#'do you want to vote for the company who did the bare minimum of what they advertise their game as worth buying into rn'

[girlbob-boypants]

"Ff14 was nominated for a community support award!"

Didn't it recently get revealed that the middling quality of the post msq patches is because key members of staff were working on ff16 instead?

[doberbutts]

I mean this is a pretty hot take but I think until y'all can sit down and actually provide examples of what you mean by "privilege" instead of using the word as a means of referring to the nebulous idea that some people have it better and its Their Fault, there will continue to be absolutely braindead takes about who holds what privilege and how it conflicts with actual first-hand experience.

That's why, when I ask what male privilege I was apparently either born with or received immediately upon coming out, I get crickets.

When we talk about male privilege, we talk about getting paid more. We talk about getting hired more, and into higher-paying jobs more. We talk about being able to vote and drive and have credit cards and bank accounts. We talk about reproductive freedom and body autonomy. We talk about rape statistics, domestic violence, and other forms of violent crime. We talk about immigration and citizenship status and human trafficking. We talk about power dynamics in relationships. We talk about society's expectations for gender roles.

There's two big problems with this:

Unless a trans man is completely binary, fully stealth, and has burned every trace of his past, almost none of this is accessible to him. Trans men don't get paid more unless their gender marker is M, there's no mention of ever being anything but cisgender, and they're completely stealth. They don't get hired more, unless these things are true. Many lived lives being discouraged from chasing higher paying jobs such as STEM fields due to being seen as girls, so they're not going into these jobs more either. Similarly with voting- when I registered to vote I was non-passing, with my legal name and gender marker. To the voting office, I was a woman. To my credit card company, who has never seen my face, I'm *still* a woman, despite passing most of the time. To my bank account, which I've had since I was 8, I've never not been a woman. When I took my driver's test, I was treated as a woman.

When I asked for a hysterectomy at 20, I was told not until I was over 30, had a minimum of two children, or had a husband to sign off on it. Just like a woman. When I whacked my head as a kid and was rushed to the doctor, the doctor specifically said if I was a boy he wouldn't have bothered stitching but a girl can't have scars on her face *while he was stitching my forehead back together*. I had to fight to be allowed to cut my long hair. I had to fight to be allowed to take care of it by myself.

I have needed to leave relationships when I realized I was with a man that would hurt me for his gain. I've been assaulted by my peers for being a black woman or a black girl in a space that I was not wanted.

I was raised with the expectation that I would be a mother to a large family with a husband that kept me pregnant and likely staying at home like a typical tradwife. I was punished, physically, mentally, emotionally, socially for rejecting that life. I lost literally all my social group from before I came out. I lost a good chunk of family members too, and the ones I have left are... trying, but not perfect.

And:

Other marginalized men are also often denied access to these things either. White men might be paid more, but white women make more than men of any other race. White men might be hired more, but "Rachel" is more likely to get a call back than "Rafael". White men are more likely to be in a STEM position, but tell me when the last time you saw a Native doctor. It may have been *legal* for racially marginalized men to vote, but those who did not speak English had no ability to do so until 45 years *after* white women had the right to vote (and technically it took another 10 years for translations to actually be provided). Banks and credit companies and driver's tests and mortgage brokers and more are *known* to discriminate, between barely-legal remnants of redlining to outright illegal discrimination because they know they can get away with it.

Black and Native children are taken from their birth families and placed into foster care and adoptive homes daily due to state-sponsered genocide. It's more than just the mother that's affected by this. Black men are largely targeted by stop-and-frisk policing policies that exist to do nothing except harass and assault them for just existing in a place, and are an extreme body violation.

New studies show that men experience rape and domestic violence at roughly the equivilant rate as women, but reporting is obscenely low due to social pressures and rigid gendering of victim vs abuser policies. The demographic with the highest rate of murder victims is black men.

Single, childless adult men are not allowed to immigrate to multiple countries, including the US, on refugee status. Men of marginalized races- largely latine and asian- are trafficked by largescale construction companies and then deported or abandoned when no longer needed.

Disabled men are killed or abandoned regularly by their able-bodied partners who got tired of dealing with them.

I know more than one man who feels trapped into a place where he cannot, ever, show any emotion besides horny, hungry, or angry as a direct result of strict gender roles being pushed on him. I know more than one man who has tried to take his own life because of it.

I know more than one man who has succeeded.

And I gotta be honest the further I get in transition and the more I pass the more I think that being a man... also kinda sucks. Like it sucked when I was a woman. Doesn't really feel like it sucks less as a man. Seems to me like society treats both of these pretty poorly and I was told the grass was way greener on this side and it's, uh, not. Not really. Not when you start making cis male friends and start realizing that a lot of these guys had a lot of the same experiences you grew up being told was part of a woman's life.

And I'm not saying that these guys don't have interactions where life is better for them because they're men. Of course they do. That's patriarchy for you. But I do think it's difficult to have a "male privilege" argument when people try to argue on a 1-to-1 basis and it just straight up doesn't work like that.

And I know a lot of what I'm saying ties back to the theory of intersectionality, that this can't flatten nuance like this is directly tied to the fact that a white woman, a native woman, an asian woman, a black man, a latino man, and an arabic man, are all going to have WILDLY different experiences that you can't just "well you're [gender] so you don't experience [harm]" about because it's blatantly untrue. Especially if you continue to add marginalizations, like immigration status, religion, sexuality, transition, language, and more.

[tbhsilver]

On July 31, Infinite Entertainment confirmed to several South Korean outlets that Silver will soon be making her official debut as a soloist, over nine years after debuting in global K-Pop girl group FLORA (식물군). This news —

" no. "

silver watched in immense satisfaction as the faces around the conference room fell. she knew infinite had something sly up their sleeves when she was called into a meeting with her team and a couple higher-ups in the company. for years, be it new star or infinite, everyone had been trying to force her to release solo music. from a business standpoint, it had always made sense. she was the leader of one of the most beloved groups in the country, and had proved her versatility (when she cared to try) in an array of concepts. but while a solo debut may have seemed appealing to most idols in this industry, the idea filled silver with disdain.

" but — "

she interrupted the creative director's spiel with a shake of her head. unapologetic, the blonde pushed the mock-up article of the solo announcement away from her and back towards the suits sitting across from her. their expressions ranged from displeasure to shock, and neither fazed silver much. " just like i said last year, and the year before, i'm not interested. "

" eunhae-yah. " her manager attempted gently, knowing better than anyone how short her temper could be. " just hear them out. "

silver said nothing, which the suits took as a reluctant opening. the marketing analyst immediately dived in. " umeko's debut was such a financial and public success. "

yeah and she hated every second of it, she thought.

" — it attracted more fans to flora, and left people wanting more from her, nari, and yourself. right now, your brand ambassador duties are your only solo activities outside of the group. we think this is the perfect time to usher in more. "

the creative director chimed in: " we did some testing with focal groups and dahlias across the board voted that 'fancy' and 'feel special' as their favorite eras for you. with that in mind, we found a few demos in a similar vein that would be great for a solo debut. we can play them for you, if you'd like. "

" yeah, absolutely not. " her shoulders were tense, and a bitter taste grew in her mouth. of all the songs they could have picked, of course they picked the two title tracks from the worst period of her life. it was pretty fucking ironic that dahlias loved it so much when she spent every day after promotions, forcing herself not to cry to sleep. hearing the suits now was all the confirmation she needed — she was right to say no to this. they didn't actually want music from her; the wanted music from the image they tried to force onto her since the very beginning. fuck no.

she knew her defiance infuriated the higher-ups. this was usually the part of the meeting when they would throw around thinly-veiled threats or attempts of coercion to get their way. it may have been enough to scare an idol who was desperate enough to do anything to keep their career in this industry. but silver wasn't one of them. best case scenario, they retaliated by giving her less to do. great. she wanted to do the bare minimum anyways. she'd learned a long time ago that she held the power, not the company. they tried to so hard to convince her otherwise, but silver knew the truth: they needed her more than she would ever need them. that meant she was unshakeable.

" well, if that's all. . . " silver drawled out in an icy tone, reaching for her fendi bag in the chair next to her.

" what can we do to convince you ? "

now, that was new. silver was used to their demands and expectations, constantly battling against the assumption that they can control her. they'd never once asked her. just told her. this time though, she could hear the desperation clear in their voices. it was enough to intrigue the leader. warily, she dropped her purse back down and eyed the suits across the table, folding her arms over her distressed crop tee.

" what are you offering ? " silver inquired with a raise in her eyebrow.

" we'll let you pick what demo you like the most. "

" no. " that wasn't a good deal when she didn't even like the vibe that the demos were based off of. that already happened to yumi, and she'd be damned if she went the same route. " i want to pick my own concept, for starters. "

" but the ideal concept has been tested on— "

with a roll of her eyes, silver grabbed her bag again. she knew this would be pointless and her patience was already gone. the half-assed negotiating was over in her head.

" wait. wait. " one of them cut in before she could get up. " fine. you can choose the concept. does that mean you're saying yes ? "

" i said for starters. " silver retorted slowly, as if she was talking to a toddler. " i pick the songs, i pick any collaborations. you all can be in charge of the styling, branding, choreography, and promotional scheduling, but i want a first look on everything. if i don't like it, i'm not doing it. "

she watched the looks exchanged between the higher-ups, clearly weighing the options heavily. as different pairs of eyes glanced up in her direction, silver knew not to look away. this wasn't about establishing a boundary; this was about establishing who was in charge here. after a long beat of silence, the creative director sighed. " that. . . sounds reasonable. "

no shit, asshole. silver surprisingly bit her tongue in time. the annoyance was clear in her face, though. of course the company would act like they were doing her a favor by allowing her to do what she wanted with her voice, with her body.

" fine. i'll do it then. " sliding the purse onto her shoulder, silver grabbed her sunglasses on the table and pushed them onto her face. silently, she gestured at her manager to signal that she was ready to leave. she barely paid mind to the relieved and happy expressions on the suits' faces.

" so do we have approval to release this article ? "

" not until i get everything i've asked for in writing. " the leader replied bluntly as she adjusted the shades. she wasn't stupid. the last thing she needed was to have them go back on their word the moment the news was out. with a bored toss of her hair, she headed for the door. her manager was quick to follow after her to hold the door open. " when i do, then you can. "

" we'll have it to you by the end of the day. thank you. " the head of public relations assured. detecting that the conversation had come to an end, a few of the suits stood from the table to bow in gratitude. silver would have relished in it if she wasn't processing one thing:

what the fuck did i just agree to ?

[jaythelay]

Ah, I got it. It's the inactivity of these people that bothers me.

To them, all that needs to be done is read reddit occassionally and play team cheerleaders.

Actually demanding anything or holding anyone accountable is seen as tantamount to the fact their party is becoming republican, and that is worse than accepting faults that could be resolved now than become unresolvable later.

It's this insistence that so long as they do One Thing they're doing More Than Anyone, that even though they literally have one option to choose after the rich chooses that for them, that's still a choice with more meaning than any other action. And yet it's still a stack of cards every time whether they'll win.

And even then, they still consistently use the excuse of some forward decisions making up for the devastation of backwards ass decisions no reasonable person would make past or present.

The very concept of knowing what to do is so hard to them that the bare minimum is seen as too high a bar for not only their elected officials but for themselves. To allow anything just for a scrap of progress elsewhere. 3 steps back and a step forward is seen as the only compromise from 6 steps back. Not because it's impossible, but because we refuse to raise our own knowledge and standards.

And to that end, you're good in the eyes of god in that you did all you could. When really, you can vote for the person you criticise as much as you can criticise a product or company for a better one next time. Do ya think people are critiquing Dump just because he sucks? No, they want options and nuancd that the R's aren't giving them. There is nothing to critique for a party that refuses it. Dems are willing, so of course there's more for them than R's.

But sure. We really would vote for a corpse over Trump, hell, why not vote for another centre right like Biden? Why not further. Why not corporate plants. Why not Mitt Romney or whoever else. Go DNC, pick the worst possible candidate yet the fuck again 3 times in a row, certainly won't have long lasting impacts solely for us and not a single elected official.

remember when we revolutionized or whatever putting the fear of god into officials? i dont.

I mean, it's blue no matter who, not good leaders over wife beaters.

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[jaynovz]

The Black Sails Rewatch w/ Bob Commentary (s1 e7-8)

We finished s1 on New Year's Eve. Brace for Opinions and Salt :P

---

Ep 7:

Pastor is practicing sermon: "who is he talking to? the children of the corn?"

Flint and company in Eleanor's office: "Umm did they just teleport back?"

"Leaving in the middle of your meetings isn't very professional Eleanor"

Flint: Everyone is lied to for their own good

"You need consent dude"

about Eleanor and Mr. Scott: "Well you did just tell him you could handle yourself but now you're bent out of shape that he's leaving?"

Randall farts: "That doesn't mean anything. I bet John Silver farts 36 times a day. Randall could be a genius"

"This episode isn't very good is it? They're just like... marking time until the finale. Like, it's an 18 minute episode that for some reason is taking 50."

"That's sort of the advantage of procedural styles of tv. If you need to mark time and maybe wrap up a few loose ends, you can just have a case/mission/monster of the week"

“You guys don’t have electricity, why do you have all these conversations at night?”

about Ranger and Walrus: "those ships are too close together. I know you're a consort but you don't need to be within spitting distance, damn"

about Vane: "Rise my dirt child rise"

"They should have buried him face down"

and then:

"He's got a floppy sandy dick, I bet he got sand in his urethra. Captain Long Dong"

"Did anything happen that episode? It was just talking in rooms. Okay, Vane killed that beef guy, but it was in the last 30 seconds"

"What else happened? They dealt nominally with Billy being dead, like the bare minimum. Like 'Okay, so, promise to never whip your dick out on Zoom again' and no real punishment"

“Billy’s going to come back as that snapping turtle from Treasure Planet”

"I feel like they really should have voted Flint off by now. They don't really need him to get the gold do they? With him the crew is just bargaining for bigger cages and longer leashes"

Ep 8:

in the brothel: "Who lights all these candles, you’re gonna burn the place down"

about Randall's peg leg: "hey Silver, maybe the middle of a storm isn't the best time to have this conversation?"

Flint: Either tomorrow we'll be able to afford a lot more or

Gates: We'll be too dead to care

"Yeah, my ass this all resolves tomorrow"

"I really dislike people standing up in rowboats"

"I wish they had spent the last episode where they weren't doing anything instead showing all the preparations that were done to both ships to get them ready for this raid. Like before an anime fight scene, you show the characters training so that you know the stakes"

"I want an upgrade montage with the new 12 pounders. We spent so much time getting those guns and I DIDN’T GET TO SEE THEM"

Urca isn't there: "oh no, did they not find One Piece at the Grand Line -surprised Pikachu-"

Hornigold: In a moment when stability is at hand and the world is at your feet, your first instinct is to go out in search of someone new to fight

"That guy said exactly what I was thinking"

"wait wait, did Flint just say he wanted the Ranger to fire OVER THEIR BOW? Those guns do not have the kind of accuracy. This is a terrible plan"

Gates dies: "F in the chat. Just kiss his head a little bit"

and then

"Mr. Gates could still turn into a giant millipede in the next life"

"Turns out, Vane is a masochist"

"I don't envy anyone who tries to 'make an example' of Anne Bonny"

"Wait, so Vane's threat is that he's going to tell ppl that Jack betrayed his pirate pals... and then what? They get to just continue running this small business, being warm and not getting shot at and, as stated, making tons of money? This seems like a win"

Dufresne is accusing Flint: "Do we really have to do this right now!?"

“The one time you’re not supposed to challenge the Captain is in a battle situation and... that’s when all the challenges happen”

"lookit that, the warship has butt guns, looks like a fart. Poot poot"

"The ending of this season was exceptionally anti-climactic :( They spent so much time trying to convince ppl to do this really dangerous thing and it turned out to be a nothing burger"

--

I also thought the end of s1 was uh.... weird and anti-climactic. Here's hoping Bob enjoys s2 better! (which might be my favorite season).

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

[arcticdementor]

The news business just can’t stop clowning itself. The latest indignity is an international fact-checking debacle originating, of all places, at a “festival of fact-checking.”

The Poynter Institute is perhaps the most respected think tank in our business, an organization seeking to “fortify journalism’s role in a free society,” among other things through its sponsorship of the fact-checking outlet PolitiFact. A few weeks back, it held a virtual convention called the “United Facts of America: A Festival of Fact-Checking.”

The three-day event featured special guests Christiane Amanpour, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Brian Stelter, and Senator Mark Warner — a lineup of fact “stars” whose ironic energy recalled the USO’s telethon-execution of Terrance and Phillip before the invasion of Canada in South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. Tickets were $50, but if you wanted a “private virtual happy hour” with Stelter, you needed to pay $100 for the “VIP Experience.”

…

However, the public is regularly misinformed about what fact-checkers do. In most settings — especially at daily newspapers — fact-checking, if used at all, is the equivalent of the bare-minimum collision insurance your average penny-pinching car renter buys. There’s usually just enough time to flag a few potential dangers for litigation and/or major, obvious mistakes about things like dates, spellings of names, wording of quotes, whether a certain event a reporter describes even happened, etc.

For anything more involved than that, which is most things, fact-checkers have to scramble to make tough judgment calls. The best ones tend to vote for killing anything that might blow up in the face of the organization later on. Good checkers are there to help perpetuate the illusion of competence. They’re professional ass-coverers, whose job is to keep it from being obvious that Wolf Blitzer or Matt Taibbi or whoever else you’re following on the critical story of the day only just learned the term hanging chad or spike protein or herd immunity. In my experience they’re usually pretty great at it, but their jobs are less about determining fact than about preventing the vast seas of ignorance underlying most professional news operations from seeping into public view.

Unfortunately, over the course of the last five years in particular, as the commercial media has experienced a precipitous drop in the public trust levels, many organizations have chosen to trumpet fact-checking programs as a way of advertising a dedication to “truth.” Fact-checking has furthermore become part of the “moral clarity” argument, which claims a phony objectivity standard once forced news companies to always include gestures to a perpetually wrong other side, making “truth” a casualty to false “fairness.”

…

But objectivity was never about giving equal time and weight to “both sides.” It’s just an admission that the news business is a high-speed operation whose top decision-makers are working from a knowledge level of near-zero about most things, at best just making an honest effort at hitting the moving target of truth.

Like fact-checking itself, the “on the one hand and on the other hand” format is just a defense mechanism. These people say X, these people say Y, and because the jabbering mannequins we have reading off our teleprompters actually know jack, we’ll let the passage of time sort out the difficult bits.

The public used to appreciate the humility of that approach, but what they get from us more often now are sanctimonious speeches about how reporters are intrepid seekers of truth who sit next to God and gobble amphetamines so they can stay awake all night defending democracy from “misinformation.” But once you get past names, dates, and whether the sky that day was blue or cloudy, the worst kind of misinformation in journalism is to be too sure about anything. That’s especially when dealing with complex technical issues, and even more especially when official sources seem invested in eliminating discussion of alternative scenarios of those issues.

From the start, the press mostly mishandled Covid-19 reporting. Part of this was because nearly all of the critical issues — mask use, lockdowns, viability of vaccine programs, and so on — were marketed by news companies as culture-war narratives. A related problem had to do with news companies using the misguided notion that the news is an exact science to promote the worse misconception that science is an exact science. This led to absurd spectacles like news agencies trying to cover up or denounce as falsehood the natural reality that officials had evolving views on things like the efficacy of ventilators or mask use.

When CNN did a fact-check on the question, “Did Fauci change his mind on the effectiveness of masks?” they seemed worried about the glee Trump followers would feel if they simply wrote yes, so the answer instead became, “Yes, but Trump is also an asshole” (because he implied the need to wear masks is still up for debate). By labeling whatever the current scientific consensus happened to be an immutable “fact,” media outlets made the normal evolution of scientific debates look dishonest, and pointlessly heightened mistrust of both scientists and media.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

January 13, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

At 4:22 this afternoon, the House of Representatives passed the number of votes necessary to impeach Trump. In the end, 232 Representatives—222 Democrats and 10 Republicans—agreed that the president had incited an insurrection and must be removed from office. But 197 Republicans disagreed.

And so, Donald Trump makes the history books as the first president of the United States of America to be impeached twice.

This is an indictment of him, of course, but also of the Republican Party that let him off the hook a year ago for undermining the national security of the United States as he tried to steal the 2020 election. Shortly before the Senate vote on conviction almost exactly a year ago, House impeachment manager Adam Schiff (D-CA) charged his Republican colleagues to look to the future, telling them, “you know you can’t trust this President to do what’s right for this country. You can trust he will do what’s right for Donald Trump. He’ll do it now. He’s done it before. He’ll do it for the next several months. He’ll do it in the election if he’s allowed to.”

But every Republican senator other than Mitt Romney (R-UT) voted to acquit the president of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress. And now, here we are.

A week ago, our Capitol was overrun by insurgents seeking to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election and install Trump in the White House for at least another term. In their fury, they murdered a Capitol Police officer and came within a hair’s breadth of getting their hands on our elected officials.

The insurgents were answering the call of their president, who urged them to fight for him and claim a victory he insisted, without evidence, had been stolen from him. As they stormed the Capitol and aid did not come for the besieged lawmakers, Trump watched events unfold on the television, pleased… and, as people have begun to note, curiously unsurprised.

In the week since the attack, emerging information indicates the insurgency was planned, not spontaneous, and that lawmakers might be involved. Democrats have stood up to this attack on our democracy, but Republicans are in the same bind they’ve been in for years: how can they both keep Trump’s voters and reject Trump himself? Some establishment Republicans who have their own bases of power--Senators Lisa Murkowski (R-AK) and Romney, for example-- have finally said enough is enough, and have come out against the president.

But Republican lawmakers whose only base is Trump supporters have downplayed the attack that killed five people, including a police officer, and wounded many others; defended Trump; and argued that any attempt to remove him is simply a dangerous Democratic effort to create divisions in society. They warn that holding Trump accountable will anger his supporters even more, an observation that many interpret as a threat.

This Republican split showed up today. Liz Cheney (R-WY), chair of the House Republican Conference, blamed the president for the attack on the Capitol and voted to impeach him. But only nine other Republicans joined her. House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) tried to split the baby by blaming the president for the attack on the Capitol but voting against impeachment. Trump loyalists like Jim Jordan (R-OH), who just received the Medal of Freedom from Trump, continued to allege that the election was tainted. They supported Trump wholeheartedly and attacked the Democrats. Refusing to acknowledge that their attacks on the election created the crisis in the first place, they called for unity and blamed the Democrats for dividing America.  

One hundred and ninety-seven Republicans voted against impeaching the president. A year ago, Schiff infuriated Republicans by repeating a rumor published by CBS News that White House officials had warned party members: “Vote against the president and your head will be on a pike.” Today, rumors swirled that a number of Republicans did not dare to vote in favor of impeachment because they feared for their safety and that of their loved ones.

While the House debated impeachment, the FBI continued to hunt down the insurgents, companies withdrew support from Republicans who supported the attacks on the election, and New York City canceled $17 million worth of contracts with the Trump administration.

The article of impeachment now goes to the Senate. Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) suggested yesterday that he supported impeachment, but today said he would not change the Senate’s schedule to permit a trial before January 19. McConnell was likely pushing impeachment to pressure Trump to resign but, having failed, will do the bare minimum to guide the Republican Party past this moment. He needs to bend just enough to loosen up the purse strings of the companies who are saying they won’t continue to support Republicans who attacked our elections and launched a coup.

In the next week, Trump Republicans might be able to convince Americans that holding Republican insurrectionists responsible for their actions is Democratic overreaction. In that case, the Republicans can avoid taking a stand either for or against Trump while they turn this moment into a referendum on the Democrats just as they take power in the national government. They are running this play headlong, complaining bitterly, for example, about the new metal detectors installed at the entrance to the House chamber-- even as National Guard personnel patrolled the Capitol to protect them-- and complaining about “censorship” to television cameras after Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube removed QAnon accounts and Trump’s accounts.

It could also be that, as more information comes out, the story will get even worse, and it will be easier for senators to vote to convict, especially once Trump is out of office. Yesterday’s briefings by the FBI and acting U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia Michael Sherwin gave notice that the evolving story of what happened on January 6 will be shocking and could well involve figures in government. More than 30 House Democrats have called attention to an unusual number of Capitol tours held on January 5, at a time when coronavirus restrictions have largely ended tours. Those tours, combined with the fact that the insurrectionists appeared to have a detailed knowledge of the Capitol complex, have led to suspicions that some members of Congress might have offered aid to the rioters.

A sign that there is something big still hanging out there came tonight in the form of a taped video by Trump himself, emphasizing that he disavowed violence and defending the right to free speech protected in the First Amendment to the Constitution. It sounded like a charge and a defense. To release such a video means he must be worried indeed about his legal exposure.

Another sign is that virtually no one in the White House tried to defend Trump from today’s impeachment. There were no talking points, no briefings, no interviews, no calls to lawmakers. Even White House Counsel Pat Cipollone, who defended the president at his first impeachment last year, wanted people to know he was not defending him this time.

Furious and isolated, Trump is lashing out at those he blamed for getting him into this mess. He has told aides that he wants personally to approve any expenses his lawyer Rudy Giuliani ran up as he traveled around the country to challenge election results, and he has told them not to pay Giuliani’s legal fees.

Trump had largely given up governing after the election anyway, but now our government seems to be operating haphazardly. Today, Israeli warplanes hit Iranian and Iranian-backed militia positions in Syria. Israeli forces are often active in this area, but this was the hardest attack in years, hitting missiles recently brought to the area and killing around 40 people. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu wanted Trump to pressure Iran before he left office, and this strike seems intended to demonstrate a U.S.-Israeli partnership against Iran. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and Yossi Cohen, the head of Israel’s Mossad intelligence agency, made this message obvious by being seen together Monday at Café Milano in Washington, D.C., a restaurant the Washington Post described as “Washington’s ultimate place to see and be seen.”

Also yesterday, Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar announced new coronavirus vaccine schedule guidelines, as the U.S. reported 4,327 deaths from Covid-19. In the first 13 days of 2021, we have seen more than 3 million new infections. More than 23 million Americans have been infected so far.

Almost exactly a year ago, on January 23, 2020, Adam Schiff urged Senate Republicans to convict Trump for abusing his power and obstructing Congress, and to remove him from office. “Now,” he said, “you may be asking how much damage can he really do in the next several months until the election?

“A lot,” Schiff said. “A lot of damage.”

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[reflectionsofacreator]

Before the pandemic started, I worked at a café in a bookstore chain that rhymes with Barnes and Noble. I was strictly café, and didn’t want to be trained on the sales floor because I knew they wouldn’t pay me more for being cross trained. Mid March was when the company decided to furlough most part time employees and go to bare bones operating, effectively shutting down and only doing online shipping. Slowly things opened back up (way too soon, but whatever, USA is shitty about this). 

About three-four weeks ago, my job called and said that furlough ended, and they wanted to see if I would be willing to come back to work. I said yes, despite having developed some anxieties about leaving my house during the pandemic, largely due to where I live. I was assured that hours are shorter, and that everyone’s required to wear masks by company decree, even if the county the store was in had lifted restrictions, socially distance, yada yada. 

I was told that I’d probably have to be salesfloor trained if I wanted any real hours, though, because the store’s diminished hours meant that only 1 person was really needed in the cafe, maybe two in a pinch, when before we needed at least three to four. I didn’t want to be salesfloor trained, but honestly I just need money, and this job pays better than the state/federal minimum wage. So I sucked it up, said sure, I’d be happy to train and help out. (I am not, for the record. I prefer food to retail)

Bro this fucking sucks. 

Sure, sure, you can argue that only a month on retail after not working for five months is still getting back into the swing of things, but like... They’re having our workload be even bigger than before. We’re working with what feels like a skeleton crew. No one’s gotten a raise for working during this time, I’m sure. Even the managers are relegated to less than full time, and I’m pretty sure that means that the company doesn’t have to provide them insurance. My shifts are long as hell, despite the store being open for less hours of the day. If I work in café, our prep and clean up time has been slashed to only 30 minutes before and after the store closes. I can barely do anything in that time. 

There’s announcements overhead about staying six feet apart, and I look over to see a customer leaning over a coworker’s shoulder to look at the computer screen while they get help finding a book. People lift off their masks to talk to me, and constantly laugh and say that they hate them, it’s so difficult to be understood! I’m supposed to sanitize the limited number of tables and chairs every thirty minutes, but often times I’m so busy with other customers that I can’t get to it. There’s a plexiglass on my counter that’s supposed to be between me and the customer, but it only covers 1/3 of my entire counter, and I watch customers circumvent it constantly. All that is just things that affect me, personally. It’s already nerve wracking, and it just sucks so much. 

Before, my cafe had plates and mugs that we could use for customers and wash. Now, everything is packaged to-go, for obvious reasons. Except I can’t help but wonder how much trash that’s going to end up producing in the long run, how much plastic is being tossed away after three seconds. The water fountains at my work are shut off, with a sign that says “Bottled water is for sale at the cafe”. For fucking sale. Yeah, you can argue that sealed water is better to prevent the transmission of the rona, but it should be free. Customers are encouraged to go contactless in their payment, with cash money being frowned upon. My tips have dwindled into nothing, I was lucky to get $4 today, and one of them was from a regular who always tips $1. 

Two weekends in a row, I did over $500 in sales that day in the café by myself. I got no help, and barely any recognition other than “great job!”. Before I came back, there’d only been four days in six months that that had happened. I ended up staying 30 minutes after my shift was over to try and get all the clean up done. 

God I’m just so fucking tired of this. 

I’m tired of the amount of customers acting like nothing is wrong, and in turn making my brain go “hm, maybe nothing IS wrong, and I’m just imagining things.” I’m tired of the long hours. I’m tired of knowing that this job is actually probably one of the better ones I can have right now in this shitty state. I’m so tired of breaking down crying in my borrowed car, only to realize that I can’t do that, because I might be infected and now I have to sanitize the car. 

I’m tired of knowing that my situation is actually pretty damn good, comparatively. 

Moral of the story is go out and vote blue. Nothing is going to fucking change with that jackass still in charge, and things will, in fact, get worse. I can’t even send in a mail in ballot because the state I’m in says that COVID is “not a good enough reason” to provide mail in ballots. I’m still going to vote on Wednesday anyways, because I can’t live with myself otherwise. 

[whatwouldyourbiasdo]

Finding Cinderella | Series | Prologue

Title: Finding Cinderella

Pairings: Donghae x reader,(Primary) Heechul x reader (Secondary), Kyuhyun x reader (Secondary)

Author’s Note: I have been planning this story for a while but have been battling many writers’ blocks in doing so. This story will mainly focus on Donghae and the reader but will have branching stories between Heechul, Kyuhyun and two secondary OC characters.

Sidenote: Yes, this series will include Kangin and Sungmin. This was originally started back when the two of them were still active members and in my heart they will always be members so I will include them wherever I see fit.

Taglist: Make sure to send us a message if you want to be tagged in future updates on this story

“I can’t believe we won again,” Leeteuk beamed as he and his members made their way to their dressing room, just having finishing yet another music show where their latest single was voted number one of the week.

“I can,” Heechul replied with a pleased smirk curling his lips. “Our fans are amazing, they can make anything happen!”

“But three weeks in a row?” The eldest by just a couple of days let out a soft sigh, “I’m almost feeling sorry for our hoobaes who are working just as hard.”

“Almost being the key word, right?” Kangin joked as he nudged their leader.

It wasn’t like they considered themselves better than others just because of seniority, they were still genuinely surprised and humbled that their fans were still supporting them after all this time and that after so many years they were still able to get to the top. It didn’t mean that they put in less effort than the younger and newer groups that were promoting at the same time.

“It’s thanks to us and our fans that SM was persuaded to throw that party next week.” the second eldest bragged as he casually draped himself on the couch as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Hyung, you are definitely too much,” Ryeowook laughed as turned to the mirror to check his hair, even after the recording and the performing was done he still wanted to look his best. He was a public figure after all.

“What? Am I wrong?”

“It’s not just because of us,” Sungmin nodded in agreement to the second youngest member. “SNSD did really well with their comeback last month, and people are already excited for EXO’s new song and they haven’t even released a teaser yet!”

“Ey, you guys are no fun!” He clicked his tongue in complaint as he circled the phone around his face to find the right angle for a selfie. It had been a whole three hours without updating his SNS and that just simply wouldn’t do. “Ah, too good looking...”

“Humble as ever.” Yesung chuckled at the slightly older male’s antics as he finished packing his own things. “Let’s grab dinner on our way back.”

“Yes! Food! Man, I’m starving!” Eunhyuk whined as he dramatically rubbed his stomach. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast!”

“What about the snacks from the food truck our fans prepared?” Shindong nudged his fellow dancing machine. “You ate more than all of us together, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t!” He denied quickly. “Kyu ate more than me, there was barely any left for the staff after he went through it!”

The youngest in the room glanced up from his phone upon hearing his name and feigned innocence as he was just partially paying attention to what his members were discussing. “Whatever it is you’re accusing me of, it probably was Donghae hyung!”

“What? Why me?” He piped up from the corner of the couch as he stared at the youngest member.

“Because it’s always you,” Eunhyuk decided to join in as he poked his best friend’s head.

“It’s not always me!” He pouted, he wasn’t even sure what exactly they were accusing him off but he definitely denied any accusations that believed he was always to blame. If anything he was one of the most innocent members, sometimes a bit naive perhaps but definitely innocent.

“Just accept it. If things happen, you’re always in the neighborhood,” Eunhyuk continued to tease him as Kyuhyun nodded in agreement.

“That’s why I’m always stuck taking care of you,” Heechul decided to join in the teasing, he had probably known the young idol the longest out of all of them considering their trainee history. After all, he was one of the people who begged him to stay with the company when he was ready to give up on making his debut as an idol.

“Hey, I am totally innocent! I even have an alibi, just ask Siwon!” Donghae protested as he pointed at the taller member on the other side, who was listening in to his members chatting in silent amusement. “Yah, tell them what I was doing.”

“Me?” Siwon looked genuinely surprised as he pointed at himself, he should have known he was going to get dragged into the conversation one way or another. “Ah… Well, you were back here for a long time so I suppose you couldn’t have been eating all of the food…”

“See?!” Donghae’s voice only grew louder as he felt supported in his plea for innocence.

“Why were you back here for so long if not to hide yourself and eat all the food?” Kyuhyun questioned with an accusing tone of voice.

Donghae didn’t hesitate to answer his question, “Pooping.”

A flood of laughter and complaints erupted from the group, whether it was the sheer seriousness and even a hint of pride in which he had proclaimed his actions, or the fact that he brought up the subject carelessly though his members didn’t exactly wanted to know that much detail.

“What? What?!” He kept complaining as he tried to raise his voice above all the others. “It’s a normal thing to do, you know!”

“You don’t need to proclaim it so loud and proud, ya know!” Heechul replied with the same complaining tone of voice. “I don’t need to think of you pooping, thank you very much!”

“Well blame Kyuhyun and Hyukjae, they asked for it!”

It took Kangin two seconds to raise his hand and whack Eunhyuk’s head as punishment for a question he hadn’t even asked personally. As the younger male looked up at the broader man and rubbed the back of his head, Kangin hissed at him in a semi-serious manner. “Don’t encourage that!”

“Yah, yah, yah, Kyuhyun started it!” He muttered as he casually shuffled away from the older member, his lips curling into a pout as Donghae looked at him with a pleased smirk on his face.

“Guess who’ll be cleaning up the dishes tonight,” Shindong had promptly placed his hand on the youngest member’s shoulder, who thought he had escaped the situation unscathed. But as he was busy laughing at the outcome of his set up, the older male had made his way over and was just ever so threateningly squeezing his shoulder in his hand. “Any other jokes, maknae?”

“Okay, c’mon guys!” For as much as Leeteuk enjoyed his members’ antics, he felt it was his responsibility to settle them down when things got too crazy. With a minimum of eleven members together most of the time, energy was as contagious as a common virus which was surprising considering the heavy packed schedules they’ve had ever since they started preparing for this comeback. “Let’s go eat before we lose our appetite thanks to Donghae!”

“Yah! They started it!” Donghae continued to complain as the group slowly got up from their seat and one by one headed for the exit. “It’s a perfectly normal thing!”

“Of course it is,” Siwon agreed in means of assuring him. “But that doesn’t mean we need to know about it.”

“You too, Siwon? You too?” Finally he let out a sigh of defeat, there was just no arguing with these guys when they all banded together.

[megsironthrone]

Choose Your Story Part 4

Here’s Part 4! You voted and it was...a tie! So, I did my best to include both the self-defense class scenario AND the reader taking care of a drunken Sandor scenario! *As always, familiar characters are not mine*

Prologue, part 2, part 3

Warnings: Modern AU, mentions of alcohol, drinking, and drunkenness, a little fluffy-ish, a couple of swears, and a few POV changes. 

Pairings/Characters: Eventual Sandor x reader, Renly, Tyrion

After that night, a sort of uneasy truce settled between you and The Arse, or Sandor as you finally learned his name was. You made an effort to be a little less annoying and he wasn't banging on your door every other day to tell you off about one thing or another. You greeted each other when you passed in the hallways and you were civil.

         For example, one evening, you were headed out at the same time. "Hello, Sandor," you greeted to which he gave a little nod. He took in your outfit. "Bit underdressed for a night out, aren't you?" You snorted out a laugh. You hadn't really been "out" since your breakup. Well, except for once when Renly insisted you go out and get rip-roaring drunk.

         "Nah. I've got a class tonight." Sandor nodded again and silence descended. "Well, I gotta go. See you around." You scurried away from him so you weren't late. It was your first night in your new self-defense class. After what happened with your ex and Sandor's comments about learning how to throw a proper punch, you decided to sign up for one. Your jaw dropped when your instructors walked in.

Sandor's POV

         Sandor's eyes scanned the room and nearly bugged out of his skull when he saw you were in his class. Part of the reason he agreed to teach it was to get some space between the two of you. It helped keep the fighting to a minimum. Still, you were here and had paid the fee. Now it was time to see what you, and everyone else in the class, could do.

         Sandor found his eyes inexplicably traveling to you every so often. You weren't the best in the class by any means, but you weren't the worst either. In fact, Sandor was impressed by the amount of stamina you had and the expression of fierce determination on your face was something he had a difficult time letting go of. It awakened a feeling in Sandor that he hadn't felt in a very long time and his thoughts began to wander.

         When had he started seeing you as attractive? Was it during the many arguments when you were screaming at each other? Or was it when you punched your ex, breaking their nose, when you had walked in on them cheating on you? Or was it just the other day when you had randomly decided to set up your easel next to the building and paint? Sandor remembered the line of paint you'd accidentally spread across your cheek. He didn't know what had started it, but he did know that he didn't like it. He felt vulnerable.

         As class continued, Sandor couldn't keep his mind clear. He managed to make it through to the end, but he knew if you were going to keep taking the class, he was going to need something a lot stronger than the feelings he was developing to cope. Part of him hoped he would be fortunate enough and you would drop the class.

         Of course, he wasn't lucky. Luck and Sandor Clegane did not go hand-in-hand. You stayed in the class for the entire twelve weeks. Three whole months of seeing you three nights a week as well as at home. During those three months, Sandor's feelings grew. He found himself staring at you more often than not. And when he wasn't staring, he was hoping you wouldn't get hurt in class. Or he was thinking about how attractive you'd looked that morning in your paint-covered smock.

         Sandor didn't know how to deal with these feelings of his, especially as he had no hope for any kind of future with you. Sure, you didn't seem to hate him now; you had gotten passed that. But after being told most of his life that he would never be loved, Sandor knew he could never have you. After all, who could love a ruined face like his?

         So Sandor turned to the only thing he knew could help. The bottle and even that would only help for a little while. He tried his best not to get drunk. If the little brat needed him, he had to be ready. But he wanted to forget you if only for a little while. If only he had known what was going on in the head of the person in the apartment next to his.

Normal POV

         You let out a sigh as you peeled the label off the bottle in your hands. You, Renly, and your mutual friend Tyrion were seated in your apartment, looking at your newest painting. "It's good, Y/N, really. I would put this in the gallery if you'd let me." You shook your head vehemently. "Absolutely not. He cannot know about this." Renly sighed as he glanced back at the finished work.

         "You got it bad." Your brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?" Renly gestured to the painting. "It's obvious you're in love with the guy. Or at least getting there. It's quite a change from the first ones you painted of him." You rolled your eyes. "I am not in love with Sandor." Renly's face lit up. "Oh, so it's 'Sandor' now, is it? A few months ago, he was 'The Arse'. Admit it, Y/N, you really like this guy…or is it like I said the first time I saw him and you just want to sleep with him."

         "Oh Y/N definitely wants to sleep with him." You glared at your other friend. "Et tu, Tyrion? I don't want to sleep with him and I don't love him. He's just…an interesting subject to paint is all," you defended weakly as you got up. You opened the fridge and glanced on the counter. "Damn. No booze." Renly and Tyrion were by your side in an instant. "If you need some liquid courage, you've come to the right place. I know a quaint little bar just around the corner." You didn't get a chance to protest before they dragged your from your apartment, allowing you barely enough time to snatch up your keys and wallet.

         You were grateful that the bar wasn't super crowded. You didn't think you could handle a lot of people in addition to Renly and Tyrion. What you didn't expect to see was Sandor at the bar. His eyes widened a fraction. If you hadn't been looking directly at him, you would have missed it. Then, he turned away from you and back to his drink. Realizing he wasn't interested in company that night, you turned your attention back to your friends.

         It wasn't but an hour or so later that you noticed Sandor get up. He swayed a bit too much for your liking. You didn't want him to hit his head or anything, so you decided to help him out. "Can you guys get a cab? Sandor needs a little help. I know our place is in walking distance, but I'd rather him not go alone." Renly and Tyrion, already showing the signs of drunkenness, waved you off.

         Sandor had taken two steps before you were by his side. After assuring the bartender that you'd see the giant of a man home, you gently took Sandor's arm and lead him from the bar. While Sandor seemed mostly steady on his feet, you didn't want him to fall on the sidewalk and crack his head open.

         You hadn't even closed the door of the bar behind you when Sandor started talking. He was so quiet most of the time, you didn't think he could speak this much in one sitting, but he talked the entire way back to the apartment building, all the way up the stairs and to his door.

         "Where are your keys?" you asked as he leaned against the wall. He patted his pockets. "Must have left 'em with Brienne. She didn't want me taking the bike." You forced yourself not to let out a groan. You did NOT want to go all the way back to the bar just for his keys. That left two options: Leave him in the hallway and risk him falling down the stairs, or let him into your apartment.

         "Come on," you guided gently. Once inside, you lead Sandor to your room. There was no way he would fit on the couch. Sandor was still babbling a little bit and you laughed as he flopped down on your mattress. "What has gotten into you?" you asked him.

         "Y/N," his muffled voiced answered, "Y/N is just so damned attractive. I think -*hic*-I think I love-*hic*-Y/N." You blinked in surprise. Clearly he didn't realize he was talking to you. He loved you? Since when? "Y-You do?" He nodded into the pillow. "Don't say anything-*hic*-or I'll run you-*hic*-over with my-*hic*-bike. Y/N can't know." You opened your mouth to say something, anything, more, but soft snores filled your ears. Smiling to yourself, you left the drunken man to his dreams.

         You leaned against the now closed door as your heart raced a mile a minute. Sandor loved you. Or thought he did anyway. You didn't understand it. How had that even become a thing? Then you thought on it. Maybe it was like you. Slowly When you met him, you hated him. Your art reflected that. Deep angry strokes of dark paints covered canvases. And now that you didn't hate him, your paintings were lighter, brighter, and happier.

         You lied on the couch and closed your eyes, your mind thinking about the sleeping man who had inadvertently become your muse. Was Renly right and you loved him? You didn't even think it was possible to fall in love with someone and not know it. But maybe it was. Maybe you were falling in love with Sandor and your art was trying to tell you that. All it took was a drunk confession from him to make you really think about it. Now you just had to decide whether or not you were going to confront him. 

(a/n: How’d i do combining the scenarios? I finished this at 6 this morning so hopefully it makes sense. I hope you enjoyed this part! Voting for part 5 will be up tomorrow!)

Choose Your Story Tags: @fallatyourfeet​ @songoficecreamandfireworks​ @emmice9​ @silversprings98​ @thatcutewerewolf​ (Tags for this are still open!)

[bclarkson21ahsgov]

Political Party Action

Republican:

The Republican party is the party of the constitution, and the constitution along with the Declaration of independence insure that all American citizens are equal under the law. Some people may not agree with this statement even though it is fact. The Republican party has stated that, “We[the Republican Party] denounce bigotry, racism, anti- Semitism, ethnics prejudice...”(9). The republican party does not support racism in any way and for people to be so close minded and say things like, “All Republicans are racist, and all Trump supporters are racist”. I agree with the party's view because it is logical and based on evidence and facts. The document in which all citizens have to follow states clearly that under the law all are created equal. Now that has been left up to interpretation over the years, but I see it as a very literal statement and I do not see any other meaning that could be seen. As the party of Abraham Lincoln, the Republican party, “Continues to encourage equality for all citizens.”

Democrat:

The Democratic party believes that because of America’s long history of systemic racism, has created, “Lasting inequities in income, wealth, education, employment, housing, environmental quality, and health care for communities of color.” They also stated that they are, “ Democrats are committed to standing up to racism and bigotry in our laws, in our culture, in our politics, and in our society”. Although I agree with the overarching idea of their position I believe that they are more closed minded than some may see. First, I agree that long systemic racism has filled America for a long time, and there still is racism today. I am not trying to knit pick, but people of color are not the only people who have been put down in America’s history. The Japanese were put into internment camps, the Asian forced to work on the railroads, and many nationalities who are Caucasian have been oppressed as well. Also, when they state that the laws have racism and bigotry I would like to disagree with that statement. I will agree that our culture, politics, and overall society are filled with racism, but the law which includes the Constitution, Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights included say that under the law all men - does not say women but also women - are created equal. 

Libertarian:

Libertarians agree that bigotry is, “Irrational and repugnant”. They believe that, “Government should neither deny nor abridge any individual’s human right based upon sex, wealth, ethnicity, creed, age, national origin, personal habits, political preference, or sexual orientation.” I agree with this statement 100%, but believe that this should be something that everyone should just know. To label someone as a decent human being I think that this should be the bare minimum. I feel as though it is obvious that everyone should be treated the same under the law. The party also stated that because private corporations retain their rights to set all standards and associations they deem appropriate, if the individuals who work at the company can, “Respond with ostracism, boycotts, and other free market solutions”, which is also their right. Their section for this topic was small and condensed, but it seemed as though all the topics were structured like that. Though it was short I believe that they conveyed everything they wanted to, and in all honesty I think that it was perfect. It was straight to the point, and made me think they also believed that this should not even be a discussion if all people should have the same rights because one they do, and two if they did not then the problems in the country as of now would be 100 times worse. 

Green:

The green party seems to have the most extensive section of rights of all kinds. They believe that racism of not only the black community, but that also recognize the other people of color along with a section on native Hawaiians, and Native Americans. They believe in compensation for those with ancestors who were slaves. I do not agree with this because one, the true amount of slaves is unknown, and there is little info on a large majority of the slaves. This would make it almost impossible to truly give fair compensation to everyone who deserved it. They also, “Strongly support the vigorous enforcement of civil-rights laws, the aggressive prosecution of hate crimes, and the strengthening of legal services for the poor.” Although I agree with this, to have this in the section of Rights for African and black Americans, and then saying they will help the poor is insulting. Saying that to help the poor as a whole would help the black community is insulting, and though the black community around the country is poorer as a whole it is just an insult to say something like that whether it was intended or not. Overall i would say that I agree with the overarching idea that racism is bad, has been for years, and can still be seen and needs to be stopped, but I do not agree with their moves to help.

Peace and Freedom:

This party seems to be more against capitalism than the actual problem, but they stated that, “They demand equal treatment of all people by employers, businesses and government. We stand for a world free from all forms of oppression.” I agree with this because to me it seems like a very obvious thing. I do not believe that there should even be a discussion about whether people should be treated equal under the law. This party claimed that, “ Minority families are disproportionately victimized by cutbacks in health care, education, child care, welfare, food stamps and jobs”, and demanded that America has to, “End all forms of racial discrimination. Enforce non-discrimination in hiring and promotion with affirmative action where necessary. Prosecute and punish police and prison officials who brutalize and murder.” I agree with most of what they are saying here. I agree that it is outrageous that the police officers who are killing innocent civilians should be put in court and sent to jail for their crime because just how the president is not above any laws, the police still have to be held accountable for the crimes. I have to say though that after doing some research and watching the news, I came to find that some of the recent civilian murders by the police were not on so-called “innocent” civilians, and I think that is what most people do not see or understand. One part that I do not agree with is to install affirmative action in companies and corporations because I believe in equality not equity. 

Reflect:

I would say I agree with the Republican and Libertarian views the most. Both say that under the law all are created equal, but understand that there is racism in the nation. I also got from both of the parties a sense that they both knew that racism is a problem, but it is obvious that people should be treated equally and did not need to prove that they are not racist parties. I would not vote for Trump because I believe him to be a sexist and racist human. 

Presidential Debates:

My topic did come up in the debate. The most notable time was when Trump was asked about Anti - Semitism in America, and he seemed to sort of dodge the question. He did not give a clear answer on such a softball type of question. Do you think racism is bad and will you stop it? Trump’s answer should have been yes and then had a set plan because how did he not see a question like that coming. I believe that he should have been better prepared for such an easy question that really could have solidified a non racist tag for Trump. His answer contradicted his party's stance that they, ”Denounce bigotry, racism, anti- Semitism, ethnics prejudice...”(9). 

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: September 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of September 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Remember how proven liar Boris Johnson said he had a world-beating oven-ready Britait deal, which was also the basis of his election slogan campaign of “Get Britait done” and the lack of support for the deal is the reason he sacked 21 of his own MPs?  Just asking, because he tore the whole thing up and said it was unworkable - which also led to Brandon Lewis saying in Parliament, so it is now forever enshrined in the Hansard, that De Pfeffel merely broke international law “in a very specific and limited way” - you know, sort of like how the Manson Family broke the law in a very specific and limited way

The bold vision of a new BBC shared by Tim Davie was revealed when he threatened comedy shows with the axe if they kept making jokes about Britait, the Tory Party or Donald Trump on his first day on the job, because as we all know the best form of comedy comes from punching down rather than up, which is why Little Britain definitely hasn’t aged appallingly

Master of decorum Donald Trump couldn’t even wait a few short hours after Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death before he started rallying the foot soldiers about cramming somebody more fitting with what he wanted into the Supreme Court

Mayor of Amity Island governor of Florida Ron DeSantis continued his bid to be recognised for having the worst response to the Covid pandemic in the congress of having the worst possible response to the Covid pandemic by deciding that, actually, the state of Florida needs to lessen its Covid restrictions at a time when cases of Covid have begun to rise alarmingly in the state

It’s no surprise that proven liar Boris Johnson lied in Parliament by referring to Serco’s failing test & trace app as “NHS Test & Trace” - however the biggest issue is that the BBC had been using the exact same phrase for at least two weeks before that

Nobody was surprised to hear smirking cretin Priti Patel personally using the term “activist lawyers” that the Home Office (headed by P. Patel) had previously used to dehumanise and demean people upholding those pesky immigration laws that the Tory Party really don’t like getting in the way

Tax dodging orange goblin Donald Trump was asked a simple question: Do you think that white supremacists are a problem?  We are still waiting for an answer to that question...

Okay, so now the Conservative Party are cracking down on people breaking lockdown, with threats of a £10,000 fine - rather than circling the wagons around them and throwing out one cock and bull excuse after another like they did when Dominic Cummings broke lockdown to nip off to Durham after testing positive for Covid on what just so happened to be his wife’s birthday

You know that Matt Hancock is good at his job when, having been sent out in front of the cameras to defend The Tory Party appointing ex-Australian PM and all-around arsehole Tony Abbott as a trade advisor in spite his history of misogynistic, homophobic and “Let’s kill the elderly so we can survive Covid” comments the best he could do was say he was a good negotiator...which promptly led to all manner of comments about Harold Shipman being a good GP and Fred West laying one hell of a patio 

According to Jacob Rees Mogg the public having a legitimate complaint about it being damn near impossible to have a Covid test is nothing more than “endless carping” and not, say, legitimate criticism of a woefully underprepared government trying to coast by on the bare minimum who have the gall to try and blame the public for their long list of catestrophic fuckups

It was no surprise to hear proven liar Boris Johnson hand-wringing about “the freedom of the press” after Extinction Rebellion finally realised that being annoying idiots is far more likely to gain support if you’re being annoying idiots with a purpose - just as it was no surprise to hear that proven liar Boris Johnson had no opinion whatsoever of Tim Davie telling BBC newsreaders to fall in line with the corporation (read: Tory) line or they’d be sacked

Once again there was a chance for Keir Starmer to show that his talk of being “true Opposition” is more than a soundbite and, once again, he wimped out on it when ordering Labour MPs to abstain from voting on the Overseas Operations (Service Personnel and Veterans) Bill for fear of being accused of being “anti-British” by voting for a bill created to stop prosecution of British troops for using torture instead of voting against it - and then sacking Nadia Whittome, Beth Winter, and Olivia Blake from their junior ministerial positions when they were three of the 18 Labour MPs who voted against it

It clearly never occurred to Marsha Blackburn when she was browbeating people about the Constitution of the US never being rewritten that the Constitution of the US has been rewritten several times already.  There’s a reason they’re called “Amendments” and not “Footnotes” you know...

Smirking cretin Priti Patel proudly stated that, if she saw her neighbours, she’d gladly call the police due to them breaking the law.  This was around 14 hours after she’d voted to break international law in the Commons, or a few short years after she broke ministerial code by nipping over to Israel to have undisclosed meetings with israeli officials, which begs the question about whether her neighbours are just as willing, doesn’t it?

Judging by Alan Sugar tweeting out conspiracy theories about Covid being created in a Wuhan lab, I think it's safe to say that no Apprentice game show host is capable of not acting like a complete arse on Twitter.  Luckily for the UK, Sugar isn’t Prime Minister - he’s merely a member of the House of Lords...

It’s been a while since WWE acted like totalitarian dicks to the wrestlers employed independently contracted to them but they managed to find one by telling every single one of their employees independent contractors that they could no longer use Twitch or Cameo as it was decided this was being “detrimental” to the company...you know, the bunch of carnies who sign billion dollar deals with our journalist-murdering, woman-oppressing, Yemeni-slaughtering, 9/11-planning “allies” Saudi Arabia, don’t have any for of healthcare for their employees independent contractors, continued a pay per view even though one of their employees independent contractors died due to a stunt going wrong that was linked to the company cheaping out on a safety harness, and apparently not knowing that the term “independent contractor” doesn’t mean the company can sign them to five year deals but sack them at any point - and then prevent them from working anywhere else for 90 days

We had confirmation of Alison Pearson possessing a terrifying combination of pig ignorance and outright sociopathy when she began a Telegraph article with the following: “My son has Covid-19.  Good.”

Sour grapes from Lisa Nandy over people forgetting she was in the Labour leadership race judging by how she apparently didn’t listen to a party pledge to tax corporations and instead spout off a bunch of nonsensical gibberish that sounded uncannily like Britain First rhetoric under the belief that sounding like Britain First is guaranteed to win back working class Northern voters

Litigious TERF JK Rowling revealed her latest book is about a man who murders people while dressed as a woman, which definitely hasn’t drawn any form of comment whatsoever...

You would like to believe that reports of Limestone Games not only effectively stealing the game Aeon Must Die! from the actual dev team who were forced out of the company by a culture of abuse and harassment by a shady cabal who took over the studio would have eld to the game’s release being postponed, especially after it emerged that assets used in the game’s trailer were infringing on various copyrights - but instead Focus Home Entertainment responded by twiddling their thumbs and doing nothing

I’m sure there’s no connection between Alan Sugar demanding people go back to work as if the number of Covid cases has been rising to an alarming degree and how Alan Sugar is bemoaning that his commercial property portfolio is not making him “enough” money due to people staying at home.  None whatsoever...

The fact that those moron parents in California started a wildfire after setting off fireworks for their baby’s gender reveal party that led to over 20,000 people having to evacuate their homes is dickheaded enough - but the fact that it’s not the first case of this happening, as a similar incident happened in Arizona back in 2018, makes them look even more dickheaded

If you want to say you put Britain before anything else, like Andrea Jenkyns did in her latest Twitter tsunami of childishness and spite, it doesn't look good when you say you're pro-Trump before pre-De Pfeffel as it defeats your own argument almost as fast as being Andrea Jenkyns - or, you know, failing to spell the word “British” correctly when accusing people of being anti-British

It would have been wise if West Ham announced that manager David Moyes and two players had tested positive for Covid before their match with Hull - not after the match had kicked off, leading to Moyes legging it out of the stadium

Whatever it is in the mind of DeAnna Lorraine that snapped and had her babbling insane nonsense that The Masked Singer is part of a covert plot to have people wearing masks probably can’t be repaired, and appears to have also caused her to accuse anyone who thinks she does sound insane of being acolytes of George Soros

Professional victim Laurence Fox somehow believed that posting a chat log of a conversation between himself and Rebecca Front and then howling about being “cancelled” - and then a few hours later had to very publicly backtrack, no doubt because his agent had several dozen words with him

I have no idea why David Cameron convinced himself that showing himself helping out in the Chipping Norton food bank was a good idea, considering he’s the reason why food banks exist in the first place

How nice of Manchester Metropolitan University to tell the students who were confined to accomodation so unable to go out and buy food, who were paying £9000 tuition fees for face-to-face tutoring that was done via Zoom that makes such good value of the hundreds of pounds of rent they have to pay per month when they could have had those same lectures from home, that they’re not allowed to protest about this situation and had to take any signs posted on their windows critical of the government down immediately

In normal circumstances Mason Greenwood and Phil Foden sneaking girls into the England team hotel would look pretty stupid, especially in Foden’s case considering the odds of his live-in girlfriend not finding out about this are practically nil, but during a global pandemic it looked so incredibly boneheaded it’s lucky they play for the Manchester clubs otherwise the front pages would be calling them ignorant traitors or some such bullshit

Nothing sums up Premier League referees quite like them clearly not understanding the current definition of the handball rule, but rather than actually look it up they make it up as they go alone leading to more penalties being awarded for handball in the first four rounds of Premier League fixtures than in entire seasons - not helped by Premier League referees also operating VAR, where they seem to have a policy of “If you ignore my cock up, I’ll ignore yours”

And finally, inventing yet another terror atrocity, is Donald Trump and his batshit insane proclamations about cans of soup being a much bigger threat to American lives than, say, and AR-15.  But then again, it’s not like his support base has a habit of throwing cans of soup at crowds of people

[morningsound15]

I agree with you that the whole political system in the US is rotten to its core. I don't know what it is, but it's not a democracy. And yes, Biden won't bring the structural change that's needed. However, don't you think it'll be easier to get any change at all if after the election we get a blue house, senate and president? (Not to mention the supreme court seats won't fall into Republican's hands.) I mean, at least this way there's a chance progressives can get some of their causes through.

okay, so this is like the only ask i’m going to answer about this because i do NOT want this page to turn into this, this blog is the only part of the entire internet for me that isn’t entirely devoted to politics, organizing, radical education, theory, community-building, mutual aid, agitation, etc. i do that on literally every other social media platform and i do not want to do it here. that said i will answer this ask, i guess, though not exactly in the way you asked it i’m just gonna dump my thoughts on electoralism & this election here and i apologize in advance for how long this is going to be

to your general ask: yes, some people believe that. that is a reason many people are participating in this election (i go into that further down). my objection is not to the idea of participating in this election, the idea of voting, or the idea of voting for joe biden. it’s the entire framing of the situation & it’s the complete disregard for any people who have decided not to participate in this election, or who have decided to participate in this election & not vote for joe biden (i am NOT talking about republicans or trump supporters, that is a party of fascists & white supremacists & i am NOT talking about them, i’m talking about young people and the disaffected left). i’ll explain (under the cut so it doesn’t clutter y’alls feeds & so hopefully i won’t get as much hate because if there’s one thing i know it’s that no one on the internet reads)

what i object to is the framing of joe biden as anything less than an active enemy of the left & progressives. (the left & progressives are not the same thing, but they are both to the left of the dem party so i am putting them together for the sake of this argument but progressives are not leftists, though some leftists do describe themselves as progressives & vice versa, just want to put that out there to start.)

what i object to is the framing of joe biden as an ally. this kind of “at least he is willing to be pushed” “at least he’s already been pushed to the left by progressives” “at least he’s willing to listen & maybe with enough pressure we can get him where he needs to be!” “at least maybe a biden administration will support the policies we want them to!” because he’s not willing to learn, he’s not willing to help, he’s not willing to listen, he’s not willing to support progressive policies to tackle the healthcare/climate/war/imperialism crises or do any of that stuff. his policy goals, his entire campaign is basically to figure out what is the absolute bare MINIMUM thing he needs to do in order to say that he’s “moving the country in the right direction” so he can get elected & so he can get political cover from well-meaning but ultimately extremely sheltered dem figureheads while at the same time actively standing in the way of any real reform, progress, change, abolition, justice, etc. that’s his goal, he’s been very clear about that fact, i do not need to go into all the ways he’s already said & proved that! it’s obvious in his speeches, in the entire dnc (i watched every night of the dnc hoping for someone to lay out a good reason for me to vote for biden & i came up with 0 thanks democratic party), the people he has running his campaign, the donors he has, the lobbyists he hires to write his policy platform, the way he cozies up to billionaires, racists, segregationists, war criminals, and the way he always has in order to ‘maintain the order of politics’ & it’s gross & we don’t really need to go into it. he’s a capitalist, he’s a corporatist, he takes $$ from pharmaceutical companies and oil lobbyists and he is not a good person. BUT! many progressives know this and believe this, & still are voting for him. that is fine.

but we have to remember that joe biden is not our friend, he is not our ally, he is an enemy of the left, he is an active obstacle stopping us from achieving what we want to achieve (liberation, equality, justice, the dismantling of capitalism). so let’s not get it fucking twisted, like we need to be clear about that from the jump. we shouldn’t talk about him like he wants those things, like he’ll help us achieve those things, because he doesn’t, and he won’t, so we do not need to talk about him like he does. it is damaging to the progressive left of the democratic party to talk about biden like he’ll help us achieve any of our goals, because he won’t. we will need to fight just as hard if not HARDER under a biden administration to get the things we want, because we’ll be fighting with the people supposedly in our own party too, and they (along with the political machine they worship & kill themselves to support) are going to do everything they can to demonize and push out the young progressive diverse left, to break their spirits & destroy the political potential of the few politicians they actually do like, because that’s what they’ve always done, because the progressive left represents a threat to institutional capitalist white supremacist power. so our job would not be EASIER under a biden administration. it will just be different. we have to be very clear about that when we talk about what might happen in november.

now, that’s NOT TO SAY that there are not good reasons people have for voting for joe biden. i’m not telling people not to vote for joe biden and i am not telling people not to vote. that’s not what i’m saying. you just have to understand what this country is, what these politicians are, what they want, and what they are going to do to achieve what they want. just don’t lie about it. and only when you understand all of that can you make a truly informed decision about this upcoming election.

you can support joe biden for a lot of reasons. there are a lot of people whose politics don’t align with mine who want me to vote for joe biden, and there are people whose politics do align with mine who are making the choice to vote for joe biden. and the things that the latter group says, stuff that i find persuasive, is stuff like “joe biden is an enemy. donald trump is also an enemy. putting joe biden into office is better for the cause of liberation/leftists/revolution because he is a weaker enemy. he is a weaker opponent. we might be able to do things with him in office to help us tinker with the way our system is structured that will ultimately be for the benefit of the true left wing of this country, which will help future political actors survive in our rigged electoral system and maybe actually gain & maintain political power.” (stuff like abolishing the filibuster, getting rid of the electoral college, packing the courts, systemic changes that we need to make if we want to wrest control of this broken political system from the hands of fascists and white supremacists - many of whom sit inside the democratic party too, so let’s not get that twisted. all of these proposed changes, by the way, it’s important to note (unless i’m incorrect which i don’t think i am) joe biden doesn’t openly support or advocate for ANY of them, so let’s not get THAT twisted either.)

here’s the argument i think you’re making anon, from the mouth of comrade Angela Davis (libs love to weaponize angela davis’ words on biden without comprehending any of her politics or supporting her abolitionist policy positions, also there are other abolitionists who do not agree with davis here but i digress):

“In our electoral system as it exists, neither party represents the future that we need in this country. Both parties remain connected to corporate capitalism. But the election will not be so much about who gets to lead the country to a better future, but rather how we can support ourselves and our ability to continue to organize and place pressure on those in power. And I don’t think there’s a question about which candidate would allow that process to unfold… if we want to continue this work, we certainly need a person in office who will be more amenable to our mass pressure. And to me, that is the only thing that someone like Joe Biden represents.”

i don’t know if i fully agree with that argument per se! but i understand it, and i think it’s valid and valuable, and i understand arguments like that, and they are persuasive to me in many ways. because the republican party maintaining power is the way we slow-march into fascism, but also the democratic party getting/maintaining power is the way that we continue to slow-march to neoliberal destruction of the planet. so they’re both bad, obviously. but there are people who think (maybe they’re right! i’m swayed by this argument) that the biden administration would be easier to manipulate, easier to transform, than a trump administration.

(the counter-argument would maybe be that there are a lot of fucking liberals paying attention & even showing up in the streets right now because donald trump is the president, and if donald trump is no longer the president they’re gonna go home and be quiet and go back to brunch and close their eyes and plug their ears like they did with obama, just like they did during standing rock and ferguson and occupy, and be like “oh kamala harris wore CHUCKS on an AIRPLANE look at how COOL she is don’t you remember when there was a COOL war criminal in the white house?” there are people who are going to do that if biden/harris win, and that’s risky to me! like that is a risk we need to be talking about. i see that as dangerous. now, that’s not to say that’s more or less dangerous than what we currently have, it’s just a different kind of danger we need to be cognizant & wary of. and it’s people who post statuses like “fuck you all if you don’t vote for biden you privileged snowflake how dare you look at everything biden’s ever said done or promised he will do and decide that you don’t like that and you don’t want a part of it how dare you you fucking cuck you fucking idiot you support fucking fascists you fucking idiot” who make me lose my mind because like shut up! you don’t know what you’re talking about. there are people who know what they’re talking about who have decided they’re going to vote for joe biden and there’s people who know what they’re talking about who have decided they are not going to vote for joe biden, and you know what they don’t do? they don’t fucking fight each other, they don’t attack each other, they understand & support the reasons their comrades have for taking the action they are taking. and that is just what this is about. stop yelling at people that you don’t know who are making choices you don’t understand just because you don’t understand their choices.)

(this is even assuming biden will win, which is unlikely, or that trump will relinquish power, which is unlikely, or that there will be a peaceful transference of power and not a full-scale right-wing armed militia explosion of violence on american streets after november 3rd, so let’s all really be prepared for what might be coming in the next couple months!!!! all of these arguments mean next to nothing when we don’t even know what kind of violence awaits us in november)

it’s just psycho to think that joe biden is anything but an enemy. he is an enemy. and you can vote for an enemy and you can have your reasons for voting for an enemy, but don’t sell me shit and tell me it’s gourmet.

that’s mostly what i object to. the framing of this. and i’m not telling people not to vote for joe biden i’m not telling people not to vote. i think people should vote, because for those of us who are able & haven’t had that right stripped away from us or stolen from us by our own government, voting is easy, it’s literally the easiest thing that you can do because it’s also the LEAST politically effective thing that you can do. it’s like step fucking 1 because its impact is so low. that’s not a reason not to do it! that is not a reason not to do it. voting is important because any functioning society needs to have an engaged citizenry and an engaged electorate. now we don’t have that here, but you know what i’m saying. electoralism is a conditionally useful tool of enacting change and what we choose to do with that tool is an individual choice and there are people who are making different calculations than you, and they’re coming to different answers. and those people are often radicals, they’re often poor, they’re often black, or indigenous, or undocumented, or incarcerated. they’re often the most marginalized people in this society who are making these kinds of non-voting decisions, and it’s racist and misogynistic to assume that it’s all privileged white kids who are making that choice, because it isn’t, okay? it fucking isn’t.

and it’s so crazy because it’s always white cis libs who are talking about how important it is to get out and vote and to vote for people who aren’t like you and to vote for someone who isn’t you and it’s like, the black radicals i know are not voting for biden! they just aren’t. they do not see the electoral system or the fucking presidency as the thing that’s going to help & protect their communities. so instead they’re organizing on the ground, they’re distributing food & funds & housing comrades & fighting the police & helping elders shop and pick up medicine & making sure kids have internet access so they can go to school and that is what people are doing on the ground. they aren’t all up on instagram or tumblr sharing voting memes & telling people to hold their nose & “just vote for biden he’s the best choice we have” because they understand that for their communities, that’s not what liberation looks like. that’s y’all doing that goofy social media shit.

political power lies with the people always. the people collectively will prove whether or not the biden electoral strategy (of appealing to older, conservative/moderate, white voters in the midwest instead of young voters, poor voters, and voters of color all over the country, but i digress) is successful. whether or not his strategy is successful, the responsibility for the outcome of this election lies SOLELY with the biden campaign, capitalism, voter suppression, white supremacy, and our undemocratic election system — NOT the individual voters. know your enemy & know which system you need to fight. hint: it’s not apathetic or disengaged voters.

vote for whoever you want to vote for. don’t vote for trump, obviously, he’s a fascist do not vote for him. but for people who are not fascists or white supremacists, just try to understand what you’re doing and your position in the world & in this political system & act accordingly. not voting is not an excuse to do nothing; if you are choosing not to engage in electoral politics the expectation is you should be working twice as hard to make sustained impacts and improvements in your community. and if you ARE choosing to engage in electoral politics, the expectation is you should be working twice as hard to make sustained impacts and improvements in your community.

if what you think the liberation fight is is making sure you turn out at the ballot box on november 3rd, if that’s how you think you are being the most helpful, it isn’t and you’re not. you’re doing something, sure, and it’s not bad. like i did this, this was my job for a year, my job was to register voters and get young people to vote. i don’t have that job any more because i don’t believe that’s the solution. i just don’t believe it’s the solution. i don’t believe we should be talking about this upcoming election like it’s a solution, because it’s really just another problem we’re going to have to face and tackle, and we can’t talk about this election like anything is going to be solved if joe biden is president instead of trump because it’s not, and it won’t be, and these people are all our enemies, and we have to treat them like they are. that’s not to say don’t vote for them, if you understand all that & that is the decision you come to! just know what you’re voting for, and know what it means.

whatever, i’m not gonna keep going on this, rant over forever just had to spit that out somewhere and if i put that shit on my Facebook i would get unfriended by every white lib i went to high school with so fucking quick…

[orihara-infobroker]

The Broken System

Rant to Follow. Keep scrolling if you don’t want to read my angry opinions on the fundamental wrongness of politics and economics in my country/province.

There is nothing to truly showcase the flaws of a system like an emergency situation. A year ago the majority of my province made a very grave mistake and chose to vote into power a party and a premier who do not care about the people at all. Their behaviour has been completely unsurprising to the minority of us who did not vote for them. Every campaign promise that they made, they proceeded to break. They took money from health and education and funnelled it into a non-essential “war room” that was supposed to save our economy by attempting to save our failing oil industry. When economists have been predicting for years that the oil industry is failing. There will not be another boom. Oil prices will not go up. Diversification is required.

But I live in the Texas of Canada. I live in a province that refuses to see the forest for the trees. The NDP party began to diversify the economy. They held education and health care as priorities and they invested in alternate businesses, both in the energy sector and elsewhere. They offered tax breaks to tech startups, drawing them to the province. They looked into alternate energy businesses. they raised the minimum wage and changed labour laws to protect workers. They did a lot of things that benefited the middle class and low-income people. And the economy began to recover.

Because people with money spend money.

When the UCP took over they immediately scrapped much of what the NDP worked hard to build. They announced cuts to front line health. They announced cuts to education. They handed out 4.7 billion dollars to non-Canadian corporations in an attempt to “create jobs”. Because trickle-down economics you know. Those corporations did not create jobs. They took their handout, laid off workers, and pulled out of Alberta. The rich do not move the economy.

So. 2020. Enter Covid-19. Pandemic. State of Emergency.

Absolutely unprecedented circumstances. What does the UCP government do? The UCP tears up a contract with Alberta doctors. The UCP plans to lay off frontline health care professionals. The UCP delists a range of services, forcing patients to pay out of pocket. The UCP fires educational staff because “they aren’t needed right now” - when they promised that no one would be let go for the remainder of the normal school year (aka jobs guaranteed until June).

The UCP creates a temporary benefit (just until the Federal programs roll out) then restricts it to only those who are quarantining due to Covid. It is not accessible to parents who had to stay home because schools and daycares are closed and thus lost their job. It does not cover those who are still employed but have lost shifts due to no business. It does not cover those who have to stay home to take care of a sick family member. It does not cover anyone who is eligible for Employment Insurance federally.

So basically, it covers barely anyone.

So. How is this relevant to me? 

The restaurant industry has been one of the hardest hit across Canada. There have already been small, independently owned restaurants who have closed their doors permanently. The government of Alberta shut restaurants down on Friday. The only thing we are allowed to do is offer take out. Which is something but it’s simply not enough.

Fun fact. Restaurant staff are some of the lowest paid workers. Apparently cooking and serving you food isn’t considered a skilled job worth a decent wage. To double down on that, corporate restaurant chains that make millions refuse to change that ideal. They consistently take advantage of employees by low balling them. Servers make minimum wage. Cooks - if they are lucky - make maybe a dollar above minimum wage. Did you know, in Canada, that culinary is considered a Red Seal Trade? Did you know that chefs are the lowest paid trade in Canada? Did you know that chefs don’t have a union to represent them, unlike every other trade? 

So. On a personal level, though I hate to admit it, I make minimum wage. I started with Mikado when I started school. I needed a part-time job at the time and while I wasn’t happy with the wage, I was being offered the opportunity to learn authentic Japanese cuisine from Japanese chefs. I accepted a lower wage in trade for an amazing opportunity and because I was in school, wage wasn’t really my first concern.

I still have a job. However, my hours have been more than halved. I was doing around 32 hours a week, not quite full time but close enough. Now I’m doing 12-15. Not because I am incapable of work. Not because I don’t want to work. Because of an international crisis. If I ask my manager to lay me off, Employment Insurance will only cover 55% of my average wages. So around 15 hours. So about the same as I’m making while still working. But there is a very high chance that when this pandemic passes, I will not have a job waiting for me.

My company cannot look out for me. No customers = no profit. Restaurants do not have a high margin. Minimum wage is, in its very nature, the minimum a person needs to live, based on a 40-hour workweek. At half of that, people cannot survive. Employment insurance is meant to be a temporary support when people are between jobs. I am not between jobs. Those chefs and servers who have been laid off are not between jobs. There are no jobs.

This is capitalism. This is austerity governments. This is allowing those of us who are considered “non-essential” to suffer. This is how the working class, those upon whom the economy is built, are treated under “trickle-down economics”. This is where we desperately need our government to step in and help.

But our government is refusing to lift a finger. Instead, they are lining their own pockets and trying to pass off their obligation to the Federal government. Whose plans are slightly better but still don’t address the sweeping problems. 

By comparison, in countries that operate on a more socialist level, their working-class are not suffering in the same way. There are a variety of solutions that could truly support all people. But those solutions are socialist. Therefore bad. We don’t want to be leftists. Because caring for all of our people means billionaires can’t be billionaires. The rich might end up a tiny bit less rich. But don’t worry, they’ll still be able to afford five cars, two houses, and a timeshare in Mexico. -_-

When the pandemic has passed, we will be living in a depression. One that I fear, in my province, thanks to the short-sighted and greedy behaviour of my government will probably rival the great depression. The system doesn’t work. 

And what truly astonishes me the most is that there are still people who don’t see this. People who are in similar situations to me. Working-class people, who are out of work but still think that somehow austerity and corporations are going to save us? HOW? THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU.

How can you believe that it is perfectly acceptable to make millions of people suffer when we have the ability to stop it?