#Trump Tower meeting

[raygirlramblings]

OH

I just realised something about Laserhawk Rayman which I've been saying about Rayman for DECADES.

So what is Rayman's defining goal which powers him throughout all his games? It's gonna sound corny, but it's FRIENDSHIP.

And you'll say 'oh that's not uncommon, most videogame protags do stuff for the sake of their friends', but it's kinda more than that.

Rayman LIVES AND BREATHES through the love and support of his friends.

Rayman is a strange little freak guy, one of a kind even amongst his own species*, and instead of being shunned and alone he is held up and supported by his friends and propelled forward by the power of friendship. This is more of a driving force in his life than a romantic interest, a prized possession, or any kind of praise.

(*I still use the logic of Rayman 1 that other limbless beings like Rayman exist but were not created by magic. Hence why Rayman has immortality)

On the surface you have his friendship with Globox as a clear example of his devotion. Despite their differences the two are like brothers and bond through various games in different ways. saving and being saved by Globox is a big part of Rayman 2. Curing Globox of Andre is literally the driving force of Rayman 3.

When Rayman is trapped by the pirates at the start of Rayman 2 he is absolutely distraught, powerless and unable to escape on his own. Without Globox risking his life on the vague chance he'd get put in a cell near Rayman to give him a silver lum, Rayman might never have escaped the Buccaneer. Rayman's friendship with Globox trumped Globox's absolute fear of the pirates.

Rayman's friends are always the ones giving him support and gifts and powers to help him save the day, not in a 'you suck lets hold your hand as you go through the game' way but in a 'we have absolute faith in you, friend, anything we can do to help we will!' way. And in turn Rayman returns that love through his actions and compassion. Rayman is who he is because of the love and acceptance of his friends. Hence why he is always seen relaxing with them, chilling with Globox and Barbara and Murfy and the Teensies.

And it's Rayman's willingness to befriend others and turn the other cheek that betters him overall. Mosquito, Inspector Grub, the Rabbids, they have all been part of his journey despite being antagonistic to him at the start.

When Rayman is separated from his friends, or unable to make new friendships, he kinda falls apart and struggles by himself. He gets lonely, realises how small he is in the world. If he doesn't have a focus to find his friends and help them he is lost.

Which makes perfect sense when you see a version of him in Laserhawk.

Rayman is the most popular mascot in Eden but HE DOESN'T HAVE FRIENDS.

The closest connection he has is to the Counsel who run Eden and even they keep him at arm's length from what we see in the show. They are not his friends, they are his abusive, neglectful bosses that dropped him the minute he stepped out of line, and without them Rayman has NO ONE ELSE in the city he can rely on.

No wonder he's a complete mess even before the show starts. He has no one to confide his fears in, no one who understands his unique perspective. He probably has yes-men and people willing to lie about how great he is, not to mention adoring viewers and a whole fanclub of kids, but even Rayman knows that's fake. They are not his real friends. He's the picture of the lonely celebrity in an ivory tower.

You can see it in Rayman's face when he meets Bullfrog, and Bullfrog VALIDATES his feelings of betrayal and anger against Red and the Counsel. Finally he has someone showing him genuine compassion but also not mollycoddling him. Someone who is honest with him and not freaked out by/judgemental of how he looks. He's scared and angry, but there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel before him.

This and being replaced by Eden is the breaking point that causes Ray to become Ramon and fight back. He now has an end goal, take revenge on the Counsel and save Bullfrog from the electric chair. He has multiple reasons for doing this ranging from his belief in protecting hybrids in general to protecting his image to taking away some of Eden's power at gunpoint...but I also like to think he did it because he put his faith in Bullfrog.

Because as well as being one of the only people in Eden who might have an idea of what's going on behind the veil, he's probably the only person Rayman could consider a friend.

[wh0re43van]

Older- (Stan Bowes X Reader)

Word count: 4k

Summary: You’re interning under Stan who's taken quite the liking to you, but you’re much too naive to notice at first.

Warnings: age gap, smut, thigh ridding?, cheating

A/n: Okay ya’ll, this is not my best. My motivation randomly dropped like a week ago and I've been trying to get it back. I'm so sorry.

I started my paid internship at Trump tower a few weeks ago in order to finish up my business degree. I’ve only seen my temporary boss a few times, but he is an extremely intimidating man. His suits are always pressed and starched in a very neat way, his hair always gelled back perfectly; not one strand out of place. He walks with confidence and determination. He’s horrifying. And of course, on the day that I’m having a major wardrobe malfunction, I have to go into his office. I stayed at a friend’s house last night and left my work shirt at home. Thankfully, she also has an office job as well, so she has appropriate clothes- at least for her body type. She’s much smaller in the bust than me, so the top button on my blouse has been popping open constantly. I’ve been walking around with my hand on my chest all day as if I’m saying the pledge of allegiance on repeat.

I stand outside of Mr. Bowes door, taking a deep breath with my papers in hand, ensuring my button is snapped shut- at least for the time being. I bring a shaky hand up to knock on the wooden door. A few seconds later I hear,

“What now? What is it? Come in!”

Great, he’s already frustrated with me. I slowly open the door, sticking my head in. He doesn’t remove his attention from the many papers spread across his desk.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bowes,” I say in a feeble tone, standing awkwardly in front of him. He looks up when he hears my unfamiliar voice. His dark eyes scan over my face and my body. I feel small and weak under his intense stare.

“It’s fine Miss…” he says firmly awaiting me to introduce myself.

“Oh! I’m so- I- Y/n Y/l/n,” my tongue seems to stop working. “I’m an intern. Th-that’s why I’m here actually,” I smile nervously. “I need you, uhm, to fill out this form proving that I- I’ve completed the first two weeks here at the company,” I clear my throat, mentally kicking myself in the ass for how stupid I sound. Mr. Bowes, however, seems to find it amusing. A small smile creeps onto his face, revealing two charming dimples.

“Very well then Miss Y/n,” he holds out a strong hand. My trembling fingers pass him the papers. “No need to be so nervous,” he says, staring directly into my soul. His dominant presence makes me feel like a child who’s been called to the principals office. He scans over the form. “Can I have you go ahead and sign this for me, Miss Y/n. That way as soon as I get around to it we can fax it to your school. I’m all about efficiency,” he smiles politely, handing me a pen.

“Of course, sir!” I say a bit too enthusiastically, I flinch when my voice cracks. As I take the pen from his hand, I can see him stifle a laugh to save me from embarrassment. I bend down to sign the paper with a shaky hand, before standing back up. Stans eyes are locked on to my chest, he clears his throat, using his eyes to motion to my blouse.

“Shit,” I mutter as I turn around quickly, my cheeks burning crimson. I quickly pull the fabric together tightly to snap the weak fasteners. Even with the snap buckled, there’s a gap in between the two buttons; I try my best to hide it. I slowly turn back around to face my boss, my eyes closed, too afraid to look at him.

“Mr. Bowes, I am so sorry, I this- I- th-“ I take a deep breath. “This isn’t my shirt. I apologize,” I finally open my eyes to see him leaning back in his chair, his face firm but a glint of amusement in his eyes. He grabs a mint from his desk, popping it in his mouth.

“Have a seat, Miss y/n,” Is all he says, staring at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I take a seat from my shaky legs. “I’d hate to have to do this upon our first-time meeting officially,” he begins, but the smirk on his face says otherwise. “But it is company policy that I inform you that the attire you’ve worn into work today is not up to our standards,” he says simply as he leans forward onto his elbows. “Do you always wear such revealing clothes,” he asks, tilting his head to the side a bit.

“No! No, Sir, of course not,” I plead, hoping that he’ll believe me. “This isn’t my shirt, it’s a friends! I was in rush, and I couldn’t find my shirt- well this all she had. She uh- her, uhm chest is a bit smaller than mine so it’s not exactly, uh, the most flattering on me,” I try to explain in a mush of words. He listens intently, nodding his head.

“I see,” he sits up, straightening his tie. I can see his biceps strain against his white button up as he adjusts the strip of fabric around his neck. “You seem like a respectable young lady, and I’m a sensible man, Miss Y/n. I understand that there are some things out of your control,” he offers me a small smile, seemingly dismissing the situation.

“Thank you, Sir,” I let out the breath I was holding.

“Please, call me Stan,” he insists as he leans back in his chair.  

“Yes, sir- I mean Stan!” I correct myself, my cheeks blushing. “I apologize, I’ve never referred to a man of such power and superiority in such a casual way,” I admit honestly. He seems to like my acknowledgment of his power over me, he puffs his chest out a bit at the comment.

“Refer to me in whatever way makes you comfortable, Miss Y/n,” he grins.

“Yes, sir,” I look down at my feet, my stomach is a ball of nerves. Stan just sits there, staring at me as if he enjoys intimidating me, while I wait for him to dismiss me.

“Are you free this weekend, Y/n?” he asks as he leans back down to his elbows, crossing his hands, while awaiting my answer. I notice a wedding ring on his finger.

“Uhm, I believe so,” I say but it comes out more of a question. Why would a married man possibly want to know about my weekend plans?

“Would you be willing to meet with me outside of the office to complete some more work? I believe it will enhance your education and your experience with us,” he offers simply, but I notice an underlying tone in his voice, I’m just not sure what is.

“Does it count as over time?” I ask with a small laugh, finally being comfortable enough to crack a small joke. He looks a bit thrown by my comment- which confuses me- but he lets out a small chuckle.

“Yes of course, I would never ask you to work for free,” he smiles while grabbing a piece of paper, scribbling down an address. “This is my home address,” he hands me the slip. “Does 9 am Saturday sound okay?” he raises his brows.

“Uh yes sir, whatever works for you,” I smile, accepting the scrap of paper. “Should I just knock? I apologize, I’m not yet acquainted with the etiquette of professionalism,” I blush a bit. He seems to enjoy my naiveite.

“Yes dear, just knock,” he chuckles. “Oh, and please be sure to wear something more appropriate,” he says but it comes out light- a joke.

“Oh of course Mr. Bowes! I wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong idea,” I say out of respect for his relationship, motioning to his wedding band with my hand. Stan looks a bit taken back, almost as if he forgot he was married somehow. He clears his throat.

“She’s out of town with our children this weekend. With no distractions we’ll be able to get the work done in just a couple hours I’m sure,” he’s back to his calm, dominant demeaner now.

“Alright Sir, I’ll see you at 9 am on Saturday,” I smile standing from my seat, walking towards his door.

“Miss Y/n,” his voice stops me, I turn around. “I need to know that you understand that this is something that will be kept between us. I need you to tell me that you won’t speak of this to anyone,” he says sternly. My face contorts into a quizzical expression.

“Uhm yes sir, I can do that. I won’t tell anyone,” I promise. “But can I ask why, Mr. Bowes? I’m just a bit confused. How is this any different than us doing work at the office?” I ask genuinely. I know I don’t understand work etiquette quite yet, but this seems a bit strange. My response seems to stress him a bit, but ultimately he lets out a chuckle.

“Look y/n, I’m a married man with a reputation to uphold, you’re a young bright-eyed lady. Word spreads fast,” he says slowly.

‘oh’ I understand what he’s implying now.

“Yes sir, of course. I understand. People have a tendency to talk,” I nod, wringing my hands nervously at his stern demeanor.

“Very good,” he seems pleased with my understanding. “You’re dismissed,” he motions to the door. I thank him, walking out of his office.

“Well, that was odd,” I mutter to myself as I find my way back to the secretary quarters.

•

•

Saturday morning comes soon enough. I get dressed- making sure to put on a shirt that actually fits this time- and a skirt that stops just above my knees. I pull on some black thigh-high stockings and allow my hair to flow freely. I’m not sure why, but I decide to put on some light makeup. Just some mascara and a subtle red lip. It’s strictly just work, but I can’t help but want to impress Stan. He’s just such an alluring man. I know it’s wrong, he’s a married man- not to mention probably at least 15 years older than me- but he’s so charming. I take a final look in the mirror before heading to the taxi that Stan has called for me.

I walk up to his beautiful house; He obviously has money. I knock on the door, adjusting my outfit while I wait for him. Within seconds, Mr. Bowes is greeting me.

“Adalaide, so nice to see you,” he smiles warmly, inviting me in. I look around the nicely decorated home in awe. “I trust that no one has seen you come in?” he asks as he pokes his head out the door before locking it behind me.

“Uh, no sir. At least not that I’m aware of,” I smile innocently. “Mr. Bowes your home is stunning,” I say still looking around.

“Oh, this place? It’s nothing,” he grins, putting his hand on my lower back, leading me to his couch. I jump a bit at the unexpected touch, but I don’t mind. I’m just a bit confused by it. “So, this shouldn’t take much time, we can get started if you’d like,” he explains, his voice low and-if I’m not mistaken- a bit sultry as he sits down on the sofa next to me. I take a seat, then I notice that there is no paperwork in sight.

‘that’s odd,’ I think to myself, searching around for the task in question.

“Sure Mr. Bowes, you’re the boss,” I giggle lightly, awaiting directions. He looks at me, placing a hand on my knee.

“Miss, Y/n. I have to ask,” he sighs. “You do understand that I didn’t bring you here for actual work, right?” he leans a bit closer to me, raising his eyebrows. My smile drops.

“Oh no… Am I in trouble?” I ask innocently, looking at him with sad eyes. He lets out a chuckle.

“No, my dear. Of course not,” he gives me a kind smile. “I was just hoping to get to know you a little better,” his voice comes out low as he rolls the hem of my skirt in his hands, that’s when I notice his wedding band is no longer on his finger.

‘Oh…OH!’ my eyes widen at my epiphany. I’m not allowed to tell anyone, his wife is away, he made sure no one saw me come in, he’s had his hands on me since I got here… for fucks sake the first time I met the man, my tits were out. God, why am I so naive?

“Oh, I uh,” I clear my throat nervously. “I understand now, Sir,” I blush, slowly looking up at him. His looking at me with lust filled eyes.

“My, you sure do blush a lot,” he says with amusement in his voice. “It’s adorable,” he smirks. He seems to be attracted to how innocent I’ve been about this whole thing.

“Uh, thank you sir,” I give him a shy smile, nervous- but excited- about what’s going to happen in the next hour. This man is like catnip; I couldn’t resist him if I wanted to. He makes a simple white button up look far too good as his hand slowly moves up my thigh.

“No need to be shy y/n,” he says in a whisper against my neck. “Just relax,” his voice is low and gentle, but dripping in seduction. I shiver as he slips a warm hand under my skirt. His fingertips brush my skin where my stockings end.

“Yes sir,” I bite my lip in anticipation, nodding my head. I turn to face him, our eyes exchanging an intimate look. I can’t wait any longer. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his face against mine. He lays me down on the couch, his lips still on mine. My stomach flips seeing the dapper man hovering above me. “May I suggest going somewhere a bit more…private, Mr. Bowes?” I ask as my fingers twirl the dark hair that falls neatly at his neck. The living room is full of large bay windows, as anxious as he is about his nosey neighbors, this doesn’t seem like the smartest place to have an affair.

“These are the kind of ideas that will move you up in this company,” he smirks as he stands, offering me a hand. I giggle, letting him lead me to his bedroom. I can’t believe how elegant his house is, if I wasn’t completely dripping in arousal and desperate for this man, I’d take the time to complement his house again. The room is neat and minimalistic. I take notice of the picture frames face down on both the night stands.

‘That’s probably his family,’ I frown to myself. Guilt flushes over me quickly. I turn to face Stan to tell him that this might be a bad idea, but the way he’s is looking at me while he loosens his tie makes any thought other than his skin on mine fly out the window. Stan smirks, keeping his eyes locked onto mine as he sits down on his bed, patting his leg.

“Come here, darling,” Stan coos, his voice makes me weak. I take a step towards the bed. “Crawl,” he demands simply. I give him a confused look. he smirks as he slides his brown leather belt out of his pants. “Crawl to me, dear,” he lays the belt on the mattress beside him. As he begins to unbutton his white dress shirt he asks, “Can you do that for me, y/n?” I simply nod as a grin creeps onto my face. I’m confused, but oh so excited. I assume this is something the older men are into, and I’m more than happy to explore that. His eyes follow me as I drop down to the floor. I slowly crawl over to him, settling on my knees in between Stans slack clad legs, looking up at him with lust laced eyes as I await further instruction. “Use you manners,” he says in the tone he uses on me at the office. I catch onto what he’s implying after a few seconds.

“I apologize,” I giggle, as I look up stan. His stern look and his sultry gaze make me drool. “Yes sir,” I smile, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Stan smirks, seemingly pleased by my response.

“Good girl,” he nods. “Come here,” his voice is stern yet sultry as he pats his leg. Butterflies explode in my stomach and down to my core as I straddle his thigh. I sit on his leg with nothing more than his pants and my underwear keeping us apart. I can’t help but giggle with excitement as his hands run up my legs to push my dress up before he cups my ass in his hands. “You’re stunning, Miss Y/n,” his voice came out low as he smiles genuinely.

“Thank you, sir,” I blush. He grabs my chin, pulling me into press his lips onto mine. I giggle into as I wrap my hands around the back of his neck. His hands slide up my body, stopping to hold onto my hips. As I brush my fingers into his slicked back hair, he starts to bounce his leg and using his hands to maneuver my hips back and forth. I moan into the kiss as Stan bites my bottom lip, unzipping the back of my dress. The fabric pools around my waist, bouncing with his leg as I grind against him. The friction against my core makes my toes curl as Stan moves his mouth roughly against mine.

“Are you enjoying this dear?” he breathes against my lips in low tone.

“Mhm,” I moan, gripping onto his thigh as I grind against him, focused on my own pleasure. I feel Stans hand grip my neck, pulling my head down closer to his face as he continues bouncing his leg. We breath the same breath as I stare deep into his dark eyes, moaning inwardly. “Manners, darling,” his growls, squeezing my throat with the last word as his lips brushing against mine. I whimper in his grasp.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whimper, staring into his stern eyes as I feel my orgasm quickly building from this new experience. The entire situation is so wrong; he’s my boss, a married man in his 30s, yet here I am; his college intern grinding an orgasm out on his leg. I roll my eyes back as I release, moaning out in pleasure as the euphoria floods my senses.

“Look at me, darling,” stan growls, tightening his grip on my throat. I open my eyes, biting down on my bottom lip. Stans watching me intently as he continues bouncing his leg, seeming to notice every twitch and moan my body makes as I ride out my orgasm. His strong arm reaching for my throat is tensed, making the veins pop out more than usual. Stan is truly one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.

He finally stops his leg, and I lay forward onto him so that my head is resting on his shoulder as I catch my breath.

“Thank you, sir,” I whisper. He lets out a small chuckle.

“You’re welcome, Miss y/n,” he grabs my chin, tilting my head to look at him. I press my lips against his as he lays me down on the bed. His hands slip my dress completely off my body as mine work to finish unbuttoning his dress shirt. His kisses trail down my neck as I reach to undo his pants. “A bit eager, hm?” he laughs into the crook of my neck.

“Extremely eager, Sir,” I giggle as I continue to slide the trousers down his legs. He kicks them off before sliding down my body, settling between my legs. He kisses my stomach down to where my panties rest, each peck sending electricity through my body. His soft hands gently remove the thin fabric covering my core, as if he’s afraid he may break something. His eyes are focused on my body as he rids me of the fabric. “You are stunning,” he breaths, not looking away from my now completely bare body.

“Thank you, sir,” I blush, he smiles at me before dipping a finger into my entrance, earning a gasp out of me. He bites his lip, removing his now slick finger, bringing it up to trace circles on my clit.

“Always so ready to please. That’s a good quality to have,” he chuckles, standing from the mattress to further remove his boxers and shirt. Seeing him in all his glory is surreal. He crawls on top of me, earning an audible, anxious gulp from me. He smiles as he leans down, resting his toned forearms on either side of my head, lining himself up with my entrance.

“Are you ready dear?” he asks, in my ear.

“Yes sir,” I whimper, shaking from anticipation. With that he pushes into me slowly as a low groan creeps from his throat. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut trying to adjust to his size. His movements start slow, but soon the pain melts into pleasure and I give him permission to speed up. His thrusts are quick and deep, earning desperate moans from my mouth with each stroke. The way Stan holds my hip and grips my throat while he fucks me is a sensation I’ve never experienced before. I’m complete putty in his hands, allowing him to use me in anyway he sees fit, and I’ll thank him every time. Briefly pulling out of me, Stan flips me around to my stomach.

“Hands and knees,” he pants out as he stands from the bed. I quickly scramble on the mattress to get into the position he’s requested as my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. “Good girl,” I can hear his smirk as he brings a hard hand down over my ass, earning a whimper from me before he thrusts back into me, no mercy this time.

“Fuck!” I moan out as I feel him bottom out immediately. Stan finds his rhythm, using his hands to pull my body against his with every deep stroke.

“God, you take me so well,” Stan groans as he moves a hand underneath me, rubbing his thumb over my clit. I moan loudly at the extra stimulation. Stans thrusts get sloppy, and his groans get louder as I begin to flutter around him, focusing on my own climax as he pounds into me relentlessly.

“Fuck,” I whimper, warning stan of my orgasm approaching.

“Be good for me, I want you to beg,” Stan pants out with smack on my ass.

“Please sir,” I whine as my legs begin to shake. “Please let cum. I can’t hold it. Please sir,” I plead in a way I never thought I would speak to man.

“Good girl,” he speeds up his finger that’s working with my bundle of nerves. I quickly come undone. Sweat forms a thin sheen on my forehead as I release around him, seeing stars. Soon after, he pulls out before I feel his warm seed shoot out, running down my back. I lay down on my stomach, closing my eyes as I try to catch my breath. Stan lays down right next to me, pulling me into his side. I look up, his chest heaving as he wipes his forehead with his hand.

“I think we’ve made a lot of progress today,” he chuckles as he brushes my hair off my sweaty face.

“I agree, Mr. Bowes,” I giggle as I rest my head on his shoulder.

[mamayan]

Request: Male Minotaur Yandere x Female Human Childhood Sweetheart Reader

General Premise: Reader darling grew up as childhood friends with an adorable Minotaur neighbor. (She had to move away eventually and was unable to keep in touch with him, but they always remembered each other). He was really small and weak when he was young compared to other bulls of his species, so imagine her surprise when she meets him years later as an adult, and he’s fucking massive (in more ways than one…) He’s never letting her go again and is breeding/impregnating her constantly for the rest of her life. Making her his trophy wife/house wife too. (Sorry not sorry, I love babies and uxorious men who want nothing more than to seed me).

P.S. I feel like this man could either be like a farm boy…or like a rich, powerful man, who just confines reader to a large private island by Greece or something. Like…I’m so conflicted…

Also I love your stuff! Your sexy writing is the best and makes me go fish brain in the best way possible!

Love ,🧋🫖Anon

Oh my goodness 🧋🫖Anon—🫢♥️

Okay I wanna respond to this so you know I’m not ignoring~ This is so hot though?! I can’t do a full fic right now, but let’s do some headcanons cuz this has stewed in my brain.

NSFW under the cut!

Minotaur BF who you had to protect as children. Out in the country folk didn’t take kindly to those who were different, and as a human you felt badly your friend was being bullied by your own kind. Sure he wasn’t human, but his heart was kind and he was your friend! He was an outcast amongst his own too because he was a runt, treated badly every which way, except by you.

Minotaur BF who would hold your hand at night because he was scared of the thunder storms, who would cuddle up cutely beside you and sleep after you held him. He took to you like a little stray kitten, reliant on your kindness and friendship like a life raft.

Minotaur BF who nearly lost his mind when you left home, unable to comprehend why you would leave him. Didn’t you know he needed you? It wounded his soul but he comforted himself with your promise to come back. You had too after all.

Minotaur BF who sprouted up to nearly double the size of his peers. He’s not little anymore and doesn’t need you to protect him, it’s others who should worry for themselves. He’s not scared of crushing skulls if they push too far or intrude on his land. He’s a simple farmer after all, he just doesn’t like trouble.

Minotaur BF who rejoices when you return, even more beautiful and grown up. Who adores your shocked expression because he towers over you now, and he wants you to praise him for growing so well. Now he can protect you, provide for you, care for you, breed you.

Minotaur BF who won’t let you leave back to your big city again. You said you’d come back, why would he let you run away again? Your tears won’t sway this monster, and you aren’t strong enough to resist his gentle but firm hold on you. You won’t be going anywhere but his bed. You’d better get comfortable, because this big male wants you in every way.

Minotaur BF with an enormous cock that trumps whoever or whatever toys you used in that big city away from him. Your cute cunt won’t be able to take him without an absurd amount of prep, and he’s more than happy to put that work in for you. His wide long tongue swirling inside of you, glossing you up in spit and saliva and making an absolute mess of your lower body. His big fingers prying your little hole open to stretch, making you cum until you pass out and waking again being spearing on his wiggling muscle as he devours you. He’s not afraid to slip his tongue further to your tight ring of muscle and lick there either, he’s ready to worship every inch of your body.

Minotaur BF who can cook, making you the most mouth watering home made meals with ingredients he grew or slaughtered, because he wants you healthy and happy for when he breeds you. 

Minotaur BF who is still the sweetest and most considerate as long as you don’t try to leave. Who wants to spoil you endlessly and fill your womb with hot sprays of his cum because you look too cute like that. You want that dress, game, etc.? He’ll get it for you, don’t you worry. He’s got you covered, literally. :3

Minotaur BF who finally gets your tight little hole to fit all of him, it took a lot of work and energy but when you’re drooling and fucked out on his meaty rod, it satisfies something primal in him. He fucks you slow and gently, because you can’t handle him entirely yet, but he loves you dearly anyway. He’s all to happy to take you apart slowly, rubbing your clit while you cream his cock and lower half with your arousal and release as he lightly rocks his hips. It still leaves you reeling, even the act of him pulling out slowly takes your breath away, has you clawing at his chest or horns and mewling.

Minotaur BF who pumps you so full of cum it’s like a solo bukkake porno, the level of fluid he releases in one orgasm unimaginable. You feel him filling you up because he’s overflowing from your womb and out, making a mess that only spurs him on to do it again. It leaves him wild and lubricates you up to take him again, his swollen balls ready to take on the task.

Minotaur BF who will intentionally replace your birth control with placebos, because he dreams of having a family with you as soon as possible.

Dividers/ @benkeibear

[odinsblog]

DONALD TRUMP: MOBBED UP AF - A RETROSPECTIVE

(by @saradannerdukic)

1970s & 1980s: wave of Russian criminals arrive in New York and begin interfacing with established American organized crime networks (La Cosa Nostra/The Five Families aka Bonanno, Genovese, Colombo, Lucchese, Gambino) (source)

1977: KGB reportedly opens file on Donald Trump (source).

1979: Construction begins on Trump Tower.  Trump purchases overpriced concrete from mafia bosses Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno and Paul Castellano of the Genovese and Gambino crime families (respectively). (source)

1980: Trump's mentor, Roy Cohn, introduces Donald to Roger Stone. (source)

1982: New York City Housing Commissioner Anthony Gliedman received what he described as an “abusive and profane” call from someone angry that Gliedman had opposed Trump’s request for a $20 million tax abatement. Gliedman reported the call to the FBI, saying the caller was “threatening his life.” (source)

June 3, 1983: Rudy Giuliani becomes US attorney for SDNY

January, 1984: Vladimir Alexandrovich Kryuchkov, First Chief Directorate of the KGB arm responsible for gathering foreign intelligence, urges his officers to be more creative with agent recruitment - and to use money and flattery vs. alignment with Soviet ideology.  Additionally, he gives the directive to find "U.S. targets to cultivate or, at the very least, official contacts...The main effort must be concentrated on acquiring valuable agents." (source)

1984: Russian émigré David Bogatin pays cash for five apartments in Trump Tower. (source).  Bogatin's brother ran a $150 million stock scam with Russian mafia boss Semion Mogilevich (source)

1985: Trump reportedly “apoplectic” when he loses bid to re-develop the Coliseum at Columbus Circle to Salomon Brothers-backed Mort Zuckerman. (source)  More on Trump’s proposal here.

October 1985: Trump's helicopter pilot indicted on drug trafficking charges. Trump doesn't fire him.  Instead, he leases his personally-owned unit in Trump Plaza Apartments to him with an agreement of half the rent is to be paid in cash, the other half in unspecified helicopter services.  Trump also writes a letter on behalf of his pilot (Weichselbaum), calling him "a credit to the community.”  Who does the case end up with?  Federal judge Maryanne Trump, Donald's sister. (source)

Autumn, 1986: Trump meets Soviet ambassador Yuri Dubinin.  And per Trump's own account in Art of the Deal, “One thing led to another, and now I’m talking about building a large luxury hotel, across the street from the Kremlin, in partnership with the Soviet government.” (source)

1986: Trump makes the rounds in the news offering to negotiate with the Russians (source), and also angles for a Soviet posting in the Reagan administration (source)

March 16, 1987: Bogatin (who had purchased multiple apartments in Trump Tower for cash) pleads guilty to taking part in a massive gasoline-bootlegging scheme with Russian mobsters. The government seized his five condos at Trump Tower, because he'd used them to “launder money, to shelter and hide assets.” A Senate investigation into organized crime later revealed that Bogatin was a leading figure in the Russian mob in New York. (from New Republic)

April 3, 1987: Trump excluded from bidding on Australian casino deal because of mafia connections (per Australian police) (source)

July 4, 1987: Trump flies to the USSR for the first time after being personally invited - the trip is arranged by the Soviet government (source).

1987: Trump talks extensively in an interview about nuclear bombs, and states that his pilot used to work for Qaddafi.  In the same interview, Trump describes the type of bomb he thinks will be possible in the future: "Carry it in your briefcase, right. I’m not even talking about airplanes and missiles. You’ll walk in with your damn tape recorder,” he says, pointing to my innocent Sony, “and you’ll say it’s a tape recorder and nobody will be able to tell the difference. I mean, that’s where it’s going to be in 20 years.” (source)

1988: Trump starts talking about running for president on Oprah (source).

1988: Trump purchases a yacht from Adnan Khashoggi, the uncle of Jamal Khashoggi (source) (source)

1988: American Media Inc. (AMI) comes into being after Enquirer owner Generoso Pope dies. (source)  Among the interested parties are Robert Maxwell (source), the father of Ghislaine Maxwell - Jeffrey Epstein's partner. (source).  Among the trustees of the Pope estate are Peter G. Peterson, a partner in the Blackstone Group (source) - a private equity firm founded by Steven Schwarzman (source). (More on Schwarzman and his relation to Trump here).  According to Pope's son, Paul, The Enquirer was started with a $75,000 loan from the mafia (source).

October 11, 1989: helicopter crashes with 3 Trump casino execs aboard (source).  Trump claimed he was supposed to be on it, but then changed his mind at the last minute. (source)  After their deaths, he blamed them for the failure of his Atlantic City casino (source) The helicopter's pilot was identified by the state police as Robert Kent of Ronkonkoma, L.I., and its co-pilot as Lawrence Diener of Westbury, L.I.  b/b

1990: Wall Street bond house Salomon Brothers advises institutional clients to sell bonds issue from Trump's Castle Casino in Atlantic City, due to debt and performance concerns. (source)

1991: Trump declares bankruptcy (source)

1991: Trump sells his yacht to Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal (source) (source)

December 17, 1991: Fred Trump gives Donald an interest-free loan by purchasing $3.5 million worth of casino chips at Trump Castle casino, circumventing bankruptcy rules and enabling Donald to make the interest payment due on his bonds. (source)

1992: Trump declares bankruptcy an additional 3 times stemming from various properties he's over-leveraged. (source)

1994: Trump allegedly rapes and beats a 13-year-old girl at a party with Jeffrey Epstein, multiple times.  In the filed complaint, the 13-year-old was threatened to be "disappeared" like another young girl had been if she told anyone. (source)

October 20, 1994: Christine Seymour, Roy Cohn's secretary (Cohn was Trump's mentor), who was set to publish a tell-all book, dies in head-on collision with tractor trailer (source)

1995: Trump reportedly in Moscow to discuss matters related to Okhotny Ryad underground mall on Manezh Square. (source)

The trip is also reference in this article: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1997/05/19/trump-solo

1995: Trump sells Plaza Hotel to Alwaleed bin Talal (source) Barbara Corcoran brokers the deal (source)

June 8, 1995: Vyacheslav Ivankov arrested (source).  Ivankov was known to be a notoriously brutal gangster in the upper echelon of the Russian mafia. (source) After having difficulty finding him, the FBI picked up his trail at Trump Taj Mahal, and then discovered that Ivankov had a luxury condo in Trump Tower. (source)  According to Robert Friedman in his book, Red Mafiya, Friedman viewed Ivankov's personal phone book containing "a working number for the Trump Organization’s Trump Tower Residence, and a Trump Organization office fax machine." (this is listed as a citation at the end of the book).  Ivankov is also mentioned in this 2003 DOJ paper on organized crime, with a forward by Bruce Ohr (pp 49).

1996: Trump goes to Russia with Howard Lorber (source).  Lorber later donated to the Trump inaugural fund (source).

1998: Trump Taj Mahal fined for currency transaction reporting violations (source)

February 1999: Evercore Capital Partners L.L.C., headed by former Deputy Treasury Secretary Roger C. Altman, acquires American Media, Inc. and places David Pecker at the helm. (source)

1999: Trump's first run for president (source)

2000/2001: Mark Burnett in negotiations with Putin for a show called "Destination Mir." (source)

October 2001: AMI offices in Boca Raton are attacked with anthrax (source).  Later, in 2004, a cleaning company owned by Rudy Giuliani is contracted to clean up the anthrax, with his company, Bio-One, slated to rent/occupy the building after cleanup. (source)  The contract later ended in a feud. (source)

2002: Mark Burnett begins talks with Trump regarding The Apprentice. (source)

2002 - 2011: The Bayrock Group partners with the Trump Organization on developments including the Trump SoHo hotel (source).  Principals in the group include Felix Sater - believed to be connected with Semion Mogilevich (source) - and Tevfik Arif (source).

2004: Trump declares bankruptcy again. (source)

Spring 2004: The Apprentice debuts (source)

May 2004: Diamond dealer and former Trump Tower tenant (1 year prior he'd lived right below Kellyanne Conway) Eduard Nektalov is shot on 6th Avenue (source).  He was reportedly cooperating with federal authorities on a money laundering investigation (source)  More on money laundering and Trump properties here.

2005: at the same time Trump is unable to get a 25 million pound loan from Bank of Scotland due to being a credit risk (source), Deutsche Bank (who later is hit with massive fines for money laundering) loans Trump nearly one billion dollars. Trump's banker at Deutsche Bank is Justice Kennedy's son. (source).

2006: Felix Sater escorts the Trump children during their trip to Russia (according to Sater) (source).  Later, in emails to Michael Cohen, Sater says that he'd arranged for Ivanka to sit in Putin's chair. (source).

2006: Paul Manafort buys unit in Trump Tower (source).

2006 - 2009: Trump makes multiple attempts (and fails) to get a loan from the Bank of Scotland to purchase Hamilton Hall.  The bank executive "expressed concern that Trump would hold the bank to 'future ransom'” (source)

2007 - 2016: Buyers tied to Russia make 86 cash purchases at Trump properties. (source)

2008: Soviet-born (Moldovia) Orly Taitz helps bring suit regarding Obama's citizenship/birth certificate. (source)

2008: Junior brags that they're getting a lot of money from Russia. (source)

2008: Russian oligarch buys a Palm Beach mansion from Trump, paying twice the value (source).

August 27, 2008: a small-time scam artist transfers a Beverly Hills, California, mansion to Donald Trump for $0. (source)

November 2008: Unable to meet his obligations for the nearly 1 billion dollar loan they gave him, Trump sues Deutsche Bank saying he shouldn't have to make good on his promise because of the economic crash. (source)

2009: Trump declares bankruptcy again. (source)

2009: a lawyer representing Trump Atlantic City casino creditors says he got threatening phone calls. The FBI traced one of them to a payphone outside the “Late Show With David Letterman,” where Trump was appearing.

“My name is Carmine,” the caller told the lawyer, Kristopher Hansen. “I don’t know why you’re fucking with Mr. Trump but if you keep fucking with Mr. Trump, we know where you live and we’re going to your house for your wife and kids.” (source)

July 23, 2009: Stormy Daniels' political advisor's car explodes (source).  This was approximately 3 years after her affair with Trump (source).

August 2009: After multiple tries dating back to 2006, Trump denied a final time for loan for 25 million pounds from Bank of Scotland because the bank considered it "too risky." (source)

2010: Tevfik Arif, a principal of the Bayrock Group - which at this time is partnering with the Trump organization on a variety of projects - is arrested in a Turkish prostitution sting. (source).  Charges were later dropped by Turkish authorities.

July 25, 2011: President Obama issues executive order declaring organized crime a national security emergency. (source)

2011 - 2015: Deutsche Bank, who 5 years previous had given Donald Trump nearly 1 billion dollars when Bank of Scotland wouldn't loan him 25 million pounds, is laundering billions of dollars with the help of Russians. (source)

2011: Eric Trump brags that they have access to millions of dollars from Russians. (source)

2011 - 2015: Donald Trump begins paying for his properties with hundreds of millions of dollars in cash. (source)

January 1, 2012: former Trump bodyguard dies from apparent overdose (source).

2013: Trump walks out of a BBC Panorama interview when asked about his connections with Felix Sater. (source)

April 16, 2013: Preet Bharara, then US attorney for SDNY, announces charges against massive Russian organized crime ring operating out of Trump Tower. (source)

June 16, 2013: Trump announces Miss Universe pageant will be in Moscow. (source)

November 9, 2013: Miss Universe pageant (source).  One of the fugitives indicted in the Trump Tower organized crime ring in April, ALIMZHAN TOKHTAKHOUNOV, is a guest of honor there. (source)

2014: Steve Bannon, while at Cambridge Analytica, orders testing on Putin messaging with Americans. (source)

February 10, 2014: Trump praises Putin on Fox & Friends. (source)

March 6, 2015: Trump Taj Mahal fined for money laundering. (source)

2015: Michael Cohen threatens a reporter covering Trump's divorce with Ivana.  “I’m warning you, tread very fucking lightly, because what I’m going to do to you is going to be fucking disgusting,” the Daily Beast’s Tim Mak, recalled Cohen telling him. “You write a story that has Mr. Trump’s name in it, with the word ‘rape,’ and I’m going to mess your life up … for as long as you’re on this frickin’ planet.” (source) (source)

April 18, 2015: Trump's former pilot dies in head-on collision (source).

November 3, 2015: Felix Sater, who is believed to work for Semion Mogilevich (source) writes Michael Cohen stating that he'll get buy-in from Putin and that they'll engineer Trump's presidency. (source)

November 5, 2015: former head of RT Mikhail Lesin found dead in DC hotel room with blunt force trauma to head, neck and torso.  He had a meeting with DOJ scheduled for following day. (source)

January 23, 2016: Trump tells the crowd at a rally that he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th Avenue and not lose voters. (source)

February 23, 2016: Trump tells the crowd at a rally that he'd like to punch a protestor in the face, and "I love the old days. You know what they used to do to guys like that when they were in a place like this? They’d be carried out on a stretcher, folks.” (source)

March 29, 2016: Paul Manafort joins Trump campaign. (source)

April - May 2016: George Papadopoulos in communication with “high ranking Russian official” in an attempt to set up meetings between Trump team and Russian reps, w/the promise “that the Kremlin had 'dirt' on Hillary Clinton in the form of “thousands of emails…” (source)

May 2016: Stephen Schwarzman flies to Riyadh to meet with Mohammed bin Salman - then the deputy crown prince of Saudi Arabia - about infrastructure, and presumably the $20 billion fund that's announced a year later. (source) More on Schwarzman's relationship with Trump, and Saudi Arabia here.  More on Schwarzman's links to Russia and Rosneft here.

Summer 2016: Stefan Halper, an FBI informant, approaches Trump campaign officials. (source)

June 9, 2016: Trump Tower meeting with Russians, Manafort, Kushner, Don Jr.. (source).  Present at the meeting was Nataliya Veselnitskaya, who at the time was representing Prevezon (source), a company implicated in a money-laundering case at SDNY (source)

June 14, 2016: News breaks that the DNC has been hacked by Russians. (source)

June 14, 2016: Michael Cohen cancels his planned trip to Moscow to discuss Trump Tower Moscow (source)

Sometime after July 19, 2016: Trump warned by FBI that Russians will try to infiltrate campaign. (source)

July 2016: FBI opens counter intelligence investigation into Trump campaign. (source) (source)

September, 2016: Trump and Cohen discuss hush money and contingency for if guy gets hit by a truck. (source)

October 31, 2016: Mother Jones reports "A Veteran Spy Has Given the FBI Information Alleging a Russian Operation to Cultivate Donald Trump"

November 7, 2016 (one day before election day): Connie Watton, maid of Stephen Schwarzman - a Trump AND Kremlin friend - is pushed in front of a subway. (source)  The woman who pushed her is assigned defense attorney Mathew Mari, known for his legal work for the Bonanno crime family.  More on Schwarzman's relationship with Trump, and Saudi Arabia here.  More on Schwarzman's links to Russia and Rosneft here.  Schwarzman had also financed Kushner projects and gave Jared Kushner a loan (source).

November 8, 2016 (election day): Russian diplomat Sergei Krivov found unconscious at the Russian Consulate in New York and died on the scene. (source)

December 2016: FSB officers arrested in Russia. (source)

December 2016: Jared Kushner instructs Michael Flynn to sabotage US foreign policy. (source)

December 1 or 2, 2016: Kushner tries to set up secret back channel with Russians using Russians' secure facilities. (source)

December 1, 2016: Jared Kushner and Michael Flynn meet with Sergei Kislyak at Trump Tower (source)

December 13-14, 2016 (date not confirmed): Jared Kushner meets with Sergey Gorkov, "a graduate of the academy of the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the domestic intelligence arm of the former Soviet KGB, who was appointed by Putin to the post less than a year before his encounter with Kushner." (source)

December 19, 2016: Russia's ambassador to Turkey, Andrei Karlov, is killed. (source)

December 19, 2016: Russian diplomat to Latin America, Peter Polshikov, is killed. (source)

December 20, 2016: Methbot white paper published. (source)

December 26, 2016: Ex-KGB chief Oleg Erovinkin, who was suspected of helping draft the Trump dossier, found dead in the back of his car. (source)

December 29, 2016: Obama expels 35 Russian diplomats. (source)

December 29, 2016: KT McFarland sends email stating that "If there is a tit-for-tat escalation Trump will have difficulty improving relations with Russia, which has just thrown U.S.A. election to him," (source)

December 29, 2016: Flynn calls Kislyak to discuss the expelling of the diplomates and asks that the Russians not retaliate. (source)

January 6, 2017: Trump, McFarland, Pence, Flynn, Priebus, Pompeo and Bossert briefed with classified intelligence report by Brennan, Clapper, Comey. (source)  That same day, DNI releases this report.

January 9, 2017: Russian Consul in Athens, Greece, Andrei Malanin, found dead in his apartment (source)

January 10, 2017: Buzzfeed publishes Steele Dossier. (source)

January 24, 2017: Peter Strzok interviews Michael Flynn. (source)

January  27, 2017: Russia's Ambassador to India, Alexander Kadakin, dies. (source)

January 30, 2017: New York State Department of Financial Services fines Deutsche Bank $425 million for massive Russian mirror trading scheme. (source)

February 2017: Trump's bodyguard, a Trump Organization lawyer and a third man raid Harold Bornstein's office, taking Trump's medical records. (source)

February 20, 2017: Vitaly Churkin, Russia's ambassador to the UN, dies suddenly in New York (source)

March 2, 2017: Ukrainian businessman with links to Trump found dead from undetermined causes.  Oronov was Michael Cohen's brother's father-in-law, and Cohen did business with him. (source)

March 11, 2017: Trump fires Preet Bharara, who as US Attorney of SDNY had led the breakup of a massive Russian organized crime ring operating out of Trump Tower. (source)

March 16, 2017: laptop stolen from Secret Service agent's car while parked in her driveway.  The laptop contained highly sensitive information including floor plans and evacuation protocol for Trump Tower. (source)

March 20, 2017: It's learned that the FBI had launched a counter intelligence investigation into the Trump campaign and Russian links in July of 2016. (source) (source)

March 21, 2017: A lawyer for a Putin-foe, Nikolai Gorokhov, reportedly thrown from a window in Moscow. Gorokhov was set to testify as a U.S. government witness in a money laundering case initiated by SDNY (led by Preet Bahrara). (source)  "The alleged vehicle by which these dirty assets were washed clean was a Cyprus-registered company called Prevezon Holdings Ltd." (source)  Prevezon is represented by Nataliya Veselnitskaya at the time that she attends the Trump Tower meeting in June of 2016. (source)

March 23, 2017: former Russian MP, Denis Voronenkov, shot dead in Kiev. (source)

March 30, 2017: FBI raids Trump-linked casino in Saipan. (source)

March 30, 2017: Mike Flynn asks for immunity. (source)

May 1, 2017: Scott Christianson, investigative reporter for McClatchy, publishes this:

May 9, 2017: Trump fires FBI director James Comey. (source)

May 2017 (date unclear): FBI opens counter intelligence investigation into Trump. (source)

May 10: 2017: Subpoenas issued to Michael Flynn by Senate Intelligence Committee. (source)

May 10, 2017: closed-door meeting in Oval Office with Russians. (source)

May 10, 2017: Roger Ailes falls in his home at Palm Beach Country. (source)

May 11, 2017: FBI raids GOP consulting firm in Maryland. (source)

May 14, 2017: Scott Christianson dies after falling down the stairs at his home (source)

May 14 2017: Republic operative Peter Smith found dead in Minnesota 10 days after speaking with WSJ (source)

Smith had said he'd been working with Michael Flynn (source).

May 17, 2017: Robert Mueller appointed special counsel (source).

May 18, 2017: Roger Ailes dies from head injury he'd sustained 8 days earlier (source).

May 20-21, 2017: Trump takes his first overseas trip as president to Saudi Arabia.  During this trip, it's announced that Blackstone, led by Stephen Schwarzman, will manage Saudi Arabia's $20 billion investment fund. (source)  Most of the investment will be in US infrastructure (source)  During that trip, Trump also meets with Kirill Dmitriev of VEB bank (source)

July 4, 2017: body washes up on shore of Trump golf course in California. (source) (source)

July 26, 2017: Paul Manafort's home raided (source)

July 27, 2017: George Papadopoulos arrested. (source)

August 3, 2017: Secret Service kicked out of Trump Tower (source).

August 23, 2017: Russian ambassador to Sudan, Mirgayas Shirinsky, found dead. (source)

September 1, 2017: fire at Russian consulate in San Francisco (source).

September 14, 2017: Junior ditches Secret Service to go to Canada (source).

September 25, 2017: Richard Beckler, Trump's appointee as General Counsel of GSA dies (source).  Beckler is the GSA staff member who'd assured Trump that requests for materials/emails from special counsel would not be honored (source).

September 27, 2017: Paul Horner, fake news writer who took credit for Trump’s win, dies of apparent overdose (source)

October 2017: Trump muses that he'll likely get to place 4 justices on the Supreme Court because of future health issues they may have (source).

October 16, 2017: Panama Papers journalist killed with a car bomb. (source)

October 25, 2017: Jared Kushner leaves on unannounced visit to Saudi Arabia.

October 26, 2017: Investigator (Catherine Hunt, a former FBI agent) working on behalf of 9/11 families suing Saudi Arabia interviews Jamal Khashoggi.  Khashoggi texted Saudi officials that same day.

(as claimed by the lawyer working on behalf of the families)

October 28, 2018: Jared Kushner returns from unannounced visit to Saudi Arabia.

October 30, 2017: Papadopoulos guilty plea revealed (source)

November 3, 2017: Alex van der Zwaan is interviewed by the FBI. (source)

November 4, 2017: Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman consolidates power and arrests several princes, including Prince Alwaleed bin-Talal. (source)  Trump had previously sold his yacht (1991) and the Plaza Hotel to Alwaleed bin-Talal (source).

November 2017: Trump picks fights with North Korea. (source)

November 17, 2017: Brett Kavanaugh added to short list of SCOTUS nominees. (source)

December 1, 2017: Michael Flynn pleads guilty to lying to the FBI. (source)

December 5, 2017: It's reported that Deutsche Bank received subpoena from Robert Mueller (source) In-depth Rachel Maddow segment on Deutsche Bank and the subpoena here.

December 16, 2017: Trump learns that Mueller has in his possession all of their transition emails on the .gov domain, obtained via the GSA. (source)

December 22, 2017: House Intelligence Committee interviews Rhona Graff

December 30, 2017: Fire at home linked to Ivanka's diamond business (source).

January 8, 2018: Fire at Trump Tower (source)

January 20, 2018: Former spokesman for Rick Gates, Glenn Selig, dies in Afghanistan hotel attack.  Selig was a well-known Tampa Bay Area TV anchor. (source)

January 25, 2018: It's learned that Dutch intelligence had infiltrated Russian hacker group Cozy Bear and witnessed in real time as they attacked the State Department as well as the DNC. (source)

January 27, 2018: Steve Wynn resigns as RNC finance chair amid sexual assault allegations (source).

January 31, 2018: chartered train carrying GOP lawmakers to retreat crashes into truck (source).

February 16, 2018: Indictment of 12 Russians, outlining their methods of election interference (indictment sealed). (source)

February 20, 2018: Alex van der Zwaan pleads guilty to making false statements to FBI. (source)

February 22, 2018: Paul Manafort and Richard Gates indicted. (source)

February 23 - 27, 2018: Trump Tower Panama standoff with physical altercations and armed guards (source).

Week of March 4 - 10, 2018 (date unclear): FBI raids Trump-linked casino in Saipan a second time. (source)

March 4, 2018: Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia, found poisoned on a park bench in Salisbury. (source)

March 16, 2018: FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe fired. (source)

April 7, 2018: ANOTHER Trump Tower Fire - art dealer Todd Brassner dies (source); Michael Cohen texts Dennis Shields with a warning to "get out ASAP" (source).

April 9, 2018: FBI raids Michael Cohen's home, hotel room, and office (source).

April 13, 2018: RNC Finance Chair Elliot Broidy resigns in midst hush money payoff scandal (source).

April 15 or 16, 2018: Matthew Mellon (finance chair, NY RNC, and who made his fortune in cryptocurrency) dies of apparent overdose (source). Note - original link/story is now gone; here are alternate sources for that story: https://twitter.com/business/status/986135482013769728

April 24, 2018: Devin Nunes sends classified letter to Jeff Sessions regarding FBI informant (source) who is later revealed to be Stefan Halper. (source)

April 28, 2018: Fire at Trump Tower Azerbaijan (source).

Week of April 29, 2018: Devin Nunes issues subpoena to DOJ seeking information about FBI informant (later revealed to be Stefan Halper). (source)

June 20, 2018: New York State Department of Financial Services fines Deutsche Bank $205 million for "unlawful, unsafe and unsound conduct in its foreign exchange trading business." (source)

June 22, 2018: Trump-backed Katie Arrington seriously injured in head-in collision (source).

June 27, 2018: Justice Kennedy, whose son was Donald Trump's banker, unexpectedly announces retirement. (source) Trump and Kennedy reportedly had a special relationship (source).

July 4, 2018: delegation of Republicans go to Moscow. (source)

July 9, 2018: Brett Kavanaugh nominated to SCOTUS. (source)

July 14, 2018: Indictment of 12 Russians/internet research agency unsealed (source).

July 16, 2018: Maria Butina criminal complaint unsealed. (source)

July 16, 2018: Trump meets with Putin in Helsinki. (source)

July 17, 2018: Secret Service agent dies in Scotland.  After falling ill at Trump's golf course in Turnberry, he died the day after the Helsinki meeting (source) (source). (obituary)

July 25, 2018: dead body found in waters off Trump NYC golf course (source).

August 6, 2018: Rand Paul goes to Russia. (source)

August 10, 2018: Dennis Shields - the same guy Cohen texted back in April - found dead in Trump Tower (source)

August 15, 2018: Trump revokes John Brennan's security clearance. (source)

August 16, 2018: mystery case before grand jury initiated. (source)

October 2, 2018: Jamal Khashoggi murdered on orders from Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. (source)  Trump later disputes the findings of the CIA and stands with MBS, stating that too much money is at stake. (source)

October 3, 2018: Nikki Hailey resigns, but resignation is not yet publicly announced. (source)

October 3, 2018: The Russian deputy attorney general (Saak Karapetyan) who reportedly directed Natalya Veselnitskaya (the lawyer who met with the Trump campaign in Trump Tower) dies in a helicopter crash (source).  It was later reported that the pilot of the helicopter had been shot. (source)

October 9, 2018: Internet Research Agency (aka the troll farm) named in DOJ indictment (unsealed July 14, 2018) set on fire. (source)

October 9, 2018: Nikki Haley announces resignation.

October 9, 2018: New York Times reports that Saudi Arabia had ordered Khashoggi's murder.

October 17, 2018: Don McGahn resigns. (source)

October 19, 2018: "Project Lahkta" (Russian election interference) criminal complaint unsealed (source)

October 21, 2018: John Bolton goes to Russia to meet with Putin. (source)

October 22 - 27, 2018: week of terror begins with bombs at the home of George Soros. (source).  It was followed by bombs sent to Bill and Hillary Clinton (Oct. 23); Barack Obama, CNN, John Brennan, Debbie Wasserman Schultz, Eric Holder and Maxine Waters (October 24); Robert de Niro and Joe Biden (October 25); and Cory Booker, James Clapper, Kamala Harris, and Tom Steyer (October 26). It ends with mass shooting at Tree of Life synagogue on October 27 (source).

October 30, 2018: Whitey Bulger killed. (source)

November 21, 2018: head of GRU agency accused of DNC hacks and Skripal poisoning dies, reportedly after a long illness. (source)

November 27, 2018: Methbot indictment unsealed at EDNY. (source)

November 28, 2018: Miami Herald publishes Perversion of Justice investigative report.

November 29, 2018: Michael Cohen pleads guilty. (source)

November 29, 2018: Massive raid at Deutsche Bank. (source)

November 29, 2018: FBI raids offices of Trump's former tax attorney, Chicago Alderman Ed Burke. (source)

December 4, 2018: Epstein trial set to begin.  It is settled at the last minute, avoiding testimony from witnesses. (source)

December 13, 2018: FBI allegedly raids Chicago Alderman and former Trump tax attorney Ed Burke's office a second time (FBI neither confirms nor denies whether raid took place) (source).

December 22, 2018: Government shuts down. (source)

January 8, 2019: it's learned that Manafort passed polling data to Kilimnik in the summer of 2016. (source)

January 11, 2019: it's learned/reported that the FBI had opened a counter intelligence investigation into Trump in May of 2017. (source)

January 23, 2019: Michael Cohen postpones testimony before Congress, saying it's because Trump has been threatening him. (source)

January 25, 2019: Roger Stone arrested and indicted. (source) (source)

February 21, 2019: Judge rules that federal prosecutors (including Trump labor secretary Alex Acosta) broke the law in Epstein case. (source)

February 27, 2019: Michael Cohen testifies before Congress that Trump had directed him to threaten people as many as 500 times when he worked for him. (source)  He also testifies that Felix Sater's office had been located on the 26th floor of Trump Tower - the same floor as Trump's office - and, in the location that would eventually become Cohen's office. (source)

And let's not forget the acid in Steve Bannon's bathroom: https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/bannons-vacated-florida-home-had-a-bathroom-destroyed-by-acid-washington-post-report-985356

Or how Michael Cohen threatened this reporter: https://twitter.com/cherijacobus/status/974831949285031936

Or the threats Stormy Daniels received: https://www.cnn.com/2018/03/25/politics/stormy-daniels-threat-60-minutes/index.html

A short history of Donald Trump's threats: https://www.propublica.org/article/a-short-history-of-threats-received-by-donald-trumps-opponents

[johnwickb1tsch]

john wick x model!reader imagine pt 4

masterlist

quatre

-You've semi-retired from the modeling game, but Sebastiano is in trouble. He says he needs help securing an investment. His company is in danger of bankruptcy, and you wonder if a great deal of that has gone up his nose in an unfortunate coke habit. But he gave you your start in your career, so when he asks you to accompany him to a party, you feel like you can't say no.

You put on a short dress from Seb's latest line, blood red lipstick by YSL, and some steel in your spine. You have this feeling like this might be your last act of business in this superficial world of glitz and glamor. You have been carrying this cloud-like hope in your heart, a faith in John to do what needs to be done so finally you can be together. When he returns to you, which you hope will be soon, you know you will have to drop off the radar. 

You are looking forward to it.

This prospective investor, a Mr. Oleg Baranov, is having a banger of a party. You and Seb enjoy yourselves a bit, mingling with drinks in your hands. You turn down the proffered tray of Columbian Marching Powder, but Seb indulges in two lines before you can even blink, his eyes dilating wide as saucers. You're not sure how that will affect his usually keen business sense, but it's not your company on the line. Maybe it's crazy, but you know some million-dollar deals have been sealed on less than proving you can party. 

Finally, it's time to meet Mr. Baranov. His office is appointed a la Trump Tower c 1983, lavished with so much gold it makes your eyes ache. When he clasps your hand with an oily smile, your heart sinks to your feet. You are so tired of this side of the fashion world, pandering to the Uber rich who mistake you for a call girl. 

You will not miss it. 

Baranov insists that you sit on the red velvet couch with him, while Seb gets his own chair nearby. They make pleasantries, then talk business. You listen, thinking the terms sound risky, but no bank is willing to touch Seb at this point. He's defaulted too many times.

Baranov says that Seb's proposition is interesting, but he will have to think on it. You both thank him and rise to go. But Baranov catches your hand. “Stay a while,” he invites. “A beautiful woman always helps me think about a business deal.” He gives Seb a look, and to compound his point, Baranov's heavies, two huge and scary looking dudes, close in.

You're not leaving, even though you badly want to. 

Well, fuck. 

Your heart drops to your feet, and you hope you can stall with coy conversation until something comes along to distract Baranov. It wouldn't be the first time you've had to with a pushy admirer. Seb gives you an uneasy look of apology, but then he leaves you.

You can’t believe he fucking leaves you. 

Baranov sits again, and you follow suit, taking the seat at the opposite end of the long couch. He scoots closer, placing a hand on your thigh. 

“I have admired you for years, Ms. Y/n. You are very... talented.” 

He looks you up and down, leaving little question as to what he really means. 

“Ah... thank you.”

He tries to move his hand up, and you push it back down. 

He smirks, and leans in to kiss you. 

That's when the shooting starts. 

You've never really been around guns. It sounds like world War 3 is going on outside, and you freeze with fear, your heartbeat a deafening drumroll in your ears. The toughs at the door draw guns and make to see what the fuss is about. One is shot down immediately. The other tackles the smartly-suited shooter, and they fight. It is brutal, and somehow beautiful, the attacker moving so precisely in this deadly dance. A beat later you realize...it’s John.

Baranov takes your distraction as opportunity to grab you, using you as a human shield. John does some complicated ninja throw, grabbing the guard by the neck and using his momentum to throw him to the ground. 

Then, he shoots him in the head. 

A small scream escapes you.

You are shocked, to say the least. 

“Don't come any closer,” Baranov snarls, shoving a gun under your chin. 

You meet John's laser-like gaze, and resign yourself to whatever he will do. You close your eyes, trusting him, and there's a shot. 

Baranov falls to the ground behind you. Stunned by the violence, you are vaguely aware of the wet splash of blood on the side of your face, a ringing in your ears.

Suddenly, you are in John's arms. 

“What the fucking hell are you doing here?” he demands hotly between kissing you. 

Some of the numb you feel subsides in his arms. He’s got you. Everything will be fine.

“I was here with Seb...but he left me.” 

John frowns murderously at that. 

Then it occurs to you to ask, because maybe he didn’t appear just to save your virtue, “Wait, what are you doing here?” 

“My Impossible Task.”

“What?” 

“Getting my freedom, sweetheart. You really shouldn't be here.” 

You hold up your hands in a silent, Well guess what? It actually makes the corner of his mouth turn up. You think he wants to kiss you again, but then more of Baranov's guards run in, and John has to spring into action. 

It is a thing of beauty and horror, watching him work. He has all the grace of a trained dancer, and the mercy of an enraged tiger.

That is too say, absolutely none. 

The men are dead in under a minute. 

He stands bent over for a moment to catch his breath, before holding his hand out to you. “Come on.” 

There is blood on his fingers. 

Although you are astonished by the carnage you’ve just witnessed, you slide your hand into his without a second thought. 

-You make your escape on a different motorcycle. You are not exactly dressed for safety, but it is exhilarating to ride off into the summer night with John after surviving such an ordeal. 

You feel so free. 

John takes you to a building you don't know, in a part of town you don't frequent. “You'll be safe here,” he says, helping you off the bike and walking you in with an arm about your waist, as though he is afraid to let go of you. You would think he'd be overjoyed after pulling off such a coup, but he is solemn, almost sullen. 

The building is not much, but the space he brings you to is comfortable. You reach up to touch his face, studying his expression. He looks haunted. But then, he just killed a shitload of people...

He killed a shitload of people, for you.

Thinking that maybe he is in pain, you usher him to a careworn chair. There are cuts on his face, but they seem fairly superficial. “Are you hurt?” you ask, pushing his suit jacket from his shoulders so you can more easily inspect him. He winces as you run your hands over his ribs. “Bruised,” he admits, catching your hands. “But I'll be fine, believe me.”

“Then what's wrong?” You know your voice sounds small. 

He reaches up to cup your cheeks in his hands, and it is his turn to study you. “I never wanted you to see what I do,” he admits. “You surely must think me a monster now.” 

You understand his mood then. He is afraid you won't want him now. The thought, to you, is fucking absurd. Careful of his ribs, you climb into his lap in the chair.

“I could never think you're a monster, John.” 

“I'm a killer, y/n.”

“Who were those men you killed? And don't think I didn't notice you let all the women go.” He'd deliberately stopped himself from taking risky shots, in your mad dash at the end, to let the female bystanders escape. 

“They were a rival Bratva to the organization I work for.” 

So now it seems you're finally getting some straight answers. 

“And how did they make their money?” 

You’re not so naïve anymore. You have learned that most anyone who has millions, legit or no, fucked over someone somewhere along the line to get them.

“Heroin and trafficking women, mostly.” 

“Good fucking riddance then.”

A small huff of laughter escapes him for the dead certainty in your pronouncement. You have had the luxury of seeing things in black and white. His world has always been painted in shades of grey.

“Well then.”

You caress the bones of his cheeks with the blades of your thumbs, careful of a cut there. You realize you almost match, with Baranov’s dried blood still painting the side of your face. However, he looks at you with nothing less than adoration, as though you are Helen of Troy.

“If you think I'm giving you up now, after all this, John Wick, you have another thing coming.”

You feel the weight lift from him, like a ton of bricks hefted from his shoulders. He grabs you up with hands on your ass, pulling you in closer and kissing you like there is no tomorrow. When you separate you are breathless, and so filled with joy, the intoxicating thrill of promise for the future in the air. 

John actually breaks out into a toothy smile, his eyes glittering like polished onyx. “Y/n, will you run away with me?” 

You throw your head back with laughter, unable to contain your joy. “Yes, yes I will, John Wick.” You run your fingers through his hair, your heart so full it should rightfully explode. “Jardani.”

After all these years you never forgot.

Hearing his true name from your lips does something to him, dark heat flashing in his eyes like fire in a pan. He stands swiftly with you in his arms, and you never fail to marvel at how strong he is. “I think we need a shower,” he practically purrs, his voice gone low and lustful. You know that sound…and you know you are in for it. Agreeing, you nod with a smile.  

Later, with the length of his long bare body spooning yours, he caresses your curves with featherlight fingers. “Where would you like to go?” he asks softly into the shell of your ear. You're not sure it’s possible, but your mind goes back to that magical city where it all began. 

“What about Paris?”

You feel him nod against your hair. 

“Perfect.” 

-He leaves you one last time, stealing away into what is left of the night, to get something in writing. When he returns you go to your apartment to pack your bags, and then you are off, racing towards your next great adventure, together.

You rent an apartment in the 5th arrondissement with a view of the Tour Eifel, and you revel in the beauty of simple domestic things that you will never take for granted. Sharing a homecooked meal, going to the flea market hand in hand, watching a film with his arm slung around your shoulders. When you are apart, it is never more than for a few hours. Sometimes he goes on long walks alone in the city. You know he is conferring with his past demons, but he returns to you with fresh flowers from the marché and a gentle smile, and you know you are the richest of women.

You love to sleep in, because you have nothing else to do but be together, and you bring him coffee in the morning. His smile of contentment is the air you breathe. You catch him looking at you with such tender warmth sometimes, it brings tears to your eyes. You do not miss the fame and fast pace of your old life. In John, you have all you need, and your collection of photos of him grows by the day. You do not post them with some coy little teaser to prove to the world at large how blessed you are. You keep them just for you, and you are so happy.

Time marches on, and you do not tire of each other. 

You both have aged, but when you look in the mirror you like to think the fine lines appearing at the corners of your eyes are now from smiling. You go for motorcycle rides into the countryside, bringing along decadent picnics. You eat grapes and foie gras on crusty bread in his arms, feeding him bites between kisses. You gain some weight, living la bonne vie in France. John does not mind, or care, worshiping you with the same insatiable appetite he's always had for you.

Watching the sun rise from Sacré-Couer, he produces a ring that glints white fire in the growing light. You do not answer him with words for several minutes, your lips pressed to his, but he knows the answer. 

The answer to this man, from the moment you met, has always been yes. 

Fin

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Sara Boboltz and Ryan Grenoble at HuffPost:

Stormy Daniels, the porn actor who maintains she once had an affair with former President Donald Trump, took the stand Tuesday in his New York criminal trial.

Daniels’ testimony is expected to be key to the prosecution’s case against Trump, who is accused of falsifying New York state business records to conceal a hush money payment to her in the days before the 2016 presidential election. Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg and his office have argued that this payment was made to influence the outcome of the election, meaning Trump could potentially be convicted of felonies and sentenced to prison. Trump looked away from the witness stand as she began speaking, staring instead at the monitor in front of him that showed her testifying. Asked if she could identify Trump in the courtroom Tuesday, Daniels extended her right arm and pointer finger in his direction. From the stand, Daniels recalled that she and other adult film stars met Trump at a celebrity golf tournament held near Lake Tahoe in 2006. She and Trump had two casual encounters in passing, she said; later, his security guard approached and asked if she’d like to have dinner with Trump.

Her initial response to the invite: “F no.” Then, clarifying for jurors: “No, but with an expletive in front.” After chatting with her publicist, she said, she reconsidered dinner with Trump. Plus, she said, it would be a “really good excuse” to skip a work-related function she didn’t want to attend. “What could go wrong?” she recalled telling a friend of the invite. Daniels said she “didn’t really have any expectations” about the dinner, except that she would meet Trump at his hotel room before going down to a restaurant. She recalled the foyer of Trump’s penthouse room having a black-and-white tile floor and a “beautiful wood table” with a “big flower arrangement” on top. “This hotel room was three times the size of my apartment,” she said. Trump answered the door in “silk or satin” pajamas, prompting her to make fun of him.

“Does Hugh Hefner know you stole his pajamas?” she asked. She said he “very politely” agreed to change his clothes. Later, seated at the dining room table, she told him about her childhood and career, she said. “He was very interested in a lot of the business aspects of [the adult film industry], which I thought was very cool,” Daniels testified. “These were very thought-out business questions,” she said, in stark contrast to what most people ask about, like “the sexy stuff, the dirty stuff, they want to know the salacious things.” Daniels, impatient for dinner, interrupted Trump while he talked endlessly about himself and showed off a copy of a new magazine that featured him. “Are you always this rude?” Daniels said she told Trump. “You don’t even know how to have a conversation,” she recalled telling him. Daniels said she told Trump that someone should “slap” him with the magazine, and he ended up allowing her to do so “right on the butt.” Trump’s demeanor relaxed afterward, she said. [...]

She said the two had sex and kept the recollection brief at the urging of Judge Juan Merchan. Upon mention of the “missionary position,” an attorney for the defense voiced an objection, which Merchan sustained. Daniels said Trump was not wearing a condom. She stared up at the ceiling during the encounter. Upon her departure, Trump called her “honeybunch,” she testified, adding that he suggested they meet up again soon. The two never ended up actually eating dinner. Daniels said Trump kept calling her afterward, however, and dangled an “Apprentice” opportunity that kept her interested.

A brief 2007 meeting at Trump Tower about a potential “Apprentice” appearance didn’t bear fruit. The two saw each other once more in person, she said, in Los Angeles that summer. He propositioned her for sex again and she declined, telling jurors she felt “ashamed” of the earlier encounter. In 2011, In Touch magazine expressed interest in a story about her relationship with Trump, she said. While the magazine didn’t publish anything, it did lead to a threatening encounter with a man in a Las Vegas parking lot who, she said, “threatened me not to continue to tell my story.” Earlier in the trial, jurors heard testimony from David Pecker, former head of National Enquirer publisher American Media Inc., about how he agreed to use his tabloid empire to help Trump’s campaign in 2015 and 2016. Part of that agreement meant keeping an eye on the “marketplace” of scandalous stories for anything that could damage Trump and his candidacy. While traditional media eschews so-called “checkbook journalism,” Pecker said, his outlets commonly paid cash for story rights.

Stormy Daniels, whose real name is Stephanie Clifford, testified in the People of New York v. Trump business records falsification/election interference trial today.

Daniels’s testimony reveals what we know: Donald Trump is a perverted creep and a sexual assaulter.

[roseofhybrids]

I love how you expanded my Human Uzi idea and I give you an idea I had on her first meeting with the Disassembly Drones:

She goes outside in search of parts for her railgun and accidentally meets N, who almost attacks her only to stop at the last second when he realizes that she’s not a drone, apologizes for scaring her and leaves, then he starts to chase her again once he realizes that she is an human and they’re supposed to be all dead. Once he captures her he brings Uzi to the corpse tower where he tells V and J about his discovery, but they refuse to believe him even after he shows them her because they never expected to find an human alive on their mission and as such they have no idea what to do with her other than “protecting” her from the worker drones, not let her escape and try to contact their superiors in order to arrange for a recovery.

I feel a good way to set that up would be for to have a helmet that somewhat resembles a worker's head with a large black front (similar to what we see with Tessa). That would make it more believable that they mistake her from a drone before realizing something's up. If for any story/art reasons you need to be able to see her face, then you can make the visor have two layers. A clear and a moveable dark layer, so whenever her face needs to be seen that dark part can be moved out of the way.

Everything seems pretty solid with how they meet and how the three murder drones react.

One way to progress past that part. After getting caught, Uzi could leverage the fact she's human and talk N into letting her return to the bunker. At some point, when J and V aren't around, she could make some excuse for why she needs to go back there. N being N, decides that he needs to do as she asks because he is supposed to follow human orders after all. But, since it is still dangerous, he insists on going with her as protection.

This could set up him following her to the bunker. Once V and J notice the two are gone, they track them down, and things could progress from there similar to how they do in the show.

Though, keeping in mind that J is interested in protecting Uzi in this version, you'd need to adjust her motive and reasoning slightly. J could reason that Uzi's safety trumps her wish to stay with the workers. So their fight towards the end would be less about trying to kill her more about trying to subdue Uzi, so she can't put herself in danger. This can also work to explain how human Uzi could defeat a disassembly drone, J's trying to avoid inflicting major injuries while Uzi is fighting to kill.

[pluralzalpha]

Genuine storylines from episodes of The Real Ghostbusters (part 2):

Egon is turned into a baby.

A Donald Trump stand-in opens a hotel, mistakenly hires it out to a ghost convention (also a dentist convention, they're much worse).

There's an entire episode based on 'Citizen Kane.'

The guys encounter vampires living in archaic villages on two separate occasions. Both times they act like they've never met them before.

They also meet a ghost vampire who sucks slime.

Egon swaps bodies with Slimer.

Yes, gremlins destroy Peter's car. Ray and Egon invent a car that can indefinitely repair and redesign itself. They don't use this incredible invention to secure their fortune. They do meet Aretha Franklin though (sadly offscreen).

Some guy tries to start Ragnarok because his girlfriend dumped him.

The guys go to Paris to fight French ghosts, discover the Eiffel Tower is a ghost containment unit.

They go on a camping holiday and meet Bigfoot, who is from another dimension.

Egon awakens a dragon who belonged to his great-great-multiple-greats-grandfather, who was a wizard.

The guys go to a space station to rescue a crew of Star Trek character pastiches from a giant orange glob monster.

They fight fricking Cthulhu.

[since0202]

Taking Time—Fifty

The only living girl in New York

Word count: 11,004

September

October

November

December

January

Maya clutched the slender champagne glass in her right hand and took a tentative sip as she glanced around the expansive room dotted with industry and academics alike. She let out a sigh through her nose and glanced around again, feeling wholly overwhelmed in this sea of experts and very much feeling like an imposter when a gentle hand rested on the middle of her back. 

She glanced up and smiled at the tall, solid figure next to her. 

“Ready to wow them?” he said conspiratorially. Maya gave her best smile and nodded. 

“Ready.” He guided her through the throng of people toward a group of important looking city suits. Maya braced herself, pasting that brilliant smile on her face and smoothed out the skirt of her short white dress that flared out around her coppery warm thighs. 

“Arden!” One of the suits pronounced as they approached. “Good to see you!”

“Good to see you,” Arden nodded, his older handsome features pulled into a smile. He glanced down at Maya reassuringly and she had to catch her breath for a moment. That warm reassuring hand shifted a little on her back: “There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

The three suits now laser focused in on Maya and she steeled herself. Shoulders back, head high, warm smile. Look approachable, but not too stiff. Confident, but not too overly full of yourself. That hand disappeared from the middle of her back as Arden now said: 

“This is my second year student, Maya Sunriviere,” he always emphasized her last name with some French twist. It made Maya shift a bit uncomfortably, like she was some sort of fraud. “Maya specializes in sustainable biomechanics that will help improve the green building practices in more rural and indigenous areas. It’s groundbreaking stuff what Collins is teaching these kids and Maya is going to help put it on the map,” Arden shot her a warm look which Maya returned before she turned her attention back to the suits. 

One raised his scotch glass somewhat before he said, “Great stuff.” He was less than impressed but polite nonetheless. Maya gave him her most charming smile and nodded. As she opened her mouth though to pitch, he interrupted her, “Not much of that needed on this coast though, is there? Seems like that’s mostly western go-green propaganda,” he turned to his other suits who chuckled a bit alongside him. Maya pursed her lips, and shifted on her nude heel. 

“Yeah, remember when Remy pitched the green garden effect to Trump tower people? Total disaster,” the other suit scoffed. Maya glanced with alarmed eyes at Arden. He was watching the three men before him with an unreadable look on his face. 

“Actually, I—” Maya tried to butt in, but there was a guffaw from the third suit as he said: 

“They ran the numbers on that thing, did I tell you? Wouldn’t have even scratched the surface of what they’d need to get those green energy credits to offset the property tax. Total waste of concept development and manpower, in my opinion.” 

Arden glanced at Maya, his face urgent as he nodded toward the group of men who were devolving further into laughter and swapping stories of other failed projects poised as ingenious to their development firms. Maya swallowed hard, suddenly feeling ridiculous in her white poofy sleeved Givenchy baby-doll dress. She should have worn pants, and done a sharp cat eye to look formidable. Instead she felt kind of like a chic cupcake, at least that’s what the lady in the store said the other day. 

“Oh, Arden, I forgot to ask the other day, did you get those blueprints greenlit from legal?” The original suit who had interrupted her swiftly changed the subject and Maya felt boxed out. 

She wrapped her other hand around her champagne glass and grimaced, taking a sip as she waited for Ardent to speak. He glanced down at her one last time as if trying to give her one last opening before carrying on with the suits. 

Twenty minutes later, Maya leaned against the bar and caught the eye of the young blonde bartender. 

“Whiskey, neat, splash of water,” Maya grumbled. 

“Yeesh,” Noah said, leaning against the bartop and taking a swig of his Modelo. “That looked like it went…” 

“I fucking blew it,” Maya groaned as the bartender slipped the short glass a whiskey across to her with a sympathetic smile. Maya gave her an apologetic grin and spun to look out across the room. “I feel like a fucking idiot.” 

“Nah,” Noah said, drawing out the sound of his dissent. “It’s probably fine. Professor Arden will smooth things over. You’ll get another shot.” 

“I look like an idiot, I feel like an idiot,” Maya knocked back more whiskey than she meant to and grimaced. “Egh.” 

“Jesus, slow down cowgirl,” Noah took another sip and laughed at her a little. Maya couldn’t help the smile that quirked on her lip in response. “You’ll get another shot. Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. Maya didn’t answer. 

“Did you get to talk to those guys from Horton and Sons?” Maya asked. Noah just nodded, scanning his eyes across the crowd of people. “And?” Maya prompted. 

“I’m a shoe-in. Obviously,” he threw his head back, his hair swishing back in an unapologetically endearing way and Maya rolled her eyes as she smiled over her whiskey glass. 

“Obviously,” she echoed. She looked back to the crowd, but could still feel Noah’s eyes on her. He did that sometimes—just watched her like he was trying to figure her out or something. Or maybe he just thought she was hot. Whatever it was, Maya couldn’t say that it bothered her all too much. It had been awhile since she’d hung out with someone who didn’t seem to think they knew everything about her. 

“Let’s get out of here. You’re done, right?” Noah offered, setting his half finished beer down. “We can go swing by and pick up Beez and head to Carter’s or that one bar you like where we had pasta at like 2 a.m.” Maya was watching Arden laugh and talk to the suits. She’d let him down, she knew that, and she wasn’t used to failing so publicly. 

“No, I should probably stay in case Arden wants me to glad hand, right?” Maya asked uncertainly. This was her first industry event outside of the conference she went to in November. But she had volunteered and spent most of the time running drinks and getting people checked in to the event, rather than making connections. 

“Absolutely not,” Noah said. This wasn’t Noah’s first industry event by any means. He was a year ahead of Maya, a third year, and he’d been to dozens of these things at this point and secured internships over the past two years in which to get his foot in the door. “This thing is going to be over in like twenty minutes tops. These guys roll the party into strip clubs and bars on the west end to really get hammered. The gladhanding is basically done. Unless…” Noah paused and Maya shot him a look. 

“Unless what?” she raised an eyebrow at him and downed the rest of her whiskey, reveling in the burn. 

“Unless you’re…you know…getting picked up,” Noah said with an eye roll. Maya let out a small laugh and set her glass down on the bartop before digging into pockets of her dress for her phone. 

“Obviously,” Maya mocked. She typed a quick message and saw the three dots pop up quickly in response. “Alright, let’s go,” Maya said, clearing some notifications she was putting off and smiling up at Noah. 

“Yesss!” he exclaimed, throwing his arm over her shoulder and pulling her toward the elevator that would lead them down to the lobby. Maya glanced at Arden as she went and he shot her a reassuring smile. She tried to swallow the thick lump in her throat. 

When they exited the lavish art building and hurried down the stone steps, they were greeted with sleek black Aston Martin. The blacked out passenger window rolled down and jazz music poured from the interior. 

Maya ducked down and gave a hearty wave. Naoh was positively buzzing with excitement behind her. 

“Hey! Thanks for coming to grab us,” Maya said. 

“Get in, we can probably make it to Chinatown in fifteen minutes if we hurry,” Rosalie ran a hand through her shimmering golden hair and turned down the music in the car. “You’re bringing the serf?” Maya let out a laugh and tugged open the front door. Noah piled into the back. 

“He’s not a—,” Maya started. 

“I will have you know that my family runs a moderately profitable print shop back in Columbus. We’re upper middle class at the very least…in Ohio.” Noah scoffed, not taken aback by Rosalie’s ribbing. Rose just rolled her eyes and waited for Maya to buckle her seatbelt. 

“Where’s Emmett?” Maya asked. 

“He went to see his friends in Queens,” Rosalie responded before sliding into the roadway and speeding down toward their intended destination. 

“Ah,” Maya replied. Seeing friends in Queens meant hunting. 

Maya’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out before looking at the notification on the screen. She quickly swiped over the message to clear it from her home screen. Rosalie glanced over, her eyes never really leaving the road. Maya shot her a look, one that begged her not to say anything. Not in front of Noah. 

Rose got the message loud and clear from Maya’s pained eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. In her pocket, her phone continued to buzz quietly as it did most nights. 

-------------

Maya woke up the next morning to the tinny winter light filtering through her dorm room window. The soft whooshing sounds of the city just beyond the campus boundaries created a gentle pulse that matched Maya’s heartbeat. This was the moment she always dreaded—her eyes traveling across the lines of her frost covered window, already melting in the morning light and residual heat trapped by the city, as her consciousness swelled and crashed over her like a wave. 

Just as the slightest edge of sleep wore off, the pain would start. A wince, a hollowing in her stomach, a brief wave of nausea, and Maya was up. She sat up in bed, her arm wrapped low around her stomach as the pain pushed through her fast and deep, swelling and pushing her, begging her to go. But Maya would stay as still as she could, taking hard fast breaths through her mouth and squeezing her eyes tight as she waited for the first ebb of pain to pull away. 

Sometimes, the pain only lasted for a few minutes, and sometimes more. But at this point, after nearly six months of broken contact from her imprint, Maya knew how to push through the pain. When she first arrived, she knew that fissure that had burst wide open like a cracked damn would spread the pain around her and pull her back toward the reservation. It was almost unbearable at first—worse even than when she and Paul had split the first time. The distance must have made it worse to begin with, she hypothesized. 

For the first two weeks of the fall semester, Maya had barely been able to breathe, to speak even as the pain refused to leave her. Every step she took was excruciating and her joints felt rusted, her bones splintered, and her head felt like it would split in two. She felt the constant tug, like a rope edge secured to her belly button, rip at her belly as the imprint pleaded with her to return. Her whole body would be fire during the day, and then ice frozen over at night. 

It had taken her months to learn how to manage the pain, learn how to release it, and how to temper it into submission. But that didn’t stop it from sneaking up on her every now and then when she wasn’t expecting it. Maya had learned the ins and outs of her pain, knew the shape of it, and now treated it as an old friend that might never leave her. And with that knowledge, she learned how to contain it. It was only in the mornings now, when the foggy melt of sleep made her too vulnerable did the imprint strike at her like a snake. 

Maya held tightly to her abdomen, her eyes flickering up toward the sunlight as she took deeper, more calming breaths. With her eyes closed, she relived the last few moments she had seen Paul—his pleading gaze, her furious and tear stricken face, and the explosion of fur and wood as he took off into the forest. The pain began to ebb now as the echoing heavy footfalls of Paul’s wolf form faded into the memory. 

She opened her eyes and released the arm around her abdomen tentatively, swallowing and taking a shuddering breath before her gaze swept over to her nightstand. Her phone lit up with another text, adding to the already sky-high number of texts, missed calls, and voicemails that filled her inbox. Maya rubbed her eyes and held her head in her hands for just a moment before throwing the covers off of her, grabbing her toiletry kit, and heading toward the communal bathroom. 

She was once again thankful for the single dorm room the Cullens had arranged for her after she had to come to them for help that fateful night. They had insisted, even when Maya had stated that her scholarship didn’t cover such a lavish expense and only conceded when they urged her that it would be best for them as well as her when ensuring her safety and their privacy. 

There had been a lot Maya had agreed to that night. The warmth of the shower water ran over her and Maya’s eyes glazed over, remembering that evening as if it was only yesterday. 

“I need your help.” Maya had said just loud enough for herself to hear. She stood at the bottom of the concrete stairs and her eyes made out the shapes of Carlisle and Rosalie at the top. Carlisle held his mouth in a tight line as Rose crossed her arms, head tilted and looking over Maya with genuine interest. 

Maya’s heart hammered in her chest. What was she doing here? Walking into the lion’s den like this with no protection, no backup, and no wolfpack was probably insane. But she’d felt like she’d had no other choice. She couldn’t think of anywhere else to go and now looking up at the two terrifyingly still creatures, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in her blind panic. 

Carlisle suddenly gave her a soft nod, his stone body easily breaking into graceful, human-like motion as he extended his hand and beckoned her up the steps with a gentle smile. Maya let out a loud breath and shot Rosalie one glance before she jogged up the stairs and over the threshold of the house. 

Esme had given her tea and a warm, mothering smile that set Maya at ease as she sat atop the bar chair in the kitchen. Edward and Bella stood off by the sink leaning against the counter as Edward listened intently to Maya’s thoughts. Her mind couldn’t help but replay every second of the evening over and over, awash with fresh panic each time. 

“They’re not going to let me leave,” Maya said gently, her eyes flickering up to Edward and then over to Carlisle. Emmett stood by the fireplace in the adjoining living room and Rosalie was perched on the counter top. Carlisle pursed his lips again and looked over to Bella. She gave a gentle shake of her head and Carlisle nodded. “Please, I just want to…” Maya couldn’t finish her sentence as her throat closed up and she hiccuped slightly with too much emotion. 

Carlisle finally let his gaze rest on Edward, “What will they do?” Maya’s eyes shot up, wide and terrified as the sound of someone else speaking for the first time reached her ears. They had been nearly silent this entire time and she had no idea what they would do. Would they just hand her back over? Was she risking war by being here? 

Bella’s eyes watched Maya carefully, but they were gentle, understanding, as if she recognized some of the pain Maya was feeling in this moment. Edward took a moment to consider, as if listening beyond his means and then shrugged. 

“We won’t know for sure unless we ask. There’s nothing specifically in the treaty about this kind of interference. Just that we’re not supposed to harm or hunt the tribe. This doesn’t fall into the category from where I’m standing, but the pack might see it differently.” Edward spoke purposefully, as if mulling over the options in his mind as he was speaking and not coming to any one clear conclusion. Carlisle’s eyes skated over Maya again and then toward Bella. 

“Could you reach out to him? To see if we can come to some sort of arrangement?” Carlisle asked. Bella’s eyes hadn’t left Maya since she’d shown up. She glanced at Carlisle, meeting his eyes and gave a nod. Maya watched as Bella left the kitchen, toward the front door, and hear the soft clack as she exited the home. 

Maya looked down at her hands and fought back the fresh well of tears that threatened to overtake her. When she looked up, Rosalie’s gaze was still boring through her—curious, imploring, and oddly comforting. 

A short while later, Esme took her to a guest room to get some sleep, but Maya was surely not going to do any of that. She checked her phone on and off throughout the evening, but it didn’t seem like anyone had sounded the alarm yet. Maybe they thought she and Paul had just had another blow out argument, their tempers getting the best of them yet again. Maya internally groaned. She so did not want to be that couple. 

It was entirely too late, or rather too early when Maya heard the soft sound of the door opening as she sat with her head in her hands at the end of the bed where Esme had left her earlier that night. Maya raised her head, eyes alarmed, to see Bella standing there with a soft smile. 

“Come with me,” she said gently, gesturing over her shoulder. Maya couldn’t help the involuntary shiver she gave as she passed her. When they descended the stairs together and rounded into the living room, Maya’s breath hitched in her throat and her steps stuttered as her gaze fell upon the massive form of Jacob Black standing in the center of the open living room. The Cullens gathered around him in various states of relaxation, some sitting on the couch, some with their hands slipped into their pockets and leaning close to the fire. 

Maya swallowed hard. Jacob’s arms were crossed over his chest and he didn’t look too happy. Maya clenched her hands into fists at her sides, bracing for a fight. Her eyes darted to Carlisle, and then Bella as if silently asking for an escape or at the very least, an explanation. But none came. Jacob’s mouth sat in a firm line as he looked at her, his gaze never wavering as the firelight flickered shadows over his body. 

What was she supposed to say? Jacob kept just staring at her, as if he was trying to figure something out. It made Maya realize quite suddenly she was the least supernatural being in this room and it made her feel…odd. He wasn’t moving, no one else in the room was breathing, but Maya felt like the air was thinning and she was going to crack under the weight of her own panic. Her eyes flickered to Rosalie who straightened from her sitting position on the couch and came to stand next to Carlisle like she had at the top of the stairs. She turned toward Maya and gave her a small nod. Maya opened her mouth as if to speak and then immediately closed it. 

And Jacob just stood there, radiating more heat than the fireplace. Maya couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or just plain tired. He’d always said he’d never wanted to be alpha, but did this fall into his responsibilities? A grown ass runaway just trying to get off this rez so she can go back to school? Probably not. But still, Maya was his problem implicitly as an imprint and for that she was truly sorry. 

“Jake, I–” Maya choked on her words, and closed her eyes tight for a second. 

“Is this what you want?” he said suddenly. Maya’s eyes snapped open, unsure if he had even spoken or if she had hallucinated it in her sleep deprived state. She stared at him for too long and so he said again, “Is this what you want, Maya?” 

She swallowed hard. Her throat on fire before she nodded and said hoarsely, “Yes.” 

Jacob let out a loud sigh through his nose and let his arms drop as he turned to Carlisle. “There is still a threat.” Carlisle nodded solemnly. 

“We understand. Rose and Emmett have already agreed to escort Maya and stay with her in New York while she attends school.We have a home there, but Maya can obviously stay on campus if she wants.” Jake chuckled. 

“Of course you have a home out there,” he rubbed his eyes and shrugged. “Fine. If you’re willing to do this, I can’t really stop her.” Maya took a step toward Jake, not realizing the tears that had gathered and already poured down her cheeks in her earnest. 

“You’re letting me leave?” Maya said breathlessly. It seemed like such an idiotic question but only a few hours ago, she thought otherwise. Jacob looked at her now, his gaze somewhat surprised before it turned into deep sadness. A look of understanding came over his face as if he knew what it was like to feel trapped in a no-win situation. 

“You should leave today,” he said sternly to Maya before turning to Carlisle, “The sooner the better.” 

“Understood,” Carlisle replied softly with a sympathetic smile. 

Maya gathered her backpack and leaned down to tie up her chunky black boots before wrapping a scarf loosely around her neck. Her phone buzzed again but by now, Maya mostly ignored the notifications. They came in frequently, from everyone. 

Except Keye. She had only texted once after Maya left and knew her well enough to know that there wouldn’t be a point in chasing her. All she had said was: “I love you. Good on you for sticking to what you want. You probably should steer clear of here for awhile. Text if you need.”

Maya read that text often. Just for a little reassurance that what she was doing was the right thing. She glanced at her phone now and saw that the most recent message was from Rose. She was on her way to her dorm to walk with Maya to class. Rose had registered at Columbia as a Sophomore to study mechanic engineering as her “cover”, but Maya knew she just genuinely enjoyed doing something with her time. Plus, Rosalie’s alluring nature only helped Maya in her department and in making connections. She tried not to rely too much on that though. 

Maya was determined to do this her way and succeed on her own, like she always had. Still, it came in handy sometimes. 

Ten minutes later, they were walking side by side across the quad toward Maya’s early morning lecture. 

“It’s not that bad,” Rose said straightening her dark maroon leather gloves. . 

“It’s bad,” Maya said, “You weren’t there Rose, I really did blow it. I don’t think Professor Arden is going to introduce me like that again after that monumental flub.” 

“Oh please,” Rose scoffed, she pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. The cloud cover this morning was pleasant enough that she could walk around freely without her umbrella she usually carried with her, and the chill of late February in New York meant showing as minimal skin as possible also worked in her favor. “Arden is obsessed with you,” she said not too kindly. 

“Ew, no he’s not,” Maya laughed. 

“I’ve seen guys like him before Maya, he’s a borderline creep. If you give him another inch, he’ll run the whole mile with it,” Rosalie said matter of factly. 

“You’re crazy. And also, he’s my fucking professor. I think I would have picked up on the gross-power-dynamic vibes. You’ve met Paul, right?” Maya quipped. Rose gave a noncommittal sound as her eyes scanned across the quad. Maya’s phone buzzed again. 

“You know you can put that on silent, right?” Rose responded as Maya pulled her phone out of her pocket. 

“It’s Beez, and we’re running this student seminar together next week so I most definitely cannot turn it on silent,” Maya let out a slow breath as she began to type, the air fogging up around them as they walked briskly. 

“Yeah and only 186 unread texts, 217 missed calls, and 73 voicemails,” Rose shot back, “Sure.  I’m sure the buzzing is not getting to you either.” Maya rolled her eyes and looked over at Rose who gave her a small smile.

“Who’s obsessed with who now?” Maya quipped, to which Rose let out that bright, twinkling laugh that lit up her whole face. 

Maya shoved her phone back into her pocket. Ever since she skipped town, she hadn’t answered anyone, save for Jeremy that first night and her parents. 

“They’ll all be there when the semester is over,” Maya said, her teeth chattering from the cold as she yanked open the door to her class building. 

“Right,” Rose replied, looking the picture of perfection, not a blonde hair out of place. Despite the prodding, Maya was so grateful to both her and Emmett for getting her back to Columbia when they did that she couldn’t really begrudge her for pointing out the fact that Maya was most definitely avoiding everything back home. 

Back home. 

Maya hadn’t been home in over six months. Half a year. She hadn’t been home for fall break and her parents opted to visit her out in New York for Christmas. It was probably for the best considering that the rez was a minefield of uncertainty. She hadn’t spoken to anyone, not a text, or a call, since the day she left. And still, her inbox swelled with texts, photos, voicemails, voice messages, and everything in between. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to go through them just yet. Maya would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little bit guilty for leaving the way she did. But she thought she had no other choice. Still, it didn’t stop a fresh pang of guilt from washing over her anytime her phone vibrated. 

Maya slumped into her seat in the lecture hall after waving goodbye to Rosalie who drew a few stares per usual. The hallways of the engineering building were dotted with the occasional paper heart or pink and white streamers of the looming holiday. Maya exhaled roughly and was only somewhat jolted out of her reverie when Beez slapped her books down on the table in front  of her breathless. 

“Hey! Did you get my text?” she said before unwrapping her scarf and shedding her coat. 

“Uh, yeah!” Maya said quickly, straightening and turning her attention to the front of the lecture hall where her professor was starting his slides. 

------------

The Valentine’s decorations in the mess hall had seemingly exploded everywhere the closer they got to February 14. Each table was covered in tiny pink confetti hearts and streamers with glittering hearts poured from every ceiling and stairwell. Maya didn’t remember it being as big of deal last year, but now the overwhelming pressure of the holiday was making her nauseous. 

That hollowness in Maya’s stomach was growing again and she grimaced down at her salad. Her arm automatically curved around her abdomen lightly underneath the table. 

“I never really understood Valentine’s day,” Beez said suddenly between mouthfuls of chicken noodle soup, “I mean, I get it but also like, if you love someone, isn’t that like an everyday thing? Can’t today just be like a proclamation day for people who haven’t expressed loved to their loved one yet? And for everyone else, it can be business as usual?” 

Rose looked up from painting her nails and quirked a beautifully arched eyebrow at Beez. “I think it’s nice,” she said easily as she blew on her cherry red nails. Maya’s eyes still stayed zoned in on her salad, focusing on breathing in and out. 

“Yeah, it’s nice!” Beez agreed, “But it also doesn’t make sense.” 

“What’s not to get about love?” Rose said without looking up from her nails this time in mock concentration. 

“Everything,” Beez said after a beat, “It’s the most nonsensical, confusing, logic-defying emotion in our existence. Everything about love doesn’t make sense,” Beez proclaimed as she shuffled through her notecards. Noah sank down in a seat next to her and started digging into his chicken salad sandwich. “People do the weirdest shit when they’re in love.”

“It can be about other kinds of love, not just the romantic kind,” he said between mouthfuls. He always had to rush off to his city planning course after lunch which was clear across campus, but he made it a point to have lunch with them every Tuesday and Thursday. 

“I guess,” Beez said, making a revision to her notecard. Maya sucked in a too sharp breath and Noah looked up from his tray. 

“My?” he asked, concerned. Rose glanced at Maya and leaned across the table to try and distract them. 

“Did you guys get an invitation to that art show in May?” Rose asked. Beez looked up, her brow creasing in confusion. Noah glanced at Rose as if compelled to and then quickly back to Maya. Maya straightened and pretended to pick at her salad, shooting Noah a quick smile. 

“No? What art show? God damnit! They think chem kids don’t give a fuck about this stuff and they never give us the good stuff,” Beez complained. Maya was thankful for the distraction, even if Noah still watched her from across the table worriedly as Rosalie promised to text Beez the details. 

Maya had never been particularly invested in Valentine’s day as a holiday. Not even before the imprint. But now, it felt like a monument to her current relationship’s disarray. Maybe it felt worse this year not only because of being on the outs with Paul but also because…the last time he had tried to text her was back in January. 

The text had been short, as they had gradually become in Maya’s continued silence. It had come in the second week of January, the night of the bonfire nearly two years ago. The night of the imprint. 

The text had simply read: Happy anniversary. 

Maya had struggled to breathe for a few hours after that and ultimately had turned off her phone and overslept the next day, missing her first two classes. 

After that, there was nothing. He hadn’t reached out in almost a month. And Maya was beginning to wonder if this was it. If he was giving up. She couldn’t blame him considering how she had left and how she had iced him out after. She was still amazed by the fact that he had never traveled out to New York to confront her or try to bring her back. But maybe Rose and Emmett had been enough of a deterrent to ensure that she wouldn’t go easily. That and she’d never forgive him. Still, something in Maya wouldn't let her forgive him just yet for trying to keep her on the rez in the first place and she held onto that feeling, that distance to help her get through the semester. 

Now as the day loomed closer, she just felt alone. She was surrounded by people—people who cared about her. And yet, Maya felt that familiar ache that pulsed with the realization that she would never truly be whole without Paul. She knew that. But she knew what she had to do first—to make this all worth it, if that feeling didn’t drive her crazy first. It was maddening, like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch, a tug that just wouldn’t let up. It drove out any sense of reason and sent her brain buzzing with static. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t breathe. 

Maya pushed away from the table abruptly and stood, scooping up her bag. “I just forgot that I needed to talk to Professor Arden about my…” she didn’t finish as she hurried away and out toward the quad. No one followed her, for which she was thankful. 

Out in the cold, February air, Maya took some deep gulping breaths to calm herself and try to quell the growing pain in her stomach. Absently, her feet made their way toward the engineering building as tears glittered in her eyes. 

As if on autopilot in her grief, Maya was suddenly in front of Professor Arden’s door. She swallowed thickly, and wiped the tears off of her stained cheeks. She hadn’t actually meant to come and see Professor Arden, she had just been so lost in thought trying to escape the pain welling up in her that her feet carried her here as if on instinct. Maya spent a lot of time here going over her papers, brainstorming ideas for her upcoming thesis that was still a ways off, talking about grad programs and the merits of teaching versus finding something industry. Professor Arden was a great sounding board and had incredible connections. 

Hoping for a distraction, Maya dug in her bag for her latest paper—an actual excuse to be here. But she had nothing on her. 

With a sigh she cleared the tears away once more and just as she turned to leave, the door to his office wrenched open. Maya startled, and stumbled back a little wide eyed. 

“Maya!” Professor Arden exclaimed, somewhat surprised to see her standing there, somewhat disheveled by the cold wind blowing around campus.

“Professor Arden,” Maya returned, trying to straighten herself up and tame her hair that must have been a wild mess from booking it across the quad. “I, uh—” she closed her eyes somewhat embarrassed and opened them to see him watching her with a soft, comforting look on his face. “I meant to bring you something to look over, but I uh—” she thumbed over her shoulder back toward the stairwell, “I forgot, so, I’m just gonna—” she started to back away. 

“That’s alright, I had actually received an email from Dr. Bronnard about an aerospace internship position this summer in Ohio. Do you want to come take a look? I think it might be a good fit,” he said warmly. Maya pursed her lips and then nodded, her enthusiasm quickly returning as she brushed by him and into his office. 

Professor Arden’s office was a warm oasis from the cold campus outside. He had a wall lined with bookcases and crammed with books and project proposals and published articles from magazines and journals. He was a leading voice in modern engineering for how young he was in his career. Maya guessed he couldn’t be older than his late thirties or early forties. His office culminated around a large black wood desk that was littered with papers. He fit well into this office, and the warm smell of cedar and fresh cut mint hung in the air. It was pleasant, Maya had to admit, and she enjoyed spending time in his office, thumbing through his books and asking far too many questions. 

He humored her though, and was always friendly, kind, and trying to push her in the right direction. He grabbed his laptop from his desk and scooped up the clear frame glasses from a stack of ungraded papers before settling on the plush green velvet couch that sat opposite his desk. Maya sunk down next to him, tucking a leg under her and dropping her book bag to the ground with a thud. She unraveled her scarf and shrugged off her coat, setting it across the arm of the couch before leaning over to look at his laptop. 

“Okay, soooo…” he said, his eyes glued to the laptop screen as he pulled up the website that offered the internship. Maya set her arm on the back of the couch and rested her head against her hand as she peered across him to his screen. “This is the company. Dr. Bronnard has been there for about 10 or so years. He was actually my professor at Brown when I was in grad school,” he chuckled warmly and Maya couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

“Brown, huh? Never pegged you for a west coast kind of guy,” she joked. He threw her a look and Maya gave him a full on laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. Speaking of, have you thought anymore about grad school?” he said, as he clicked through a couple pages to get to the internship application. Maya sighed and looked back at his screen. 

“Not yet. I still have two more years here and who knows what will happen,” her voice sounded tired, even to her. Professor Arden’s hands paused and he looked over at her again. 

“Two years isn’t that long,” his voice was low, and the warm amber light of the room suddenly had a lulling quality. Maya sank her head down into the crook of her arm as hair fell into her face. She groaned. 

“A lot can happen in two years,” she said, “Trust me.” 

“Okay,” he smiled at her again in that way that was so endearing, and Maya understood why so many students found him attractive. “Just think about it,” he shrugged. Maya nodded from her relaxed place and pushed some hair behind her ear as she looked back to his screen. 

“Is this a three month stint in Ohio?” she asked. Professor Arden gave a hum of affirmation. “Aerospace? You think I’m cut out for aerospace engineering? My focus is in biomechanics,” she said uncertainly. 

“I know,” he gestured to the screen, “But you’d be working closely with a team that is working on building a fully functioning garden lab in space. Botany, farming, sustainable harvesting, the whole bit. I think it would be a great challenge for you,” He looked over at her and Maya saw that promise in his eyes, the one that dared her to believe him if she would just believe in herself too. She’d missed that look, “Plus, it might be a welcome distraction.” His voice lowered a bit, as if they were telling secrets. Maya sucked in a breath and sat up. 

“What do you—,” she started, but Professor Arden shook his head. 

“I see you, Maya,” he said gently. “I get it.” 

Did he? She wondered. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she worried he might hear it. Maya couldn’t bear the weight of this pain that pushed on her now. She felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes and desperately did not want him to see her cry over something she couldn’t…wouldn’t explain. She needed to leave, she knew that. This pain would crush her and in front of a professor was probably the most mortifying way her pain going public could be. But she couldn’t seem to lift herself from the comfort of the couch. 

She held his gaze, hoping that the tears would not fall, but they threatened to spill any moment. And the pain of remembering that hollowness in her stomach, the emptiness and utter barren feeling of loneliness swelled and burst over her, propelling her forward. 

Before Maya even knew what was happening, her lips had crashed down upon his. They were soft and warm and he tasted…different. Her hand had found its way up to his sharp jaw covered in a pleasingly trimmed, soft beard. And he wasn’t pulling away. Maya found herself lifting her body, slinging one leg across his lap as he moved his laptop out of the way, so she could straddle him. His mouth opened to her, his hands grabbing her waist and held her tightly to the line of his crotch. Maya was lost in sensation. She’d never kissed another man, and the feeling sent a thrill through her, amplified by her grief begging her to forget if she could just deepen this kiss and take it a step further. Maya slid her tongue across his as a soft whispered moan fell from her lips and into his mouth. She pressed her chest to his, her nipples hard and begging to be touched as her other hand coasted down to cup his neck. Her hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against his clothed crotch. He was pushing back toward her into the kiss and Maya’s mind started to go blank. The heat was rising between them as the kiss turned frantic, feverish. His hands squeezed her hips and helped her move across his covered length, and a wanton groan spilled from his mouth. Maya smiled into the kiss. Was she really doing this? Her heart panged with fear, sadness, and some unanswered excitement. Why did it feel so good to forget? 

Maya let her hand drift down his neck and chest, toward his belt buckle that jingled lightly between them, and in one swift movement, he yanked free of the kiss. 

“Maya, wait,” he said breathlessly, coming to his senses. 

“Wh-what? What’s wrong?” she breathed, her hair a mess, her mouth puckered and red, ready to receive anything he was willing to give her. Professor Arden shook his head, as if trying to clear it. Maya could feel him hard and wanting between her thighs, and almost moaned in disappointment when he shifted her off his lap back onto the couch. 

“We can’t do this,” he said, letting her go, “I’m so sorry…that was… you are..” he groaned and stood up, keeping his back to her as he paced toward his desk. Maya put a hand to her lips and the feelings of grief and loneliness erupted into embarrassment, showering her in pure mortification. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed. Maya was suddenly terrified of the person that she was. She had kissed a professor, her advisor, her confidante. What the fuck was she thinking?! As far as she knew, she was still with Paul. And she had kissed someone else. “Oh my god,” she said louder as she scrambled off of the couch and began to grab her things in a panic. 

“Maya,” he said suddenly, sharply turning and crossing the room. “Maya,” he grabbed her arm gently and she whirled around her eyes shooting up to his wide-eyed as if caught. 

“I’m so, so sorry. Professor Arden, I—” she pulled her book bag onto her shoulder, stuttering as she tried to find the right words, “I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean….oh my god,” she pressed a hand to her forehead as she looked at the ground. The tears were back and fell in earnest. 

“Hey, Maya,” he placated. Suddenly, that soft, broad hand was on her cheek and pulling her face up, “It’s okay. Really. I just don’t think…we should go there. You’re beautiful, and brilliant, and funny, and are headed toward amazing things….” his calming voice quelled some of Maya’s tears and she automatically leaned into his hand, “But you’re very obviously hurt and dealing with something and I won’t complicate things further than they already would be if we…” he swallowed thickly, his eyes coasting down her body for a moment and flickering back toward the couch as if considering taking it a step further right then and there. And for a moment, Maya wanted him to. 

She imagined the comfort it would temporarily bring her to be covered by him, her thighs spread as he pumped into her, nibbling at her breasts, telling her it was okay, it was alright, they’d figure it out later, but right now…right now they just needed to focus on feeling good. Together. She would moan softly to egg him on as he would bend her knees and push them toward her face so he could sink deeper and deeper into her, pushing her to a limit that would make her beg. She craved that feeling of connection, togetherness, and the warmth that would spread in her belly when he would come in her and fill her to the brim. And the soft sigh of relief when he’d pull out, peppering her with kisses as he dripped from between her legs and kissed her neck. 

But it wouldn’t be him.

She knew deep down that that wasn’t what she really wanted. That she would be picturing someone else the whole time. And she knew that the pain would come back tenfold. She nodded up at him and he gave her a reassuring smile as he let his thumb wipe away a tear falling down her cheek. 

“It’s okay,” he promised. “Believe me, I would if this was some other lifetime, some other situation. But I want to help you get to where you need to go. It’s kind of my whole job,” he joked. Maya let out a wet laugh and nodded. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she breathed. He clicked his tongue as if to shoosh her but she shook her head and took a step back out of his grasp, “Can we just forget this ever happened? I’m honestly mortified,” she ran a hand through her hair and he nodded, slipping his hands in his pockets. 

“Of course, consider it forgotten,” he said gently. Maya let out a sigh of relief and said: 

“Thank you, Professor Arden,” she crossed his office and pulled open his door. He hadn’t moved from his place by his desk. 

“Arden,” he corrected. Maya looked over her shoulder, “You should really just start calling me Arden.” There was that endearing smile again. Maya shook her head and gave him a teasing smile. 

“That would be a bit too familiar, don’t you think?” she joked. He let out a barking laugh and Maya made her exit without another word. 

--------

The soft shuffling of papers echoed across the tall angular architecture of the Butler library. Maya sighed and flipped through her textbooks. Finals were only a few weeks away and she was halfway through her second term paper, her brain threatening to crack from the sheer amount of information she’d been processing for the past few days. 

Rosalie sat quietly across from her, slowly reading a textbook that she very clearly already knew all of the information in. But, to keep up appearances and to keep Maya company, she pretended to be exhausted and overworked like the rest of them. 

The end of her sophomore year looked vastly different than that of her freshman one. She was on the precipice of a new opportunity and had her internship lined up for the summer, thanks to Professor Arden’s help, and Rosalie and Emmett were working out the accommodations for all three of them. 

Maya rubbed her eyes and tried to press reset on her brain. She tried to focus on what she’d be doing in just one short month in her internship in Ohio. Professor Arden’s connections with Dr. Bronnard helped Maya get a foot in the door and they delightedly offered her the role after one short interview. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was mostly Professor Arden��s doing. 

Ever since their makeout session in his office in February, Maya had been trying to keep her distance. They only met up a few times in either very public spaces or during his office hours where there were sure to be students milling about to keep the awkwardness down. True to his word, he acted as if nothing had ever happened and Maya would try to contain the red blush from creeping into her cheeks any time she was near him, still full on embarrassed from her clumsy misstep. Honestly, he had probably helped her get that internship in Ohio just so they didn’t have to talk as much. 

Still, she was grateful for the space to help clear her head of her mistake and forge ahead. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Paul was still radio silent. That was fine, she thought. The less distractions the better. And now that she wasn’t going home for the summer, it took a weight off of her. 

She would be away from her home for a full year. The thought made her breathless and a new, whining ache wound in her. Maya grimaced and tried to type the conclusion on her term paper. But her hands stayed hovered over the keys. Whispers floated out of different studying nooks and Maya looked up at Rosalie. She raised her golden eyes up at her and gave her a quizzical look. 

“Why did you agree to come with me?” Maya said softly, but she knew full well Rose could hear her. Maya wasn’t sure where that question had come from, only that she felt like she needed an answer. 

Rose watched her for a moment, her soft, liquid gold eyes carefully catching on each of Maya’s features before she leaned in a bit on the table so Maya could better hear her. 

“Because I understand what it feels like to be trapped,” she said gently, “And so does Jake. Which is why he did what he did. Plus, I admire a woman who knows what she wants and is willing to break a few hearts to get it,” she smirked and Maya stared for a long time. 

“What did Jake do?” Maya asked. Rosalie paused here, wondering what the path of least confusion and hurt would be, measuring the weight of each option.

“He gave Paul an alpha order not to interfere with your life until you were ready. Until you came to him,” Rosalie said, her eyes holding onto Maya’s. 

The breath seemed to trap itself in Maya’s throat as she processed Rosalie’s answer. Jacob had ordered Paul not to interfere. That explained the lack of him showing up to drag her back. A familiar burn pressed in her stomach, one that echoed the full blown fire of the imprint and Maya swallowed hard in response before she nodded and looked back down at her book. 

“Will you?” Rosalie asked suddenly, snapping Maya up from her reverie as she stared at the pages of her book. They might as well have been blank for all of her comprehension in that moment. 

“Will I what?” Maya asked, her voice somewhat gravelly. 

“Will you go to him?” she asked with genuine interest as if she truly couldn’t anticipate the answer. Maya was stunned into silence again and couldn’t bring herself to answer. After a long moment, Rosalie nodded with a sympathetic smile and let her gaze fall to her book, releasing Maya from having to answer. 

-----------

Maya slipped out of her light black shawl and handed it to the attendant by the museum front doors with a smile. Noah checked his umbrella and followed close behind as Beez stood at the bottom of the marble stone steps that led up to the exhibit looking nervous. 

“You okay?” Maya asked, confused. Beez nodded and waved her off before tilting her head. 

“I love your hair!” she exclaimed. Maya immediately brought a hand up to touch her freshly chopped hair, cut in a blunt style that hung just at her shoulders. She had kind of done it on a whim that afternoon with Rosalie when they were picking out a last minute clutch for Rosalie. Maya had had curled into loose beachy waves that framed her face and put on some dark winged liner and a dark plum lip to go with her Anna October black mini dress. The razor thin straps cut down across the open back, exposing down almost to her low back. “So fucking cute,” Beez confirmed. Maya blushed and looked down at her chunky Versace heels that Rosalie had insisted on. 

“Aw thanks,” she said tucking some hair behind her ear. “You look great too!” Maya said, “Doesn’t she, Noah?” Maya turned as Noah shook some of the loose rain from his hair and he looked over at both of them. 

“10/10 Beez,” he smiled. Beez buzzed and turned, grabbing Maya’s hand as they jogged up the stone steps. 

“This is going to be so cool!” she exclaimed. Maya let out a little laugh and agreed. She’d been to a couple of art shows in the city on a whim, but these were all original pieces by multiple artists. And the artists themselves would be milling about. It was kind of a big deal, or so Maya had been told. 

Once they entered the wide open art floor, cut with smaller white panels to help separate the exhibits, the threesome made their way through the crowd. Maya grabbed a glass of champagne from a server and scooped up another glass for Noah who gratefully took it. Beez wasn’t much of a drinker and she was too wowed by the collection of bent and twisted ceramic and wood that took on a life of it’s own around her. 

Maya tried to contain her smile as she shuffled through some of the exhibits. At one point, Noah broke off to go talk to some industry people he had keeping an eye on and Beez skated away toward an artist who was talking about the inspiration for his piece. Maya stayed in front of a swirling piece of ceramic that seemed to defy physics as she slowly sipped her champagne. 

“Thought that was you,” a familiar voice said softly from beside her. Maya glanced to her left and smiled. Professor Arden was standing tall in a dark blue suit, his dark hair swept into a soft quoif, and his beard trimmed neat as always. The soft smell of cedar and mint met her nose and she exhaled slowly. 

Maya tipped back the rest of her champagne glass and deposited it onto the empty tray from a server passing by with a ‘thank you.’ 

Professor Arden passed her a fresh glass he had been holding and she plucked it from his hand. The champagne bubbled delightfully in her stomach. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“No problem,” he glanced down at her with a warm smile and let his gaze run up and down the length of her body with an appreciative nod, “You look great.” he said simply before turning back to the art piece. 

“Oh, this old thing?” Maya quipped, “Dug it out of the designer dumpster on 6th ave.” Arden chuckled and took a sip. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she finished. Was she flirting? Why was she flirting? 

He looked down at his suit and nodded, “From the dumpster,” he confirmed. Maya let out a small laugh and shook her head. At least it wasn’t awkward. “Oh, shit,” he said softly. 

“What?” Maya said alarmed. She rarely ever heard him cuss. 

“That’s Dr. Bronnard,” he gestured to a grey haired man standing with a cluster of people around him listening to whatever story he was telling about his latest breakthrough. “I didn’t know if he’d make it to this, but I want to introduce you,” his hand floated down to rest on the middle of her naked back, sending shivers down Maya’s spine. 

“O-oh!” Maya stuttered, taken aback, “Absolutely, yes. That’s my new boss so might as well right?” she chuckled nervously. Arden took a step closer to her, his warmth causing a soft tingling sensation to erupt across her skin, making Maya feel more naked than when she had taken off her shawl. It must be cold in here, she thought. 

“He’s great, I promise. Just be your normal, quippy self and he’s going to love you,” that warm smile spread across his face and Maya nodded. 

“Easy enough,” she breathed. He gently pressed against her back, steering her toward Dr. Bronnard. Maya had to admit that she felt good. Better than she had felt in months. She felt calm and confident and that hollowness in her stomach had cleared away halfway through her second glass of champagne. She smiled up at Arden gratefully as he waved to Dr. Bronnard during a lull in the conversation and introduced Maya, his hand still firmly placed on her back. It was comforting, and she leaned forward to take Dr. Bronnard’s hand and began to animatedly discuss all the reading up on his current project she had done. 

That feeling of calm never left her during their conversation, and Maya wanted to attribute it to the soft stroke of Arden’s thumb against her spine as she carried on and on with Dr. Bronnard easily. Arden cut in every now and then to offer some interesting tidbit or to highlight a recent accomplishment of Maya’s in their department. 

She was positively glowing, in her element, and had felt like she belonged here. Maya belonged here. Dr. Bronnard thanked Maya for her sheer enthusiasm and exclaimed that she had been the obvious right choice considering her passion and purpose for this project she was pursuing this summer at his facility. He excused himself to talk with a colleague and Maya spun on her heel with a squeal and looked up delightedly at Arden. 

“See? Easy. Quippy, self-assured, brilliant Maya strikes again,” he said enthusiastically. Maya shook her head with laughter and placed a hand on Arden’s bicep to steady herself on her heels. 

“That was amazing,” she finally managed. “I’ve never felt less like an imposter in my entire fucking life,” Maya was on cloud nine, she was spinning, and she was little tipsy if she was being honest. 

Arden seemed to notice because he said, “You’re not an imposter. I’m going to run to the restroom and get us some water. Those hors d'oeuvres really aren’t soaking up any of this champagne.” Maya nodded and clutched her champagne glass, standing straight. “I’ll be back,” he said, giving her that sweet, soft smile. Someone was going to fall in love with that smile someday. She was honestly surprised no one had yet. 

Maya turned around to face the room, drifting off toward an exhibit absently. She wound up in the center of the room, facing a tall wooden sculpture made from driftwood. Her throat tightened suddenly and she let her eyes roam around the delicate carving of the piece. It reminded her of home, something she hadn’t thought about in months if she was being honest. The wood was familiar, the white and green of the wood marred by years on the beach. She took a step toward it, her heart lurching in her chest and reached a hand out to touch it. She wondered if it would feel as cool to the touch as it looked. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to touch that,” a voice said gruffly a few feet away from her. Maya startled and whirled around, some champagne sloshing over the rim of her glass. She stumbled back somewhat and then let her eyes fall on the figure that had chastised her. 

Standing in an all black suit, with a black trimmed beard that darkened his whole face was Paul Lahote. 

“Oh…fuck,” Maya whispered. She fought from wobbling like a newborn deer on top  of her chunky heels as her eyes stayed glued to that of her imprint. The man she had left nearly 9 months ago after he threatened to keep her on the reservation in an effort to keep her safe, contained, kept. Maya swallowed hard. 

That explained the quell of the aching hollowness that usually accompanied her every waking moment. Paul was here, which washed away any of that ache, that pain that she relentlessly beat back for months. He was here and it just disappeared. Was life really that unfair? 

“What are you doing here?” Maya managed after a long moment of the two of them just staring at one another. His gaze was hard, angry, furious even. He looked like he was about to rip someone’s throat out, but he remained stock still. Hands in his pockets, silver watch glittering against the art lights overhead. He took a long moment to answer, his eyes taking in her whole face as if he was drinking a glass of water after being fed only salt for months. 

Finally, he gestured to the piece behind Maya. The one made of driftwood that felt like home. 

“Rachel got some of my pieces into this exhibit. I was required to come as part of the exhibit,” he said almost begrudgingly. 

How was he standing so still? She wondered. Maya was fighting everything in her to keep from walking toward him. The imprint thrummed, rearing its head and cried out for him. 

“I thought… I thought Jake—” she began. 

“Jacob doesn’t know I’m here. I’m away…on work. None of his business. And technically I’m not breaking any,” he gritted his teeth, “rules.” He spoke the last word with venom. Maya’s heart was beating frantically in her chest, “I didn’t know you’d be here.” He said it with almost disappointment and Maya felt herself nearly crack in two. 

Her mouth must have been hanging open slightly because she closed it abruptly and clacked her teeth together. The man before her was definitely Paul, but he was darker somehow. 

Anger rippled off of him in waves though there was no tremor to his physical shape suggesting he was fighting from phasing. Instead, his dark brown eyes held nothing but overwhelming malice, thick with what Maya could only place as disgust. But still the hollowness that usually accompanied Maya was nowhere to be found. 

Despite his anger and sheer disdain for her, he was here and the imprint soothed a balm of calm across her. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Maya said thickly, to which he scoffed at. Was this how they would be? Or was he just as taken aback as Maya. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he said, frustration coating his tongue. 

“Ditto,” Maya shot back, the anger rising in her now, an easier defense than the earth shattering sadness that was threatening to overtake her like a wave, “Glad to see you have the ability to go wherever you want, when you want. Must be liberating.” 

“No one’s keeping you away,” he was quick to shoot back, “Check any of your messages lately?” Maya blew out a huff of breath, “You missed Sadie and Seth’s wedding.” 

Maya knew that—her mom had told her, but she couldn’t bring herself to return the reservation, not even for that. She opened her mouth to respond to tell him as much, but he carried on. 

“Kim had her baby. Oh, and your best friend is pregnant again,” every sentence came out as an accusation. Maya hadn’t known about that last one. Becks was pregnant again? Fuck. “Not like you give a shit,” he said finally. The air hung thick and heavy between them and Maya felt the sharp burn of tears against her eyes. 

“Fuck you,” she said through gritted teeth. Paul’s eyes widened in mock surprise and it infuriated her. He nodded and looked down at his feet before looking back up at her. One tear had escaped and flowed quickly down her cheek. Paul’s eyes followed it and abruptly he took a step toward her, as if on reflex, but he stopped. 

“Everything okay?” a warm voice next to her asked. Oh no, Maya thought. Her eyes widened again and she felt that warm, reassuring hand on her back again as Arden tugged Maya a tad bit closer, clearly seeing she was in distress. But Maya was worried now that this entire exhibit was about to be shredded into pieces. 

Her eyes found Paul, but his gaze was fixed only on Arden. His eyes narrowed, pure daggers thrown as he cocked his head to the side somewhat in challenge. Arden straightened somewhat and Maya thought about stepping away, excusing herself, but she couldn’t leave Arden to the wolves. He would be ripped to shreds. 

There was still no tremors indicating Paul was in danger of losing control, but his face was contorted into that of faux chagrin. 

“Not at all,” he said, his voice dripping with challenge. “Miss Sunriviere was just admiring my piece, weren’t you?” Paul’s eyes popped to Maya’s face for just a second, pain shot through his features so quickly, Maya wasn’t sure if she had actually seen it or not before he looked back to Arden. 

“Ah, I see,” Arden said, not wholly convinced. His hand slid to Maya’s waist and she braced herself for the onslaught, “Maya, there’s someone over here I want you to meet. Nice to meet you Mr.?” Arden paused. 

“Lahote,” Paul said stiffly, “Paul Lahote.” 

“Mr. Lahote,” Arden nodded and pulled Maya around, his hand coming to rest in the center of her naked back again as he steered her away. Maya felt the heat from Paul’s gaze pierce her skin and when she dared a look over her shoulder back at him, he looked fit to roll into a rage right then and there at that hand on her back and burst into flames, but stayed exactly where he had stood the entire time as if bolted to the floor, unable to move.

Next > >

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

A man with no experience running elections and who believes the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, the 9/11 attack was faked, and QAnon is real has been chosen by a county in Iowa to oversee its elections, including the critical 2024 presidential election.

David Whipple was appointed last week by the Warren County Board of Supervisors to serve as Interim Warren County Auditor, a position responsible for overseeing elections in the county. The appointment was made in a special meeting after former Warren County Auditor Traci Vanderlinden announced her retirement last month.

One of the board supervisors, Crystal McIntyre, acknowledged in the meeting that it “looks weird” to be appointing Whipple—who she admitted knowing personally—but they voted for him anyway.

Whipple’s belief in baseless conspiracy theories was not secret or hidden. Days after the 2020 election, Whipple was sharing baseless allegations of voter fraud, according to screenshots of the posts published by the Iowa Starting Line website. On the same day, Whipple wrote a post calling President Joe Biden a “crooked pedophile child sniffer” where he referenced QAnon conspiracies about the President.

Whipple continued to post disinformation about the election and Biden in the following weeks and months, as well as anti-vaxx disinformation about the COVID-19 vaccination. On Jan. 2, 2021 he shared a link to a video entitled Q: The Plan To Save The World, a 2018 video that has become one of the foundational texts of the QAnon conspiracy movement.

On January 6, 2021, as the insurrection was taking place, Whipple shared a link to a video about the 9/11 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. The video, entitled Nina Eleven, falsely claims the images broadcast on television of the planes slamming into the towers were computer generated.

All of these posts were freely accessible at the time of the Warren County board meeting on June 6, but have since been scrubbed.

Screenshots of the posts have been shared widely online, however, and have been used by the Warren County Iowa Democrats as part of their drive to obtain the 2,500 signatures necessary to call a special election to vote for a new auditor.

“If you don’t believe in elections how can you be in charge of elections?” Warren County Democratic Party Chair Jim Culbert said on local radio station KNIA-KRLS. “If you don’t think that they were fair and honest, how is that going to inform how you do the job? We just don’t know this guy, he came out of nowhere.”

The Warren County Board of Supervisors and Whipple did not immediately respond to VICE News’ request for comment on Whipple’s conspiratorial beliefs.

[ewizaah]

alright. call me insane real quick. but guys listen. i have been hit with a realization. i know how we love suction cup man being a villain and all that, "ohh he trespassed on some old man's property" ok but like HE ISN'T THE VILLAIN, HE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO DO THAT BC LISTEN TO ME

notice how people respond to him FIRST about his passions, and then he responds angrily bc you attacked his entire way of living. like business dummy going "hey what the fuck are you doing climbing my towers get off" and, because scm was just minding his own business and is getting harassed out of nowhere, WOULD RESPOND APPROPRIATELY!! SAME THING GOES FOR PAUL!! HE ASKS HIM TO GET DOWN RUDELY, THEN SCM RESPONDS BACK IN THE SAME WAY!! THINK BOUT IT WITH ME. YOU BE LIVING LIFE. THEN SOMEONE TELLS YOU TO STOP YOUR PASSIONS. OF COURSE YOU WOULD BE ANGRY!! AND IT'S THE FACT THAT HIS NAME IS LITERALLY SCM! HIS ENTIRE BEING IS CLIMBING SO JUST TELLING HIM TO STOP IS JUST TELLING HIM TO KILL HIMSELF. IT'S GOOFY BUT IT MAKES SENSE

and this isn't just dialogue nono it applies to actions as well. he got kidnapped by these 2 guards which KINDA LIMITS HIS CLIMBING ABILITIES, SO HE WOULD BE PRETTY ANGRY ABOUT IT. JUSTIFIED. then TRUMP COMES IN. and y'know trump is a authority figure, a person who ordered the 2 guards to kidnap him, SO THAT APPLIES AS WELL!! so then they talk for a bit, SCM'S STILL SALTY Y'KNOW. "i'm listening but still fuck you"

SO WE CUT TO KIM JONG UN. HE SEES A PERSON CLIMBING HIS ROCKET. HE YELLS AT HIM, AND VICE VERSA. THAT'S HOW EVERYTHING GOES IN THIS SERIES. AND KEEP IN MIND, FIRST IMPRESSIONS ARE IMPORTANT SO IF SCM HATES YOU, HE'S HATING YOU. THAT'S HOW THIS WHOLE BUSINESS DUMMY AND SCM ARGUMENT IN THE SERIES IS DRAGGED OUT.

scm 3. he meets satan. at first, HE'S TERRIFIED AT FIRST! because he's TALL. in one of bluesy's (the va for scm) vrchat livestreams, it may be not canon, it may canon, it may be implied, WHO KNOWS. but the fact that scm's terrified of tall people. cartoon cat, endermans, ANY SORT OF ELDRICH CREATURES, HE WILL LIKELY BE FREAKING OUT. put on heels and he will be cowering!! anyways satan eventually mentions scm's speech, saying "we don't do that here" because he's saying these things about "oh god!!" "oh jesus!!" which. DIRECTLY ATTACKS HIS SPEECH. SO LIL BABY MAN WITH A TEMPER, IS OBVIOUSLY GONNA TAKE OFFENSE TO THAT. then once he gets out of hell and meets with paul, paul disagrees with what he says calmly saying about "we know who you are and we're not doing that" AND SCM UNDERSTANDS THAT. IT DOESN'T GO AGAINST ANYTHING HE STANDS FOR, HE JUST AGREES. "fair enough!!"

then scm 4 comes along and he's playin around on the ceiling! having a blast with his suction cups! then judge carter tells him to get down. sure, he's a bit annoyed at that, just going "NO!" but compared to all of his other interactions in the series? that was KINDA MELLOW!! because the judge responded in a different way than everyone else in this entire series!! so y'know things happen, he lost the case, he gets his suction cups taken away. and to the people who's carrying away his suction cups away in boxes, he's just yelling at them!! because like. i'm sure you know already!! it's a common theme!! and y'know he tried everything to find some way to climb, but no use. so he grows a bit sad!! sitting on the bench at sunset!! then this guy comes in, and at first he seems a bit nice, like he's about to provide some life-changing advice! and he does! but in a different way! you can see a glimpse of hope in that man and then it gets SHATTERED UPON IMPACT. so y'know he's vulnerable and he can't really do anything at this point because what is he defending now?? he got no passion!! so he falls into a depression because he has nothing, then he meets this person named Gina. THIS RIGHT HERE IS LIKE. A HUGE THING BECAUSE GINA PROVIDED SOLUTIONS LIKE "hey you can still climb with these dildos, and they're not climbing grade suction cups! go wild", supporting his passions even though SURE, HIS PASSION MAY BE ILLEGAL. BUT THAT MEANS A LOT TO HIM!! IT LETS HIM LIVE ANOTHER DAY!! IT SAVED HIM FROM SUICIDE!! AND SHE WASN'T ALL HISSY AT HIM!! THAT'S HOW HE RESPONDS NICELY!! SO IN CONCLUSION. SCM? ISN'T REALLY ALL THAT OF A BAD GUY. sure i mean on the other hand, i won't defend him. it's nice having a villain protagonist, it's hilarious!! but i'm providing my theories on the topic

[posttexasstressdisorder]

[longwindedbore]

Today in “An attorney working for Donald Trump has to take enough mind-bending drugs to twist reality so as to come up with an ‘explanation’ of how a Trump…action…is somehow ONLY a borderline ‘legal’ irregularity.”

The discovery by the court appointed monitor:

‘…Jones said that she identified a loan between Trump himself and an entity related to Trump Chicago Tower that later turned out not to exist.

‘She was told that the loan was believed to total $48 million, but that there are no agreements memorializing it.

‘“However, in recent discussions with the Trump Organization, it indicated that it has determined that this loan never existed" and that it would be removed from subsequent forms, Jones wrote.’**

Attorney’s response:

‘“The Trump entities of course never said the loan did not exist," he wrote. "Rather, they provided a copy of an internal memorandum reflecting simply that 'no liabilities or obligations are outstanding' under the loan at that time."

Two comments

[1] If you will recall that as part of the frauds to which he has already been found liable, Trump also ‘charged’ fees to his own companies for use of the Trump Brand Name and added the non-existent money as added income to meet the wealth requirements of his ‘notarized under penalty of federal & state perjury and bank fraud’ applications for loans. (No he didn’t pay taxes on nonexistent income). So shenanigans are just part of the way he does business.

[2] The Monitor’s analysis -if accurate - would spare Trump an investigation by the IRS over violations of corporate law. The attorney’s would open a can of worms and certainly civil penalties with at least the federal government

(I’m not an attorney but i I worked for a Development Corporation which set up all its individual properties as Sub-Chapter S LLCs. A regulatory bookkeeping nightmare compared to a standard corporation.)

Trump’s Empire is 450 LLCs. LLCs are special categories of corporations any of which can go bankrupt individually without the other 449 having any financial liability.

No governmental entity forced Trump to use LLCs and abide by their stringent regulations. He could have set up a standard corporation.

One thing the corporation I worked for feared was the potential for co-mingling of funds between the separate LLCs by something as simple has charging an small item purchased for one building to another building.

Loaning $48 milllion from one LLC to another…

=====================================

So the attorney gave the public response that triggered Trump wanted for next five minutes.

Trump is an emotional toddler trapped in an aging adult body. He could easily have said, “Huh? The monitor already said it never existed. End of Story!”

But no-o-o…

In Trump’s traumatized mind NOBODY can EVER say that he ever made a single MISTAKE in his whole LIFE! EVER! Or he’ll SUE!

[khalixascorner]

Say it Loud(er) Pt 2

Summary: When Tony goes before the Senate to protest an inhumane amendment to the Superhero Accountability Act, he doesn't mean to admit he loves Spider-Man on live CSPAN. Rather than recant his statement, Tony rolls with the punches and declares them married too. Now he just has to let Peter know before the press gets their hands on him.

Tags: Accidental Marriage, Public Confessions, no literally, it's mostly fluff with a little bit of spice right at the end.

Fill for Marvel Trumps Hate 2022

Read on AO3 Here Part 1

Peter was surprised when he felt his watch discreetly buzz with the emergency signal from Tony. In his three years at MIT, Tony had never once used it during one of Peter’s classes. The man had always said that short of the end of the world, school came first, and the grown ups could handle it. With that thought in mind, Peter was making his excuses and darting out of his class within seconds.

“Karen, what’s the situation?” Peter asked as he pulled out his phone to check the news. Before the AI could respond, his phone was ringing. Peter ducked into a quiet corner of the courtyard and answered it.

“There’s not a lot of time so I need you to listen closely, kid,” Tony said before Peter could even greet him. “If anyone asks if you’re my husband, you say no comment. Don’t deny it, don’t confirm it, just no comment. Also, just so you know, we’re officially married as of May 4th last year. It was in Wakanda, May and Rhodey were our witnesses, and as soon as you message Shuri that you’re on board -and make sure you say that specifically, nothing else- then King Kitty was our officiant.”

“Wha-Tony-” Peter barely got a word out before Tony was talking again.

“Head to the normal airport, take the plane waiting there. Do not stop back at your dorm or anywhere else. I’ll send Happy or a drone for your stuff later, just get back to the tower,” Tony said so quickly that Peter felt a bit dazed. “Call May from the plane, let her know what’s happening. It’s all tied to that amendment. Just– For the love of Thor, Peter, go with it, don’t argue. Get home to the tower and we’ll go over everything there. Can you do that for me?”

“Yea-yeah, Tony, I got it. No comment, text Shuri I’m on board, head straight for the plane, and call May, then meet you at the tower,” Peter said, trying to sound more sure than he felt.

“There’s a private car en route. It will meet you at the normal place. Don’t talk to the driver either. Gotta go, see you soon.”

The line went dead before Peter could even say goodbye. He took a minute to take a few deep breaths even as his mind picked apart their conversation. Tony was worried, that much was clear. He only barked orders like that when things were critical. 

With one last deep breath, Peter squared his shoulders and made his way quickly to the pick up point. Classes were in session for a bit yet so the courtyards were empty but he still clung to the fringes just in case. Even as he did that, he texted Shuri exactly what he’d been told. She sent a single emoji in reply, and his fingers itched to reply again but then the car arrived and he didn’t dare risk it.

The ride to the airport was uncomfortably silent. Peter didn’t do well with silence, and he longed to fill it so that he could avoid thinking. However Tony’s warning hung about him like a dark cloud, so he forced himself to stay silent even as his mind ran faster and faster.

Peter’s mind circled back to what Tony had said. Married. They were married, or very soon would be with it backdated to nearly a year ago. A near hysterical laugh broke free before he could smother it completely. Only Parker luck would give him the thing he wanted most in the most ridiculously twisted way possible. He wasn’t ready to be married, and hadn’t even told Tony how he felt. And now he was going to have to act like a husband when he didn’t even know how husbands were supposed to act. 

His chest grew tight and for a minute it felt like he couldn’t breathe. How was he supposed to do this without messing it up? How could anyone even think it was true? Karen vibrated his phone hard, shocking him out of his introspection in time to see a message informing him to calm down or she would call Tony back. The mere thought of that mortified Peter enough to help calm himself down for the tail end of the drive.

He quietly thanked the driver when he got there, only to be ushered through the private security portion of the airfield the minute he was out of the car. It was only once he was on the plane that he was able to relax slightly.

“Peter, Mr. Stark would like to remind you to call your aunt if you have not already,” Karen said a few minutes into the flight. “He says it’s urgent that you be the one to tell her what he told you.”

“Alright, alright, call Aunt May for me, Karen,” Peter said with a sigh. She was going to be as confused as he was no doubt.

“Peter, what the fuck?” May said as soon as she answered, startling him. “How could you?”

“What? Aunt May, what are you talking about?” Peter asked, confused and a little worried.

“When did you have time to fly off and get married to TONY STARK?” she all but yelled.

“May- May, please listen. Are you alone?” Peter asked, and when the woman confirmed that she had gone up to the roof to get away from the stares and whispers, Peter sighed. “May, I’m not- well, I mean, not officially married to Tony.”

Before he could continue, Karen chimed in.

“That is incorrect, Peter. You and Mr. Stark have been married since May 4th of last year. Anyone looking into your documentation will find such. Friday ensured it.”

“Ok, ok, well, I guess I am married officially to Tony,” Peter said, feeling even more confused. “He called me like thirty minutes ago, said we’re married, and to meet him back at the tower and he’d explain everything. I think it had to do with the amendment to the superhero act.”

“You don’t even know, do you?” May asked, her voice suddenly soft.

“Know what?”

“Google Tony after we get off the phone,” May said, and Peter could hear the weariness in her voice. “What a mess.”

“Ok, well, Tony said to call you and let you know, and that you were the other witness in Wakanda with Rhodey and King T’Challa officiated,” Peter said, feeling a bit like Alice must have felt when she tried to tell people about Wonderland.

“Of course I was, and I’m sure my records will show I wasn’t at work that day too,” May said sarcastically. Karen heard though and Peter groaned as the AI said she’d get right on it.

“You can probably go to the tower if you want to lay low there,” Peter offered, sure that Tony wouldn’t mind. “Otherwise, I think the plan is no comment to any questions, or at least that’s what he told me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll head there right after my shift. I only have a few hours left,” May said with a sigh.

“I’ll ask Tony to send someone to get you,” Peter said, his hands already a blur as he sent the message. “I’m not sure if it will be Happy or not, but we’ll get you there safely.”

“I know, baby, just– focus on getting you there safely, ok? I don’t like this one bit,” May said and Peter frowned.

“I’m sure Tony has a plan,” Peter said, confident that his mentor turned friend had things well in hand.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I feel about it, that’s all,” May said with a harsh laugh. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Alright, larb you, May,” Peter said.

“Larb you too.”

Peter put his head back for just a moment before having Karen google the news about Tony. The first link contained his entire speech to congress, and Peter watched with pride as his mentor landed hit after hit. And then, for the first time since Peter had met Tony, he watched his mentor fumble verbally. When saying that he loved Peter.

Peter’s hands shook as he listened to it again, trying to hear something, anything that would confirm if it was true. It had been so spontaneous and his mentor had actually looked shocked for a moment.

“Karen, if you analyze that clip, can you tell if Tony was lying when he said he loved me,” Peter finally asked. The need to know was eating away at him.

Karen beeped a confirmation and began running the analysis while Peter watched for a third time.

“Based on the data points available, Mr. Stark was being truthful when he said he loved you,” Karen reported a few minutes later. “I do not understand why you would need that confirmed though. Mr. Stark has indicated many times that he cares a great deal about you and is invested in your health and happiness.”

“That’s- that’s different, Karen,” Peter tried to explain. “You can love a friend and want them to be happy, and then there’s loving someone more than that.”

“You love Mr. Stark more than that,” Karen pointed out and Peter grimaced.

“Karen, I said you couldn’t ever tell anyone that,” Peter complained.

“And I haven’t, though I do not understand why.”

“I just, you can’t- Tony was my mentor, and sure, now I’m older but he still sees me as a kid and if I told him how I feel, he’d probably do the whole ‘I’m honored you still think so highly of me but you’ll outgrow the hero worship and it’s just a crush, so this is for your own good’ thing that he always does,” Peter said with a groan. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Mr. Stark will always be concerned with your welfare, however, I do not believe he still sees you as a child either,” Karen said, and Peter just sighed again.

“Based on what, Karen?”

“The baby gate and other protocols have either been loosened or removed entirely after you began attending MIT. You also have discretionary funds and unsupervised access to things you didn’t have before,” Karen replied. “So it is clear that Mr. Stark does not see you as needing such a close watch as you did when you were younger.”

“Even if that’s true, I don’t think he would trust me to know my own heart when it comes to this, Karen,” Peter said softly. “I’ve looked up to him for so long, but I didn’t realize I loved him until I moved away for MIT and realized all I wanted was to go home to him again. May kept saying he was such a good mentor, and that it was like having a dad again, but it’s never felt that way to me.”

“I think you should talk to him about it, Peter,” Karen said gently but Peter just shook his head and sighed. 

He doubted he’d ever find the courage to tell his mentor how he really felt. Their history with his mentorship and meeting Tony so young left him feeling unable to ask the older man to look at him now and see him as an adult. And yet, as he watched Tony defend him so passionately, he briefly let himself daydream about what it could be like, to be Dr. and Mr. Stark. Or Parker-Stark rather, according to the article he’d found that had a copy of their marriage documentation released by Wakanda as proof.

He already loved spending time with Tony, whether in the lab or movie night, and Peter always felt comfortable with the older man. They just fit, no rough edges to smooth out or anything.

Peter snorted at himself with that. There had been plenty of rough edges in the beginning, when Tony would hover or not trust Peter, and Peter was so desperate to prove himself. But all of that had settled eventually, until they just moved around each other, bodies aware even when their brains were busy.

Peter groaned again. Whatever Tony’s plan was, it was probably going to be a long con, which meant they were going to have to keep up the charade for a time before they could finally come clean. Peter didn’t know how he was going to survive it.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Victoria Bekiempis, Hugo Lowell, and Léonie Chao-Fong at The Guardian:

Hope Hicks, Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign press secretary, broke into tears on Friday while testifying in the ex-president’s New York criminal hush-money trial, hours after she described his complete control over the campaign. Hicks, who cut a skittish figure in Judge Juan Merchan’s courtroom, is a key prosecution witness. She described Trump campaign staffers’ panic when a recording emerged in which Trump bragged about groping women. “This was a crisis” for his presidential bid, she said, describing the sentiment among the campaign staff.

Hicks also placed Trump squarely at the center of his campaign media strategy, telling jurors “we were all just following his lead”. The testimony marks a turning point for prosecutors, as she is the first Trump staffer with intimate knowledge of Trump’s campaign to testify about his alleged misconduct. Prosecutors allege that he tried to use payoffs to bury stories that could harm his candidacy. While her name has come up at various points during the trial, Hicks’s placement of Trump in the middle of this alleged media strategy is a stunning development. “Who overall was responsible for branding strategy?” prosecutor Matthew Colangelo asked. “I would say that Mr Trump was responsible,” Hicks said. “He deserves the credit for the different messages that the campaign focused on in terms of the agenda that he put forth.”

Hicks – who reportedly had a close relationship with Trump until her anger about the January 6 insurrection surfaced – was clearly uncomfortable. When Hicks walked to the witness stand on Friday in the ex-president’s New York criminal hush-money trial, he traced her with his eyes as she passed him. Hicks, a willowy figure who crossed into the well with small steps, had a quavering voice as she introduced herself to jurors. “My name is Hope Charlotte Hicks, and my last name is spelled H-I-C-K-S,” she said. Unsure the mic was picking up her voice, she said: “I’m really nervous.” Hicks, who was repeatedly interviewed by Robert Mueller due to her longtime proximity to Trump, also served in the White House as his communications director. When Hicks was questioned about the Access Hollywood tape that leaked in early October 2016 – in which Trump notoriously boasted that when a man is famous, he can “grab [women] by the pussy” – jurors were shown a transcript of the tape.

Asked what her first reaction was to receiving an email from a Washington Post reporter about the tape, Hicks said she was “very concerned” about the contents of the email, and the lack of time to respond. She says she forwarded the email with the subject line: “URGENT WashPost query” to others in the campaign. “It was a damaging development,” Hicks said. “[The] consensus among us that this was damaging – this was a crisis.” Former tabloid honcho David Pecker – whom prosecutors said colluded with Trump and Michael Cohen to bury stories that could hurt his campaign – said Hicks was present at the trio’s summer 2015 Trump Tower meeting.

[,,,]

Hicks was also asked on Friday about a media inquiry from the Wall Street Journal, which was running a story in early November 2016 about AMI’s purchase of Daniels and McDougals’ stories – and failure to run them. Hicks said that she thought she had spoken with Trump after getting this inquiry.

Hope Hicks took the stand on Friday in the People of New York v. Trump election interference trial, and during her time on the stand, she described the period in the imminent aftermath of the release of the infamous 2005 Access Hollywood tape in which he was bragging about sexual assault (and not mere "locker room talk" like he described it as) was one that nearly ended Donald Trump's campaign.

See Also:

HuffPost: Hope Hicks Breaks Down In Tears During Trump Hush Money Trial

[jeonstellate]

ocean waves & faded dreams — shore ix

the avengers watch the beginning of johan’s trauma.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ language; mentions of trespassing & kidnapping; depictions of murder

⚝༄ paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

⚝༄ think everything in bold is in russian.

There was no warning.

One moment the Avengers were in their tower, basked in light and familiarity, but then . . . they weren’t.

All of a sudden, they were inside a luxurious high-rise apartment. With a glance, they were quick to notice how the day room they materialized in had floor-to-ceiling windows — with a view overlooking the city below. The next thing they took a note of was the furniture, specifically how it had a notable theme of white accented with emerald green and gold.

"Where are we?" Scott asked as he looked around, assessing his surroundings. Next to him, the rest were doing something similar. "Did we just trespass into someone’s home?"

"Not just anyone’s," Bucky answered, directing everyone else’s attention toward the wall decorated with picture frames. "It’s Johan’s."

"She looks so different," Pietro commented while observing the hanged pictures up close. "I could barely see the resemblance."

Sam joined Pietro by the wall. He tilted his head in slightly different angles to give himself a new perspective on each of the photos. "How did you even recognize her right away?"

"The picture on the bottom," Bucky supplied, his voice once again had a subtle softness mixed in it. The same very tone they all heard him use when he talked to the kid agent. "She looked like that when I first met her."

"You mean," Bruce began in disbelief, "Kid was around that age when HYDRA took her?"

Before Bucky could answer, a young voice suddenly filled the comfortable silence in the apartment — effectively startling the band of heroes.

"Mommy, can Uncle Sage build me a Transformer Sera?" It came from the blanket fort in the middle of the living room. In their daze with the displayed photographs, they had forgone their instincts as seasoned field agents: that was, to inspect their surroundings as thoroughly as they could to avoid any surprises.

Everyone shared a look, slightly frozen. It was silent when they materialized in the room, thus they mistakenly assumed that the apartment was empty. It didn’t help that no one interrupted their conversation in panic of being broken into, either.

"This is a memory," Wanda saved her teammates from another second of overthinking. "We don’t exist in it."

"A Transformer Sera?" Another voice inside the fort replied, curious. "What for?"

"I wanna be like Iron Man!" The first voice responded almost immediately, her excitement apparent. "I wanna drive the robot when I don’t wanna fly."

"Okay, little Stark." Everyone unconsciously looked at Tony then, but he didn’t meet their eyes as he kept his steady on the blanket fort. "You can ask your Uncle Sage when he drops by."

The celebration that followed suit was cut short by the sound of the doorbell ringing through the entire apartment. Not a moment later, a woman emerged from the structurally-sound fort.

Her resemblance to Agent Johan Collins was uncanny. With a single glance, it was obvious that Kid — as she permitted the Avengers to call her — inherited most of her features from her. With the exception of her green eyes and red hair, as opposed to the latter’s dark eyes and black hair, she was essentially the older version of the twelve-year-old they met.

Most of the Avengers recognized her, much to their own astonishment. "Her mother’s Dawn Collins?" And, really, how could they not? Her disownment from her family following her resignation as her father’s heiress was all over the news then, trumping whatever ‘breaking news’-worthy actions Tony did for months. Not that it was a good publicity of any kind, as the media soon dubbed her as the face of disinheritance.

"You know her?" Steve spoke for the rest who weren’t aware of what occupied the news before the last decade.

Rhodey affirmed with a hum. "She had a similar upbringing to Tony and belonged in the same elite crowd, too. Her father disowned her after she insisted on pursuing what she really wanted to do in life."

"Just a second!" Dawn shouted at the door as she hurried toward it, passing through the heroes in the process. With a welcoming smile plastered on her face, she opened the door, "How may I help you?"

Three men on the other side of the door took a second to state their purpose. "We’re looking for Anastasia Stark."

"This was the memory Kid was talking about," Natasha connected the dots in a whisper. Suddenly, it felt wrong to talk in their normal volume somehow — especially with the tension slowly building in the air.

And, as if a second confirmation to Natasha’s claim, they soon caught a glimpse of the symbol stitched on the men’s jackets. HYDRA.

"Oh, so sorry, boys," Dawn’s smile didn’t waver. "I haven’t heard of that name. May I suggest trying to ask the other doors?"

The HYDRA agents remained in front of her door, seemingly trying to come up with another, less suspicious approach. All three of them were wearing sunglasses, despite being indoors, so it was hard to tell where they were looking.

"Oh shit, no. Kid just stay there!" Clint panicked slightly when he noticed four-year-old Johan Collins emerging from the blanket fort. He attempted to stop her from reaching the door; but, just as Dawn had, she merely passed through. Because, again, this was a memory they didn’t exist in.

The Avengers could only watch as little Johan waddled near the door, halting two feet away from where her mother stood. She tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Mommy?"

"Go back inside, sweetheart. Mommy will join you in a moment," Dawn replied without taking her eyes off the men on the other side of the door.

Perhaps that would’ve convinced the HYDRA agents to leave, noting that they’ve disturbed her quite enough. But, as they were about to turn, the one on the right took notice of something the other two failed to. "Her eyes."

Natasha unconsciously translated for the Avengers who couldn’t understand Russian.

"Yes," all the agents’ attention were on the four-year-old now, "Stark’s eyes."

It was Bucky who translated this time, his voice somewhat tight.

They didn’t know what alerted Dawn that the men were up to no good; but, suddenly, her complete demeanor changed. Her welcoming smile was gone and was replaced by a stern look of protectiveness. "Good day, gentlemen." She tried to close the door, but was prevented by the closest man. "You‘re not going to go near my daughter without getting through me."

Everything that came next was a blur.

There were two consecutive gunshots.

Then an earsplitting scream of a little girl.

next shore >