#this university is fucking over every working group so every unionized group is behind us figuratively and literally

[bandpants]

So being on strike is objectively bad bc it means that your employer isn't taking you seriously and negotiations have ground to a standstill etc etc. But I have to say. Being on strike is like the pedestrian power dream.

Ohhhh you're in your big lifted yee yee truck and you want to turn? Well me and my 40 friends here have the right of way at this crosswalk. And we're going to cross it one at a time. A little slowly because it's cold out. And then maybe double back because we all forgot something. All of the sudden oops! We used the entire time of the cross signal, boy how time flies.

[putas-in-suffering]

I wish u would write a story about angel being in love with a stripper but being cool with it and always coming in to support his lady 😉

Okay, sucias....strap in because we took this idea and ran with it. Because guess what? Your putas have zero chill 🙃🙃. We had hella fun writing this and now that the universe has been created, who knows? Maybe we’ll explore it some more 😏

Anyway, take a read and let us know what you think! Besos 💋💖

*We added a Part 2! Check it out here.

You threw your robe on, hastily tying it so that you could go meet your boyfriend. You’d seen him walk in at the start of your dance, eyes captivating you as you gyrated on stage and slid down the pole in the center. He was your biggest fan. Your loudest cheerleader. He was unlike any man you’d been with. Fully supportive of you and your chosen career path. And you were going to do everything in your power to make sure you kept him.

Your six-inch heels clicked on the sleek black floor as you maneuvered through the throngs of bodies in the crowded club. Men tried to garner your attention, hoping you’d stop and pay them a visit. Most knew not to reach out and touch, but some had to be reminded. If you couldn’t send the message, the security team surely would.

You headed towards the small section that the MC liked to hold up in, the area still visible from the main stage but secluded for private dealings. Your man always sat at the bar when you performed, his eyes focused on you and only you. And you danced for only him. Every night. Even if he wasn’t there. You thought of nothing but him as you touched yourself and got lost in the hypnotizing beat of the music, feeling the breeze of crisp bills being thrown at your nude form. It was a high like nothing else. One that Angel Reyes had only made better since he’d strolled into your life.

You walked through the thin curtains that sectioned off the area, smiling when your eyes met Angel’s. He was sitting on the end of a long, curved booth, unlit cigarette propped in his mouth. You walked over, butterflies in your stomach as he opened his tattooed arms to you. He spread his legs, letting you stand between them as he looked up at you.

“Hi,” You greeted, leaning down to hover over his lips.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, pocketing it inside of his leather.

“Hi,” He mirrored, a smirk hidden beneath his facial hair.

You met in a kiss, the action becoming increasingly inappropriate as his hands began to wander under the sheer pink fabric of your robe. His hand skimmed the back of your thighs, meeting the flesh of your ass. You’d changed into a rhinestone bra and panty set, a favorite of his.

Your fingers threaded through his beard, feeling his tongue persuading yours further and further into his own mouth. He tasted like beer and mint, his cologne permeating the air over the usual scent of sex and smoke in the club.

“Hey! If you wanna give a free show can you at least move so we can see better!” Creeper yelled across the booth, effectively ending the moment.

You both pulled away to the snickers and chuckles of the other men, neither of you the least bit embarrassed. Angel’s fingers worked under the thin waistband of your panties, snapping the material against your skin as he licked his lips.

He was positively sinful.

And he was perfect for you.

“Did you like it?” You asked, heavily made up eyes blinking down at him in anticipation.

“Fuck yeah, mama. Made me hard watching you up there.” He confessed, his words making you shiver. His hands continued to roam your body, touching any patch of bare skin he could, which was a lot considering what you were wearing.

You beamed down at him, pleased by his praise.

“Really?” You asked seductively, leaning down once again to let what was left of your lipgloss stick to his bearded lips. You let your arms encircle his neck, playing with the raven ends of his slicked back hair.

His face was level with your breasts, his gaze flicking from them to your face. You pushed them together, arching your back so that they practically touched his nose. He moved the opening of your robe out of the way so that he could have access to your cleavage. You pushed your chest out further, silently begging him to touch you there. He rubbed his face into the pillowy flesh, his beard burning as his lips planted gentle kisses.

You closed your eyes against the intoxicating sensations, your body falling into him more as he supported you. He was sturdy and strong against you; his hard lines complimenting your soft curves. It was as if you both had the other under some kind of spell. The power each of you had to get lost in the other was almost incomprehensible. The chemistry. The tension. It made for an explosive union between two wild souls.

A wadded up napkin hit Angel in the back of the head, interrupting his exploration of your body.

“Lover boy! Some of us don’t wanna pop boners right now.” Gilly teased, chin gesturing to the fact that Angel’s hands were dangerously close to revealing your bare breasts to the men.

While you were a dancer and the men had seen you dance before, you had given no one but Angel a lap dance. They could watch from afar but touching was obviously off limits. It was a boundary that not only felt natural, but was also laid in place out of respect.

You both straightened, though Angel’s hands were still connected to your body. You smiled and finally waved at the group of bikers, the brood now as much your family as they were Angel’s. The line got fuzzy when you factored in Angel’s actual brother being there and seeing you naked. But neither seemed to have an issue with it.

“I sent a round over for you guys. Did you get it?” You asked, gesturing to the lowered tabletop that sat a few feet in front of them. Beer bottles and ashtrays littered the surface, random stacks of cash adding to the mosaic of debauchery.

“Yeah, thanks for that sweetheart.” Bishop said with a kind smile and wink, holding his new beer in his hand.

“Perks of dating a dancer.” You teased as Angel turned to face the rest of the guys, taking you with him and settling you into his lap. You sat on his thigh, legs crossed as he held you in place.

“Among other things.” He added slyly, wiggling his eyebrows comically. The action forced EZ to shake his head and laugh, the man unwilling to hear about his brother’s sexual escapades.

You got comfortable as you started to catch up with the guys, laughing and joking over the hum of music. A few of the other dancers made their way back to work over some of the men as they perched in their laps. You’d already given the crew a heads up on which girl was worth their time and money and which wasn’t.

You noticed EZ eyeing a girl across the bar. She was newer to the club, but popular among the patrons. She went by Luna and she was a sight to behold. Long dark hair with eyes to match and skin that tanned a warm caramel shade. She had a killer figure and had easily become a top earner amongst the dancers.

An idea popped into your head and you decided to give it a shot.

“Ezekiel,” You called, gaining his attention and beckoning him closer to you and Angel.

“What’s up?” He asked as he settled next to his brother, taking a pull from the beer clutched in his hand.

“You like her?” You asked, gesturing to the woman he’d been checking out near the bar. She’d made her way closer now, perusing the private sections for customers.

“Like her?”

“Yeah, you think she’s attractive...” You explained, hoping he’d take the bait.

He nodded. “She’s pretty.”

Angel scoffed next to him, clearly seeing where you were going with this. You playfully shoved at his chest, daring him to do more. He didn’t.

“Her name’s Luna. I can call her over if you want.”

“I don’t need help pulling women.” EZ said, chuckling as he did.

“I know. But she’s good. One of the better ones. New to the club. I think you’d like her.” You explained, shifting when you felt Angel lift his hips into your thighs.

“Oh, so you’re trying to set me up.” EZ accused, his head already shaking in response.

“Come on, EZ...” You pleaded, reaching for his arm. “She’s a nice girl. I think you two would hit it off. And if not, you get a bomb ass lap dance.” You reasoned, pleased to see him mulling it over.

“Live a little, lil brother.” Angel goaded, bumping EZ’s leg with his own. “She’s hot. My girl’s got good taste.” He said with a boyish smirk, kissing your neck.

“Alright, alright...if you guys will stop.” EZ finally relented, sighing as if he couldn’t believe he was letting you do such a thing.

You clapped, excited to play matchmaker for someone as deserving as EZ.

“I’ll be right back.” You said as you stood, adjusting your robe.

You stepped out of the sheer fortress of curtains and made your way over to Luna. She spotted you immediately, smiling in relief. She’d had trouble making friends. She was new and most of the other dancers felt threatened by her presence. You’d been friendly with her, instantly getting a feel for her personality. She was chill and super sweet. A perfect match for EZ.

“Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Okay...a customer?” She asked, taking your outstretched hand and following behind you.

“Yeah. He’s really cute...a gentleman.” You said vaguely, not wanting to scare her off by saying you wanted to set them up. You figured you’d let the moment run it’s course and see what happened.

You pulled her into the section with you, noticing the way Angel and EZ were leaning close to each other and whispering. Upon seeing you, they pulled apart and straightened. You stepped towards Angel and pulled Luna along, placing her in front of EZ.

“Luna, this is EZ. He’s Angel’s brother.” You introduced, noticing the way Angel was looking between your clutched hands and scantily clad bodies. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes giving away everything he was thinking. All filthy. All explicit. You felt your entire body heat at the notion.

“Hi EZ,” Luna greeted softly, the raspy tone of her voice making the words sound more sexual than they should.

You let go of her hand as she moved towards the younger Reyes brother and settled into his lap. EZ welcomed her, his massive arms surrounding her as they spoke in low voices.

A tug on your hand made you look towards Angel, his eyes now black and hooded with desire. You let him pull you back into his lap, but this time you straddled him. His hands immediately attached to your ass, his pelvis pressing into yours, letting you feel his growing hardness.

“What’s got you all riled up, baby?” You whispered into his ear, feeling him shudder in response. You nibbled at his flesh, biting and sucking on his earlobe as your hips began to swivel in his lap.

“You.”

He groaned when you began sucking harshly at his neck, his admission ratcheting up your arousal. You were wet and ready for him, desperate to have him inside you.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d let Angel fuck you in the club, but you weren’t going to do it with all his brothers around. You’d have to wait. Sooner or later the MC would leave and Angel would hang back, ensuring you made it home safe. Under the guise of giving a dedicated lap dance, you’d fuck yourself on his cock in the empty section. You never got caught. But even if you did, nothing could be done. No one wanted to started trouble with the MC.

The perks of dating a Mayan.

The shifting of the couch pulled you from your spot nuzzled into Angel’s neck. His finger was lifting the edge of your panties to feel you when you stopped, his touch halting when he realized your focus was elsewhere.

Luna was pulling EZ behind her, his hand grasped in hers as she led him away. They were going to the private rooms.

You smiled, mentally patting yourself on the back.

“You’re proud of yourself, huh?” Angel asked with nod to his brother’s retreating form.

You settled into his lap again, your attention now back to the man in your life. You played with the buttons on his shirt and then traced your pink nails over the patches on his leather. His rings felt icy agaisnt your skin as his hands ran up and down your thighs and ass.

You were absolutely head over heels for this man.

“Yeah I am.” You stated with a smug smile, circling your hips to the slow, sensual beat playing through the speakers. “I’ve got good instincts.”

“You do?”

“I got you, didn’t I?” You challenged, raising a well-manicured brow at him.

“I thought I picked you up.” He said, running his mouth over your neck and chest.

“Not a chance, baby.”

He surprised you by slapping your ass...hard. The slap echoed as you gasped and then giggled, the sting sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. The sound caught the attention of the rest of the guys, but they quickly went back to their conversations when they realized what it was, some rolling their eyes as they did.

“Let’s go to the back. Dance for me, mama.” He softly demanded as he kissed your chin, hand lightly gripping your neck. 

You were unable to deny him. It was frowned upon to take your significant other to a private room for a lap dance. There was a risk of sexual activities taking place and that wasn’t allowed. Though that didn’t stop you and Angel. And usually there were cameras in the rooms for safety purposes, but you knew for a fact they were broken and hadn’t been in working order in quite some time.

“Okay, Daddy...”

You led him to the hallway of closed doors, music booming from behind each one. You found one that was unoccupied and stepped in, shutting the door. Angel immediately began kissing you, his hands grasping at your breasts through the thin layer of bedazzled lingerie.

You managed to break away and push him towards the black leather couch, shedding your robe as you did. He did as you wanted, already knowing the drill.

He sat there, thighs spread and dick hard. He looked dangerous and you knew if he asked you to kill for him, you probably would. He owned every part of you. And under the cover of darkness, you were going to let him have all of those parts...and then some.

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[lilallama]

What's cc ideal Christmas with y\n

As Christmas songs played and the smell of freshly baked goods spread through the halls, seven boys were watching Namjoon's servants decorating the almost ten metres tall Christmas tree. "Couldn't you have afforded a better Christmas tree, Namjoon?" Seokjin eyed the tree with distaste while Namjoon clicked his tongue and threw him a glare. "We're not here to fight, guys." Hoseok pushed his glasses up with a smile, "We're here to celebrate with Y/n." The shortest boy, Jimin was now crossing his arms and pouting while staring across the white, golden front hall to the unnecessary tall front door. "When are they coming, I'm getting bored!" "Jimin," His best friend scolded him, "Don't rush Y/n. I'm sure they'll arrive any minute now."

As if summoned the door bell rang, leading all the boys to race to open the door. Namjoon finally opened the doors, revealing Y/n. "Y/n!" They all chimed in union as Y/n stepped inside closing the doors behind them. Their (lean, petite, plush, broad etc.) body shivered slightly from the cold. "Merry Christmas, guys!" All of them stormed and wrapped Y/n in their arms, a cosy group hug with their love in the centre. "I missed my boys too!" Was said by the personification of perfection as they let out that wonderful, cheery laugh they all desired to be surrounded by at all times.

"I even brought presents for you all!" Only now did they notice the bag they were carrying with them. The boys roared in excitement, confusion or shock. "Awe, Prince/Princess, that was so not necessary. I already have everything, well unless your gift is a rendevouz with just the two of us." The others groaned and complained in outrage. Such behaviour was unacceptable of their club member! "No way, if anyone takes them out it's me!" Jimin pulled them closer to him as he nuzzled himself into their shoulder. "The fuck!? No way you will!" The youngest, Jeongguk practically barked at Jimin who only started whining to Y/n. "Baby, Jeonggukie's being mean again!" To which the others all groaned, except for Yoongi who fiddled with his worn out sweater.

A few moments later they were sitting in Namjoon's room. Seeing how huge it was, way bigger than the run down apartment Yoongi shared with his mother, made the young boy feel self conscious. He could never give Y/n what the others could. Not only money wise, but he also didn't see himself as charismatic or handsome as the others. Y/n sensed that something was off. Their focus layed on the fragile boy while the others discussed whether white- or dark chocolate was better. "You okay, Yoongs?" Y/n asked him as he jumped slightly. He was about to respond but felt his dry throat. Not a single sound could he force out so he just nodded before looking away nervously. Y/n knew he would continue to deny any problem, so they ruffled his fluffy white- blonde hair and joined the conversation of the other boys. Meanwhile Yoongi was staring at them with hearts shining in his irises. Hoseok was the only one to have noticed that interaction between the two. He pretended to not have noticed the lovestruck gaze of his elder towards his best friend. Yet he still threw him a dangerous stare from the corner of his eye.

"Y/n! I heard of a really fun game, you wanna play with me?" The others threw Jimin a sceptical look. "If this is about the mistletoe again-" "No," the pink haired boy let out a huff, "I told you all, that was just a joke." "Joke my ass, you almost kissed Y/-" Jeongguk was interrupted, "Y/n! How about it, mhm?" "Depends." Y/n looked at the puppy eyed boy leaning towards them. "What game are you talking about?" His eyes lit up as he grabbed a Christmas tree shaped cookie decorated with green, red and yellow sugar cream and put one side between his teeth. "I'll show you, grab the other piece with your theeth but try not to break it." The elder (gender) shook their head at Jimin's "game". "Basically the poky game but with cookies?" Asked Hoseok confused. Namjoon leaned towards Hoseok. "What's 'the poky game'?" Meanwhile Y/n decided to play along. Slowly both nibbled their way along the cookie which was more difficult than expected. Jimin closed his eyes and waited for their lips to touch when Y/n "accidentally" bit their piece off. "Oops, looks like you won Jimin." The disappointed look only lasted for a secobd before his eyes lit up and he quickly devoured his part if the cookie. He hurried over to Taehyung and whispered to him. "Their lips touched my cookie piece!" "Really? How lucky! Was there a bit saliva on there?" To that jimin only smirked.

They decided to watch some Christmas movies before giving each other presents. As Y/n was emerged into the story of another busy businesswoman meeting a no risk no fun attitude yielding guy and fell in love with him over time, Taehyung couldn't tear his eyes away from them. Slowly his gaze met their lips, he couldn't stop thinking about what Jimin said earlier. To imagine getting to taste even a bit of their saliva was giving him pleasant chills. But he quickly tried to regain himself. How could he think about such a thing? He knew he had to stop, after all lust was a sin. He's not a sinner! But the mere thought of them pressing their lips unto his made him almost let out ungodly sounds.

"Joonie." Namjoon's head turned to his beloved. "Yes, dear?" "Thank you for inviting me. Tonight has been really fun!" That left Namjoon to smile softly, presenting his lovely dimples. "No need to thank me. Without you none of this would've been enjoyable." His statement had Y/n chuckle and squish his cheeks. "Stop being so sweet to me, you big teddy." As soon as their hands brushed his cheeks he felt his whole body stiffen and heat up. His eyes were filled with love and adoration. How could they make his poor heart beath even faster than it already did every time he's in their presence? But he only ended up shyly smiling and bashfully returning to the movie.

Soon the movies were turned off, instead the room was filled with Christmas songs. Currently they played Last Christmas while eating the cookies. A few of them, including Y/n, started singing along to the song and having a blast. Y/n dramatically sang along pointing to Hoseok, their best friend. He chuckled a bit then covered his mouth as they continued to act silly. Eventually he broke out into full on laughter. His body shook as Y/n continued to dramatically lipsinc to the Christmas song. Usually Hoseok despised those insufferable tunes, Christmas was only useful to sell more products. He couldn't understand how someone could get so excited over such a tacky, money wasting corporate holiday. But Y/n some how made it feel... alright, almost pleasant you could say. Hoseok just loves how silly they are.

The clock told them it was 0 o'clock, finally they would be able to unpack the present their beloved snowflake gifted them. Such honour to be blessed with. "Don't you have gifts for each other?" Y/n furrowed their brows in confusion, so adorable. "Sweetie," Seokjin laughed amused, "Why would I give those baboons anything-?" "What he mean was," Namjoon interrupted Seokjin while throwing him a glare, "we already exchanged them before the holidays. We didn't think we'd celebrate Christmas together this year." "Or ever..." Was muttered by Jeongguk who crossed his arms impatiently and rolled his eyes. "If you keep rolling your eyes like that they'll roll right out their sockets, Gukie~" Hoseok mocked the younger while chuckling along with Seokjin and Namjoon. "No they're not! Eyes don't do that..., right? Y/n that can't happen, right?!" The younger gradually became more panicked. He shoved Jimin aside ("Watch it you muscle pig-") and started grabbing onto Y/n for dear life, or so it felt. "Nothing will happen Jeongguk." They petted his back lightly, leaving Jeongguk to melt and smile a lovesick bunny smile.

The eldest eyed Jeongguk with disgust, how dare that filthy rat touch his Prince/Princess. He cleared his throat and pulled Y/n aside. "I have a special gift for you, love. And no it's not my heart, you already have it." He winked and laughed in his charmingly goofy manner at his cliché flirt attempt. The others glare at them, Jeongguk clenched his fist to the point of his knuckles turning white. But Seokjin didn't let it bother him. "I got you this, I hope you like it." His usually obnoxious and arrogant smile faded into a bashful one as he handed them a little box wrapped in light pink gift wrap. A sparkling white bow was graceful tied ontop making Y/n wonder if he had done it himself. They carefully untie the bow and ripped off the gift wrap revealing a black box. As they opened it, it revealed a beautiful necklace adorned with a brightly shimmering white diamond formed in to shape of a small heart. He helped you put it on, it was perfect. "Do you like it?" He asked with a slight concerned look in his eyes.

They would tare apart the entire universe, pluck star from star that rests within the realm of sight. Time is endless when with you, fear and despair unknown after a look into your shining eyes. No matter how cold it may be, you'll always make their souls burn with such fiery passion and obsession. You are the greatest gift they could've ever gotten.

If you enjoyed reading my work, please reblog it. Thank you for reading!

[mshermia]

Full Circle - Webpril 01: Field Trip

summary: Peter and MJ are less interested in the field trip and a little more invested in spending time with each other. Someone, who's not spending any time with MJ at all is Tony, very much to his annoyance...

read on AO3

#

Nothing could ever even compete with the way Peter's stomach would flip when he would swing through the urban canyon that was Manhattan. Sure, Queens was awesome, it was his home after all, and there came a special sense of accomplishment with protecting one's home. 

But there was absolutely nothing like swinging from one skyscraper to the next.

Now, it had been forever since Spider-Man had been seen in Manhattan. Not since that day he had climbed onto that spaceship. He hadn't gone out there patrolling for a while after that final battle. When he had put his suit back on for the first time, it had seemed more important than ever to stick to his own neighborhood.

But patrol was not why Peter was back in Manhattan.

He craned his neck, eyes narrowed as he looked up to the very top of the MetLife Building. The name pulled an uncomfortable cringe on his face. It wasn't right. Years ago, the Stark letters had stood up there, only to be replaced by the Avengers symbol after the invasion of New York.

A cold shiver ran down Peter's neck and his entire back spasmed at the sensation. Aliens. The purple grape man. He shook his head. All that was in the past. 

"Hey, you okay?" MJ's hand slipped into his, hidden by their jackets from the rest of the group.

Peter forced his lips into a smile. Well, it honestly came easy whenever he looked at her. His skin broke out in goosebumps once again, in a good way though. In a way that matched the crazy rhythm, the butterflies in his stomach were dancing to.

MJ squinted up at the very top of the building herself now. "You ever been up there? When this was still Stark's?" She kept her voice low. It hadn't taken her long to figure out just how far she had to drop her voice for her words to stay just between her and Peter's enhanced-hearing.

"Long time ago," Peter nodded. "A few parties and tests in the lab before he sold it."

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, Penis."

Peter stumbled to the side as Flash push himself past them, right between him and MJ. With a heavy sigh, he stopped right in front of them, hands perched on his hip like he was supposed to be the center of attention.

"Actually, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results," Peter hisses through his teeth.

"Well, you would know, Penis, wouldn't you."

Peter's eyes flickered close in resignation, his arms tightly crossed in front of him.

"Get lost, Flash." MJ stepped back next to Peter and pushed him to the other side of the group.

"That's so sad," Flash laughed. "Look at you all whipped, Parker!"

"Just ignore him," MJ mumbled, eyes now on Mr. Harrington who was handing out lanyards to every student.

Peter nodded, eyes on his feet. It was embarrassing, always had been. It was way worse though with MJ right there to witness it. 

"Dude, I'm so psyched!" Ned had been first in line to get his lanyard, excitedly waving it in Peter's face. "How close do you think they'll let us get to it? You think we get to touch it? I mean at least the... the exterior... wall... thingy?"

Some of the tension fell off Peter. His lips slowly pulled back into a genuine smile at Ned's excitement. "Not the way you're buzzing, man... you'll have to be careful not to trigger a fission reaction."

Ned's face morphed into a mask of serious consideration. "That would kind of defeat the clean energy aspect."

Peter laughed. "Exactly!"

"But..." Ned's fingers were drumming against his chin like he was preparing for his full transmission to mad-scientist. "...it would get me Tony Stark's attention though for sure!"

"Ha," Peter barked. "Yeah, but not the kind of attention you're looking for, dude."

Ned grinned at him before he stormed back to the front of the line. Peter however decided to hang back after Mr. Harrington handed the last two lanyards out to him and MJ.

They walked into the lobby side by side though MJ didn't reach for his hand again. Instead, she was craning her head along with everyone else, looking at the oversized window fronts that were projecting different things from facts about the building's layout from floor 1 to 70, the different companies renting office space as well as the event plan for the next few months. When the Tower was still owned by Stark Industries they had had information on all kinds of things that were happening in SI buildings all over the planet projected there, all the way up to the tall ceiling of the entrance area.

"You ever seen one?" 

Peter glanced at her. "An arc?"

"Yeah." Her eyes were now following the lines of the interior design along the columns to the exquisite marble floor.

"I have. Not this one though," he shrugged. "They had one at the Compound upstate."

It had been where Peter had spent most of his real intern days, long after the Tower had been sold, after Toomes but before the purple grape man.

"Not this one? No parties next to the big bulb of energy then," she smirked.

Peter shook his head, glancing over at her. "Nah. Most of Tony's guests prefer the top floor to the basement."

That did get her attention. "The top floor, hm?"

She said it in a tone that made those butterflies in his stomach tumble excitedly. "Great view up there..." 

"Yeah, I bet." She held his gaze for a moment before a lady from the security team ushered them through the barrier.

The students in their group were bouncing excitedly, following behind the tour guide towards the line of elevators on the far side of the entrance area. 

"You know," MJ said, her tone as aloof as always. "I've always been more into architecture than energy technology. Structural engineering, that kind of thing."

Peter kept his eyes on the group, his fingertips buzzing with a new kind of excitement. "You love clean energy."

"I love to use it, but it's not like I necessarily want to build the things that generate it..."

Peter chanced another glance at her, MJ's eyes waiting to meet his. They were halfway across the room when Peter decided to hell with it, he'd just go for it. One hand on MJ's arm, he held her back for a couple of steps, letting the gap between the two of them and the group expand before he pushed her to the left, heading straight for another corridor that forked off and led to a single elevator.

They kept their heads low as they stole around the corner out of sight. The corridor was empty like it always had been even when this had been Mr. Stark's personal elevator. The doors opened right away as Peter pressed the call button and they both slipped into the waiting elevator car.

MJ shot a glance over her shoulder then grinned at Peter as the doors closed behind them. "You know, if they arrest us for this..."

"Can't arrest us for something they didn't outright ban us from, can they?"

One hand clutching her heart, MJ beamed up at him. "Peter Parker, I'm so proud. I bet they'll change the procedure from now on and move the lecture on which sections are off-limits to before they hand out these." She gave the lanyard around his neck a little flick.

Peter barked out a laugh. "Proud of how you're corrupting my pure innocent soul?"

She stepped a little closer to him. The hand that had just been resting on her heart came to lie on his cheek instead. "The circle is now complete." She leaned forward, her lips softly brushing against Peter's. "Student... master... someone becoming the other..."

The butterflies in his stomach, well... they were excited. Excited enough that a flush of heat was rising up to the very tip of his ears. His eyes were falling shut as he leaned against MJ, her lips warm and soft against his until his eyes flew back open. He leaned away from her just enough that MJ staggered forward a little, her eyes flickering open as well.

Peter studied her face, his mouth still gaping a little. "Did you just quote Star Wars to me?"

The confusion fell off her face. With an un-ladylike snort, she dipped her forehead against his shoulder. "Let's say it's your reward for the rule-breaking initiative." Her hand found his as she turned towards the elevator wall. "Let's do this." Her head spun back and forth a couple of times before Peter even caught on to what the problem was. "Wait, there's no control panel."

"Shit..." His heart sank. That tiny detail was going to ruin this for them. "No panel, it's voice-activated. Fuck, I forgot."

"So, you just say the floor and it gets you there. That's pretty cool." MJ looked up at the ceiling. "Level 70."

For a moment, they both froze in anticipation but the elevator didn't move an inch.

Peter rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. He was starting to sweat. This had been such a dumb idea. "You need clearance for it to work," he grimaced. "Shit, sorry. That was a bit anti-climactic."

Like he was taunting the universe, the doors of the elevator opened and both of them jumped in surprise.

"What up, Parker," Flash chimed up amused. "Trespassing, are we?"

"Jesus Christ, you gotta be fucking kidding me," Peter hissed under his breath, clutching his heart.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Ned was right behind Flash and followed him into the elevator car.

"Nothing. We were just leaving."

"Eww, were you trying to sneak off to hook up with her?" Flash made a face, his upper lip curled up as he looked from Peter to MJ and back. "What a sleazy move."

A bead of sweat was running down the side of Peter's face, anxiety clawing its way under his skin.

"Don't be such a perv, Flash." MJ had her arms crossed, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Whatever," Flash mumbled as the doors of the elevator shut again. He craned his neck looking around the car. "How does it move?"

"It's voice activated," both Ned and MJ groaned in union.

Peter squinted at Ned. "Wait, how did you even know where we went?"

"Saw you sneak off, didn't we... floor 70," Flash called out to the ceiling. When nothing happened, he pursed his lips. "Floor 70, please?"

Ned snorted, pulling a scowl onto Flash's face. "Well, I saw you. That one," he pointed at Flash, "just stalked me."

Eyes narrowed, Flash turned on Ned. "Maybe you should work on your sneaking skills if you don't want to be followed."

Ned waved him off. "You try it, Peter!" 

Excitement rang in Ned's voice, like Peter had the secret key to make this work. All it did was make his heart sink. It would have been bad enough to disappoint MJ, but Ned had just skipped out on the very thing he had been daydreaming of for years, seeing the arc, to follow them to a different adventure that Peter would not be able to deliver. Letting him down was even worse than embarrassing himself in front of Flash.

Peter pressed his eyes shut in resignation. There was no way the elevator would move. Without FRIDAY, he had no clearance. If it hadn't been for Flash and Ned, he might have made use of his web-shooters to steal up the elevator shaft with MJ... well, if it hadn't been for Flash... 

Still, he owed it to Ned to at least try. 

"Floor 70, please," Peter mumbled, resigned to the trip turning out to be the bust he had expected it to be.

His knees almost buckled underneath him as the elevator started to move.

"Woohoo!" Ned cheered, clapping him on the shoulder. "Dude, you did it!"

MJ grinned at him, only Flash looked a little pale around his nose. In all honesty, Peter didn't feel much better than Flash looked as the elevator was climbing higher and higher. This shouldn't have worked. He hadn't been in that building for, well 2 to 7 years, depending on who you'd ask. Tony had sold the Tower in 2016.

His head still a little fuzzy, Peter hesitated as the doors opened onto the top floor. He had almost expected them to crash some kind of function. That would have certainly explained why the elevator worked, but the entire floor was empty. It was almost eerie to see it like this when Peter had only ever experienced it lined with cocktail tables and packed with people in fine evening wear. 

"Shit, this is so cool," Ned mumbled, slowly advancing towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Manhattan. "You can basically look right into the Chrysler Building!"

Flash had walked up next to him and waved towards the other building like a little kid waving at all the other cars passing through the rear window of a car. "You know, my dad said he's gonna buy this whole thing one day. So, if you ever want to be invited to one of my parties..."

"Well, he's a little late for that. I doubt the Tower will go back on the market for the next few decades."

Peter's insides froze. For a moment, he was hoping that it was just an illusion, that maybe he was just having a stroke or a minor concussion from patrol he hadn't noticed before. But when he turned, there was no doubt. The man that stalked towards them, decked out in a three-piece suit, dark shades on his face, was no other than Tony Stark.

Both his friends and Flash had turned at once.

Ned looked like he was hyperventilating while his high-pitched whisper rang through the room. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod..."

"Oh. My. God," Peter groaned. "What are you doing here?"

Tony gasped, his face pulled into affronted shock. "Is that how you greet your favorite Avenger?"

One hand twisted in his hair, Peter could only stare at him. "I can't believe this is happening right now," he mumbled, staring straight at Tony.

"Okay, while Peter is still trying to reboot that genius brain of his." Tony pointed at Ned who's eyes were in danger of bulging out of his head. "Ted, I presume. Don't know this one," he mumbled as he pointed to Flash, but then his attention singled in on MJ. He strode right past Peter, an outstretched hand extended to her. "That means you must be MJ..." 

MJ's eyes were wide, shifting from Tony over to Peter and back. "Mr. Stark..."

"Call me Tony." The smile underneath his dark-tinted glasses was blindingly bright as she shook his nano-tech hand. That in itself left Peter at a loss for words. "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but that would be a lie." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder a couple of times in Peter's direction. "You'd think he was guarding Fort Knox. Scratch that, it was easier to get in there than getting anything out of Peter when it comes to his new girlfriend."

"Oh god, please, stop talking!" Peter's face was hot, glowing like the surface of the sun. Even as he was hiding behind his hands he felt like he was illuminating the entire room.

"See, even now he's acting like this is all a big secret. Like I wouldn't notice how he rather spends his weekends in the city now than with dear old me, but I noticed and I do have his aunt's number. I mean, what does a guy have to do in order to be granted some time with their... well, intern. I only saved the universe, well, half of it. The lost half. You're welcome, by the way." He pointed at Ned and Flash as well. "You too, I guess."

Unaccustomed to Tony's rambling nature, MJ, Ned and Flash were sporting an identical look of opened-mouthed wonder, eyebrows slightly pulled together as they tried to follow Tony's chaotic monologue. 

"It's not like I don't still have about a million things to teach him. Lesson number one," he turned to Peter. "You never ever stop making out with a girl to point out a Star Wars reference. I didn't think anyone would have to be taught that!"

Peter's jaw popped open. "Oh my god, you were watching us this whole time?"

He waved a hand at Peter. "FRIDAY and I were quite amused, I'm not gonna lie, but-- hey, come on!"

One hand on Tony's upper arm, Peter pushed him toward the other side of the room. While the other three were rooted on their spots in stunned silence, Peter had no such reservation.

"What in holy hell do you think you're doing?"

"Would you calm down? You're the one who's sneaking off without thinking about the 5 gazillion cameras that are installed in this building."

"And how exactly do you still have access to all these cameras, huh? Did you bribe someone to spy on my field trip?"

"Yeah, talking about that field trip, you know you could have just told me your team wanted to see the arc and I could have—"

"Don't change the subject!"

Tony tilted his head a bit to the side. "I don't usually have to bribe anyone to access what's mine."

Even though his eyes were almost entirely hidden behind the dark-tinted glasses, Peter stared at him. But no matter how long he did, Tony did seem entirely serious. "You bought back the Tower."

It wasn't a question and Tony didn't bother to pretend like it was either.

Peter's shoulder's slumped in resignation. "When did this happen?"

Tony shrugged, suddenly suspiciously quiet. 

His nerves reaching an all-time high, Peter blew out a long breath. "Was this before or after my school's decathlon team happened to be invited to visit the arc?"

"Erm..." Tony pursed his lips, pretending to think. "I mean, I'm not sure about your little club's time table or anything like that so I wouldn't be entirely sure if—"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Peter ran both hands through his hair, at a complete loss. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Hey, it's not like you gave me much of a choice." Tony's finger was pointed at him, his eyebrows raised above the dark rims of his glasses, like Peter was in the know of what was going on.

"I have no idea what you're even talking about."

He huffed out an annoyed little breath. "Well, why is it that May got to meet your girlfriend and I'm still wondering if you made her up or not? And even that just because Pepper let something slip that May wasn't supposed to talk about when—"

"Okay, please..." Peter's arms and hands were stretched out, voice low like he was trying to calm a skittish animal. "...please tell me, that you didn't buy back the Tower just so you could meet MJ."

Tony crossed his arms in front of himself. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Underoos."

"Oh god..." His head was hurting. 

"I did not. Pepper would skin me alive."

Peter wasn't quite sure if he meant for spending that kind of money or for meddling with Peter's love life in general. "Then why didn't you just tell me you bought it?"

His arms twitched with another shrug. "I thought it would be a fun surprise."

Peter glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his friends and Flash, but they were well out of sight. "Listen, I'm sorry I haven't made it out to the cabin that often. It's not... it's not like I don't want to come out, it's just... it's the other side of town and—"

"And there's not enough room and you don't have a desk there to work at and the basement is too small and Morgan's up at what feels like dawn and has you grumpy in the mornings and the woods are creepy and you still don't like driving and what did I miss?"

Peter's head was bowed low. He had never said those things to Tony. Not out loud. He'd thought them for sure though.

"I know things haven't been ideal and with the Compound gone, well... this will be the better option."

Peter frowned, slowly looking back up at Tony. "The better option?"

"The lab in the Tower will be big enough that we can have like three desks each, easily. It's close enough for you to drop by whenever you want or go home in time so you, you know, don't miss a date or something. If you want to stay over there's no reason your room has to share a wall with Morgan's, the kitchen, or the living room, so no early wake-ups. No creepy trees outside your window and the subway station is just around the corner."

Peter's eyes were burning. Somehow... somehow this did sound a lot like he was the reason why Tony bought back that damn building after all.

With a swift motion, Tony took off his glasses, the expression on his face soft but sincere. "I miss you, kid. I'm not happy with how things have been going since they... well, since we've moved back to the cabin full time."

Peter moved his weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't like he hadn't missed Tony. He didn't even mind the cabin all that much, things had just been, well, different.

It wasn't just about where Tony lived now, that he was married with a kid. It wasn't that he had retired Iron Man, not really. 

Everything was just so different and for some reason, Tony of all people acted like nothing at all had changed between them. 

"Listen, Pete, I don't mean to—" He stopped himself, lowering his voice little further. "If I overstepped and you actually... well, if you actually just want your space and you want to cut back on the erm... internship, either way, that's perfectly fine and of course, we can figure out a new routine for the... neighborhood side project to—"

"I can't believe you bought the fucking Tower for me," Peter mumbled.

Tony tilted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth was pulled back into a soft smirk. "I invented fucking time travel for you, kid."

Peter's throat was dry, but he tried to swallow the growing lump anyway. "You did that because of the purple grape. Because of what he did to like 50% of the universe."

There was a beat of silence between them. Tony held his glance, staring at him unblinkingly. "Did I?"

Peter's lips parted, but there was nothing to say, his mind simply blank. "Tony... I... I'm not sure—"

"Alright now..." Without another moment of hesitation, Tony stepped a little closer, his arms pulling Peter into a tight hug. "We won't do that now. Not here. Not today," he whispered. One of his hands, the human one, was on the back of Peter's head when he quickly pressed a kiss against his temple. "I missed you, buddy."

Peter's fingers were clinging to Tony's back, his eyes pressed shut as he tried not to think about what Tony had said. Tried not to analyze what it meant if he had really done all of it just for him.

It took a few more mumbled words from Tony until he let go. His head held low, Peter ran the sleeve of his shirt over his eyes.

"You want this?" Tony held out his glasses for him to take. 

With a wet snort, Peter waved his hand away. "Yeah, 'cause that's not super obvious at all..."

Tony shrugged, the smirk on his lips deepening. Just before he pushed his glasses back onto his face, Peter caught a glimpse of the glassy brown eyes, a little red probably not unlike his own. With an overly heavy sigh, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder. „Come on, buddy... I think at least one of your friends is dying to see that technological marvel in my basement.”

Peter scrunched up his nose, not even trying to pull away from him. “Can you at least try not to be weird?”

“I won’t make any promises.” 

"You could make up for it and let Ned touch the arc." He bit his lip, hiding a smile. "He really really wants to..."

"Why do you want to break that thing I just bought for you?"

Peter let his head drop against Tony's shoulder. "It's okay, I'll help you fix it."

#

This is the first time I've written something for this fandom that is *not* whump, so let me know, what you think!

I'll try to fill a bunch of these prompts, because I love running from my WIPs. Don't hate me for it ;) <3

[vettingsanders]

He Did Nothing For Years

The Bernie Sanders Story

I was going to title this post something that more adequately expresses my rage, like “Bernie Sanders is a Grifting Fuck and a Garbage Human,” but then I decided to be classy and paraphrase a quote from Evita instead.  But I’m also petty so consider the subtitle of this rant to be “A Grifting Fuck and a Garbage Human.”

I was going to wait to post this until the primaries are over because if by some unholy hell miracle Sanders wins the nomination, obviously we all have to unite behind even the shittiest, most doomed to fail candidate, but fuck it.  Vote blue no matter who, that goes without being said, but Sanders is the worst possible choice and was even when there were a dozen plus horses in this race, and now y’all are going to hear all the reasons why.

The Early Years: Sanders the Deadbeat

Sanders graduated from the university of Chicago in 1964 with a BA in Political Science and chose not to work until he was elected mayor of Burlington in 1981

I say “chose not to work” because he was fully capable but preferred being a bum.  He had no student debt, he had no health conditions that prevented him from working, and the 1960s were characterized by rapid growth of the workforce, with three out of four college graduates holding high level positions by 1970

Sanders occasionally did some freelance writing and carpentry during these years, according to his resume, probably so he could claim he was trying to work in order to collect unemployment.  Let’s take a look at some of his writings:

At age 28, he wrote an article for alternative newspaper The Vermont Freeman entitled “Cancer, Disease, and Society.”  In the article, he argues that sexual repression can cause cancer, and women who are virgins, have fewer orgasms than their peers, or simply don’t enjoy sex are more likely to develop cancer.  The article includes statements such as “the manner in which you bring up your daughter with regard to sexual attitudes may very well determine whether or not she will develop breast cancer, among other things” and “How much guilt, nervousness have you imbued in your daughter with regard to sex?  If she is 16, 3 years beyond puberty and the time which nature set forth for child-bearing, and spent a night out with her boyfriend, what is your reaction? Do you take her to a psychiatrist because she is “maladjusted” or a “prostitute,” or are you happy that she has found someone with whom she can share love?”  He also argues that the education system contributes to cancer, as does having “an old bitch of a teacher (and there are many of them).”  https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/2157403-sanders-cancer.html

In 1969, in another article for The Vermont Freeman, he wrote, “In Vermont, at a state beach, a mother is reprimanded by Authority for allowing her 6 month old daughter to go about without her diapers on. Now, if children go around naked, they are liable to see each others sexual organs, and maybe even touch them. Terrible thing! If we [raise] children up like this it will probably ruin the whole pornography business, not to mention the large segment of the general economy which makes its money by playing on peoples sexual frustrations.”  https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2015/07/bernie-sanders-vermont-freeman-sexual-freedom-fluoride/

His resume, incidentally, also lists him as a freelance youth counselor during his period of unemployment, which is just great.  The man who thinks thirteen year olds should be getting pregnant and children should touch each other’s genitals, counseling your kids.  Fantastic.

In the 1970s, Sanders stole electricity from his neighbors rather than paying his own bill.  https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/07/bernie-sanders-vermont-119927

He stole food from the refrigerator of The Vermont Freeman’s publishers https://newrepublic.com/article/122005/he-was-presidential-candidate-bernie-sanders-was-radical

 He was asked to leave a hippie commune in 1971 due to sitting around engaging in “endless political discussion” rather than working.  Let me repeat, he was too lazy for a hippie commune. https://freebeacon.com/politics/bernie-sanders-asked-leave-hippie-commune/

Now, all of this apart from the theft is arguably okay.  It’s his own life, and if he wants to squander it publishing poorly written essays and doing jack shit, whatever.  Except it wasn’t just his life, because he had a son, Levi.  And he was a deadbeat, paying no child support and causing Levi’s mother, Susan Mott, to rely on welfare, which made her face discrimination when trying to find housing.  https://twitter.com/m_mendozaferrer/status/1093295853907922946

Bernie Sanders is a deadbeat dad.  No respect.

Failing Upwards: Sanders the Politician

In 1971, Sanders joined the Vermont Liberty Union Party, a socialist political group.  From 1971 to 1977, Sanders was the party chief and habitually ran for office, failing every time.  He left the group in 1977, stating that they did not do enough to fight banks and corporations during non-election years.  This is just one example of Sanders decrying everyone else as too impure for him.

In 2016, the Vermont Liberty Union Party voted to brand Sanders as a war criminal.  Their general secretary, Peter Diamondstone, said of Sanders, “ He never was a socialist!"  https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/bnjby3/the-vermont-political-party-bernie-sanders-founded-isnt-into-him-anymore  This is just one example in the long list of Sanders alienating his allies.

He finally won the mayoral election for Burlington in 1981, by only ten votes. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1981_Burlington_mayoral_election

Sanders was only elected to the US House of Representatives in 1990 because he had the support of the National Rifle Association.  The incumbent Congressman, Republican Peter Smith, advocated for an assault weapons ban, so the NRA flooded Sanders with money.  https://www.sevendaysvt.com/vermont/stickin-to-his-guns-the-nra-helped-elect-bernie-sanders-to-congress-now-hes-telling-a-different-story/Content?oid=27816693

In 2006, 2012, and 2018, when running for the Senate, Sanders ran as a Democrat in the state primaries, then declined the Democratic nomination, and ran as an independent in the general.  This made it basically impossible for any Democrat to run against him.  https://www.politico.com/story/2018/05/21/bernie-sanders-democrat-independent-vermont-601844

After a landslide loss to Secretary Clinton in the 2016 Democratic primary, Sanders demanded changes to the DNC primary structure that would make the process easier for him to win with just a plurality of delegates instead of a majority.  These rule changes were the reason the 2020 Iowa caucus was such a clusterfuck. https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/bernie-sanders-iowa-caucus-winner-trump-democrats-a9317761.html

Despite all his talk of getting out the youth vote and inspiring disenfranchised voters, Sanders planned all along to squeak by with only thirty percent of the delegates in the 2020 primary by provoking infighting among other candidates to split the moderate vote.  The supposed movement he claimed to lead is a sham. https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2019/04/bernie-sanders-thinking-he-will-win-it-all-2020/587326/

“I Never Saw Him”: Sanders and Civil Rights

Sanders touts his participation in the March on Washington in 1963 as proof of his devotion to civil rights activism.  He loves to remind people that he marched with MLK, as seen during the She the People 2019 forum where he repeated that old chestnut for the millionth time and was booed by the attendees. https://www.thedailybeast.com/bernie-sanders-met-with-boos-after-name-dropping-martin-luther-king-at-she-the-people-summit

In actuality, Sanders was one of 250,000 people at the march, along with Mitch McConnell, who is clearly no champion for civil rights. https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/7-things-know-about-sen-mitch-mcconnell-r-ky-part-flna6C10621413

Representative John Lewis, an actual civil rights hero who worked with Dr. King and whose skull was fractured by police on Bloody Sunday, said that he “never saw [Bernie Sanders].  I never met him,” during the movement. https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/local/2016/02/11/john-lewis-never-saw-bernie-sanders-during-civil-rights-era/80263450/

Sanders was charged with resisting arrest during a segregation protest in Chicago in 1963, and was charged $25.  He later white flighted to Vermont, one of the whitest states in the country. https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2016/02/bernie-sanders-core-university-chicago/

Sanders never bothered to vote during the Civil Rights movement, only putting forth the effort when he himself was running. https://imgur.com/gallery/mmS40Gq#460q6bS

During his speech in Jacksonville on the 50th anniversary of MLK’s death, Sanders rewrote history and tried to claim that King’s real focus was economic justice and not civil rights.  "All of us know where he was when he was assassinated 50 years ago today.  He was in Memphis to stand with low-income sanitation workers who were being exploited ruthlessly, whose wages were abysmally low, and who were trying to create a union. That’s where he was. Because as the mayor just indicated, what he believed — and where he was a real threat to the establishment — is that of course we need civil rights in this country, but we also need economic justice.” https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/rubycramer/bernie-sanders-revolution-needs-black-voters-to-win-but-can

In thirty years in Congress, Sanders has not sponsored any bills pertaining to civil rights: https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/browse?sponsor=400357#current_status[]=28&enacted_ex=on

Sanders voted for the 1994 crime bill https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2020-election/bernie-sanders-has-dodged-criticism-crime-bill-vote-while-others-n1020726

In 1994, he praised the bill and stated that the US needed more jails.  https://twitter.com/KFILE/status/1221468426855755776

He touted his vote for the crime bill on his website at least until 2006, as proof he was “tough on crime” and “strong on the cops” https://web.archive.org/web/20061018180921/http:/www.bernie.org/truth/crime.html

In 2015, during a meeting with police reform activist group Campaign Zero, Sanders responded to being asked why he thought a disproportionate amount of people of color were incarcerated for nonviolent drug offenses with “Aren’t most of the people who sell the drugs African-American?”  Those present at the meeting stated, “Even confronted with figures and data to the contrary, Sanders appeared to have still struggled to grasp that he had made an error.” https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/rubycramer/bernie-sanders-revolution-needs-black-voters-to-win-but-can 

In 2018, fifteen racial and social justice leaders in Vermont, including multiple NAACP branch presidents, ACLU organizers, and BLM activists, sent an open letter to Sanders and the Sanders Institute to complain that they were “excluded” from the “national progressive movement that Senator Bernie Sanders is trying to foster.”  The letter asks “how could Senator Sanders host what is supposed to be an intersectional, progressive event without inviting the very people whom he serves?”  http://mediad.publicbroadcasting.net/p/vpr/files/201812/sanders-letter-2018.pdf

Curtiss Reed, Executive Director of the Vermont Partnership for Fairness and Diversity, stated that the exclusion of Vermont POC from the Sanders Institute’s event was “a catastrophic failure of his sort of tone deafness to marginalized communities in the state of Vermont” and added “I’m tempted to say this is no longer a question of benign neglect on the part of the senator, but willful ignorance on his part not to include marginalized voices in this national conversation on the progressive movement.”   https://www.vpr.org/post/we-find-ourselves-excluded-racial-justice-leaders-ask-bernie-sanders-get-program#stream/0 

Vermont Black leaders stated they were “invisible” to Sanders, and that the senator “was just really dismissive of anything that had to do with race and racism, saying that they didn’t have anything to do with the issues of income inequality.  He just always kept coming back to income inequality as a response, as if talking about income inequality would somehow make issues of racism go away.” https://www.thedailybeast.com/vermonts-black-leaders-we-were-invisible-to-bernie-sanders

In his 1998 autobiography, Sanders repeatedly and needlessly used the n-word. He chose to keep the word in the text when republishing the book in 2015.  https://www.inquisitr.com/5620596/bernie-sanders-under-fire-for-use-of-n-word-in-2015-book-clip-from-audiobook-version-goes-viral-friday/ 

“I Will Not Make It a Major Priority”: Sanders the Ally

During an interview as mayor of Burlington, Sanders said LGBTQ rights were not a “major priority” for him and he would “probably not” support a bill to protect gays from job discrimination.  https://slate.com/human-interest/2015/10/bernie-sanders-on-marriage-equality-hes-no-longtime-champion.html

Also during his time as mayor, Sanders signed a resolution affirming that marriage is between “husband and wife.” https://www.washingtonblade.com/2016/02/06/clinton-surrogates-pounce-on-sanders-over-82-marriage-resolution/

Sanders and his wife stated in 1996 that they opposed the Defense of Marriage Act simply because it would weaken states’ rights.  Only later did he claim his opposition was due to support for same-sex marriage. https://time.com/4089946/bernie-sanders-gay-marriage/

Sanders argued same-sex marriage was a states’ rights issue in 2006. https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=57&v=kej9QAsS3uI&feature=emb_logo

In that same year, after same-sex civil unions had been legal in Vermont since 2000, he responded to a reporter asking if same-sex marriage should be legalized in Vermont with “Not right now,” after the “very divisive debate” preceding the civil union legislation. https://web.archive.org/web/20160407064606/http://www.timesargus.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060607/NEWS/606070302/1003/NEWS02

In thirty years in Congress, Sanders has not sponsored any bills pertaining to LGBTQ rights: https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/browse?sponsor=400357#current_status[]=28&enacted_ex=on  

Sanders the Warmonger

Sanders loves to tout his opposition to the Iraq War as proof of his moral superiority.  But in 1998, he voted for the Iraq Liberation Act, which states that “it should be the policy of the United States to support efforts to remove the regime headed by Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq.”  He also supported Clinton’s airstrike on Iraq.  https://www.govtrack.us/congress/votes/105-1998/h482

In 1999, Sanders had anti-war protesters at his office arrested. https://www.counterpunch.org/2015/07/27/bernie-sanders-savior-or-seducer-of-the-anti-war-left/

The Iraq War Bill that Sanders voted against required Bush to first try diplomatic efforts and abide by UN rules of military conduct.  It also required transparency and progress reports.  https://www.congress.gov/bill/107th-congress/house-joint-resolution/114/text

The Authorization for Use of Military Force Act (AUMF), which Sanders did vote for, required none of that and is the reason the Afghanistan War was so much of a clusterfuck.  Bush would have used the AUMF to invade Iraq even if Congress had voted down the Iraq Liberation Act.  The only person to vote against the AUMF was Representative Barbara Lee.  Sanders voted in favor of it.  https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/107/sjres23/text

Sanders claims to oppose the defense industry.  But he brought Lockheed Martin and their 1.2 trillion dollar, over budget, outdated stealth fighters to Vermont. https://www.thedailybeast.com/bernie-sanders-loves-this-dollar1-trillion-war-machine

During his tenure as mayor of Burlington, he fired the assistant city treasurer when she was jailed for an anti-war protest. https://academic.oup.com/publius/article-abstract/21/2/131/1917641?redirectedFrom=PDF 

Sanders the Healthcare Crusader

Sanders was chairman of the Senate Veteran Affairs Committee during a 2014 scandal when dozens of veterans died while waiting for medical care.  During his tenure, Sanders only held seven hearings on VA Oversight, as opposed to the House committee’s forty-two hearings.  Veterans argue that Sanders was too invested in the idea of the VA as a shining example of government healthcare to address its failings.  Despite the scandal and tragedy, Sanders as recently as 2017 bragged that  he was involved with “the most comprehensive VA health care bill in this country.” https://www.thedailybeast.com/the-veterans-scandal-on-bernie-sanderss-watch

He voted against the Clinton plan for universal healthcare in 1993.  https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2016/3/14/1501210/-Where-Was-Sanders-on-Health-Care-in-93-and-94-Against-the-Clintons

Sanders also voted against CHIP, the children’s health insurance program that AOC relied on to see a doctor in her youth: https://www.govtrack.us/congress/votes/105-1997/h345

Despite campaigning on Medicare for All since 2015, Sanders was unable to explain how much the program would cost during a 2020 60 Minutes interview.  https://www.cnn.com/2020/02/24/politics/bernie-sanders-donald-trump-2020/index.html

When Senator Warren did the math for him and released her detailed M4A plan, Sanders attacked her, calling his plan “more progressive” and saying hers would “have a very negative impact on creating jobs.” https://www.cnn.com/2019/11/03/politics/bernie-sanders-elizabeth-warren-health-care-plan/index.html

Sanders claims that his healthcare plan is standard in other countries.  But his M4A plan would ban private insurance, which is not done in any country but Canada.  In the Scandinavian countries Sanders loves to hold up as an example of government healthcare, the market for private insurance is growing.  https://aapsonline.org/no-bernie-other-countries-do-not-ban-private-care/

“Too Brassy, Too Bitchy”: Sanders the Feminist

In his autobiography, Sanders quoted an article calling his 1996 primary opponent Susan Sweetser “too brassy, too bitchy.” https://books.google.com/books?id=_2YjBm2_JGUC&pg=PA173&lpg=PA173&dq=sanders+too+brassy+too+bitchy&source=bl&ots=SWrIR5Xa8m&sig=ACfU3U2-Hj1-UXIOM0Zz274h6_Nu8juoBg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjHhtObq6LmAhWvUt8KHc8mDVUQ6AEwA3oECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=sanders%20too%20brassy%20too%20bitchy&f=false

 In his Vermont Freeman article “Cancer, Disease, and Society,” Sanders called teachers “old bitch[es]” and blamed them for men developing cancer.  He also said women developed cancer due to sexual repression.  https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/2157403-sanders-cancer.html

Referring to their 1986 governor race, his opponent Madeleine Kuhn stated, “When Sanders was my opponent he focused like a laser beam on “class analysis,” in which “women’s issues” were essentially a distraction from more important issues. He urged voters not to vote for me just because I was a woman. That would be a “sexist position,” he declared.”  https://www.bostonglobe.com/opinion/2016/02/04/when-bernie-sanders-ran-against-vermont/kNP6xUupbQ3Qbg9UUelvVM/story.html

Sanders called Planned Parenthood “a part of the establishment” because they endorsed Secretary Clinton for president.  https://www.politico.com/story/2016/01/planned-parenthood-bernie-sanders-218026

Sanders called Hillary Rodham Clinton, former law firm partner, former First Lady, former Senator, and former Secretary of State, unqualified to be president. https://www.cnn.com/2016/04/06/politics/bernie-sanders-hillary-clinton-qualified/index.html

In January 2020, leaked phone banking scripts from the Sanders campaign called Warren a candidate of the affluent who wouldn’t bring any new voters to the Democratic base.  https://www.politico.com/news/2020/01/11/bernie-quietly-goes-negative-on-warren-097594

In response, members of Warren’s campaign leaked information that, at a dinner in 2018, Sanders had told Warren he did not think a woman could win the presidency.  Sanders and his supporters decried this as a lie, even though reporters knew of the dinner and had been asking Warren if Sanders had discussed women’s electability there for over a year.  https://twitter.com/mlcalderone/status/1104477933886935040?s=19

Sanders supporters then flooded Elizabeth Warren and her supporters’ Twitter mentions with snake emojis.

Sanders said of Secretary Clinton, “It is not good enough for someone to say, ‘I’m a woman! Vote for me!” https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2016/11/21/13699956/sanders-clinton-democratic-party

Bending the Knee: Sanders the Dictatorship Fanboy

During a 2020 60 Minutes interview, Sanders inexplicably decided it would be a good idea to start praising Fidel Castro’s genocidal regime, stating, “We’re very opposed to the authoritarian nature of Cuba, but, you know, it’s unfair to simply say everything is bad. When Castro came into office, you know what he did? He had a massive literacy program.  Is that a bad thing, even though Fidel Castro did it?” https://www.vox.com/2020/2/24/21147388/bernie-sanders-cuba-60-minutes-nicaragua

He doubled down on this praise at the next debate, whining, “Really?  Really?” when the crowd booed him.  https://www.miamiherald.com/news/politics-government/article240627047.html

In 2014, Sanders visited Cuban prisoner Alan Gross, who lost over 100 pounds and five teeth during his captivity.  During the meeting, Gross recalls Sanders telling him, “I don't know what's so wrong with this country.”  https://www.npr.org/2020/03/04/811729200/former-prisoner-recalls-sanders-saying-i-don-t-know-what-s-so-wrong-with-cuba

In 1985, Sanders praised bread lines and food rationing.  “American journalists talk about how bad a country is because people are lining up for food.  That's a good thing. In other countries people don't line up for food. The rich get the food, and the poor starve to death." https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2020/2/21/1920767/-Time-to-switch-out-from-Bernie-he-praised-nations-with-bread-lines-that-s-a-good-thing-Danger

Sanders hung a USSR flag in his office as mayor of Burlington.  https://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2019/feb/24/bernie-sanders-reveals-his-radical-inclinations-ov/

He honeymooned in the USSR, and praised the state of the Soviet Union. https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/inside-bernie-sanderss-1988-10-day-honeymoon-in-the-soviet-union/2019/05/02/db543e18-6a9c-11e9-a66d-a82d3f3d96d5_story.html

In the 1980s, Sanders attended a Sandinista rally in Nicaragua where the attendees chanted, “Here, there, everywhere, the Yankee will die.” https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2019/05/bernie-sanders-pro-sandinista-past-problem.html

Sanders recently praised China, saying that it has made "more progress in addressing extreme poverty than any country in the history of civilization." https://thehill.com/hilltv/rising/458976-sanders-china-had-done-more-to-address-extreme-poverty-than-any-country-in-the

“They Can’t Stop Us”: Sanders the Conspiracy Theorist

Despite conceding the 2016 primary and stating that “Secretary Clinton has won the Democratic nomination and I congratulate her for that” (https://www.cnn.com/2016/07/11/politics/hillary-clinton-bernie-sanders/index.html), he later made the Trump-esque statement “Some people say that if maybe that system was not rigged against me, I would have won the nomination and defeated Donald Trump.” https://www.newsweek.com/bernie-sanders-defeat-donald-trump-2016-rigged-primary-dnc-nbc-kasie-hunt-1446116

 On February 21, Sanders tweeted, “I've got news for the Republican establishment. I've got news for the Democratic establishment. They can't stop us.” https://twitter.com/BernieSanders/status/1231021453270769664

After Super Tuesday, Sanders stated that Buttigieg and Klobuchar were pressed to drop out as part of an establishment plot to defeat him. https://thehill.com/homenews/sunday-talk-shows/486503-sanders-klobuchar-and-buttigieg-ended-campaigns-under-great-deal

Sanders has repeatedly attacked the press as “paid by the corporations and billionaires who own the media.”  He’s promoted the conspiracy theory that Jeff Bezos makes The Washington Post write negative articles about him. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/aug/27/bernie-sanders-attacks-media-press-fair-or-trump-2020-democrats

During the Nicaraguan conflict, Sanders accused American reporters of ignoring the truth and told a CBS reporter, “you are worms.” https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2019/05/bernie-sanders-pro-sandinista-past-problem.html

Sanders accused The Washington Post of trying to harm him in the Nevada caucus by reporting on Russia’s attempts to boost his campaign. https://www.mediaite.com/tv/bernie-sanders-takes-a-shot-at-washington-post-good-friends-when-asked-about-timing-of-russia-report/

“We Support Them”: Sanders the Spoiler

Robert Mueller’s investigation found that Russian interference sought to boost both Sanders and Trump’s 2016 campaigns, stating “we support them.” https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2018/02/17/indictment-russians-also-tried-help-bernie-sanders-jill-stein-presidential-campaigns/348051002/

Sanders was well aware of the Russian efforts, stating “What we knew is–well, of course we knew that.  And of course we knew that they were trying to cause divisiveness within the Democratic party.  Uh, that’s no great secret.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDYbHult0Do

When The Washington Post reported on Russia’s efforts to boost Sanders in 2020, Sanders had already known for weeks and said nothing.  After the report came out, he attacked the Post and accused them of trying to tank his performance in the Nevada caucus, stating “I’ll let you guess, about one day before the Nevada caucus. Why do you think it came out?  It was The Washington Post?  Good friends.” https://www.mediaite.com/tv/bernie-sanders-takes-a-shot-at-washington-post-good-friends-when-asked-about-timing-of-russia-report/

The Fish Rots from the Head: The Sanders Campaign

The 2016 campaign breached the Clinton campaign’s voter data and harvested and stored voter information https://time.com/4155185/bernie-sanders-hillary-clinton-data/

The 2016 campaign received a 645 page letter from the FEC detailing the campaign’s finance violations (https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/05/the-bernie-sanders-donors-who-are-giving-too-much/482418/) and had to pay a $14.5 K fine to the FEC after receiving donations from non-citizens. https://thehill.com/homenews/campaign/376373-sanders-campaign-pays-145k-fine-to-settle-fec-complaint

The 2016 Nevada campaign director sought to rig the state’s caucus by urging staffers to buy double-sided coins for tie-breaking coin tosses http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/politics/sanderss-nevada-director-floated-two-sided-coins-for-tiebreaks-report/ar-AAhHiAI?getstaticpage=true&automatedTracking=staticview

The 2016 campaign initially decried superdelegates as “undemocratic” (https://www.cnn.com/2016/02/23/opinions/superdelegates-democratic-party-kohn/) before attempting to persuade them to go against the primary’s outcome and back Sanders instead of Clinton https://www.npr.org/2016/05/19/478705022/sanders-campaign-now-says-superdelegates-are-key-to-winning-nomination

The 2016 campaign was accused by staffers of sexual harassment, demeaning treatment toward women, and pay disparity by gender https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/02/us/politics/bernie-sanders-campaign-sexism.html

Weeks before the 2016 general election, Jane Sanders retweeted a video from an April town hall of her husband telling an attendee to “make these decisions yourself” regarding whether or not to vote third party if Secretary Clinton won the primary https://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/story/news/politics/2016/09/26/retweet-bernie-sanders-wife-jane-raises-questions/91140254/

The 2020 Sanders campaign appointed Russian interference denier and Jill Stein 2016 voter Briahna Joy Gray as the campaign’s National Press Secretary https://twitter.com/briebriejoy/status/888555665865814017?lang=en

Following promises to run a civil campaign, Sanders hired David Sirota, a man who’d spent months attacking other primary contenders online, as a speech writer.  The campaign also confirmed that Sirota had already been serving in an advisory role prior to his official hiring https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2019/03/sanders-promised-civility-hired-twitter-attack-dog/585259/

Press Secretary Briahna Joy Gray called for the doxing of a Sanders critic on Twitter. If there was any repercussion for this behavior, it has never been made public. https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2019/8/14/1879124/-Bernie-Sanders-s-Campaign-Doxed-a-Critic-on-Twitter

The 2020 campaign hired and fired YouTuber Matt Orfalea within 24 hours after being alerted of his sexist, racist, homophobic, and ableist content, suggesting he was not vetted before his hiring https://www.dailydot.com/layer8/bernie-sanders-matt-orfalea-mlk-youtube-video/

Despite his firing and the campaign decrying his behavior in October 2019, in January 2020 Jane Sanders was still retweeting and praising Orfalea.  https://twitter.com/Rob_Flaherty/status/1236861997398048768

In March 2020, Orfalea posed as a Biden volunteer and made calls to voters claiming that Biden has dementia.  https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/jgeanp/a-man-fired-from-sanders-campaign-is-calling-biden-voters-and-saying-he-has-dementia

They hired and fired Darius Khalil Gordon after two days after being alerted of his sexist, racist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, and ableist Tweets https://www.lgbtqnation.com/2019/12/bernie-sanders-new-head-organizer-called-people-fgs-bhes/

The campaign also hired former Women’s March leader Linda Sarsour as a campaign surrogate.  The Women’s March cut ties with Sarsour following anti-Semitic statements. https://nypost.com/2018/11/20/womens-march-founder-calls-on-current-leadership-to-step-down/

Sarsour was also condemned by the Anti-Defamation League for the statement that “a state like Israel that is based on supremacy, that is built on the idea that Jews are supreme to everyone else.” https://forward.com/news/national/435964/bernie-sanders-linda-sarsour-jewish-voters/

Sanders National Campaign Co-Chair Nina Turner claimed that Biden’s strong support among Black voters is due to the voters’ “short memories” and “not a true understanding of the history” https://thehill.com/hilltv/rising/473161-top-sanders-officials-hits-biden-over-riding-on-obamas-coattails

The 2020 campaign paid staffers working 60 hours a week an average of 13 dollars per hour despite Sanders campaigning on a 15 dollar per hour minimum wage https://www.vox.com/2019/7/20/20700841/bernie-sanders-minimum-wage-staff-pay

Bernie Bros attacked Biden’s Detroit rally on 3/9/20, striking senior aide Symone Sanders in the head with an iPad and knocking her down. https://www.politico.com/news/2020/03/10/joe-biden-detroit-protests-sanders-124874

“Nobody Likes Him”: Sanders Himself

In 1996, Congressman Barney Frank said of Sanders, “Bernie alienates his natural allies.  His holier-than-thou attitude—saying in a very loud voice he is smarter than everyone else and purer than everyone else—really undercuts his effectiveness.”  https://www.boston.com/news/politics/2016/04/11/history-barney-frank-bernie-sanders-criticize

In her recent Hulu documentary series, Hillary Rodham Clinton briefly spoke about Sanders, saying “He was in Congress for years.  He had one senator support him.  Nobody likes him, nobody wants to work with him, he got nothing done. He was a career politician. It's all just baloney and I feel so bad that people got sucked into it.” https://twitter.com/Burkmc/status/1235863901813661697?s=09

A former campaign staffer called Sanders “unbelievably abusive.”  Another campaign insider called him an asshole, and a former Senate staffer recounted, "He yelled in meetings all the time.”  https://www.sevendaysvt.com/vermont/anger-management-sanders-fights-for-employees-except-his-own/Content?oid=2834657

One aide stated that Sanders “never makes you feel like you’re good enough to be in the room with him.”  https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/06/us/politics/bernie-sanders-image.html

Sanders voted in favor of dumping nuclear waste on the poor and predominantly Latinx community of Sierra Blanca, Texas https://www.texastribune.org/2016/02/28/Sanders-Nuclear-Waste-Votes-Divide-Texas-Activists/

When asked if he would visit the site in Sierra Blanca, Sanders answered “Absolutely not.” https://archives.texasobserver.org/issue/1998/09/11#page=11

Sanders voted five times against the Brady Act which required universal background checks and a waiting period to buy firearms. https://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/statements/2015/oct/13/hillary-clinton/hillary-clinton-bernie-sanders-voted-against-brady/o

He also voted against the AMBER Alert System. http://archive.boston.com/news/local/vermont/articles/2006/09/21/sanders_vote_on_amber_alert_emerges_as_key_campaign_issue/

He wanted to primary Obama in the 2012 election cycle. https://www.thenation.com/article/yes-bernie-sanders-wanted-obama-primaried-in-2012-heres-why/

After saying millionaire senators are immoral (https://www.cnn.com/2019/04/24/politics/bernie-millionaire-senators-immoral/index.html) and railing against millionaires and billionaires in his 2016 campaign, Sanders responded to criticism of his millionaire senator status by saying “if you write a best-selling book, you can be a millionaire, too.”  His stump speech now only rants about billionaires. https://theweek.com/speedreads/834228/bernie-sanders-says-millionaire-like-write-bestselling-book 

Upheld a ban on rock concerts as mayor of Burlington like a Footloose villain https://i.redd.it/atpybo1rcwa31.jpg

Despite running on forgiving student loan debt since 2015, when pressed for specifics during an interview with Dana Bash, Sanders responded, “I don't have the plan in my pocket right now,” because, you know, why on Earth should he know the details of his key campaign promises? https://mobile.twitter.com/DanaBashCNN/status/1137779734467792897

Two days before the 2016 general election, Sanders tweeted “I do not believe that most of the people who are thinking about voting for Mr. Trump are racist or sexist.” https://twitter.com/berniesanders/status/794941635931099136?lang=en

 Sanders had a heart attack at age 78, making his continued life expectancy 3.1 years. https://www.cardiovascularbusiness.com/topics/acute-coronary-syndrome/study-65-older-mi-patients-die-within-8-years

He could have dropped out of the race after his heart attack and endorsed Warren, and she could have spent the primary building coalitions with the demographics where she was the weakest, and could well have been the front runner by now.  Instead, he selfishly stayed in the race, screwing her over and knowing full well the odds are against him living through a single term.  He continued to do the only thing he’s good at: fucking everyone over.

Say whatever you want about Biden, it’s not like there aren’t things to say.  But I’ve seen so many posts about how “Sure, Biden’s the worst EVER, but he is EVER SO SLIGHTLY less worse than Trump,” and excuse me, fuck off.  Biden horribly lost his wife and daughter before his 1972 Senate term even started, and instead of dropping out, he continued to serve his constituents while commuting home two hours every night to raise his sons.  Meanwhile, in 1972, Sanders was a deadbeat bum stealing electricity.  There’s no comparison.

[katrandomwrites]

Wierdly Human

Alternate title was "Jon the Archivist is Kinda Hot"

Little in between snippets from the assistants and their impressions of Jonathan Sims.

I declare this a fluff and humor only zone! Episode 160 can kiss my butt.

You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.

I got the inspiration for this from a tumblr post about Jon being a clean boy despite crawling through hell and back but I think the writer deleted it because I spent forever looking for it and couldn't find it :n: Also 2 Drink Jon is a reference to 2 other fics I've read so his wild ass is not mine.

Supplemental Headcanons at the end.

--

Pre-Show

There was somebody new at the Institute. 

He was short and dark with black hair neatly trimmed and styled. A pair of browline glasses perched in front of wide brown eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him.

“Hey, uh, Tim,” Martin whispered as he leaned over to where his coworker was digging through a drawer, “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, “Oh shit, he’s cute.”

“Not helpful, Tim.”

“Um, I think he might be Daniel’s replacement. I think his name is Joe or something,” Tim swallowed, “I wonder what modeling agency Bouchard raided for him.”

Martin elbowed him in the ribs hard, his face going as red as his hair, “Shut up!”

“But look at him, Martin! He has to have a skincare routine an hour long and don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those trousers are bloody tailored. I see you looking at his arse!”

“SHUT UP!”

”What are you two fighting about now?”

Both researchers jumped away from each other as Sasha popped up behind them.

“Hot new guy,” Tim said, earning another jab and a hiss.

Sasha looked at Martin and grinned, “Short, scrawny, Persian, and angry?”

“He’s Persian?” Martin stuttered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, I got to talk to him during his follow up interview. Smart guy but kind of grumpy and super awkward. We got talking about foriegn food and he offered to give me his grandma’s recipe for chelow kababs,” Sasha said.

“What’s his name.” Tim asked, looking back at where the new guy was glaring at a row of filing cabinets with several drawers ajar.

“Jonathan Sims.”

--

Pre Episode 44

Basira watched as Sims limped away with the tape clutched to his chest like a lifeline before sighing and heading out to the car where Daisy was waiting.

“Well?” Daisy asked, “How’s our favorite murderer?”

Basira swatted her feet off the dash, “He looks like he hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and recently got hit by a car.”

“I wasn’t asking about his nasty, worm-eaten face, Basira,” Daisy said, “Does he know we’re watching him?”

“I don’t think so -put your seatbelt on- it seems like he’s more invested in what’s on those tapes for now. I get the feeling he’s more worried about watching the people he works with than us.”

“What a sad little librarian. I’m looking forward to how he managed to kill Robinsen without getting his ass whipped.”

“She was old.”

“Yeah, but Sims looks like he’d get knocked out by a light breeze even before he got munched on by some nasty fucking bugs. Did you see the surveillance from Robinsen’s initial investigation? I went back through to track Sims and watched him struggle move a box that was in front of a filing cabinet for a solid twenty minutes; the big ginger guy had to move it for him.”

“That’s-” Basira snorted, “That’s pathetic.”

Daisy grinned, “He has to be one manipulative bastard to get anything done.”

“Is that your theory?”

“I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“He gives you the puppy eyes once and now you’re smuggling him tapes from the evidence locker? I have never known the great Basira Hussain to ever cave to a suspect’s wishes in my life- and don’t say it’s to keep a closer eye on him. We have less illegal tactics for that.”

Basira opened her mouth to argue but found that Daisy had a point. She really only gave into suspects if the circumstances were dire. This was technically classed as a low priority case.

What was going on here? 

--

Post Episode 76

Melanie flopped dramatically onto Georgie's couch and let out a long winded sigh.

"Oh?" Georgie asked from the kitchen door.

Melanie sat up slightly to let her sit down before plopping her head down on Georgie's thigh, "I had to go talk to Sims at the Institute again."

"How's Jon?"

"A fucking bastard is what he is."

"Well I knew that," Georgie laughed, gently beginning to brush through Melanie's hair with her fingers.

"I don't know, he's was wierdly defensive and I think he was trying to gaslight me about one of his new assistants."

Georgie paused her brushing, "I haven't seen Jon in a while but that seems… out of character for him. He's a grump, sure, but I've never known him to be a bully -on purpose that is."

"Yeah, well…"

The pair lapsed into a tense silence.

"Would it make you feel better if I show you a picture of Jon in university that he is very embarrassed about," Georgie ventured after a few minutes, "He's still mad I have it.~"

Melanie twisted her head back and grinned, instantly breaking the tension and sitting up to look at the phone screen presented to her.

On it was a picture of Jon passed out, mouth wide open and drooling, on the ugliest couch she'd ever seen.

"He still owns that couch by the way," Georgie said. Melanie waved a hand in her face to silence her as she took in the details.

Jon was in a pink crop top that Melanie was sure she'd seen in Georgie's closet, union jack boxers, gladiator sandals, and The Admiral was planted square on his chest, though he was about half the size of the fluffball that roamed the flat now. Surrounding them where piles of papers and books on the paranormal.

Melanie began to cackle.

"Our friend group used to call him '2 Drink Jon' and this was after he'd done four shots in the kitchen and decided to lecture us on how ghosts are bullshit and he could beat one in a fist fight," Georgie elaborated, "I'm still not sure when he ended up in that outfit but honestly, if we had recorded his rant he probably could have used it for his Masters thesis."

Melanie wheezed into her shoulder as tears began to stream down her face.

"2 Drink Jon was actually a lot more charismatic than sober Jon. This one time he almost had us convinced that he could talk to plants after two gin and tonics, granted we were also drunk but-,"

"Stop, please," Melanie wheezed, "I'm dying."

"Gosh, one of these days I'll have to tell you about tequila and the alien conspiracy. Randall could almost recite the whole speech from memory."

Melanie fell off the couch.

--

Post Episode 109

Julia and Trevor exchanged a look as the Archivist powered through the spiciest Thai food they could find without even breaking a sweat. 

It was supposed to be a joke, spiking Jon's food, the cashier had even given them a panicked look at the restaurant and Trevor's eyes had been watering the whole way back to the safe house. They'd even waited by the door in case Jon tried to make a break for the case of water bottles in the car but he just unwrapped the plastic fork and dug in without even asking for a drink.

Julia picked at her own food but couldn't quite manage to eat it and glanced back at Jon, "Are you sure you don't need a water or anything?"

Jon looked up for a moment, his eyes were more alive than they had been all day and practically sparkled in the shitty fluorescent light. He shook his head and instead reached for another packet of chili sauce to add to his food.

"What the hell is he," Trevor whispered to Julia in horror.

"I don't know but he's definitely not normal."

--

During Episode 132

Daisy had misjudged Jon. She'd grossly misjudged him.

She flexed her fingers around his, ignoring the way the sand dug into her skin, and gently pulled him closer. The man she'd called prey gave her a soft smile and compiled, pressing against her side like she'd never held a knife to his throat, like she hadn't just admitted to planning his murder before she was trapped here.

Daisy turned her head awkwardly and dug her face into his shoulder savoring the human contact, her tears soaking into his shirt.

The Hunt in her blood tried to sing, tried to fight the Buried, "Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect", it echoed faintly.

Jon said something and began to move, pulling Daisy forward along with him.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

Hours past as they shimmied through the coffin, the pain of being scraped and crushed was overpowered by the sheer ecstasy of moving more than an inch every few days.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

There was a door, Jon tucked himself under her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the blinding lights of the institute. She ducked her head down to his shoulder again and grimaced as her joints popped and groaned.

"Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think-"

Daisy looked up to the person she thought she’d never see again and smiled.

"Hi."

--

Post Episode 132

Martin had horrible timing really. He just needed to pee, was that really too much to ask?

Of course it was. The universe hated him.

So instead of slipping into the private bathroom upstairs which was magically broken, he had to go down a level and walk in on Jon shaking dirt out of his clothes.

Martin was going to die here but at least he'd die happy.

Jon didn't even seem to register that someone else had joined him (thank the Lonely) so Martin took a second to sneak a guilty look before darting back out and hiding for 40 years.

Jon was painfully thin. Martin got the idea that he could count every vertebrae and rib if he was allowed and even at a glance he could spot the sunken area where at least one rib was now missing.

Worm scars and burns were peppered up his back along with a few moles and freckles. Little red marks circled his chest in a way that Martin immediately recognized as being from the black fabric crumpled at Jon's feet.

And to top it all off, much to Martin's delight, were a set of three black gears tattooed down Jon's right shoulder blade. Sasha had mentioned once that she had gone out for drinks with Jon when he first started and they'd managed to get on the topic of tattoos. Tim had spent months trying to get Jon to show it to him before 'giving up'.

Martin stepped out and stood in the hall for a moment, red faced and giddy, before stumbling off in search of another bathroom.

--

Somewhere between Episode 132-154

"Hey, guys?" Melanie called.

Daisy and Basira glanced up to see Melanie holding a giant plate of the best smelling food they'd seen in weeks. Steam wafted up into her very confused face.

"Did either of you make this? I went to ask Martin and I can't find him."

"I didn't make it," Basira said, "Daisy?"

"I once made spaghetti and lit it on fire.

Basira grimaced and walked up to Melanie, "Kebabs, Tahdig rice, flat bread, and jam cookies. Those are Iranian dishes, or Middle Eastern at least.”

Daisy looked at Basira, "How do you know that?"

"Took a foreign cuisine course focused on middle eastern food a few years ago," Basira said as she made her way to the kitchen area with the group in tow.

Sitting on the table were three more huge plates of food and two empty plates sitting in the sink. Martin was standing next to the table with pure confusion on his face.

"Did you make this?"

Martin jumped and looked at the group, "Uh, no? I really only do pastas… this is a little outside my skill set. I think-"

"It could be a trap," Daisy interrupted, "Maybe it's laced with something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Could be, but who would go to this effort, the Web?" Basira said.

"Guys, it was probably-"

"It was the Archivist!" Helen exclaimed from behind them, somehow having opened her door without making a sound and scaring the shit out of them, "He is an excellent cook."

"Bullshit," Melanie wheezed, setting her plate down before she dropped it.

"No, she right," Martin sighed, "Jon actually cooked something similar a few years ago for a company thing. He gave this whole speech about how grandparents immigrated here from Iran, well Persia at the time, and his grandma made him learn to cook what she called 'real food'."

"You mean to tell me that Jonathan Sims, the skinniest guy I have ever met, can cook like this," Basira said in disbelief before cautiously sitting down at the table with the rest following suit.

"He called it his grandmother's curse," Helen provided cheerfully, "He said that no matter what he does,  he always makes far more than he needs and never has people around to give it to. So he just never cooks."

"You talked to him?" Melanie asked. Daisy began to pick at a plate and made a sound of confusion and delight at the taste.

"Oh yes, he even let me help by getting things off high shelves!"

"This is amazing," Daisy said in disbelief before grabbing a fork and beginning to eat in earnest.

"It is! Jon and I had a lovely chat and I'm not much for 'real' food these days but he really convinced me!" Helen declared, spinning back around to re enter her door, "And I must say it was delightful."

"Huh," Basira shrugged and began to eat.

Not bad.

--

Post Episode 159

For the second time since he woke up, Martin pinched himself. He had to be dreaming, the smaller body smooshed up against his chest and the boney limbs clinging to him had to be a figment of his imagination.

Jon huffed in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Martin before settling again. A few stray rays of the morning sun slipped through the blinds highlighting Jon’s gray hairs and the raised edges of scars that trailed along his skin.

Gently, Martin carded his hand through the wild mess of hair, marveling at how soft it was despite everything. Jon sighed, leaning into the touch without stirring.

He could stay like this forever, with Jon safe in his arms and the dangers of the world outside, away from his happiness.

"Wha' time?" Jon mumbled, stretching before re-draping himself over Martin. He looked up and the light caught his eyes in a way that Martin could see all the blue heterochromatic spots in Jon's left eye through dark, heavy lashes. 

"Doesn't matter," Martin whispered as he pulled him closer, "We have all the time in the world."

--

Supplemental Headcanons: - Jon is a 3rd gen Persian/Iranian immigrant. His grandparents on his dad's side moved to England post WWII. (Persia became Iran in 1979) They took the last name Sims during immigration. - His mother was full blooded English. - He can out cook 87% of the local grandma's when he really gets into it - He built an unnaturally high tolerance to salt and spice as a kid to keep people from taking his lunch or trying to mess with his food and now thoroughly enjoys spicy foods. - Jon does care a lot but his grandma never taught him to show it in any other way but tolerance and mute acceptance. It's hard to know where you stand with Jon because of this. - Was a runner while in school. - Was forced to take violin lessons as a kid and Georgie taught him some piano in University. - Jon is and always has been feral little man though he is more bark than bite (unless he's under the influence of something). He learned it from his grandma. - He's one of those drunks that often wanders/ runs away from his drinking group. He has strong drunk college girl tendencies. - He changed his middle name to Ulysses when he got his first name legally changed because he’s a nerd. - Jon has had the same pen pal since he was 10. They are one of the few points of normalcy he has left. - Jon and Daisy are trans mlm and wlw solidarity. Fight me.

Fun Fact: Sims means "the Listener" which seems almost too on the nose.

[sailorportia]

Femslash February 2020, Day 4

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Pairing: Glimmer/Catra Prompt: Punk/Pastel

approx. 2,100 words, rated T

also available on AO3

Summary:  Catra and Glimmer are forced to work together on a group assignment, and it's almost a competition to see who's more annoyed by this arrangement.

Tags: University AU, Swearing, Alcohol, Drunken Kissing

Catra was holding court in her corner of the student union building's cafeteria. "I can't believe Professor Prime stuck me with Sparkles for a group project!" She slammed her fist on the table, rattling everyone's lunch trays. "Anyone else would've been better than Sparkles!"

"I'm confused," Entrapta said, picking up tiny sandwiches from her lunchbox. "Who's Sparkles? Oh, do we have a new friend!?"

"Oh, um, that's what she calls Glimmer," Scorpia said. "Because, well, y'know," she leaned in and whispered, "Catra doesn't like her very much."

"Oooooooh!"

Catra ignored the exchange, lost in her own petty misery. "That girl is the worst. Total control freak. She never shuts up in class, always arguing with the profs and making everything a debate. She's not even that smart. I bet she only got in because her mother's got tenure." Her hatred toward Glimmer in no way stemmed from the fact that princess was now closer to Adora than Catra was. They were even roommates now. Not that it bothered Catra at all.

"Um, just out curiosity," Scorpia said, "this might not be important, but have you ever really talked to her? Like, other than insulting each other?"

Catra gave her a blank look. "Why would I need to do that? I don't need to learn her favourite colour to know I hate her." Knowing Sparkles, it was probably pink. Or worse, hot pink.

Entrapta frowned. "That's not a very scientific approach."

"I'm a political science major. Everyone knows that's a fake science."

"Okay," Scorpia said. "But she's one of Adora's friends. Isn't that enough reason to try to get along with her?"

"I don't want to get along with Adora's friends." Catra uttered the words as if they were a rule. If Scorpia and Entrapta had been feeling sassy, they could've pointed out that Catra was also one of Adora's friends, and that would explain why she didn't get along with herself.

"I'm just saying," Scorpia said with a shrug. "Maybe if you give her a chance, you'll find something you like about her. Or, uh, something you don't hate at least. Who knows? You might have more in common than you think."

"As if!" Catra and Glimmer couldn't have been less alike. First off, their appearances were complete opposites. Catra's punk style had attitude, conveyed through dark colours, unruly hair, spiked accessories, the patches on her jacket and other modifications to her clothing, such as stylish, strategically placed holes she tore with her own claws. Glimmer, in contrast, was a pastel disaster whose brightly-coloured outfits hurt to look at. Her hair was literally pink, like she was made of bubblegum or something. Secondly, Glimmer was a sanctimonious goody two-shoes, whereas Catra just didn't give a fuck. No way in hell were they going to get along.

"Well, you better figure out how you're going to talk to Glimmer," Entrapta said, "because she's headed this way."

A group of three approached their table: Adora and Bow, led by a pissed off Glimmer. Catra might have found it intimidating if she weren't wearing the softest possible shade of lavender. Her new haircut was something of an improvement. She was almost hot—but Catra wasn't into bossy girls.

"Hey, Catra," Adora said nervously as the group reached the table.

Glimmer cut Catra off before she could say her customary greeting. "If you screw up this assignment for me, I'm going ruin you."

Bow grimaced. "Glimmer! We literally just went over this!"

"You could at least pretend to be nice," Adora said.

"Why do I have to be nice?" Glimmer pointed at Catra accusingly. "If you heard the way she talks in class you'd get it. She's a war criminal waiting to happen."

Catra snorted. "Says the girl who's a shill for the monarchy."

Bow stepped between them. "Guys, guys, cool it. We don't want another fist fight on our hands."

"It was one time!" Glimmer protested. "And it was hardly my fault. Nyan Cat over here was being a belligerent drunk."

"Don't blame me for that incident," Catra said. "You threw the first punch after like six Shirley Temples."

"Who wouldn't punch you when you're so obnoxious?" Glimmer let out an agonized groan. "Just get your ass to me and Adora's dorm room tonight by six o'clock, or I'll come looking for you."

"Whatever." Catra stuck her tongue out as Glimmer stalked off, her friends running off after her. She didn't need any more proof that the two of them were incompatible at every level. Maybe she'd fail this assignment on purpose just to piss her off.

Glimmer was already regretting her decision to work on the group project in her dorm room. Her reasoning had been that she didn't want to be seen in public with Catra, but she hadn't anticipated how much having Catra in her living space made her skin crawl.

They were sitting on Glimmer's side of the room. Catra had attempted to make herself at home on Adora's bed, but Glimmer put that to a stop immediately.

"You don't shed, do you?" Glimmer asked, eyeing Catra's wild mane of fur. "I don't want to be picking your hairs off my clothes for the next month."

"That's an anti-cat microaggression," Catra said. "Not very politically correct of you. Besides, it can't be as bad as all the glitter you leave behind, Sparkles."

"That's not my name! And I do not wear that much glitter." Sure, Glimmer preferred sparkly eye shadow some days, and some of her clothes did have glittery details on them, but glitter wasn't her thing. "You're in no place to criticize how I look." She sneered at Catra's outfit, specifically the tears in her pants. "Nice jeans, were they 50% off?"

"Haha. Very funny. I'm sure you bought your clothes at 200% the price just to show off how bougie you are."

"Listen you—" Glimmer groaned through her teeth. She knew Catra was just trying to get under her skin. All she had to do was be the bigger person and let this go. "The sooner we start this assignment, the sooner we'll be done and out of each other's hair."

"Finally something we can agree on," Catra said. "What's the topic again?"

"We're supposed to pick one from this list." Glimmer retrieved the relevant paper from her desk and read them off. "There's one about arguments for and against raising the minimum wage."

"Eh? That sounds dangerously like math. Economics sucks."

"Fair. Next is one about the role of money in politics."

"Still too much math."

"Suggestions for electoral reform?

Catra laughed. "Maybe get rid of elections altogether? Then everyone's equally unhappy with the result."

Glimmer could've sworn she had some patience, but it was running out faster than she'd anticipated. "There's one about the ethics of torture."

"That one's easy. Whatever gets the job done is fine with me."

Never mind writing an assignment together, they were never going to find a topic they could agree on due to Catra having the moral centre of a Saturday morning cartoon villain. "Torture doesn't even work! The premise is flawed."

"Really? It's working on me right now."

Glimmer groaned. "Is this a joke to you? This assignment is for 10% of our mark! You might not care about your own future, but I do."

Catra smirked. "What's wrong? Afraid that Professor Mommy will be disappointed if her little princess flunks a class?"

"You don't have any idea what it's like studying at a college where your mother is one of the professors. Having to measure up to those expectations all the time."

"Hey, at least people expect something from you. You can't imagine what it's like to grow up in Adora's perfect shadow."

"Yeah, well now she's my perfect roommate, and I'm going to lose it if I have to hear one more time that Adora got on the dean's list last year and I didn't."

"Oh yeah? Well I would've gotten on the list too if I didn't have to deal with Professor Hordak's inferiority complex."

The conversation carried on way longer than it should've. It turned out the only way they could avoid bitching at each other was by bitching to each other instead. Before long they ordered a pizza and cracked open a couple of cold ones, the assignment lying forgotten on Glimmer's desk.

By the time they ran out of things to complain about, they were both a little beyond tipsy. They had moved to sitting on Glimmer's bed, leaning against each other. Glimmer was very aware of the fact that she had never been this close to Catra before, physically or emotionally. Not wanting to linger on those thoughts, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey, is it true that you wore a tux to your high school prom?"

Catra smirked. She put her empty beer can down and got out her phone. "Feast your eyes."

Feast, Glimmer did. She was tempted to ask Catra to send her the pictures. "Daaaaaaaaaaamn," Glimmer said. "Adora's so lucky. I went to mine with Bow as a friend-date, but she got to dance with the hottest girl at the prom."

If they were any farther apart, she wouldn't have picked up on the other girl's reaction: a low, rumbling sound in her chest.

"Oh my god." Glimmer couldn't believe her ears. "Are you purring?"

"No!" Catra stuffed her phone back in her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest, as if that would cover up the sound she'd already made. "You're imagining things. All that glitter must've gone to your head."

"Oh, looks like someone isn't used to hearing people say nice things about her." This was too good. "So that's how I get under your skin."

Catra's face looked like it couldn't decide if she were furious or embarrassed. "Screw off, Sparkles."

"Aw, you can dish it out but you can't take it? That's so cute." Glimmer honestly didn't know why she was winding Catra up. Maybe she wanted to see what would happen when she finally sprung.

Catra stood up, but didn't step away from the bed. "Isn't Adora going to be coming back soon? I should probably go..."

Glimmer grabbed Catra's arm and pulled her back down. "We've talked enough about Adora. Let's talk about you."

"I don't want to talk," Catra said. "I don't want Adora to walk in and see me getting along with you!"

"You care too much about what Adora thinks. Are you that hung up on your old prom date?"

"I am not! Screw you! I'm always getting the girls. I don't need to chase after Adora. I've got pull!"

Glimmer smirked. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Catra had hit her limit. The cat finally pounced. "You asked for it."

In one swift motion, Catra pushed Glimmer down and pinned her to the bed. There was a moment's pause before their lips crashed together.

Oh my god, Glimmer thought as she tasted the alcohol on Catra's breath, is Catra kissing me? Am I kissing her back? Even being tipsy wasn't enough to excuse this. But Glimmer didn't really care. She needed to blow off steam, and making out with a bitchy catgirl serviced that need.

The kissing kept getting messier and messier, which was a nice analogue to their interpersonal relationship. Glimmer vaguely acknowledged that she'd never live it down if anyone found out about this, but it wasn't like Catra was going to brag about it either. They were in the clear—

"Oh my god. I didn't expect you guys to get along this well."

Glimmer and Catra sobered up instantly. They broke apart, Catra springing away as if she'd suffered an electric shock. In absolute horror they turned in unison to see Adora standing in the doorway, barely containing her amusement.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Glimmer said.

"It's actually exactly what it looks like," Catra said. "Kill me."

Adora laughed so hard she snorted. "Looks like you guys had a party," she said, looking at the empty pizza box and beer cans. "You guys must've finished up that assignment pretty quickly." She raised an eyebrow at the sight of the pair's blank looks. "You did work on the assignment, right?"

As if a switch had been thrown, Glimmer and Catra were back at each other's throats as if nothing had happened. "This is all your fault!"

[beckzorz]

Spring Break (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 5905 Prompt: “Try that again and you’ll wind up dead.” Summary: A collision in JFK International Airport leaves Bucky Barnes with the wrong phone. You can still take photos of your vacation on his, but the nuclear codes are a slightly bigger problem. Warnings: Swearing, lingerie photos A/N: Happy spring break (for me at least)! This was written for @ruckystarnes‘ 2K writing challenge—congrats and thanks so much for hosting!! I had a ton of fun :D Thank you also to my wonderful friend @kentuckybarnes for beta reading <3 Hope you enjoy!!

He raced through the terminal, heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears. The device in his hand felt heavy, heavier than its half-dozen ounces. It wasn’t the black and charcoal case weighing it down, but the knowledge that it held more deadly information than even Bucky Barnes was comfortable holding.

Bucky scooted around a large tour group, taking the opportunity to shed his garish jacket and toss it under a nearby row of chairs. He glanced down at the phone in his hand and swore under his breath; the battery was flashing, its life all but drained away.

Then it died.

Bucky cursed for real this time, his eyes glued to the now-black screen. How long would it take to boot back up? He chanced a look over his shoulder as he ran on, but his pursuers were nowhere in sight. At least he had—

Slam.

Bucky grunted as he pitched forward, his legs tangling with someone else’s as the phone in his hand went flying. He caught himself on his right arm—the left would have made a very noticeable noise—and rolled away from the woman gasping under him, snatching up his phone.

“Sorry,” he blurted. He barely registered her wince, too busy scanning the terminal.

“Fucking hell,” she gasped. She clambered to her knees with the help of her friend and grabbed her own phone, its case also muted dark colors. “Watch where you’re going, will you?”

Bucky’s ears caught the telltale sound of his pursuers—still too far to be seen, but still far too close for comfort. His eyes flitted briefly over the woman’s face. She was more angry than hurt, at least.

“Sorry,” he said again, and then he ran on.

By the time he made it through security—thank god for his fresh SHIELD badge—Natasha was waiting in her corvette. He dove into the passenger seat. A charge cord was already plugged in, waiting.

“Go, go,” he urged.

“Nice to see you too,” Natasha said drily, but she pulled away from the curb, weaving expertly between cars as Bucky fumbled with the charge cord. He waited with bated breath for the lock screen to come up.

When it did, Bucky gaped. Instead of the plan black background he’d expected, there was a background image. A painting? Was that Monet?

A text message notification slid onto the screen.

Disha: Have fun girl!!! Take lots of pictures of the beach for me while I wither away in the library 😂 😂 😂

Bucky’s eyes bugged out.

“What the fuck?”

—

“I can’t believe we made it,” Mira said. She sagged in her seat, kicking off her flats. “First the train gets delayed, then you have to run into a fucking maniac—”

“Hey,” you said, “he ran into me.” You brandished your arm; you could already feel a bruise forming on your elbow.

“It’s not like you were watching your step.” Mira snorted and leaned forward to peer out the window. “How long before we take off, d’you think?”

“As long as it’s soon, I don’t really care.” You lean back and spread your hands, painting a picture in your mind. “All I want is to be lying under an umbrella with the waves lapping at my feet in less than twenty-four hours. Is that too much to ask?”

“After four months of a New York winter? Hell no.”

You giggled along with Mira. The plane finally drove onto the runway, and in minutes, you were in the skies.

—

“I’m sorry, you what?”

Bucky kicked the doorpost, scowling. “My phone got swapped with some—some girl’s.”

“How the hell did that happen, Buck?”

“They were on my tail,” Bucky snapped. “Airports are busy when they haven’t been evacuated, Steve!”

Steve groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah… Well, now what? Where is it? That phone’s got so many hot secrets on it that someone’s bound to realize we’ve lost it sooner than later.”

“That’s the problem.” Bucky screwed up his face, dreading the inevitable reaction. “I did too good a job encrypting my phone. I’ve got no idea where it is.”

Steve’s eyes popped. He grabbed his hair until it all stood on end. “Bucky! What the fuck! There are nuclear codes on your phone right now!”

“Think I forgot, punk?” Bucky scoffed and flung himself into the nearest chair. “Trust me, if I look calm it’s only so I don’t bust any more holes in Stark’s fancy-ass walls.” He clenched his hands together, the knuckles on his right hand white with tension. “I need the footage from the airport. If we can figure out where she’s goin’—”

“Right.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back down. “I’ll get on it. In the meantime, figure out who this girl is. If the wrong people figure out what she’s packing, she’s gonna be in some deep trouble.”

—

“Hey, can I borrow your charger? Mine’s in the overhead bin.”

“Sure.” Mira unplugged her phone. You plugged yours in and drummed your hands on the armrest between you as you looked out over the Atlantic. Cirrus clouds floated below you, casting wispy shadows along the rippling water miles below. Germs, noisy children, and airports aside, you did love flying.

“Did you change your phone background?” Mira asked.

“Huh?” You glanced at your phone, then snatched it up with a frown. The photo you’d taken of Monet’s Water Lilies was nowhere to be seen. Just a boring black background. “No…” You pressed your thumb to the home button, but it vibrated in your hand and stayed locked. “Weird.” You tried again, rotating your thumb a millimeter this way and that until you were prompted to enter your passcode.

But that didn’t work either.

“What the hell?”

“Wait,” Mira said. She shook her finger in midair, lips parted. “That guy you ran into! He dropped his phone too! Maybe you swapped!”

“Oh nooo,” you groaned. “Fuck! What am I going to do?”

Mira snorted. “You can live without your phone for a week, silly.”

“No I can’t! I was going to take photos! I can’t grab your phone every time I want to take a picture.” Even as you spoke, you thought of something. You swiped up on the strange phone and grinned triumphantly. “Ha! I can still take photos. Whoever’s phone this is is just gonna have to deal.”

You looked out the window again. It was a perfect view—some more clouds now, and the sun hitting the waves… You angled the phone and snapped a photo.

“Do you think they have iCloud?” Mira said.

“Who knows. All I know is that I’m going to stop caring about this little misstep and start enjoying myself.” You stuffed the stranger’s phone under your leg, linked your hands behind your head, and grinned.

—

Bucky took a swig of coffee. Breaking into the stranger’s phone had been insanely easy. He wasn’t used to working with civvie tech. After putting in so much effort to cracking through actual security, this felt absurd. Did she have any idea how easy it was?

Were all civilian phones this easy to get into?

Dear lord.

He pushed the thought aside and focused back on the array of screens. He’d hooked the phone up to the computers in his room, and now it was as simple as scrolling through emails and contact lists, text message histories, photos—

Bucky choked on his coffee. It sloshed in his mug, some spilling over his fingers. He swore, but his eyes were glued to the screen.

The third-to-last picture was um. It was.

Lingerie.

The picture wasn’t even blown up; it was just there, the same size as two dozen others, almost innocent in its placement between a photo of a salad and another of some latte art. Apparently this girl—woman, dear god, she was a fucking woman alright—liked taking photos of food.

And of herself, in a mirror, barely clothed.

The fleeting glimpse he’d gotten of her in the airport had done her zero justice. A scowl was never the best introduction, but… Damn. The difference that the soft lighting and soft smile and soft skin made was fucking huge.

Bucky swallowed and closed the window. He did not need to be seeing that. Distracting, that’s what it was. Unsettling. He shifted in his seat, tugging at his pants.

Data. Right.

He started with the emails. Easy enough. Most of them were forwarded from a university—was she a student? He checked some of the opened emails. There it was—grad student union. Suspicion confirmed. He found her flight receipt in short order. Grand Cayman? He leaned back in his chair to check the calendar on the other wall. Mid-March?

Had to be spring break.

A knock came at his door as he was scanning for any information on hotels or Airbnbs.

“What?” he called.

Natasha poked her head in. “Something popped up,” she said. She held out her tablet, eyes wandering over to his screens. “Your phone’s locked, but she’s still using it.”

“Huh?”

“Camera’s still accessible,” Natasha explained. “Looks like she’s en route to—” She peered over his shoulder and passed him the tablet. “Grand Cayman.”

Bucky stared. His iCloud photos were on display. The whole screen, save the newest photo, were photos of documents he’d temporarily filched from a facility in Irkutsk Oblast. Then, at the bottom right, there was the new photo. It wasn’t Russian documents, and it certainly wasn’t from Irkutsk Oblast. Just sun on the water, with soft clouds hanging in the sky.

It looked a lot nicer than New York at the moment, that was for sure.

“Well, I knew she was gettin’ on a plane.”

“What else have you found out?” Natasha asked.

“Grad student, from the area, on vacation with a friend. Nothing about a hotel so far.”

“Maybe the friend booked it.”

Bucky hummed. Made sense. He did some more digging. The woman didn’t have a banking app on her phone.

Finally, some common sense.

“What now?” Natasha asked. She snagged his discarded mug and finished off his coffee. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can handle so much sugar.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink other people’s coffee,” he said snidely. She stuck her tongue out at him, eyes twinkling. Bucky rolled his eyes. “What now? I’m gonna figure out how to get in touch with her without being entirely creepy about it. Don’t want her freakin’ out.”

“Good luck with that,” Natasha said with snort. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, James, I’m sure it’ll be juuust fine.”

—

“Mira, this is too swanky!”

You turned in place, mouth agape. Your hotel room looked right out onto the water, the bed plenty large for both of you and the sheer curtains blowing in the breeze. And there was a table with two chairs, a mini fridge, bathrobes even…

“My dad had a lot of points on his travel rewards card,” Mira said. “And given that we’re graduating in May…” She shrugged a shoulder, smiling coyly. “We deserve a little treat.”

“Well, bless your dad!” You squeezed Mira in a tight hug, then ran to the window. The sun was low in the sky, almost skimming the horizon, light glittering off the gentle waves. “This is absolutely heaven.”

You opened up the camera on the stranger’s phone and snapped a photo of the water. You lowered the phone and bit your lip. Did the man who’d bumped into you have iCloud? Could he see the photos you were taking? So far, you’d only taken shots of the ocean. Was it safe to take a photo of yourself? It’s not like you needed one, but more than one person had asked to see pics.

Wait.

This guy had the same phone as you. That meant he had the same charger. That meant—

“Mira, can I use your phone?” you blurted.

“Uh, what for?” Mira looked up from her perch on the bed, where she was sorting through her suitcase. She’d already taken out her two bathing suits, but you ignored the cute frills in favor of sticking your hand in her face.

“I’m going to text my phone! Maybe that guy will have charged my phone by now, and then we can figure out how the hell I’m gonna get my phone back after we get home.”

“Ohhhh.” Mira proffered her phone. “Just don’t go giving him your passwords or anything,” she warned.

“Are you kidding? I’m not stupid.” You flopped down in the chair by the window, the breeze tickling your skin, and got to typing.

—

Mira: Hi, this is the person you ran into at the airport. We switched phones after you knocked us over. We should figure out how to get our phones back. Can you send me an email at [email]?

—

“Oh thank god,” Bucky muttered. He reread the text, grateful beyond words that she’d beaten him to the punch. He’d been about to send this Mira a text of his own, but couldn’t figure out how to do so without exposing himself. Now, he had an out. He opened a new browser window and sent off an email from one of his many covers, hoping his desperation wasn’t too obvious.

—

“This James guy seems pretty desperate to get his phone back,” you said. You were lying next to Mira on the bed, the BBC muted on the tv on the other side of the room. Mira, bless her, was letting you use her phone to check your email.

“Who can blame him?” Mira laughed. “Look at you!”

“Hey, these things are expensive!” You couldn’t help but giggle in return, embarrassed though you were. “Besides, pretty much everyone’s a little addicted. So what’s on the docket for tomorrow? Breakfast downstairs, then beach?”

Mira started to respond, but her jaw dropped. “Look!” she gasped.

You stared at the tv. Mira scrambled for the remote, and with the push of a button a crisp English voice piped out of the speakers.

“—engers are apparently in the midst of a scandal of their own today, as can be seen from this chase in JFK International Airport in New York. Sergeant James Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, is seen here fleeing from members of a Russian terror organization known as—”

Mira muted the television.

“What the fuck,” you breathed. You stared down at James’ phone, then back at the tv. A severe headshot of the Winter Soldier stared back at you. You’d seen his face for a second, maybe two, but there was no denying it.

You had the Winter Soldier’s phone.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped.

“Omigod, be quiet,” Mira hissed, clapping a hand over your mouth. You made frantic noises into her uncomfortably strong grip until she dropped her hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said quietly. Your shoulders were up around your ears, your bra straps digging into your skin. “I—what? What the fuck? This was almost funny before, but this?” You gestured wordlessly to the black-cased phone at your feet. “This is unreal.”

Mira reached out and picked up the phone gingerly. “I wonder what’s on here,” she mused.

“Well I don’t,” you said. “Dear god, how many state secrets are on that thing?!”

“Yes, well, of the two of us, I’m the polisci major, so…”

Mira’s cheeky grin was enough to break the tension. You chuckled, shoulders dropping a little.

“I suppose this is what I get for running late this morning.” You collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the smooth ceiling. “Mira, do you think we’ll be okay?”

Mira grabbed your hand and squeezed it fondly. “Of course we’ll be okay, babe.” She got up to turn off the lights and crawled back in beside you. “Now get some beauty sleep. We’ve got a beach day tomorrow!”

—

“Bad news, Barnes,” Tony announced. He tosses a dossier onto the briefing table. “Someone tipped off the news. BBC, CNN, Fox—they’re all over your little jaunt at JFK.”

Bucky groaned. He was tired enough—a midnight briefing was never fun, but this? Today? He’d had it. “Seriously?” He opened the folder and winced. There it was, a blurry screenshot of his little tumble to the ground. He glanced at Steve and Natasha; both of them were wincing, too. “Fuck.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Tony said. He gestured for Bucky to turn the page.

Same screenshot, but it was blown up even more. And there, easily visible, were the two phones on the floor.

“We intercepted that particular picture on the dark web an hour ago.” Tony sat on the edge of the table right next to Bucky, his foot tapping in the empty air. “There’s a race to see if you ended up with the wrong phone.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“There’s a fifty-fifty chance you snatched up the wrong phone,” Tony said. “So…” He shrugged. “They’re hedging their bets in favor of you being an absolute idiot.” Tony’s face had lost all traces of humor. “That civilian, not to mention her friend or the rest of Grand Cayman Island, is in serious danger right now. All it’s gonna take is one trigger-happy goon, and—”

“I get it!” Bucky snapped. His brain supplied him with plenty of fodder: her in her lingerie, her in a bikini, her in jeans and ankle boots like she had been at the airport, blood spreading around her in a puddle. “How fast can you get me to Grand Cayman?”

—

You woke with a lazy stretch as morning light filtered in through the curtains.

Mira was already in the shower, humming loud enough that you could hear her from bed. Her phone was charging on the far bedside table; you’d shut James’ phone off before you’d fallen asleep, not particularly interested in dealing with its existence while you were sleeping off the flight.

You padded over to the window and smiled at the view of the sun-kissed ocean. God, this place really was heaven.

A sharp buzzing from the bed disrupted the serene setting. You wandered over to Mira’s phone, curious.

Your heart leapt out of your chest. It was you calling.

You glanced at the bathroom door, blood rushing in your ears, before you snatched up Mira’s phone and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mira?”

Your breath caught at the familiar voice on the other end. “No. Is this James?”

A pause.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” James let out a low breath. “You, uh…”

“I saw the news,” you said quickly. Would he understand? You weren’t sure how much was safe to say.

“Oh. Um, good.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the charge cord. “Are you alright?” you asked.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He sounded bewildered. “Are you okay?”

“Well, my vacation just got a little more complicated, but yeah, I’m fine.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. For all that he was a fearless assassin, he was worried. It was… cute.

“I don’t think ‘a little’ quite covers it,” he said quietly.

You froze. “What do you mean?”

“I fucked up,” James said bluntly. “People are going to try and come after you.”

A shudder ran through you. You clenched your free hand into a fist, the cord cutting into your fingers. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“I’m on my way to you,” he continued.

“What?! How?”

His low chuckle cuts straight through your fear. “You said you saw the news.”

“Oh,” you say stupidly. “Right.” James Barnes, Winter Soldier, assassin, Avenger. Of course he’d figured out where you were. Hell, he had your phone. No doubt the security on a normal iPhone was nothing to a guy like that. You ran your tongue along your lips as you thought of how sturdy he’d felt barreling into you.

Mm.

“So,” James said, cutting into your thoughts. “I should be there in a few hours. Can you keep to yourself til then?”

“No way! I’m not holing myself up in my hotel room on my spring break,” you said. “I’ll lay low, sure, but—”

“You do know your life is at risk, right?”

“I’m a woman. My life is always at risk,” you snapped. “I know how to handle myself, okay?”

“You—” James cut himself off. “Listen. I obviously can’t tell you what to do, but I really don’t want your death on my conscience. Please be careful—” He broke off again.

Had he been about to say your name? You suspected so. The worry in his voice softened you. Maybe he wasn’t thinking of you specifically, but… well, it was nice to pretend. Despite the unflattering photo from the BBC, you knew the man was gorgeous. Was it so bad to imagine he cared?

“Alright,” you murmured. “I’ll be careful.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I’ll see you soon.”

—

Bucky had flown across the globe countless times. To Australia, to Irkutsk, to Antarctica. From New York to Grand Cayman in one of Tony’s jets was less than four hours.

But on the other end was a woman with guts, with an inner fire and yet enough reason to listen to his advice, with fucking lingerie photos on her phone. He shifted in his seat and stared down at the water below.

He’d never had a longer flight.

—

Three hours later, you were fuming. You couldn’t believe you’d agreed to stay inside. Mira was out on the beach below, and every so often she’d wave up at the window. She’d made friends with a gaggle of bubbly undergrads that you could hear from the hotel. You were so fucking bored from sitting here watching sitcoms and drumming your fingers on the windowsill.

Mira had understood, of course, but still, you were beyond ready to take yourself and your new bathing suit into the water. You were already dressed for the beach—sultry bathing suit, a sheer white cover-up skating along your thighs, strappy sandals to save your feet from the burning sand. Your sunglasses and floppy hat were waiting on the rumpled bed.

Dammit, when the hell was James going to get here? He’d said a few hours, and it had already been three…

If you had to wait another whole hour, you were going to scream.

You wandered over to the hallway door and peered out of the eyehole. No one. The door was double-locked. Your hand hovered by the deadlock as curiosity teased your brain. Would a little peek hurt?

The elevator dinged in the hall, and your heart leapt into your throat. You pressed your eye back against the peephole and held your breath. Two men, dressed conspicuously in dark, thick clothes, wandered slowly down the hall towards your room. They passed your door, though one of them looked straight at the peephole with narrowed eyes.

You jerked away, heart pounding. They were scoping the place out! They knew where you were!

Mira had left her phone with you in anticipation of James’ next call. You typed in the passcode with shaking fingers and locked yourself in the bathroom, hoping the strange men wouldn’t be able to hear you from the hallway. You dialed your phone number. Every ring went on forever.

Finally, James picked up.

“I’m almost there. What’s wrong?” he said without preamble.

“Oh thank god,” you whispered. You pressed a hand to your thudding heart. The edge had already come off at the sound of his soft baritone. “I think someone knows my room. Well, there’s two of them—white men, heavy clothes. Not vacationers. They were going down my hallway, but they looked right at my room…”

“Well, keep the door locked,” James said. “I assume it’s locked.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yrs. It’s double-locked. Should I stuff a chair under the doorknob too?” you asked sarcastically.

“Might as well,” he said. There was a touch of humor in his voice. “No harm in being thorough.”

A little giggle burst out of you, and you stuffed your knuckles in your mouth to stifle yourself. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Barnes,” you teased, voice low.

His breath hitched, and a sudden flush spread across your face and down your neck. Did you really just say that?

Oops.

“Right,” he said, voice slightly strangled. “Well, I’ll be there in five. Don’t get killed before then.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Put the chair under the doorknob. I’ll call when I’m there.”

He hung up. You cradled the phone to your ear, longing to hear his voice again.

Five minutes.

For James Barnes, you could wait that long.

—

Bucky’s disguise was good. He looked like a buff hipster. Round sunglasses, a v-neck white tee, fitted jeans with more stretch than their appearance let on, and his customary black boots rounded it all out. The backpack was all straight lines, and far too small for a reasonable amount of stuff. He’d had to leave most of his favorite guns behind. Still, he had a few knives tucked away, not to mention the pistols in easy reach.

Then there was the holographic cover for his left arm, though Tony, the bastard, had given it a tattoo that Bucky never would have considered. Watercolor flowers and vines crawled up from the pretend wrist right up to his shoulder. Bucky didn’t even know if his real skin would hold a tattoo, what with the advanced healing. Would his body just flush the ink away?

He wasn’t particularly interested in finding out.

Did she like tattoos?

Bucky shook his head as he climbed out of the rental car and squinted up at the swanky hotel. He whistled under his breath. Damn, this was almost as fancy as the sort of places Tony liked. No doubt the rooms all had nice, big beds…

“Enough,” he muttered to himself.

He eased his way through the milling tourists and headed straight past reception. No one questioned him. He looked like he belonged. He made sure of it.

Bucky bypassed the elevators for the sweeping staircase and climbed up two steps at a time. Her room was on the second floor, down the western corridor. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the two men she’d described loitering halfway down the hall. He ducked down a side hallway before they noticed him, heart hammering in his chest.

It was one thing to give her advice over the phone. Seeing two men at her door, men he recognized from his Irkutsk Oblast mission?

This was something else entirely.

He knew almost nothing about her, but what he did know—and what he’d seen—painted a picture he wasn’t likely to soon forget. If something happened to her, with him so damn close…

No.

Bucky whipped off the sunglasses and hooked them in his collar. He slid a semi-automatic pistol out of his belt and let out a slow breath as he turned off the safety. He let the memory of her face flicker in his mind one last time before he pushed it aside, saving it for later.

A bang echoed down the hallway.

Bucky ran silently down the hall. Neither man had noticed him yet. They were clambering inside the room, forty feet away, now twenty, and then the taller one glanced over.

His eyes widened comically.

Bucky fired at the man’s kneecaps in rapid succession. He collapsed with a howl, curling up into a fetal position. The other leapt inside the room with a grunt. Bucky covered the last few meters and skidded to a stop by the bust-open door, eyes wide and gun at the ready.

—

The lamp shattered against the shorter goon’s head just as he jumped to his feet.

He wavered in place. You scampered back breathlessly, snatching up James’ phone and scanning the room for another weapon.

Then the goon collapsed face-down at your feet. You sagged in relief, and then you realized someone else was there.

In the open doorway, behind the knocked-over chair and through the open door, stood James. His eyes were wide as he took you in. You stared back at him, lips parted in surprise. He looked totally different than the last time you’d seen him. He looked… suspiciously like a hipster.

Your lips twitched. You slapped your free hand over your mouth before you burst out laughing. This—this was James Barnes, Winter Soldier?

No way.

James’s lips twitched.

“Well, nice to see you too,” he said, smiling. He turned to grab the man from the hallway, giving you a perfect view of his ass in those tight pants. You swallowed as he dragged the whimpering man in.

“You’re getting blood on the carpets,” you told him.

“Eh, we’ll leave a big tip.”

The whimpering man wriggled against James’ hold. James tossed him against the wall and shut the splintered door, double-locking it and setting the chair back under the doorknob.

As his back was turned, the still-conscious goon started reaching in his belt. You rolled your eyes.

“Ahem,” you said.

James turned and placed a well-aimed kick to the man’s busted knee. “Try that again and you’ll wind up dead,” he warned. His low growl sent an involuntary shudder through you that—thank god—he didn’t seem to notice. He dragged the unconscious man, the one you’d so excellently knocked out, beside him.

“Want something to tie them up with?” you asked.

James lit on you with such a bright grin your heart skipped a beat. Hipster disguise or not, the man was gorgeous.

“So thoughtful, too,” he murmured. “Thanks, doll.”

A blush rose to your cheeks as you grabbed Mira’s charge cord and tossed it to him. He caught it deftly and tied the goons’ hands together between their backs.

James stood back and crossed his arms as he looked down at the two men on the carpet. “Nice to see you two again,” he said, conversationally. “What brings you here, Yudin?”

The tall one, Yudin, spat at James, who tutted and shook his head. In a flash, his left hand was at Yudin’s throat, stretching his neck uncomfortably high.

You blink, confusion racketing through you as you stare at the pale skin and the watercolor tattoo of James’ left arm. Doesn’t the Winter Soldier have a metal arm? Is the whole thing fake? Did he get a new arm?

“Talk,” James growled.

“Your—phone,” Yudin croaked. “They thought—”

“Who?”

“Общество змей,” Yudin gasped. He wriggled in James’ grip. James threw him back to the floor.

“Спасибо.” He kicked Yudin on the side of the head; the Russian collapsed in a silent heap.

At last, James turned back to you. His sculpted face was lined with concern, and you realized belatedly that your hands were shaking slightly. You laughed nervously and clutched James’ phone tighter.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes on your face.

“Well, they’re the ones tied up and unconscious, so yes, I think I am.” You let out a slow breath and sat heavily on the bed, James’ phone tucked between your legs. “Thank you, James. You came just in time.”

“Almost too late,” he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, gave the goons a last look-over, and came to stand in front of you. You gazed up at him, heart racing, as he studied you. He reached a hand out, but it fell back before it touched your face. “They didn’t get to you?”

“No,” you said. You swallowed. He was so close you could practically feel his body heat. Your eyes darted along his body, from the possibly fake tattoo to his thick chest and the pulse point at his neck. Warmth tickled at you, from your face to your neck and down your body. “They didn’t get to me.”

You did, though.

James bit his lip, his eyes as hungry as you felt. Only now did you realize how exposed you really were. There he was, pistol tucked into his belt, fully dressed, while you were in a flimsy cover-up and a bathing suit that showed all too much.

From the look in his eyes, you wondered if to him, it showed all too little.

A fresh wave of heat flooded your face, and you finally looked away. Meekly, you held out his phone.

“Huh? Oh.”

James took his phone from your hands, the brief brush of your fingers electric. Did he feel it? You couldn’t tell. You were afraid to look, afraid that all the feelings swirling inside you were affecting you alone.

But James put a finger under your chin and tilted your face up. His eyes were bright, a flush high in his cheeks. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“It was worth it,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, but before you could speak he ducked to press his lips to yours.

Roaring filled your ears as you gasped into James’ kiss. His hand slid around the back of your neck, hot and heavy against your skin. His lips were like fire. You grabbed hold of his shirt, desperate for purchase. You fell back, legs still dangling off the bed, and tugged James down with you. He grunted, caught himself on his other hand, but he didn’t let go of you and he definitely didn’t stop kissing you. He ran his tongue along your lips, prompting a moan. Only then did he pull away.

If his eyes had been bright before, they were smoldering now. You swallowed and pressed your hands against the broad planes of his chest.

“Totally worth it,” you agreed breathlessly.

James’ answering grin was brighter than the sun. You traced the shape of his mouth with your eyes, committing it to memory, but then he was kissing you again, and you realized there was no way you could ever forget the feel of his mouth on yours.

When you broke the kiss, desperate for air, he hovered with his mouth a hair’s breadth from yours. You lay dizzy beneath him, one hand trailing along his torso while the other tucked his hair behind his ear.

“I thought you seemed a little desperate for your phone back,” you murmured.

He dropped his head against your shoulder and chuckled. “Yeah…” He rolled to lie on his side next to you, one hand propping his head up as the other reached into his back pocket. “Here. I’ve got yours, fully charged.”

You squealed happily and grabbed your phone. Lots of unread texts, but it still had the Monet lockscreen, and it opened under your thumbprint without question.

“Oh, thank you so much, James!” You kissed him again, brief but happy.

“Call me Bucky?” he asked.

You glanced at him, still smiling. “Alright. Bucky.” Then you remembered what you’d said not even fifteen minutes before. A coy smirk grew on your face. You blinked innocently up at him, one finger tapping your chin. “Are you sure you don’t prefer Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky positively growled. He grabbed you by the waist and dragged you up the bed, eyes burning as he settled on his hands and knees over you. Every last ounce of air left your lungs as he dipped his head to suck a mark against your collarbone. By the time he pulled away, you were putty in his hands.

“Doll,” he said, voice thick and his eyes carrying a world of meaning, “you are about to find out.”

A/N: I don’t speak Russian, so it might be wrong! It translates to “Serpent Society” (which is a canon Marvel evil organization) and “Thanks.”

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think :D

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Prologue

1550 words

The pub was absolutely buzzing tonight, but then it was a Friday. Everyone was letting loose after a long week. The booths around the outside and the smaller clusters of tables and chairs in the middle were all full of locals enjoying their evening. The stage at the far end of the pub was taken up by a group of four lads, two of which were in your business class at University. They were the band you had recommended to your boss, hoping to add a little something different to the Friday night's. They had been a hit and you had been run off your feet, you couldn't wait for the night to end.

It was nearing 10pm and you needed to grab some more change from the safe in the office. Checking with Luke and Jasper that they would ok for a few ninutes, you made your way down the corridor away from the bar. Grabbing the change from the safe you shoved the money in the front of your apron pocket, and quickly turned off the light in the office and left.

"Thanks love, that's kind of you to say." You heard a lad further up the corridor say. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go."

The girl in front of him, wearing a trashy red plastic looking dress didn't seem to understand personal space. She was leaning in and whispering to him, he didn't however look impressed.

"Yep, I'm sure you do. I'm just heading to the loo though, so no but thanks." He said, trying to be as polite as he could. However you could hear the frustration in his voice.

As you got closer, you recognised him. The lights in the corridor hadn't helped you get a clear look at him from by the office, but you could now see he was getting flustered. It was the singer/songwriter Niall Horan.

You knew who he was obviously, your niece had been a big fan of One Direction before they went on hiatus. His songs were always being played on the radio and you'd seen the articles about his recent tour. Gone was the blonde haired boy, instead he was now a 25 year old man.

Something just didn't sit right with you though, and you couldn't just walk past them.

"Hey love, what's your name?" You ask the clearly intoxicated girl as you approached them both. Niall looked up and his face was full of relief when he saw your bar uniform.

He had needed saving.

"Cassidy." She managed to mumble out, the strong smell of Jaeger on her breath. She must be part of the hen party that had ordered so many Jaeger bombs tonight that you had cut them off. You had a strict policy of not letting people get too drunk, it only ended up causing problems for you and was dangerous for them.

"Well Cassidy, I don't think Niall here is appreciating your drunken arse rubbing up against him."

"You know this is Niall Horan don't you?!" She attempted to whisper, but you knew Niall had heard her. "He's so sexy and manly."

Niall smirked, but he was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. You returned his smile and tried not to laugh as you answered her.

"I'm aware of who he is and yes he is sexy and manly, but right now you're sexually harassing him and if you don't stop I will kick you out. Do you understand Cassidy?" You said firmly.

"Um..... I wasn't sexually harassing him." She said clearly, your words suddenly sobering her up.

"Sweetheart, you're grinding yourself on him and his face tells me he is not enjoying it. Plus he asked you to leave him alone twice in the time it took me to walk from my office just a few metres away to here."

You looked up at Niall who was trying to hide a smirk.

"I was just playing around, gotta try your luck haven't you?!" She giggled, swishing her long dark hair over her shoulder.

"If he, a guy was behaving the way you are right now, I'm sure you wouldn't be happy. Now leave him alone."

She gave Niall a glare and said sorry before walking off into the main part of the bar.

"And Cassidy, if I catch you harassing him or anyone else, I'll kick you out. Understand? I have a zero tolerance for behaviour like that on my shift."

"Yeah, sure." She replied, unimpressed by you stopping whatever she was trying to do.

When she had gone around the corner you turned to Niall.

"You ok?" You asked him, touching his arm gently.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks love." He replied laughing nervously.

"Sorry about that, hopefully she will leave you alone for the rest of the night." You said reassuringly.

"I honestly thought she was going to follow me into the toilet." He smiled.

"Well, you go on in and I'll wait here and keep watch if you want?"

"Would you?"

"Yeah sure."

"Ok. As long as you don't mind."

You gestured towards the toilet and he nodded. Niall went into the toilet, while you leaned against the wall opposite the door. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you browsed your Instagram before Niall emerged a few minutes later.

"Thankyou for doing that." He smiled.

"No worries. Just find me if she or anyone hassles you again. I'm in charge of the shift tonight so I'll be here till the end." You smiled back.

"Ok.......?" He replied, clearly wanting your name.

"Emma."

"So Emma, do you often save men in distress like that?!" He smiled at you.

"Not that often!" You smiled. "We do get famous people in here and they sometimes do attract unwanted attention from some individuals. I don't want you to feel that it happens in here a lot though and I hope it won't deter you from coming in here again."

"My friends and I are actually having a great time this evening. The band were really good."

You had both started to make your way down the corridor towards the bar area, Niall walking slightly behind you.

"I'll pass on that comment to the lads if that's ok? They are some friends of mine from University."

"Of course, that's fine."

"I'll let you join your friends again. Just find me if you need me."

"Thanks again Emma, I appreciate it."

There was a pause before you nodded a good bye and walked behind the bar.

He seemed like a nice lad and you didn't want him to be turned off by some of the desperate girls you got here on the weekends. You had hoped that your special music night would attract better clientele, but a rather loud hen party had come in. They would probably move onto a club soon, meaning that men in the bar would be safe. When you got back behind the bar and deposited the change into the tills, you helped the boys with the small queue that had appeared. 

Almost an hour later and you had called last orders at the bar. Some of the crowd left to find a club to go to, while others made their way over to the bar for a last drink. You saw Niall and a couple of lads walk over, taking a seat on the bar stools in front of you.

You started restocking the fridges, leaving Jasper to serve Niall and anyone who needed it and empty the washers, while Luke began clearing the tables of glasses.

You worked every Thursday and Friday night with them, all three of you knew each other from University in some way. You'd managed to secure the Shift Manager position in your second year, now in your third and final year you hadn't got long until you graduated.

"Are you coming down the student union after we finish?" Jasper asked you.

"No, I have work tomorrow all day at The Cosy Coffee Corner." You replied.

"Are you still working there as well as here, I thought you were going to quit?"

"Can't afford to, I need both jobs at the moment and after I graduate. And honestly, I love that place. Working for Audrey is a dream."

You carried on stocking the fridge with the bottled beers as Jasper turned to serve someone. You could hear Niall and his friends speaking behind you and as you stood up with an empty crate you realised Niall had been watching you. Quickly turning away you moved along the bar towards the back room to get rid of the crate and collect a new one.

"So Emma are you coming to the 90's night at the union with us when we finish?" Luke asked, appearing at the end of the bar with his hands full of empty glasses.

"Already asked her and apparently she's going home to bed!" Jasper replied cheekily.

"Emma Jane Pearce are you abandoning us for some alone time?! Or have you met a man and not told us?!"

"Luke! What the .....?!" You replied looking over to find Niall and his friends watching you, all of them had smirks on their faces. "You can all wipe those smirks off your faces and get your minds out of the gutter! I have work all day tomorrow, I have to get up early!"

"Yeah yeah!" Jasper laughed.

"Fuck you all." You muttered under your breath.

"Now now Emma, not in front of the customers." Luke joked, pointing to Niall and his friends.

"Don't stop on our account!" The one sitting to Niall's right said.

"Cheers lads!" You replied shaking your head.

You couldn't help but notice Nialls smirk.

Part One

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186140788313/lost-without-you-part-one

[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting’s entire life changed when he was eleven years old and his best friend Rogue told a secret that he’d promised to keep. Taken away from the father who abused him and the best friend who’d tried to save him, Sting tried to start a new life with his uncle. But the trauma wasn’t easy to escape, and eventually Sting turned to drinking to forget the things that hurt.

Now he’s an adult, and he hasn’t been sober in years. But when drinking nearly kills him and a near-stranger saves his life, Sting has a chance to turn his life around, and maybe become the man that Rogue deserves to love.

Chapter Summary: Being back in Crocus is different than Sting expects, but it's made easier when he runs into someone very familiar.

Chapters (14/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Natsu Dragneel & Sting Eucliffe, Sting Eucliffe & Weisslogia Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Rogue Cheney, Gray Fullbuster, Weisslogia (Fairy Tail) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Trans Character, Trans Sting, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Sting-focused story, Sting is a disaster, Natsu’s a great friend, Rogue tries to do what’s right, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of i’m still standing

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re·​union | \ (ˌ)rē-ˈyün-yən noun : the act of being brought together again

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xii summer age twenty-one

.

Uncle Wes offers to let Sting stay with him in Saint Portage. His room is exactly the same as he’d left it, bed made neatly and window open to let in the warm summer breeze. A lump swells in Sting’s throat as the memories wash over him and he sits down hard on the edge of the bed, running his fingers across the blanket.

“I wanted it to be here for you,” Uncle Wes says quietly, sitting down next to Sting. “Just in case.”

Lector hops up as well, meowing and rubbing his head against Sting’s arm until he scratches behind Lector’s ears. “I wanted to come home,” Sting whispers, trying to tamp down the guilt that swells in his chest. “So badly, but…”

He focuses on the feel of Lector’s fur under his fingertips and exhales, letting his mind skip over the memories instead of delving deep into them.

Just fuckin’ hit me.

I would never hurt you.

You should.

No. Never.

Continue reading on AO3

He thinks about apologizing again, but he knows words alone aren’t enough. Instead he digs in his pocket for the letter. It’s crumpled and stained from where he’d dropped it on the porch, but it’s still legible, and he hands it to Uncle Wes.

“I can’t stay here,” he says softly. “I’m trying to be better.”

Uncle Wes’ eyes widen as they scan the page, and by the time he reaches the bottom, his entire face has transformed into the warm, sunny smile that Sting remembers so well.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Uncle Wes says, eyes wet with tears.

“You don’t think…” Sting trails off, teeth worrying at his lower lip.

Uncle Wes shakes his head, setting the letter back down on the bed and taking both of Sting’s hands in his own. “You’re an incredible young man,” he says gently. “And you are nothing like your father.”  

~

Being in Crocus is strange, and a little bit overwhelming.

Rufus, Sting’s new roommate, is quiet and kind, but he isn’t Natsu. They Facetime as much as possible, but once Sting starts his courses at the academy, they only get to talk once or twice a week.

Uncle Wes being back in his life is new, too. At first Sting wants to see him every day, to make up for all the time they’ve lost. But he’d nearly had a panic attack the second time they’d seen each other, and Sting’s new therapist had suggested reintegrating into each other’s lives a little slower.

After a month, Sting starts to think about drinking.

“I found a meeting here,” he tells Natsu on the phone that night. “It’ll be weird to go without you.” He sighs, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Little constellations of glow in the dark stars are stuck to the ceiling, and they bring back gentle memories of nights in the tree fort with Rogue, staring up at the stars.

“You can do it,” Natsu says, and Sting believes him.

The meeting is the same as every other one he’s been to. Even in a new city with new faces, nothing changes, and it’s comforting in a way. When he stands up and says, “I’m Sting and I’m an alcoholic,” everyone welcomes him warmly, and he feels the tension in his chest start to fade away.

It’s easier to say, now. The first few meetings in Danston, he’d refused to speak. Natsu had encouraged him, but he’d stayed hidden in the back, watching everyone else talk about their life while he tried to convince himself that he didn’t belong there.

He hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d turned out just like the person he hated most.

“I’ve been sober for just over two years,” Sting says, playing with the beads of the bracelet he holds between his fingers. It’s not a rosary – Natsu had called them mala beads, something monks used to help them focus and meditate. He had given them to Sting a week after he’d left the hospital, and Sting hasn’t taken them off since.

“I just moved back here,” he continues, glancing up at the group. The unfamiliar faces are overwhelming, but he forces himself to smile. “I had a lot of trauma here… shitty stuff with my family. It really messed me up, so I’m gonna be here a lot.”

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of new faces and other people’s stories. Usually Sting’s good at paying attention, good at connecting with people, but it’s hard to focus tonight.

He closes his eyes, breathing slowly as he runs the beads between his fingers and counts backward from fifty. Being back here is a good thing – he’s doing it for the right reasons. He’s a better man that his dad ever was, and he’s going to prove it.

The meeting is almost over when a very familiar voice starts to speak.

“I’m Gajeel, and, uh…” There’s a pause. “I’m an addict, I guess. This is my first meeting.”

Sting’s eyes snap open and he stares across the room at the man sitting with his elbows on his knees. His hair is longer, and he’s got more piercings than Sting remembers, but it’s definitely Gajeel.

Sting’s chest tightens as a million memories come flooding back to him – afternoons with Rogue watching Gajeel’s football games, Gajeel teasing the two of them when they stood in line for the newest Harry Potter book, Gajeel driving them to movies when he got his license.

Then Sting’s gaze slips past Gajeel to the man sitting beside him, and Sting stops breathing.

It’s Rogue.

Sting stares, eyes wide and heart pounding. Rogue’s hair is long, almost to the middle of his back, and it’s pulled back in a messy ponytail. He’s got his ears pierced, and his face is leaner now – he’s not a little boy anymore, and something in Sting’s chest splinters.

There’s something wrong with Abbey.

She’s gonna hate me.

I promised I wouldn’t tell.

Sting doesn’t realize he’s crying until the woman next to him touches his knee and hands him a tissue. He wipes at his face quickly, trying to breathe around the tightness in his chest. So many feelings are warring inside him right now – hope, anger, betrayal, regret. Love.

“Fuck,” he whispers, swallowing hard and pushing his chair back.

Rogue looks up at him.

Sting freezes, then realizes that Rogue’s already seen him and doesn’t recognize him. It’s not surprising – Sting looks nothing like eleven-year-old Abbey, but there’s a part of him that wishes Rogue could see past all that to his best friend.

Chairs start to scrape along the floor around Sting and he blinks, realizing the meeting is over. He stands up slowly, trying desperately to decide whether to run away or walk over.

Fuck it, he thinks. There’s been too much trauma and anger and regret in his life already, and if Rogue’s here, there’s no way Sting’s going to lose him again.

He walks over before he can change his mind, and when Rogue looks at him curiously, Sting reaches out and touches his arm.

“Hey,” he says, hand trembling against Rogue’s sweater. “I, uh…”

There’s nothing Sting can say to describe how he’s feeling. If this is a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up, but he’s pretty sure it’s real. Rogue is real. Rogue is here, alive and breathing and frowning as he searches Sting’s face.

“I’m sorry, do I—” Rogue freezes mid-sentence, eyes widening in realization. “Abbey?”

A silence hangs between them, heavy and uncertain, and then Rogue grabs Sting’s arms and pulls him into a hug.

“Holy shit,” Rogue whispers as he holds Sting tight against him, pressing his face into Sting’s shoulder. Sting can feel Rogue shaking, heart picking up as he starts to cry. “I never thought—fuck, I’m…” He leans back, reaching up and touching Sting’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean… I just—”

“It’s okay,” Sting says, tipping his face into Rogue’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault, none of it, and I wanted to—I didn’t get to say goodbye, I…”

Sting trails off, tears running down his cheeks and over their hands. Nothing else exists except this moment – the rest of the conversations around them are just dull, background noise to the heavy slamming of Sting’s heart.

“I missed you so much,” Rogue says, voice breaking as he runs his thumb across Sting’s cheek. He pulls Sting close, pressing their foreheads together, then kissing Sting’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I was so scared, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know,” Sting says, pulling Rogue close again and holding him tight. He can’t let go or the moment will end and he’s so scared that this isn’t real. “I know, and it wasn’t your fault.”

Rogue digs his fingers into Sting’s shoulders like he’s keeping him from floating away. Every time he starts to say something, the words dissolve into tears again, and neither of them can do anything but hold each other through wave after wave of emotions.

Eventually Gajeel coughs awkwardly next to them, and Sting reluctantly lets go of Rogue’s arms.

“Hey,” Sting says weakly. “It’s, uh… me. Abbey. Well, Sting, now. It’s been a while.” He wipes his cheeks and forces himself to make eye contact with Gajeel. There’s a familiar, haunted look behind Gajeel’s eyes, and before Sting can stop himself, he pulls Gajeel into a hug too. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Gajeel says, voice rough and uncertain as he pats Sting back. “Same.”

The three of them stand there for a moment, then Gajeel gives Rogue a knowing look and nods toward the door. “I’m gonna get Jeff to gimme a ride home,” he says. “You two’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

~

Sting grips Rogue’s hand tightly as they step out of the building and into the night. It’s warm and muggy, and the air smells like lilacs.

“C’mon,” Rogue says, tugging on Sting’s hand and nodding down the street.

The treehouse is still standing in Rogue’s parent’s backyard, and they sneak up into it together, shuffling awkwardly until they’re lying in the same place they did when they were little. Their legs are a little too long, but neither of them complain as Rogue pulls Sting close and kisses the top of his head.

It’s like Sting never left.

“Sting.” Rogue says his name curiously, testing out the sound. “I knew, y’know. I mean, I didn’t know what to call it—that it was thing, that you could be a boy, but I knew.”

“I know,” Sting says, resting his head against Rogue’s shoulder. He feels so surreal, like he’s existing simultaneously as a child and his adult self, and both of them are safe and warm and loved. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Rogue doesn’t say anything, just runs his fingers up and down Sting’s arm with a slow, purposeful tenderness that makes Sting feel so alive. There aren’t many stars above them – the lights pollute the sky and hide them, but Sting knows they’re there, dancing in constellations behind the fake city brightness.

“I tried to find you,” Rogue says. “It makes sense that I couldn’t – you changed your name. But mom and dad tried so hard. They went to the hospital – they’d called the police, they wanted to make sure you were okay, but nobody would tell them anything. All they’d say is that you were safe, and you were leaving.”

Sting sighs, closing his eyes and cuddling closer to Rogue. “It was bad,” he says softly. “I was angry for a long time—I thought that things would have been okay if you hadn’t told your parents, but it was really bad.” He flexes his fingers, thinking of the cast he’d worn for weeks. “He broke my arm.”

“Oh my god,” Rogue says, turning until he can pull Sting closer and wrap both arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t want to admit that he was hurting me,” Sting says, swallowing back tears. “But he…” Sting lets out a shaky breath. “He could have killed me. You saved my life.” He presses himself as close to Rogue as he can, shivering as a cool breeze tickles the hair on the back of his neck. “I just wanted him to love me.”

Rogue’s quiet for a minute. Then he whispers, “I love you.” The words sink into Sting, filling the cold, lonely places inside of him. “I always have.”

A warm glow flows through Sting, heating his cheeks and making him feel dizzy. He leans back, pushing himself up on his elbow and brushing a stray hair out of Rogue’s face with shaky fingers. This feels so right. All the broken pieces in Sting are shifting, putting themselves back together with each gentle touch. Rogue’s eyes shine in the dim light of the moon, filled with tears, and Sting knows, now, why he has to keep going. Why he has to be better, stay sober, keep trying.

“I love you, too,” he says again, then leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Rogue’s lips.

[eilislaceys]

frances ‘frannie’ ferguson, 24, broadway star, f. pugh 

constance native / definitely got the shortest straw with her parents obsession with alliteration / probably was born anxious / the kid that stood at the window and cried because her parents were fifteen minutes later getting home from date night than usual and she was convinced they were dead in a ditch somewhere until she saw the sweep of headlights coming up the driveway / after consulting several parenting books and a few family therapy sessions, fran’s mom decided she needed an outlet / on the first day she was dropped off at summer day camp at the local theatre eight year old frannie was fully planning her eventual emancipation from her parents because then they’d be sorry / talking to strangers? acting and singing in front of everyone? no thank you / except that she loved it / it was a relief to pretend to me someone else for a bit, to leave the jangled mess of nerves and swirling pit of butterflies she felt in her stomach like all the time / summer day camp turned into joining the fall production of annie as molly / by the time high school came around, she had already seen wicked on broadway five times and was a full fledged theatre nerd / one who took everything about performing and the “craft” incredibly seriously / did a sanitized version of hair over the summer with the same theatre production during the summer of her sophomore year and lowkey tried to start an orgy at the cast party / quickly became the star of every school production and just as quickly sort of fell half in love with her “leading man” in every school production / but they were friends so it was fine, friends who were supposed to take on the big apple together after graduation only it didn’t quite work out like that / she ended up booking a job as part of the ensemble in a big show and then it just spiralled from there / frannie was so busy with her star taking off she didn’t quite realize what she was leaving behind / just came off her first leading role in a musical adaptation of the breakfast club  / eight shows a week have left her shattered / and it’s kind of sobering to see that the thing she spent all of her life wanting isn’t necessarily everything she imagined it would be / her agent kind of wants to strangle her when frannie says she needs a break and holes up at her parents house / brings us to right now where you can find her sleeping until noon every day, watching daytime tv and haunting the local production of mamma mia like a specter. 

needs: issie and i need fellow horny drama nerds that would’ve been a clique in high school, pls and thank you. other childhood friends that she kind of peaced out on, maybe they’re happy to have her back, maybe they’re peeved at her, we can figure it out! maybe some more fergusons? a guy she dated in high school and broke up with when he called the phantom of the opera a pervert. 

julia abrams, 21, philosophy major & waitress, d.silvers

chicago native / no tragic backstory to speak of / just born to a single mom too young to have really known what she was doing and a penchant for the love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guys / named after the beatles song / seashell eyes, windy smile / a magnet for kind eyed teachers who would ask her to stay after school so they could discreetly push a new-to-her coat into her arms or a pair of winter boots when julia’s were close to falling apart / afternoons and weekends spent at the little deli where her mom waited tables where the old man regulars would quiz her on the stages of mitosis and symbolism in hemmingway / ‘you’re so smart, baby. you’re going to have everything you want’ / a little sister born when julia’s in her junior year - she’s tiny and perfect and her father is a total fucking asshole / which makes it all the harder to leave but there’s rejection letters and exorbitant tuition and then like a miracle (or a curse)  a renewable scholarship from a small college in new york state / bought into the myth that she’d find her tribe in university but her closest friend is probably the guy who sells hot dogs outside of the student union building / disguises her loneliness and homesickness with being busy twenty-four seven / wine and cheese mixers, open mic nights, protests and rallies, the occasional frat party is she’s really desperate and always always studying her brains out at the library / can come across as brash or rough around the edges but she’s deceptively soft / facetime dates every saturday morning with her little sister / disaster bisexual / doesn’t really know how to dress herself, would live in a hoodie and leggings if she could / will never stop trashtalking new york pizza. 

needs: me: i want to plot with everyone! also me: says my character’s best friend is the guy who sells hotdogs. okay i really do want julia to have people! because people need people! please give her a group of friends where she’s like ‘they just pity me’ but they’re like ‘julia stop being an anti-social hoe, we are indeed best friends’ and they drag her out to fun events and stop her from withdrawing into herself which she is prone to do. she could use some awkward hook-ups. please give her a grody dude to make her hot, bratty roommate unintentionally jealous or something. a stupid rivalry or nemesis based on them stealing her favorite table at the library and doing some egregious like eating baby carrots in the quiet study area!!! anything and everything please! 

[volgotha]

Holy shit I just read your text post I'm so sorry! How are people so easily sold on bullshit??? What happened that lead up to all that?

Okay, strap yourself in. I’m only typing this mess up once more and then I’m never mentioning it again as long as I live. I’m not going to tag it with anything relevant either so once its posted, i’m letting it get lost in the sea of reblogs. Here we go, warning; this is gon be long.

In 2006 I went to college. From 2006 to 2009 I hung out with 5 friends and my bf at the time, Andre. It was in 2007 that we started to poke our heads into the 2C11 room (the clubspace room). Matt and his best friend Jogn Carlo started coming with us to Rocky Horror, a thing only myself and two of my 5 friends would do together, along with ppl they knew from their old highschool. By 2009, we had formed a big gang of friends from the clubspace, and we all started going to movies and sushi together. One of my friends organize panels for Otakuthon, where we’d all meet up.      

But in 2009, two of the 5 ppl I hung out with had a falling out. They stopped being friends. One went to university, the other was around for one more year then she went to university in 2010. That’s when the old group began to change from a family to a clique: In 2010 new members joined the club, and became new staples in the old group–most importantly, a guy named Tin.

It used to feel like a big family, but when the new semester started in September 2010 and new members flooded the club, everything changed. Tin instantly gave me a strange feeling in my gut, like there was something off abt him I couldn’t articulate. Shannon was dating Alex, the then club president, who stepped down in disgrace after I and one of those 5 friends went to the student union to complain abt him being the Harvey Weinstein of the club,. He wanted to permanently ban her from the club bc that summer when he was making a shitty youtube movie, he asked her out and she said no. The only reason he stepped down is bc I helped her take it to the student union and took him down. So when 2010 came along, Tin swooped in and became Alex 2.0, and when I warned ppl abt him they didn’t listen.

Fast forward a year to 2011, and the shitstorm happens; My mom had bvee battling with cancer since 2009. She had a hysterectomy but it didn’t work, and the cancer came back with a vengance.

January 15th 2011: My mom comes into my room and tells me her doctor doesn’t give her 1 year left to live. A few minutes after she leaves my room, Tin talks to me on Steam. He starts trolling me, I exploded on him. I felt bad about it so I tried to apologise to him, and I wrote on my facebook wall a message: “Just found out my mom has a year left to live, not in my right head, plz stay away from me for a while” so i wouldn’t explode on anyone else. I said I tried to apologise to Tin on steam, because him being an abujsive sociopath, instead of just accepting the apology or not like a normal person, instead he starts demanding that i admit to being a shitdisturber. I ignore him at that point, tell him im sorry, wish him good night and then sign off steam, and go to bed.

The following day, Shannon heads me off as I’m in the 2C11 hallway heading to the clubspace room; she warns me that Kelly is having a shit fit and screaming about how much of a horrible person I am, that apparently Kelly thinks my facebook post is me using my mom as an excuse to get away with being a bitch. I run to confront her, because excuse me, no it fucking wasn’t yknow? and whatever trauma she hasn;’t resolved yet doesn’t give her the right to twist my meanings and paint me as a monster. Thats when she goes into the Oliver’s caf so I follow her, and she screams at me calls me pathetic and heads back into the clubspace, and everyone followed her and left me in the caf crying with Shannon and Alex. :/

The situation was made ten times worse later that night by a certain person named Mathew, remember him? He was supposed to be my friend. Instead, he took the opportunity to write a huge post on fb tearing me down, on which everyone else joined in taking a public jab at me. Matt was seen as the community leader at the time. He could have used his power to calm the situation down, instead he made things worse. To this day, I suspect that troll Tin is the one who twisted my words to trigger Kelly and cause all of this, and that he also had Matt in the palm of his hand, but i digress; Matt’s post convinced most of them to ditch me. That devastated me in an already overwhelmed state, and I attempted suicide a few nights later.

That summer, I saw that my former friends were all having a big party, “What Killed the Dinosaurs? The Bad Movie Night.”, and I wasn’t invited. Shannon saw how much it hurt me, so she invited to her bf’s party instead, and that’s where I met Paul.

The following school year of 2011-2012 went by without much incident. The people who had ghosted me slowly added me back, Matt even apologized for his shit, and things seemed to be on the up and up. It looked like all this drama was behind us. I was wrong.

After I graduated, I decided to go visit the club in Fall 2012. Big mistake.

I saw someone I knew, Sarah, crying on someone’s lap, and asked her what was up. She told me she was in an abusive relationship with Tin. For giving her the advice to leave him, Tin came at me on steam again, and I told him that he was an abuser, that he would not intimidate me and to go fuck himself, and I blocked him. Suddenly, Matt was trying to extort 100$ from me for 2 locks I had broken the year before, which should’ve only cost 42$. Where did that come from? Well, Tin was the club’s Treasurer that year. He was trying to get back at me for standing up to him and helping his victim escape, and he was doing it through Matt, who was going apeshit on me on MSN for refusing to pay 100$. I insisted I should only have to pay what I owe, which was 42$. He kept freaking out on me, so finally I threatened to get a lawyer involved, and that’s when he backed down. I still paid the money I owed for the locks I had broken but I blocked Matt, having had enough of his bullshit, and that’s when suddenly a bunch of ppl from the group ghosted me for good.

Why was I ghosted when Matt was clearly the one in the wrong? Because Tin. They ghosted me bc Tin told them to. Tin and Matt told them all sorts of shitty things about me and they believed them. They don’t hold Tin or Matt to any of their shitty actions though bc they don’t want the same abuse that happened to me to happen to them. They turn a blind eye to every shitty thing Tin and Matt do. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand there’s an extremely toxic abuse dynamic at play in that group.

But the story doesn’t end there. Remember that party I went to with Shannon, and that guy I met named Paul? From november 2011 to march 2015 we were together. I was isolated from whoever was left, only hung out with him and his friends. In 2014, I became close friends with a girl name d Ariel, a member of that old groiup who ghosted me. But that was probably a manufactured relationship manipulated into existance by Paul, so he could jump to her when he was done with me.

Paul was extremely abusive when no one was around. The night he left, we had a huge fight. I tried to escape the situation by running upstairs. He chased me and when I ran into my TV room and closed the door behind me, he started pounding on it and trying to push his way in. When he did manage to get through the door, I panicked, picked up a glass bottle and threw it at him, and then slammed the door again when he backed out. The bottle broke, and cut his finger very deep. He used that cut to get everyone present during the situation on his side. Nevermind all the crazy abusive stuff he had just pulled in front of them, no, I was the bad guy, and once he had them convinced, he left to my then bff’s house, who later became his new gf.

He posted a picture of the wound on facebook, and because of that and previous drama from years ago that never really went away, most of the friends I had left from Dawson believed him, and ghosted me. I couldn’t tell them that a week earlier he had raped me, and that’s why I was scared enough to throw that glass bottle at him.I filed a police report, I warned everyone who would listen to me about him, and I warned her. I did all I could.

 I was too scared to tell this story for such a long time, because if asking for understanding while my mom was dying was twisted into me using my mom as an excuse to get away with being a bitch, then asking for understanding for the outbursts I had after being raped would just be twisted into me using my rape as an excuse to get away with being a bitch. I couldn’t handle the idea of my rape being trivialized as just some excuse–and Mathew is in part responsible for it all, because of that fucking post he made publicly tearing me down. Had he not posted that, I would’ve never lost my support system, I would’ve never gone to that party with Shannon, and I would’ve never been raped.

So I spent the better parts of 2016-2018 telling those involved off for their part in my current situation and blocked them, and the rest rebuilding what I had back in 2009, with resounding success. 

So, there you have it. That’s what happened. Fuuuuuuuucking insane isn’t it. Its over now, none of them can hurt me anymore and Ive once again surrounded myself with friends I can actually trust, so everything’s good now. I still have my low days bc this was yknow, a lot, but I’m doing much, muuuuch better now. 

[hachama]

Second Democratic Debate Analysis, pt. 1

Like last time, I’ve (finally) read the transcripts.  I read the fact-checkers’ analysis.  I have ranked them. 

Also like last time, due to the size of the field, I’ll be splitting my analysis into four groups.  This first one will be the Please Do Not Make Me Vote For Them group: 

Good news!  Due to candidates dropping out, it’s a shorter list!

Biden, Williamson, Delaney, Ryan, and Bullock

Under the break, I’ll be analyzing their debate performance, how effectively they represented themselves on the issues, and how much I hate them, in reverse order of preference. Let’s begin.

17) Bullock

Governor Steve Bullock did not make an appearance in the first set of debates, and now I know why. He is the Shirley Exception made flesh. “Surely no one would actually use our laws to hurt someone.  Surely if someone is really a good person they won’t face terrible abuses.  Surely not…” Stevie, these are things that are currently happening.  These are facts.  

Those who read my analysis of the first debates should know that I do not accept any luke-warm “healthcare choice” arguments, and Steve is full of those, too.

He’s very worried about other candidates campaign promises being unrealistic, and says that it’s important to listen to “real Americans,” as if democratic socialists and the majority of Americans who support universal healthcare aren’t “real” enough for him.

As if that weren’t enough, he also argues in favor of some of the abuses of immigrants, as a deterrent to immigration.

To his credit, he supports treating gun violence as a public health issue, including research by the CDC into causes, which could inform actually useful gun control policies.  He wants to see Citizens United overturned, which is also good.  But not good enough.

16) Ryan

Representative Tim Ryan has the distinction of being one of the candidates I hated entirely in this debate. I agreed with none of his points, and most of my notes contain profanity.  He introduced himself as New and Fresh, playing on his youth (he’s 45. The average age of the democratic candidates is 54.  There are 4 people running who are younger than Tim) without offering much substance.

He opposes decriminalizing the border.  On healthcare he seems to think we can’t make healthcare better for everyone because then unions won’t have anything going for them which is just… He thinks letting businesses “buy in to medicare” is a good idea, and all I can hear is “privatize the social safety net and let companies decide whose grandma actually deserves to have proper care when she breaks her hip.”  

I’m not saying Tim is evil. I’m saying he’s spineless and would let bad things happen because it’s too much work to stop them.

15) Delaney

Representative John Delaney joins Tim Ryan in the dubious category of “I hate you and everything you stand for.”  The only reason he ranks slightly higher than Tim is because someone had to.  Their scores were the same level of shrieking profanity.

John thinks that reminding everyone that he was the youngest CEO in the history of the New York Stock Exchange is a good thing, showing that he has absolutely no idea what democrats are looking for in a candidate.  Surely, we should trust him!  He sold his soul early and has abided by the contract for so long!

He is another candidate decrying “unrealistic” campaign promises.  He reiterated his concern that Medicare for All would underfund the healthcare industry in America, he considers it an “extreme” policy proposal, and called it an “anti-private sector strategy.”  Yes, John, because the private sector’s profit motive has been working so well, let’s all continue dying so that small groups of people can make lots of money off of the price of insulin.  Fuck you.

14) Williamson

Marianne Williamson’s contributions were blessedly brief and infrequent.  She supports public campaign funding, which is great, but she also spent an entire minute on “I have concerns” without once proposing a solution, referred to the American healthcare system as a “sickness care system,” which for me evokes concerns about chemtrails and chemikillz, and her opening statement evoked American Exceptionalism.  

I’m so tired of Marianne Williamson.

13) Biden

Former Vice President, Former Senator Joe Biden was invited to comment on everything.  As a result, I have over a page of notes just for him. The moderators’ bold strategy of checking in with Uncle Joe every time anyone said anything gave him opportunities to say a few things I agreed with, but ultimately was not enough to get him out of my lowest ranked category.

As he said in the last debate, Joe supports rejoining the Paris Climate Accord.  This time, he said we need to “increase” the standard, apparently recognizing that solutions negotiated several years ago will not be sufficient now, and he wants to see an end to fossil fuel subsidies.  These are good things I can agree with.

Joe is concerned by the treatment of immigrants seeking asylum, and the excessive wait times for their cases to be heard and the refugees either released or returned to their country of origin.  His solution is to “flood the zone,” spend more resources to make decisions faster. This guarantees nothing except a reduction in detainees which, while generally positive, is less than half a solution.

The thing Joe said that I liked best was about the treatment of former-inmates after the completion of their prison sentences.  Joe said that former-inmates should have access to public programs and benefits upon release.  This would be a significant change from the current system, which continues to punish people long after their sentence is served.  He also said that drug crimes should result in rehab, not prison.

Joe continued to use his association with Obama as a shield against criticism, which was worn thin before the first debate started.  He evaded questions about Eric Garner, refused to answer questions about Obama-era deportations (with the added bonus of “what I said was said in confidence, you’d share it, but not me”), invoked American Exceptionalism in his opening statement, interrupted Cory Booker at one point, blamed all of our current political and social dysfunction on Trump, and thinks we should renegotiate the Trans Pacific Partnership.  

The cherry on top of this shit sundae?  He said the phrase “I have the only plan that (…)” I haven’t talked about this much, because it’s a little hard to express in text, but I have a very, very negative response to any claim to being the only person who can solve a problem.  It’s bad when Trump does it, it’s bad when Biden does it, it’s an abuser’s tactic.  “I’m the only one who loves you, I’m the only one who can help you, I’m the only one” is always a) a lie, and b) a red flag.

Granted, I was so far behind that some of Biden’s comments formed parallels I might not have seen when he initially said them, but some of the things he said about immigration were symptomatic of the same thought process that gave us that abominable rewrite of Emma Lazarus’s New Colossus.  Biden, when trying to make a point about the strength of America being in our diversity, said that “we’ve been able to cherry pick from the best of every culture,” and followed it up with “anybody that crosses the stage with a PhD, you should get a green card for seven years. We should keep them here.” Not everyone who immigrates to the U.S. is going to have an advanced degree. Not everyone who immigrates to the U.S. is going to be “the best and brightest.”  And that’s a good thing.  There is a limit to the number of doctors and lawyers a society needs. Some immigrants are going to be nurse’s assistants and cab drivers, and we need them here, too.

Even with all of that, the worst of what Joe had to say was about healthcare.  Joe thinks that limiting co-pays to $1000 per person is part of making healthcare accessible to everyone.  He thinks your health insurance premium should be no more than 8.5% of your annual income.  I did some math.  For minimum wage, that’s almost $2500 for insurance, out of pocket, before anyone sees any benefit.  After taxes, that leaves about $10k for a minimum wage worker to live on for a year. At $15/hour, $20k to live on.  These are not reasonable numbers in most of the country.

[littlebitoffanfic]

Different Kind Of Lucky

Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy Characters: Kraglin, Yondu Relationship: Kraglin/reader Request: Can you write for kraglin where they have to get all dressed up for a gala or something? No one knew that you and Kraglin were seeing each other, and both of you intended to keep it that way. He crept to your room late and night, not knocking in case someone was to heard and you would pull him into the side rooms during the day to retrieve kisses before parting ways once again. Surprisingly, it all worked really well. No one was any the wiser to your secret affair with the first mate and no one knew that the first mate was sleeping with the only female on the ship. You worked as part of Yondus crew as a favour after they managed to get you out of a tight situation, but had stayed because you enjoyed their company. Sure, sometimes they got a little rowdy and drunk but nothing you hadn’t seen before. You ran through the halls, looking desperately for your secret lover, who you found doing a stock check of goods in the warehouse. After glancing around and seeing no one else was here, you ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. To say he was taken aback was an understatement, but he was quick and eager to respond to you affections, wrapping his arms around your waist, unaware of your news. “[y/n]?” Kraglin chuckled against your lips, but seemed unwilling to pull back. “I have to go.” You breathed, pulling back only an inch, looking up at him as he processed what you were saying. “G-go? Where, when, how long will you be gone, what-?” Kraglin jumped as he stammered out question after question and you could see the fear and concern in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. Because it showed you that you weren’t just a quick fuck, you really did mean something to him. You interrupted him before he could work himself into too much of a state. “Yondu wants me to go get some information at a Gala happening on one of those high society planets. Its in a weeks time and I’ll be gone for one night.” You had been standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, so you fell back on your heels a little. “Oh, I thought you were leaving for good.” Kraglin sighed with relief. “although, don’t know what I’ll do without you fer one night.” He smield, pressing his forehead against yours. “Well, that’s why I came to find you.” You smirked. “Yondu wants me and someone else down there and pose as a couple so its no so suspicious. Because it’s a fancy ball thing, its very unlikely that I can use my ‘feminine’ charm on anyone because most will be there with dates. Anyway, he said I could pick who I took with him for trust and comfort reason.” You swayed in his arms, trailing your fingers up and down his shoulders. You saw him smiled slightly. “So im taking Tullk!” You announce. You saw his face fall slightly, reminding you slightly of a wounded puppy. “Im kidding.” You giggled. “Of course I chose you.” “Good, cause I was about to go beat the living daylights out of Tullk.” Kraglin mumbled, pulling you in close. -----------------------time skip---------------------- You walked down the beautiful marble stairs, your arm linked in Kraglins and your chin high. For the ball, you wore a beautiful, elegant, asymmetric dress that walk long at the back and came up to your knees at the front. It flowed behind you as you descended the stairs. The top hugged your body and made you feel like a princess. Your hair was pulled back in an elegant bun with a few strands curled down to frame your face perfectly. Kraglin glanced at you against for the hundredth time that night, but his breath was still taken away. Ravengers were rough and dirty but here you were, a picture of beauty. Kraglin himself had cleaned up nicely. He had managed to get his hands on a nicely fitting suit and had brushed his hair back. He had made sure no one of the ship saw him so he rented a room out at a near by hotel for the two of you to get ready at and stay the night there. He had told Yondu he was booking two rooms, one each, but there really wasn’t any point. “You look beautiful.” Kraglin leaned in and mumbled in your ear, making you blush and look down. “Thank you.” You giggled at the compliment that he had repeated since you had come out of the bathroom. He had nearly fallen to his knees in front of you when he first saw you. The evening consisted of the two of you mingling with the higher class. Occasionally, he took you to the dance floor and did a standard waltz that you had taught him through the last week just so you two didn’t stand out. Well, too much. You were only left on your own when he went to get drinks for you both when you heard a group of girls behind you speaking. You didn’t turn around but “I wish my husband looked at me the way he looks at her.” One pouted. “Did you see the way he held her as they danced?” one said in a dreamily state. “I can barely get Victor to talk to me, but they seem to never have nothing to say to each other.” Another said bitterly. You looked about, wondering which couple they were speaking about. “I wonder if it was an arranged marriage or if they chose each other?” The first asked. “I don’t know. Lets ask her. Excuse me?” A hand gently tapped your arm and you turned around to see the three girls you had just been listening to. They had been speaking about you and Kraglin? You could have fainted with pride and joy. “yes?” You answer, trying to be polite and not let them know you had been listening to them. “I apologies if this seems a little person, but we were wondering about you and your husband.” The first smiled kindly and the three gathered around you. “Oh its okay. What would you like to know?” You smile, making sure to speak properly. “How long have you been together?” “Was it an arranged marriage?” “how long have you known each other?” The three women threw their own questions at you all at once, making you giggle a little. “We’ve been together 5 years, married 3. It was arranged is some sense. His father and mine are in the same business together but they agreed on a trade deal after we started to date each other and blessed the union. And we have known each other for 10 years now.” You answered the question in order that you had heard. While you lied about the who ‘father’ thing (agreed upon before coming to the ball), you had known Kralgin for 10 years and had been seeing him for the best part of 5 years. “Aww.” The first put her hand over her heart, smiling as if she was listening to a fairy-tale. A part of you felt sorry for the girls. They were all married but none happily. “My Gregor and I have been married for a little over a year and he seems already tiered of me. But at least I lasted longer than his first two wives.” The second said bitterly, taking a drink from her glass. “I don’t mean to offend, but your Gregor sounds like a ass.” You spoke before you though, too taken back but her being his third wife. You froze, unsure of how they would take it. “Oh, he is.” She agreed. “Then why are you with him?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because his family runs a good business and my father approved.” She shrugged, seeming so indifferent to everything. “Look-“ You stepped closer, wanting to help these women. They deserved better. “-if you don’t love someone, don’t be with them. Money, fame, beauty, all that fades and disappears. If you find the right person, it doesn’t matter if they have a penny to their name or if their name is plastered over all the building in this world.” All the woman seemed to hang on your every word. “So, you’d still be married to your husband if he were poor?” The third raised an eyebrow. “yes, even if he were a ravenger for Christ sake. I’d follow him to the ends of the universe and back.” You nodded, smiling as you revealed a little bit about yourself to them, without them realising it. “[y/n]?” Kraglin placed a hand on your lower back and you turned to look at him. “We gotta go.” You saw his eyes dart to the side and followed them to see someone you recognised. Someone the both of you had held at gunpoint only a few months ago. You could bet your life he would know you. Just then, you heard a low humming come from the glass ceiling of the hall. You looked up and recognised the underside of Yondus ship. Quickly, you darted towards the grills. “Look, he is a ranger and Im a hacker. I have followed him to the ends of the earth and he’s pulled me from the jaws of death. Don’t waste your lifes with someone you don’t love. Trust me. I can help you get away from this, if you wanted. Here.” You spoke quickly as the three stared at you with wide eyes, mouths hanging open. You pushed a little device into the firsts hands. It was a connector that would allow them to call you without giving away your location. just them, there was a crash from above. No glass hit you, Kralgin made sure of that as he shielded you. There was screaming and people ran to the edges of the hall as the ship landed in the centre of the dance floor and the bay doors open. “Come on, you love birds! I aint got all day to be saving your asses!” Yondu walked down the ramp, looking around for you both. You then heard the unmistakeable sound of a gun being cocked to your right. You glanced over and saw the man you had robbed holding a gun pointing at you. “Gregory! NO!” The slightly drunk woman called out. But Kraglin was quicker. He pulled a gun out his suit and raised it, firing it and hitting the gun right out of the mans hands. You gasped a little, very aware that that could have gone a whole lot worse. Kraglins hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the ship. “Coming.” You chirped as you ran beside him up the ramp. “girl, you clean up all right.” Yondu nodded at you. “Thanks, captain.” You giggle as the three of you retreated inside the ship, but not before you saw the shocked faces of the three woman. Maybe not shock, but in awe. You would find out that yours and Kraglins little secret was out, since Yondu had went to the hotel to call off the mission and figured out you had stayed in the same room. That and some CCTV footage that was found of the two of you making out. But that wasn’t the only thing that happened that night. About an hour later, you got a call from the three women, whos names were Lily, Beth and Rachel. They asked for your help, having decided that the three of them would run away together for safety and security. You smiled and agreed to help them as much you could, but you really didn’t have to do much. They had managed to drain their husbands personal accounts (you were assured that the men were pigs and the accounts had well less than half the money that the men owned. You manged to get them new names and hacked all their records to wipe them clean. They moved to a little planet where Lily now worked with children, Beth had started her own book and Rachel had proven to be rather good when it came to the stock market. Kraglin was confused why you were helping them. “Because their not as lucky as me.” You smiled, leaning into his touch as the two of you lay in bed. “Lucky? Did you see the diamonds on each of them? That’s more than we make in a year.” He pointed out but you shook your head. “Their not happy. I am. I have a man who loved me unconditionally, while their men only seem to tolerate them.” You couldn’t help but feel saddened but then you remembered they had a new life in front of them. Kraglin chuckle, making you look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, just someone like that be jealous of us. Its not something im used to.” He smiled down at you. “Well, we’re a different kind of lucky.” You shrugged, pulling yourself up to kiss his lips.

[everlarkingjoshifer]

Trump signed an executive order to abolish what he did....

I don’t normally come in here to post long political pieces. However, after the disgusting comments that I’ve read on social media as Democrats held a press conference to speak about children being ripped apart from their parents at the border, is more than I can take. So, because I am pretty fucking annoyed with all the baseless accusations, and major misinformation I would like to dispel erroneous conclusions along with the comments I have been seeing on social media.

Immigrants are taking our jobs!

No Becky, they’re not. Immigrants are bringing in jobs and taking the low wage, often dangerous and non-union jobs that YOU don’t want to take. How about you go pick those strawberries in the blazing heat for as little as 6$ an hour, doesn’t sound very appealing right? So if it’s not good enough for you because you want a cushy job, what makes you think Immigrants want to do it too? They don’t, but they’re so desperate to make a living that they’re willing to do anything so long as they can provide a better future for their own families, something you can easily understand. As a matter of fact, while you enjoy your burrito know that none of it would be possible if it wasn’t for an immigrant who brought in their culture and food to enrich our country. Yeah, that big old Mexican franchised fast food joint? Would not have existed for your high school kids to work at, so while your sitting on your ass enjoying someone else’s culture, know that none of it 

would be possible without an immigrant.

Immigrants are taking our resources and our taxes pay for them to live here!

 Noooo, Immigrant individuals cannot ever receive federal based help such as SSI. They can’t even get health insurance. Some states do hand out some help to aid immigrants but it would only be something as small as being able to use the WIC program which is very limited. (I’ve used it when I had just given birth). As a matter of fact, white citizens are amongst the highest percentage who receive federal assistance and immigrant people pay INTO our social security and taxes without hope of ever getting that money back. If you want to talk about needlessly spending your money on immigrants then you should definitely be against the barbaric procedures that are happening right the hell now. There are companies profiting from your taxpayer money in order to house children that didn’t need to be housed in the first place. It’s all a big scam and those 1 % who don’t really need the money are making millions that you’re paying into JUST because you want to be a paranoid idiot. It’s a pretty simple concept actually, it’s called security theater. Except this theater is of the Third Reich.

They’re bringing in disease!

See, now you just sound like a Nazi, and come on, we’re not exactly one to speak about diseases when you’re refusing to vaccinate your fucking kid because of “big pharma, unfounded conspiracies, and autism”. Cry me a fucking river, Shania. The whole notion of disease comes out of fear of the unknown but we cannot throw a stone at someone else knowing we do the same. We won’t vaccinate and now measles, chicken pox, whooping cough, and many other diseases are on the rise because you’d rather let your kid die than have autism, which by the way has been dispelled at every turn by various scientists.

Obama/ Bush administration were the ones who implemented the law of child separation. 

Oh Brandon, you xenophobic dick. First of all the Obama and Bush administration NEVER placed an order of removal between the parents and their children. What is true is that there is no law saying these current atrocities have to be carried out. Crossing the border illegally is a misdemeanor that can get you jailed for up to 20 days or so and then you’re automatically sent to your country of origin. The immigrant parents who are caught with their children are never separated from them and there are no real lasting repercussions. If I was to take your reasoning into account then that would mean people who have had a DUI, or those who have been arrested for public disturbance should have their children taken away as well? Secondly, when the Obama administration implemented certain facilities to house kids it was due to an immense influx of unaccompanied minors who were immigrating to the USA by their damn selves. Most, of these children, were from Central America and were not deemed a threat to the nation after very careful vetting. These kids ranged between the ages of 12-17 years old and they were TEMPORARILY housed or often placed in foster homes with other immigrant adults till the Government could get a hold of their parent. Of course, everything wasn’t always handled perfectly as there were a ton of problems because sometimes the foster parents would refuse to answer their phones to various federally appointed counselors or even gave the Government the wrong information. Some of the facilities in which the children were housed were not as top notch as we expected and there were abuses happening at the time. But by that point, the children were really alone. They didn’t come in with their parents to protect them and sadly things didn’t always go the right way. The few kids who were separated from the adult were either trafficked here or were in deep danger of those adults that surrounded them

They should come here legally if they want to enter the country!

Kathy, you sad simpleton. Looking for Asylum is not against the law. Actually, the ports of entry for refugees are being blocked by ICE agents to deter them from reaching the United States legally. Usually, when an immigrant came to the port of entry looking for asylum they would have to bring proof which then they would be taken to a holding facility where their case was carefully reviewed and then after about a month or so they would either be allowed to stay or leave depending on the severity of their situation. Now, Looking for a way to come to the united states legally especially in countries that are extremely corrupt is very difficult. I myself applied for a visa in order to come to the united states twice and both times it was denied even though I was a 4-year-old child who was about to die of a severe heart condition. If it hadn’t been for a charitable company that had put their name behind me and petitioned for me to travel I would never have even set a foot in the United States and I would never be able to write this because I’d be dead by now. That’s how difficult everything is. The immigration system is so broken and instead of looking for a solution you shining citizens can only proclaim your distaste for a president that hasn’t been in office for over 2 years. Obama, Bush, or Clinton are no longer running the country. Take responsibility for the mistakes YOUR amoral president is making.

But MS-13! 

Ms-13 is a Mexican terrorist group that has been used as a cop out to paint innocent people who are Latino and Hispanic in an unflattering light. Gang members don’t really want to come here, their profit is not here. They are already immensely powerful in Mexico, why leave if things are good for them? It makes no sense and if again I were to take your reasoning into consideration I would say that other countries should never allow an American entry because they could be from the KKK. What makes sense is to have a racist, xenophobic, sexist president using something like gang violence in order to disenfranchise a group of people who don’t match his ideas for the perfect immigrant. Case in point, he very clearly said he would like Europeans (meaning Caucasians) to immigrate here (They wouldn’t. Europe is not perfect but at least it has universal health care among other things.) Mexicans, meaning all Latino because that how you all like to categorize us not realizing that Latinos are very diverse but those of us who are brown in complexion are rapists, killers, we’re infesting the country, we’re bringing disease, we’re animals among other ludicrous things Trump has said about the Latino community and for the record, not all immigrants are Mexican. Most at this point are from Central America. It's the same as not all Asians are Chinese, not all black people are thugs and not all white men who wear penny loafers are entitled pricks who call on their daddies to fix their problems. You see how stereotypes work? Those of you who applaud him while desecrating the flag by wearing it as a shirt or bandana and eating off of flag emblazoned paper plates like to think you’re somehow better and patriotic because you won the lottery by being born here. It’s as simple as that and if you want the immigrants to fix their problems back home maybe tell your government not to meddle in their democratic systems. It’s a cop-out to make yourselves feel better about the atrocities that are happening.  

Build the WALL! 

Yes Brayden, because a wall is gonna stop a bunch of plane riding immigrants to come to the United States. Newsflash, most people who end up here illegally came here legally through a visa but overstayed their welcome. Most of the people who came here otherwise, seek asylum, which is not illegal. There are actually very few people who cross the border illegally and stay here. No one wants to leave their life, culture, and language behind unless it’s absolutely necessary. The wall will stop nothing. Separating kids and now babies from their parents have not deterred the parents from continuing their long arduous trips to the United States. The wall only serves as a trophy for the GOP to pat themselves on the back and say what good little legislators they are. It’s a sign of oppression and a sign of unwelcoming. It’s as if I had a picture of Jesus in my living room but a satanic altar in the next room. It’s counterproductive and we’re the ones who are gonna pay for it. Mexico will pay for nothing even if Trump is holding these children hostages. The procedures are very eerily being carried out in much the same way the Nazi's carried out their atrocities. First, they block all potential legal ways for the marginalized group to carry out their mission legally.  Then, they used false rhetoric and fear monger civilians so that the marginalized group can be dehumanized and therefore easier for the government to carry out whatever it is they are planning without dissent. Then they sanitize the living conditions in which the immigrant group are living in. Finally, they discredit or all accounts that are cited by reputable resources in order to keep the masses confused and ignorant. It's exactly what happened when the Japanese were placed in internment camps.  

Immigrants will never assimilate to our way of life!

Say the people whose grandpappy’s and Nanas never learned English and continued to live their lives the way they did in Poland. English is not a designated American language. No language has been designated to the USA, you morons.

Immigrants should look for a way to legalize their situation.

Ok, how about you fork over $20,000 while working a minimum wage job that you can’t quit from no matter how bad it is because if you do there’s nowhere else for you to work at without breaking the Law. Immigration lawyers are some of the worst wolves in sheep’s clothing I have ever met. I spend about $10,000 just to get a green card while having nowhere else to live but at my Mother in law’s tiny ass house in the middle of the ghetto while pregnant. I slept on the floor with my husband because the place was so small we couldn’t even put a bed in there, much less afford one. When I was about to apply for citizenship my Lawyer up and left after I had paid her the money to file in the citizenship paperwork. She disappeared and I have no way of recuperating my paperwork from her. Thankfully no everything was lost but I am not an isolated incident, there are countless stories of people who have been duped by lawyers and there are more fast food joint in the USA than immigration courthouses. So you guys do the fucking math. It takes so much of you and so long for you to even reach the tip of what American citizens expect from you. 

They broke the law, therefore they should pay the consequences.

We break the law every single day Khayyley, it's not an exaggeration or even something that I'm making up. I live in Connecticut and lord do we have some ridiculous laws like, husbands who cannot kiss their wives on any Sunday. If a cyclist goes above 65 MPH they have be stopped by a police officer and we're not allowed to educate dogs. (lol, what?) Anyway, the point is we don't get citations, incarcerated or even have enforcement carried out for the most menial lawlessness so why should we punish these kids who have done nothing wrong? This used to be the country that was known for checks and balances, the country of separation of church and state. Somewhere along the way, we've lost ourselves and we've become the country of checks and cherry picking. The country that puts babies in cages and we don't allow the staff to offer any comfort. These are not "summer camps" and we shouldn't find a way to sanitize the word cage but we have gone so far off the deep end and our expectations for our leaders are so low that we may as well be licking the ground. These are kids who are screaming for their mothers and fathers who may never see them again just for committing the sin of being born brown, something that they obviously have no control over. It's a harrowing reality but their voices are falling on deaf ears as politicians use the bible to excuse their horrid laws as they smile because they're the ones all cozy with big fat paychecks provided by their citizens. We're duped into thinking that these current politicians have our best interest at heart when in actuality they don't. Just because an abusive parent says they care about you doesn't mean they actually do. The GOP is a cesspool of corrupt, self-serving, amoral group of people with Trump at the head.

 Our Lawmakers are making due with what they were handed.

How, exactly how have we been improving the country? The rich are getting richer while the poor still have to rely on governmental help that is slowly dwindling while those very same poor people have to deal with being called moochers. Our children are dying off at alarming rates because our government wants to continue catering to the NRA's demands as they go about spreading baseless lies and flimsy excuses for mass shootings. Our healthcare system is a fucking joke and we sit idly by as Men in power oppress our women because they don't want to bring a child into a world full of problems that cannot be easily fixed. We cater to our very own terrorists who use the bible in order to justify themselves and call it "freedom of speech" yet we call people color sons of bitches for simply daring to protest peacefully for the flagrant disenfranchisement of his fellow people. We slap the, what about isms and point fingers to others without realizing we're the ones putting them in those positions while simultaneously squashing the education system in order to keep future voters ignorant. Republicans can't be voted in if we have intellectuals willing to question their agendas. It's much easier to have dumb, compliant, narrow-minded morons in order for them to make that money. Can't you see what it is they're doing? They are dehumanizing these people and saying that they're all criminals and or will become criminals in the future so that the white elitists can feel alleviated of all culpability in order for them to be able to sell their soul to the administration that is quietly pocketing civilian's money. Money, that they say will go to charities but never do. It doesn't matter if these kids have television, air conditioners, or even a meal because they have been so traumatized by being ripped apart from their parents that even if they were being housed at the Ritz Carlton the practices would still be inhumane.  

But Trump signed the executive order, stop complaining already.

Wow Tammy, first of all, he didn't need to. Separating children from their parents is not a law, never has been. The separation of children who were accompanied by an adult usually happened if the child was found to have been a product of human trafficking, which by the way, has a very low percentage. Instead, the manner in which these kids are being handled now is more cause for worry because they can fall prey to actual human traffickers. Case in point, the over 1,000 children that were mysteriously lost and haven't been found yet and no one has any clue where or how they might have disappeared. It's insane for you to think that just because these kids are in these prison camps they're somehow being treated correctly. These children only see the light of day for 2 hours and the rest they spend it inside and security measures have been implemented to keep the child from escaping as if they were high-security inmates. They're being treated like prisoners and now they're being forcefully injected with psychiatric drugs in order to keep them from crying. I don't think I need to tell you about the long-term repercussions these drugs can have but I will anyway. It can cause obesity, adult onset diabetes, dizziness, listlessness, and are left incapacitated. Easy prey for any trafficker. it's callously barbaric. These kids are set up for a plethora of mental health problem that will never go away. This new executive order was unnecessary and Trump just needed to feel like a dictator because that's what he truly wants. He doesn't believe in a democracy. He values people like Stalin and Kim Jung Un and insults our allies (sorry Canada!). The paper he signed keeps families together yes, but at the cost of their freedom because they are to be kept in what I would guess to be newly built facilities that will most definitely be paid by us for an indefinite period of time as opposed to deporting them back to their countries after about 20 days. It'll be a real concentration camp and I wouldn't be surprised if gas chambers and fire pits begin to appear all over the United States and all Latino immigrants are rounded up regardless of whether they are legally here or not.

We should worry about our own citizens instead of immigrants who are only a distraction to our own problems. 

You're right up to a point. We should definitely worry about our citizens and maybe worry about our very own problems that plague our nation, yet we don't. We should be working towards implementing Gun control and worrying about human rights abuses towards people of color, but we don't. Instead, we blame those very people that are being needlessly maligned because we'd rather think it's their fault as opposed to us saying that we fucked up, that we cannot do enough to help our own people. Immigrants aren't looking to distract us from our own problems but the GOP sure is using that scapegoat in order to confuse us and turn us into megalomaniacs who claim to care for this country while rationalizing the heinous laws that this administration is implementing. Understand that just because I sympathize with the plight of immigration it doesn't negate my love or even my worries for the problems that are in my country. I love this country and I'm thankful to this country for all its wonderful opportunities. I believe we can be better and I don't think we're perfect but we're definitely capable of being great indeed. It was before and I'm sure we can be now and in the future.

   Listen, all I’m trying to really say is that the things that are happening are beyond horrible and at such an alarming speed that I am scared for the future of my country. This president is giving a pathway for all the fascists to wave their flag and complain about how they suffer at the cost of people they refuse to understand or even get to know. It's giving way for racists to be open about their disgusting assumptions by calling it honesty, and "well I'm just telling it like it is, and everyone else was thinking it, anyway". 

Just like President Snow from the Hunger Games, Trump is using children to shield himself and get what he wants. This is no longer a, “I wonder what a dystopian future would be like.” situation we are there already. This is the Handmaid’s Tale. This the Hunger Games. This is Nazi Germany, and the trail of tears coming to fruition all over again and we’re allowing it. So, come November if you do not vote blue and later regret not doing so then it will be entirely your fault that this once great country will crumble and burn to the ground with only the ashes to left as a reminder of what it once was. Our founding fathers would ashamed of us and we should too. Have a little humanity and compassion but if you're not capable of that, at least know that your stance will follow not just you but your entire lineage till the end of time just like the Nazi regime was because you are most definitely on the wrong side of history.

[fatedcaniine]

Interlude 1

Note: These interludes take place in the Worm universe. At the point where I am with @warriors-of-ayica​, this is where the first Interlude will take place. Just after the Bakuda Incident, but before the next one. Please note that they will never be in the POV of Taylor herself, seeing as she’s the main hero of sorts.

Thus, have fun seeing what the others of Brockton Bay and everywhere else on Earth Bet are dealing with!

The male Cape sighed as he sat in a meeting with major leaders of the PRT and the two other members of the Triumvirate. Alexandria was at the front of the table, in her ‘normal’ disguise that showed nothing of who she was. Eidolon stood with his arms crossed over his chest, nothing being shown from behind the silver mask.

“The first order of business,” the Director/Alexandria said, looking down the table at a more portly woman who glared back at her, “is the incident dealing with the villain group known as the Ainz Bad Boys. Specifically, their newest member, Bakuda.”

The woman sighed, Piggot if he remembered right, “Indeed. Bakuda turned the Dockworker’s Union into a crater. There was no warning, no shred of mercy. As far as we can tell, every member that was in work that day died. It’s hard to tell, seeing as it was a fucking black hole bomb.”

The reactions of the other people was clear. It was shocking, and horrifying that a Cape could do that, and did do that. “We’re setting it up so she’s sent directly to the Birdcage so she can’t do anything like that again. Though... During her attack, Lung was freed by Oni Lee, and he seems set to go on a rampage. We may be dealing with a full on gang war. The Empire will have a reason to do war and spread their influence further than they have it at the moment. And the new gangs that popped up when Lung went down...”

“What about them?” One asked.

“I have a feeling they’ll relish in what they’re given. Specifically the Five Knights. Relatively small, but the one crime they did had them turn an entire city block to a bloodbath. It was a drug den, true, but... We had bodies nearly cleaved in two and crushed at that. Others were shot, and some were exploded. All Empire members, not a single Cape.” Everyone was silent as Piggot sighed. “The worst part? We think their weaponry was made by an unknown Tinker Cape. We’ve given them a 4, just due to the multiple types of damage done. Possible 6 with the information we have.”

Alexandria frowned and sighed. “I see. We will try to send in more Capes to assist you if things go out of hand, along with the National Guard and such if needed. However... We have a bigger piece of information we must deal with.”

Tapping on the table before her, a set of images showed up. Large humanoids of plant matter and bark strode through streets, some vanishing when they drew near plants and others appearing from those same plants. Capes blasted at them with all sorts of powers with all sorts of skills, yet they continued to come. Tendrils of ivy smashed into some, ripping through them with ease. Claws of bark and blades of moss cut through even Tinker armor with ease. In the corner of the screen, it read ‘São Paulo’.

Another screen showed a large city, only to have a giant whale like beast emerge from the ground, a roar of unknown strength emerging from whatever organ allowed it to roar loudly. Capes that got too close were rent apart into pieces. The largest buildings that it rammed into were twisted and broke apart as it soon entered the ground, the sands closing in around it as it entered the ground. ‘Dubai’ was in the corner of the screen this time.

The last screen showed two beasts. One was a large draconic beast that looked to be surrounded by crystals of all kinds. As it roared, they shattered and rushed at the other beast, who jumped back and avoided most of the attack. It rushed forward, the two heads that were away from it’s neck on their own necks attacking any human that wasn’t a cape as the main head unleashed a blast of energy that slammed into the other monster. The city name was ‘Dublin’.

“We have reports of multiple beasts of Endbringer like power attacking three major cities around the globe. And we have video evidence of this occurring. Four new Endbringers, we’ve decided that these beasts are.” The entire room was silent, as were the Triumvirate members. Four new Endbringers? And the worst part of it? Not a single one of them was on their own. All in one day, at the same time, four of them rose from their sleeping places and attacked and slaughtered.

“The first we are referring to the Green. Hekatonkheires is another name for them, and we’ll use the second as the official name. Their power is simple. Plant manipulation, and possible teleportation via plants of any size. We’ve seen them use ivy, moss, and trees to warp around. And even if one dies, they continue forth. The entire city was reduced from over 12 million people to less than six million. And then, they just vanished.”

Director Piggot was in shock, Legend could tell. Such power from a single Endbringer, hell that was worse than most of their attacks. “The second we are naming Sanat Kumara, based on the spacial manipulation it has. It has its entire body covered in such spacial warping, to the point that anyone close to the beast is rent apart, and most attacks are just destroyed on impact. Dubai was almost completely destroyed by it running around, and it vanished into the ground when the buildings were rubble. Seismic activity shows no signs of it nearby.”

“And finally, these two. We have no names for them. The first appeared in a large cave of crystal that was connected to a pond. A child is the first victim, as we see them enter and then run out minutes later, only to have the Endbringer crush them before attacking anything in sight. The second appeared moments later, and it’s by far the oddest one. We can tell that it attacked civilians almost exclusively until it saw the first that showed up, and then attacking humans was secondary. It attacked another Endbringer.” She looked around the room at the silent directors and her partner Capes.

“Not only did it do that, but it just did something that we never thought possible. Not only was there two Endbringers in one location, but they fought one another. Dublin was saved the destruction of the attack of one by the two of them duking it out. Dominance on the second one’s end has been ruled out by the Thinker Tank. It may be possible that it desires a challenge, or perhaps something more. We don’t know.”

“This is a day that ended in more deaths in a single Endbringer attack since Leviathan sunk Japan. Today is going to be a memorial for everyone that died to these monsters. And we will be planning a press conference to explain what happened. And... We need to be prepared for more of them showing up. Scion was in China putting out a forest fire and they vanished just as he was leaving. So... It is possible they had eyes on our greatest hero. And they went away the moment he was free.”

“This meeting is dismissed. I’m sorry to have dropped this on you but you need to inform all your capes and such about this. Piggot, we will assist you after we figure out what to do.”

The directors vanished one after another, each a hologram. When the last vanished, Alexandria sighed and sat back in the chair. “Scion is bad enough. Three Endbringers was bad enough. Now we have four more. And a possible FIFTH one watching Scion...”

It was Legend who finished up what he knew they were all thinking. “Well then. I guess the worst just happened.”