaposed Trump’s words with the number of new cases in the United States.

Since President Joe Biden took office, many of the same things that Trump was excoriated for have been implemented as policy. In September 2022, Biden suddenly declared the pandemic over at the Detroit Auto Show, and in May 2023, Congress ended the federal emergency. Both moves were unrelated to any data about case numbers, yet no similar media outcry about premature or imaginary declarations has dogged the Biden administration.

Trump’s outrageous argument that if the U.S. collected less data, the picture would be rosier has been made into official policy under the Biden administration: As of May 1, 2024, hospitals are no longer required to report admissions, and most of the other data collection infrastructure on COVID test rates, like local dashboards and easily readable trackers on cases and deaths, has already disappeared.

By mid-July 2024, it was possible for Biden to have an active case of COVID and to claim that he is going home to isolate while simultaneously appearing on video in a group of people unmasked, without major media outlets blinking an eye about this contradiction. At this point in the pandemic, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) website is no longer a go-to place for clear COVID information, but instead muddies the difference between COVID and the common cold in its prevention recommendations. As Caroline Hugh, an epidemiologist who volunteers for the Public Health Collective, told Truthout, it is hard to know what’s going on because the “picture has gotten a lot fuzzier and a lot more complicated.”

As Supports for COVID Sunset, Access Is Obstructed It is worth stating explicitly that the COVID pandemic is decidedly not over, despite the end of the U.S. federal emergency. The policy and response have changed, without any real relationship to changes in the illness and how it affects people.

The basic facts about COVID have not evolved that much: It is a highly contagious airborne disease, tight-fitting masks are effective, regular vaccinations are helpful in avoiding more serious illness, and isolation (some experts insist longer than five days) is warranted to avoid getting other people sick. It can cause death and long-term or permanent disability.

What has changed in the last four years is that it has become harder and harder for people to remain clear on this information and to put these basic guidelines into practice. The information about the risks of COVID and how to avoid them has gone from being mainstream advice to countercultural information that people have to search out. In this information-poor environment, the risks to disabled people, to those who work directly with the public (disproportionately BIPOC people) and anyone else with an increased COVID risk level are dramatically increased.

It is also now much harder to put this information into practice as government and institutional support for COVID safety practices has all but evaporated. Tools that were used earlier in the pandemic like free testing, masks and vaccines, have almost all been phased out, often shifting the financial burden for these to individual patients. The expectation to work while sick has been reimposed. The public has repeatedly been told “we have the tools,” but with tens of millions of people kicked off Medicaid in 2024, Paxlovid — a rapid treatment that reduces the risks of the infection — is difficult to obtain for most people, and expensive for almost everyone. Even the Bridge Access program, which funded COVID vaccinations for those without private insurance to cover them, is sunsetting this fall. “It is absolutely unaffordable to get COVID for the vast majority of working Americans, for people who are not working, who are retired and disabled on SSDI, on a limited income, on SSI. This is a catastrophic cost to be exposed to right now,” Beatrice Adler-Bolton, coauthor of Health Communism and co-host of the podcast “Death Panel,” told Truthout.

One of the ways that misleading information becomes normalized is by making it challenging for people to act on any other information.

“Immunity Debt” and Other Commonly Circulated Myths With the disappearance of supports and these changes to the mainstream media narrative, it has become harder to feel sure about COVID. The dramatic wind down of data available has been coupled with a major shift in framing from the CDC, which has communicated in ways that fail to counter the U.S. public’s widespread turn toward a mentality that is resonant with Trump’s misleading push for “herd immunity” in 2020.

While the CDC does acknowledge that “reinfection can occur as early as several weeks after a previous infection,” much of its recent messaging on COVID has tended to bolster the widespread public sense that hospitalization and COVID deaths have largely decreased because of immunity from prior infection or vaccinations. (Only 28 percent of adults in the U.S. are up to date on COVID vaccinations.) For example, PEW Research Center cited the CDC in its statement that “The vast majority of Americans have some level of protection from the coronavirus because of vaccination, prior infection or a combination of the two. This has led to a decline in severe illness from the disease.”

Adam Moore, a virologist working towards a Ph.D. at the University of California, Davis, says that while this claim is accurate, the overall framing is “dishonest” because it underemphasizes how quickly natural immunity can wane after a COVID infection. He also argues that this frame underemphasizes how COVID can have serious impacts on a person’s immune system and their ability to fend off any kind of illness.

Fundamentally, it is complicated to assess why fewer people are being hospitalized or dying of COVID despite continued high rates of circulation. The reason is not necessarily solely related to immunity (through exposure or vaccination), especially given the disease’s quick evolution that has resulted from the failure to contain it.

The data collection on who has been hospitalized or even died with an active case of COVID has also become less reliable, as many hospitals no longer report all COVID cases, but instead make a distinction between people hospitalized “with COVID” and people hospitalized “for COVID.” And, undercounting of deaths has been a pattern throughout the pandemic.

Most importantly, experts who spoke to Truthout emphasized that death and acute illness like hospitalization are not the only serious outcomes from an illness. Most of us would like to avoid serious injury, traumatic events and long-term disability that fall outside the purview of the basic and extreme indicator of death. Pandemic indicators and figures that do not tell us how many people are developing or living with long COVID, for example, fall far short of offering a complete picture of the risk of COVID infection.

The push for “herd immunity” to COVID is only one of several common misleading ideas about immunity. Another is immunity debt, the claim that if a person missed getting a cold or respiratory virus in 2021 they were more susceptible to getting sick in 2022. Immunity debt, although popularized in some media outlets, is not a scientifically accepted idea. The immune system is a not a “muscle that needs exercise to get stronger,” explained Moore.

COVID goes against a lot of what people in the United States have been told about viruses and what has come to be common sense. The most common viruses in the U.S. are seasonal, but COVID circulates year-round, more like tropical viruses. Moore highlights that this makes COVID fundamentally different from the flu and, crucially, the vaccination cycle for the flu, where annual vaccination works because it can account for the variants that have evolved in the opposite hemisphere. Since COVID circulates everywhere year-round, annual vaccinations are not enough to keep up on the latest variants. Beatrice Adler-Bolton adds that COVID surges in the United States are not related to seasons but rather to moments of intense travel, like Memorial Day weekend, Labor Day weekend, the holidays in November and December, and Spring Break.

Good Information Is Available — If You Know Where to Look The people who spoke to Truthout for this story recommended many sources of robust, trustworthy information about COVID. These sources are not invested in making sure the economy continues going as it is, which has been one of the biggest reasons government and mainstream sources misrepresent COVID data. Many also have a commitment to disability and racial justice and are actively organizing for improved public health information and infrastructure.

Recommended resources include Noha Aboelata and Roots Community Health’s “people’s health updates” on YouTube; Ground Truths, the newsletter of Eric Topol; The Sick Times, a weekly newsletter focusing on Long COVID; and Adler-Bolton’s podcast, “Death Panel,” which provides regular deep dives and analysis of COVID policy.

Local mask blocs are another good source of information. These local mutual aid groups provide low-cost or free masks to community members (via bulk purchasing), and they share a lot of locally relevant information about COVID (often on Instagram).

Nationally, groups like the People’s CDC, the Public Health Collective and the Pandemic Mitigation Collaborative are synthesizing technical information and sharing it to a wider community with a disability justice lens. Hugh highlighted the importance of reading and combining a variety of information, rather than relying on a single source.

Repetition Is a Democratic Power The most powerful part of COVID disinformation is its simple repetition through multiple channels constantly, says Adler-Bolton. But repetition can work both ways. Those pushing for more accurate COVID information that allows everyday people to be in solidarity with one another can also use this power of repetition, but “we have to be relentless.”

Undoing the damage of bad information is difficult, because “breaking the mystification of disinformation” can’t be done by simply changing the information that goes through those same media channels, said Adler-Bolton. Instead, people must work with each other through personal connection. “There is a kind of trust that we can build between each other that goes further than the trust any one person can have with any media project, no matter how good the project is.”

Information that rejects ableism and white supremacy raises the stakes by asking people to reject the comforts they have been promised by racial capitalism. Sharing that information with each other is part of a collective struggle for disability and racial justice.