#I want more dr stone mutuals but I do NOT want a repeat of last time oml

[mci-writing]

The struggle between wanting new fandom friends and still being traumatized from the last time I had a group of fandom friends,,,

[yoonjinkooked]

CHEMISTRY | Run (2)

PART 2 - RUN

SERIES MASTERLIST

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS. WILL BE UPDATED OFTEN CAUSE HOSEOK IS THE #1 SOURCE OF MY PAIN

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU

Warnings: cursing, avoiding emotions and responsibility, future smut, Hoseok just makes a cameo in this one

Word count for this part: 2K

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

“Rise and shine, you drunk idiot,” are the words with which Seokjin greets you. The massive headache that you are suffering makes his voice sound 20 times louder than it really is, which is not your favorite way of starting hangover Sundays. Despite knowing that he won’t be deterred from waking you up, you still keep your eyes closed, hoping that today is a day of miracles and Seokjin decides to give you a break. He doesn’t - instead he grabs a hold of the ankle of your left foot and starts shaking it left to right, trying to shake you awake. “Come on, you’ve been out the whole day, I was scared you were dead. Get your ass up, take an aspirin and be an adult.”

“That sounds like a plan,” your voice is worn out, a tell-tale sign that you had spent last night yelling into someone’s ear. “God, why did you let me drink this much? You should have forced water down my throat,” you grunt as you struggle to get yourself into a seated position - you don’t fall back and the room is not spinning. So far, so good. 

“Oh, I was planning on doing that,” Seokjin grins down at you, not looking the least bit hungover - genes, he’d tell you with a proud look on his face. “But by the time I returned from the kitchen, you already had Hoseok’s tongue down your throat.”

And then, you remember. Boy oh boy, do you remember. Seokjin laughs at you, amused by your expression as realization sets in. You’ve hooked up with Hoseok. You’ve made out with Hoseok. And you did, in fact, sit on his dick, just like you’ve wanted to. Luckily for you, you were both fully clothed. Seriously, lucky you - if you remember anything in detail, it’s that you weren’t alone. 

“Everyone saw us last night, didn’t they?” you ask, sighing when Seokjin nods immediately. 

“Everyone. I mean, you were hardly being shy about it, jumping his bones in the middle of the living room,” Seokjin reminds you how straightforward, perhaps even pushy, you were with Hoseok. Both before and after the kissing had started. “For what it’s worth, he wasn’t complaining.”

“I have no idea what had gotten into me,” you admit, trying to recall when, if ever, you’ve thought of Hoseok as more than a friend. And you did not - he was always a friend, that good looking friend that you wouldn’t even consider as a possible hook up option. Your brain had short-circuited last night, and although surprising, it isn’t completely unfounded. 

“Well, Hoseok did not, I can assure you,” Seokjin is laughing his ass, his expression softening a bit when he notices just how uncomfortable you are with his teasing. “Come on Y/N, don’t overthink this. You’re both single and hot. You were horny and he was stoned and happy to help. Making out with him once won’t change your friendship, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“Yeah, in theory,” you mumble, knowing already that the next time you see Hoseok, you will feel very awkward. Maybe he won’t and that saves the day? It’s a possibility, but you’re not almighty and situations like these tend to turn you into an awkward mess of a person. 

“You’ve made out with Jimin before and you’re still close,” Seokjin shrugs. 

“Yeah, but that’s different. That’s Jimin. We did it jokingly, more than anything else,” you shake your head, knowing, remembering  that whatever last night was, it was different. “I have no clue what happened. One second he was there, dancing, minding his own business and the next I just… had this strong urge to kiss him.”

“Well, at least you’re a go-getter,” Seokjin laughs at your glare, still refusing to accept this as a possible issue in the making. “Come on, I didn’t walk all the way to your place for therapy hour. You’re nursing a hangover and we need coffee. When you have enough caffeine in your system, you’ll remember that Hobi is the chillest guy on the planet and that your worries are completely baseless. It can be awkward for a week or two but you’re both grown adults, right?”

“Right,” you agree, choosing to hold onto that thought. You’re not kids or horny teens - it’ll be okay. A few inside jokes, a couple of days of awkwardness and a lifetime of teasing from your mutual friends - nothing you can’t handle. No harm, no foul. It’ll all be hilarious in a week or two. 

“You’re acting weird,” Jungkook’s statement makes you freeze, the breakfast burrito in your hands inches away from your mouth. After years of being friends with him, it shouldn’t be a surprise when Jungkook says the most random things at the most random times, but somehow, it still is. 

“No, I’m not,” you deny. 

“You are,” Jungkook nods, as if he is confirming it with himself. “You’re all jumpy. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d think you’re on the run from the law,” he laughs at his own joke, before suddenly stopping to fix you with a suspicious look. “You’re not on the run, right?” 

“No Jungkook, I’m not hiding from the cops. I’m not even halfway through my first coffee.”

“She’s just hiding from Hobi.”

You glare at Namjoon from across the table. First of all, his assumption is rude. Second of all, it is absolutely correct. Well, you weren’t exactly actively avoiding Hoseok, but you also weren’t volunteering to spend time at places where you knew he’d be. Instead, you have spent the past few days occupying yourself with random and not so random tasks and obligations, all while trying not to think about how he’s a good kisser. Or how good he smells. Or how firmly his hands gripped your waist that night. Nope. Not going to think about it. 

“Why would she hide from Hobi?” Jungkook is confused. 

“I’m not hiding from Hobi,” you tell him, before turning to give Namjoon a pointed look. “I’m not hiding from Hobi,” you repeat in a warning tone - it’s clear that you don’t want to talk about it. 

“Perfect,” Namjoon offers you an angelic smile. “Then you won’t have a problem with him joining us? I mean, he’s already walking our way,” he adds, looking over your shoulder. 

Your knee jerk reaction is very literal - a sudden movement leads to a loud bang, a whine and you clutching onto your right knee that you’ve just hit against the table in a lame attempt of making a run for it. Panicked, you turn around to check if Hoseok had seen this, only to realize that he is nowhere to be seen. The shit eating grin on Namjoon’s face when you look back at him is confirmation enough. “I hate you,” you deadpan as he keeps on laughing at you. 

“Why are you like this,” Jungkook asks you as you rub your knee, still very much in pain. “Is it because you made out last weekend?” he interrogates you before chugging on his yogurt. 

“Maybe,” you reluctantly admit, since you were so obvious there was no use in denying it. “I know it doesn’t make much sense but it’s just… weird.” 

“You’re being overdramatic, as usual,” Namjoon chuckles. In moments like these, you wonder why you’re still friends with the guy. Sure, he can be charming, nice and helpful, but he can also be a smartass and act all high and mighty, just like he is doing now. “Not that you would know, since you’re hiding from the guy, but Hoseok is not avoiding you. The situation isn’t weird - you are.” 

“If I wanted therapy, I’d pay for a professional,” you snap. 

“I’m on Y/N’s side here,” Jungkook pauses to swallow his food before continuing. “We can tease and joke, we always do that but we shouldn’t invalidate her feelings. If she is feeling awkward, she has every right to feel that way. Don’t invalidate her feelings, Joon,” he ends his speech with a little worried pout, making himself look at least 5 years younger. 

“Have you been watching Dr. Phil again?” Namjoon asks him. 

“Hey!” you jump in Jungkook’s defense immediately. “Don’t be an ass - he has a point and he is being nice. I didn’t ask for your opinion, which you generously offered anyways. Hoseok’s feelings about this have no affect on me - I’m feeling awkward and I’d rather push said awkwardness under the rug for the time being.” 

“Unlike Mr. Smarty Pants Architect who actually does watch Dr. Phil, I’m the only psych major sitting at this table,” Jungkook starts and you laugh at the not so subtle drag directed at Joon. “It’s my duty as your friend and a future therapist to say that the tactic you’re turning to is not healthy and will likely cause more trouble. But,” he emphasizes, noticing that you have already opened your mouth to complain. “It’s your choice. You know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that her acting like the two of them have divorced after 20 years of marriage instead of… exchanging saliva is valid?”

“Stop!” you glare at Namjoon. “You’ve heard Jungkook – my feelings are valid.”

“You’re a coward and you know it,” Namjoon laughs at you. He’s not completely wrong – you are a coward, but you also have your reasons. “You were making out – it’s not the end of the world.” 

“Yes, but it’s not a random dude we’re talking about here!  It’s... Hoseok!” you whisper his name, as if someone other than the two of them could actually hear you say his name in the crowded and incredibly noisy university cafeteria. 

“All the more,” Joon widens his arms in exasperation. “Hobi is not an ass. He’s not going to make it worse, he’ll probably laugh about it, but seeing as you’ve been playing hide and seek, you won’t have a chance to. The longer you wait, the harder it will be once you can no longer avoid him. And honestly, the time is around the corner because I have no idea how you plan on skipping Yoongi’s birthday party.”

As if you needed a reminder of that. There is no way in hell that you can make up an excuse big enough to avoid going to Yoongi’s party - a family emergency wouldn’t work, not when this is your closest group of friends. You’ll have to be there, Hoseok will absolutely be there and you have three whole days to get your shit together. 

“I’ll do my shit at my own time,” you conclude proudly, knowing that you will figure it out and it won’t be because of Namjoon’s impromptu intervention. 

“Um… Y/N,” Jungkook lets out a nervous laughter. “I’m not so sure about that. Hobi’s walking towards us, right now.”

“I’m not falling for that again,” you wave your hand in dismissal, the pain that you are still feeling in your right knee reminding you of Joon’s failed attempts to trick you. 

“He’s really not lying,” Namjoon sips on his coffee sassily, the slurping sound coming from his straw making you want to throw something at him. But there’s something about the cocky look on his face that makes you realize that he’s not joking this time. Not to mention that Jungkook, unlike Joon, is an actual sweetheart of a person who would not lie to you just to spite you. Gulping, you decide to risk and check. 

And sure enough, as you turn around you can see Hoseok just a few tables away, smiling at the three of you – ripped jeans, white shirt, green snapback and that stupid, blinding smile. For a second, only for a second, your eyes meet and before either one of you can make a face or react in any way, you are standing up and this time around, your knees are safe. 

“I have to go,” you grab your bag and phone and speed walk before anyone can tell you anything. You can hear Jungkook yell after you, but you’re already a few tables away from them, walking towards safety as fast as you can. 

Was it stupid? Yeah, probably. Was it obvious? Painfully. But fight or flight kicked in and up up and away you went. 

[officialthiamlibrary]

Got any canon fics set post 6B?

Here you go! A mix of older fics and some within the last month, I hope you’ll enjoy them!

Ocean Front Property and Yoda Wisdom by Diary (Teen | Complete | 1.3K) Tags: Frenemies, angst and feels Summary: Post-canon. Theo has issues, Stiles cares about Liam, and these facts interconnect. Complete. A Peek Inside: “I still don’t like or trust you. Okay, I never will. But you’ve been good for him. And I gotta admit, seeing you in love is an interesting thing.”

Hold Me. I’ve Lost My Anchor. by SterekShipper (General | Complete | 5K) Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, there is a second fic that follows this one Summary: Once again Liam and Theo had been in a fight. There was nothing unusual about that. It happened all the time. It was a natural part of their relationship. This fight however, had a different ending. A Peek Inside: It was just a fight. There was never a reason. Not really. Their relationship consisted of bickering and playful jibes. A bond had formed the night of the hospital. The night Theo had faced the Ghost Riders head on, fully intending to sacrifice himself. All to save him.

Stones by cherrysprite (General | Complete | 2.6K) Tags: First kiss, Theo introspection Summary: Theo begins to find his place as a normal nineteen year old with an accidental rock collection. A Peek Inside: One day, he sees a man sitting outside that said cafe, playing his guitar softly while people walk past without a second thought. It’s one of the more jarring parts of Theo’s detachment, he realizes. If he were normal, he would be able to grasp how people managed to pick up on hobbies and skills. It was like Mason and his love of reading, Corey and his talent with writing, and Liam spending his weekends playing lacrosse or working out. He just always finds himself perplexed at how they’d each figured out that what they were doing was good to them.

in the hospital after the war by snaeken (General | Complete | 1.5K) Tags: Summary: "I can wipe the blood off my own face, Liam," he snarks, mainly because he doesn't know what else to do; because it's comfortable, familiar, as far as the two of them are concerned. He doesn't pull away though. "I know. But I want to." Liam looks up at him, ocean blue eyes boring into his own. Theo's breath would probably catch, if he was breathing at all. "Let me." A Peek Inside: The hospital is, well. A bit like the aftermath of a warzone. Doctors and nurses and deputies everywhere, armed with handcuffs and body bags, making arrests and treating the wounded; Theo's own wolfsbane-laced bullet wound in his shoulder was treated by Deaton, while Liam regrouped with his pack and had his own wounds treated by Argent.

it’s you, sweet baby by axebastard (Teen | Complete | 1.9K) Tags: Pining, getting together Summary: In which Theo eats a s'more for the first time and Liam isn't quite as subtle as he'd like to be. A Peek Inside: Theo blinked, one corner of his mouth twitching. So Liam was inviting him somewhere. On purpose. He didn't know whether to feel honored or suspicious.

To Take One’s Pain by Endraking (Teen | Complete | 2.5K) Tags: Minor character death, angst, sick children Summary: Liam wanders the Hospital as he does a sweep. Memories come back to him about Theo since the chimera hadn't been seen since Gabe died and Monroe fled. While walking the halls, Liam learns something that will change his perspective about Theo. A Peek Inside: Liam walked the halls of Beacon Memorial Hospital.  It wasn't that long ago that it was a battleground and not a place for the sick and injured to heal.  Memories of those times, memories of hunters killing supernaturals, memories of the Riders, memories of the chimera and the Dread Doctors pull him to wander the halls.  He's not a patient though he would garner a little less attention if he put on one of the hospital gowns.  The lights were dimmed, something the hospital did either to save money or remind some of the more active patients that it was indeed nighttime.  He moved down one hall to the next, walking up the stairs and repeating the process until he makes it to the roof.  Then he hopped into the elevator and repeated.  He was making sweeps of the hospital, but it wasn't from any present issue but his worry over his stepfather.  Doing sweeps in the preserve was one thing but it was almost too easy for the pack to forget that things attack the hospital regularly and Melissa and Dr. Geyer were right in the line of fire.  That brought him to the halls, but his mind was a million miles away as he wandered to the morgue

i know all sorts of things i don't believe by eneiryu (Explicit | Complete | 80K) Tags: Post finale, Theo Raeken centric, getting together, pack dynamics Summary: So, anyway. That’s how Theo becomes pack-mom to Scott’s merry band of supernatural misfits. A Peek Inside: Scott gets this narrow-eyed look like he knows what Theo’s thinking, but humors him regardless, “I was hoping you’d agree to stay here, help protect the town.” (...) “Okay,” Theo blurts out, cutting him off before he can speak, suddenly irrationally afraid that Scott‘s going to take it back, say nevermind, forget it, “Just until you find Monroe, right?” Scott nods, still looking perturbed but thankfully silent, “Okay. I’ll stay until then.”

you want me to hold your hand and kiss it better? by xxDreamFilledEyesxx (Mature | Complete | 3.9K) Tags: angst and feels Summary: Set after the Teen Wolf series finale: After taking Gabe's pain away, Theo thought Liam might be glad to see that he cares, so why has he been acting so strange? A Peek Inside: A few feet away stood Melissa, her face covered in pity for the life the boy on the floor had lost in a war that wasn’t his to fight. Theo's heart skipped a beat as his gaze turned to the person standing next to her. Liam.

Sun Is Up, I’m A Mess by IThinkWeHaveAnEmergency (General | Complete | 5.1K) Tags: College, mutual pining Summary: Liam transfers to San Francisco State and on his first day, runs into a face he hasn't seen in a long time. A Peek Inside: Liam steps closer to the man he hasn't seen in almost two years, his campus security guard uniform clear.

A Chimera’s First Heart by Auddieliz09 (Mature | Complete | 22K) Tags: Mild smut, first kiss Summary: Theo wouldn’t go so far as to say that everything is perfect in the months after the War, but, for him, it’s just about as perfect as his life can get. However, when someone from his past shows up on Scott's doorstep, Theo's life takes a new turn. But will it be for better or worse? A Peek Inside: When they left the hospital that night, Liam had looked at him in a way he never had before. Like he was seeing Theo for the first time without his past hanging over him. He was seeing Theo for the man he was trying to become. A man worthy of being his friend, maybe more. Theo became an official ally to the pack and began to hang out with Liam and his friends.

five punch knock out by I_write_fanfiction_sometimes (Teen | Complete | 2.4K) Tags: 5+1 Summary: Five times Liam asked what he was doing, and one time the answer was 'being happy' A Peek Inside: Theo squeezes his eyes shut and barely holds back a groan. Mint foam drips into the sink from the handle of his toothbrush and burns around the edge of his mouth. Of course it had to be Liam. Fucking Mason wouldn’t ask questions, he’d just walk right back out. Somehow though, Liam has decided he wasn’t scary.

Change of Plans by never_love_a_wild_thing (Teen | Complete | 69K) Tags: Fake relationship, light angst Summary: When Hayden breaks up with Liam minutes before his very public proposal was planned, Theo steps up to save him the embarrassment of being rejected in front of the pack. In order not to disappoint their Alpha, Theo and Liam decide to carry on faking their relationship until they can think of a good way to end it and keep everybody happy. In which Theo is crushing hard and neither of them plan things out well enough (or at all, really). A Peek Inside: Theo opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He had argued with Liam over Hayden too many times to think that it was worth it anymore. “I just think that you should maybe figure out how she feels about it before you go and ask her to marry you in front of your entire pack,” he said.

Only you can look at me the way you do by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee (Explicit | Complete | 57K) Tags: Smut Summary: But Liam knows that tonight's gonna be one of the nights where he caves in and he doesn't care. A Peek Inside: They hadn't turned up anything so why not blow off some steam and then check back later? Scott'll never know the difference.

The Truth Will Set You Free by tabbytabbytabby (Teen | Complete | 1.6K) Tags: Light angst, misunderstandings Summary: Theo realizes he has feelings for Liam, but before he can tell him he sees Liam with a girl from his class and assumes they're dating, and that Liam could never be interested in him. He makes a decision to help himself find some peace, but first, he needs to tell Liam how he feels. Liam's response surprises him. A Peek Inside: A normal morning in mid-March, standing in the Geyer’s kitchen, watching as Liam tried and mostly failed at making pancakes. He’d stood there with pancake batter all over himself, looking sleep-rumpled and adorable and the thought just struck Theo so suddenly.

The Curse of Batman and Robin by songbvrd (No Rating | Complete | 10K) Tags: Bodyswap Summary: Liam and Theo are friends. Sort of. They live together and spend a lot of time together, but they also fight. Constantly. When a body swapping curse leaves them having to pretend to be each other, shenanigans ensue. A Peek Inside: It never lasted, because as annoyed as he was by Theo, he did also like him. He would never tell him that, god forbid the already painfully egotistical chimera get another boost on his account.

The Big Bad Chimera by OTP_fandom_shipper (Teen | Complete | 643) Tags: Fluff Summary: Theo falls asleep on Liam's shoulder, so he takes a picture. Needless to say, Theo is not very happy and wants it deleted. Que the "wrestling" session in the living room. A Peek Inside: Theo arrived back at Liam’s around 5:00. The beta’s family had been gracious enough to let Theo stay with them after they found out that he had been living in his truck. He did get a job not too long ago since he had graduated high school and wanted to make his own money. He was saving to get a place of his own. Theo didn’t want to stay too long with the Geyers.

Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours by voices_in_my_head (Mature | Complete | 7.3K) Tags: Pornstar Theo Summary: ""And you, Theo, what did you do during the week?" Scott asks, clearly trying to bring him into the conversation, which no one has done aside from Liam (they talked about the new The Good Place episode, because surprise surprise, Theo got addicted to Netflix once he found out what it was) and Corey (who actually seems to enjoy Theo's presence and Liam knows they've hanged out just the two of them. Which he obviously is not jealous about, pff, why would he be? Corey has a boyfriend. ... And Liam isn't interested in Theo that way, obviously.) Theo smirks before answering, to which Liam's heart does a slight jump, hoping that no one noticed or, if they did, will be kind enough to pretend otherwise. "I did a porno."" A Peek Inside: Liam isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. Theo seems to really have turned a new leaf, and Liam is pretty sure he would have died in the hospital if he hadn't been there, but he also can't forget the way he played them all, the way Liam almost killed Scott because of him.

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Heist (Loki x Reader) Pt. I

Masterlist

If I can’t be any more obvious than I am now, THE PLOT OF ENDGAME IS FEATURED IN THIS.  If you haven’t seen it for some reason, well, where have you been?  It’s been out for months, come on, we gotta beat Avatar!  If you have seen it, you can read this, and go see it next weekend for additional content and so we can beat Avatar!

This is a two-part series I am writing.  You guys are my test audience.  I’m considering making it a complete book on Wattpad to elaborate and really get the feels in.  Let me know what you think.  Enjoy!

Ready for more?  Read part two here! 

Being a part of the Avengers is not the most exciting activity that everyone believes it to be. Sure, it's great to know several gods, a super-soldier, a billionaire, an assassin, and more amazing people personally, but it's quite boring when no one is trying to take over the planet. Of course, you never expected to fall in love with the god who tried to take it over in 2012.

We should probably start with the very beginning.  After all, everyone has a reason why they're an Avenger.  

There was no big depressing storyline for you.  No, you were just born as a normal human being.  You had a loving family, and you worked for an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D as one of their top scientists.  Quoting Director Fury himself, "You would impress Howard Stark if he could see your work."  Obviously, he blew up your ego for the rest of the week with that one.  It wasn't the boosted ego that caused the accident, though.  

Fury assigned you and Doctor Erik Selvig the job of working with the Tesseract, a box that seemed to hold much more energy than anything else.  It interested you more than anything else, and Dr. Selvig clearly expressed the same interest.  The two of you worked closely with it for a long time.  That is until you tried to open the box to release the energy into a larger environment.  

"Y/N, what do you suppose would happen if we tried to break open the cube?"  Erik asked you as he walked up to the Tesseract.  Several guards surrounded it, making sure that no one tries to take it while you work on it.

"I could only imagine that the energy inside would release and cause an energy burst that would blow us all up to pieces."  

"What's the point in having this though if we don't know how to use it to power weaponry for S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"The point of it is to keep it away from people who want to use it for weaponry," You rolled your eyes at the older man.  

"Either way, we should see what happens.  Perhaps there's a bigger purpose to this that we don't know of yet."  

"Then only one of us should be in the room during it.  The other can watch from the cameras and write down a report of everything that happens.  We don't want the guards to have to tell Director Fury that both scientists working on the Tesseract died and no one even has video of it."  

"Who should it be then?"

"You've always been better at the reports, Erik.  Let me break it open.  Get the guards out of here.  If the energy waves are too strong, they'll break through that glass like it's not even there."  You told him.  

After that, you have no memory of what truly happened.  You only know what you've been told.  Erik told you that when the cube was open, it unleashed a massive energy wave just like you said.  Except, it all went directly to the only person that could absorb it at the time.  You.  

The energy that came off of it was so powerful that it knocked you out instantly.  You shouldn't have even been alive by the end of it, but the Tesseract used the remaining energy to seal itself back up as if it had a mind of its own.  It was like it chose you to possess some of its power.  Instead of not using the power to weaponize something like you said, it created a weapon out of you.  One you were almost grateful for.  

You gained the powers of the Space stone, but you were unaware of it for months.  That is until you nearly dropped a chunk of titanium and you found it floating an inch off the ground.  Finding all of the other powers you had that came from the stone proved to be a bit troublesome.  Learning how to use portals, create explosions, and repairing things using the energy from the stone.  It took a long time, but Director Fury noticed how well you were able to control it with time.  

Thus, when the attack on New York occurred, you were immediately called to help fight.  Luckily, you were already in the area.  Germany, that is.  Dressing up in your skin-tight suit and going to a gala in Stuttgart was the strangest order you had ever been given.  With a description given by Fury, being, "Loki is a tall, white man with long-ass black hair and probably a large scepter," you knew exactly what to look out for.  At least, in the charity gala you were currently at, you doubted you'd find anyone else looking like that.  

You quickly spotted him after he had killed a man in the front room of the building.  After telling Nat exactly where you found him, he turned and stared at you.  That was quite a start to a relationship that would last through the ages.  

"Romanoff, he's right by the gala.  Evacuate everyone from the area."  You quickly told her.  After hearing confirmation from her, you were about to leave through a side door.  Instead, you were greeted by Loki himself, in his Asgardian armor, glaring down at you.

"And who do you think you are?"

"I think I'm a part of a team that's going to take you down before you kill anyone else."

"You have quite an exquisite way of presenting yourself at a gala, don't you think?"  He asked, looking down at the outfit you were in.  

"Well, as a Norse God we can't really expect you to keep up with the latest fashion trends here on Earth," You sassed him.  Clearly, you weren't impressed by the god.  Unfortunately for you, this only furthered his interest in you.

"I like you."

"And I don't like you.  Feeling's aren't mutual, sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about that at all.  I'll be seeing more of you later."

As he promised, that wouldn't be the last you'd see of him.  When he was locked up in a cell on the ship, you had to watch him for a while.  Even though you were still a well-known scientist around the place, they wanted you to make sure that Loki didn't escape.  

"Have you come to find out my secret plan?  Or have you come just because you want to get to know me better?"  He grinned.  You walked up to the door of the cell as he mirrored your actions.  You had to look up at him, but he didn't intimidate you one bit.  

"Actually, I'm just bored.  You're the God of Mischief, right?  Can't you do anything to be entertaining?"  

The cocky glint in his eyes turned into a glare, as his smirk quickly dissolved and became a snarl.  "I am not a mere joker to be entertaining to mortals who are beneath me."

"Which one of us is in the cage right now?"

"Either way, I will not be doing anything for a mewling quim like you," He glared at you.

"Mewling...quim?  I don't think I've ever heard that one before.  Does it mean something really bad?"   You asked excitedly.

"Why would you want to be called something horrible?"  He asked, intrigued by you.

"I've heard many insults thrown at me before, and I like to see if anyone can come up with anything new."  

"Interesting."

The fighting and insults didn't last for long.  No, it's not because the two of you warmed up to each other.  It's because he escaped and started tearing apart all of New York City.  You had noticed in the short time while talking to him in the cell that there was something odd with him though.  His eyes.  They were blue when he held the scepter, but they started to faintly fade into green when he didn't have it.  It was like the scepter influenced him.

To see if your theory was correct, you dropped in for a visit during the battle when no one was looking.  While they were fighting Chitauri left and right, you had shut off your communications for a moment as you made a portal to the top of Stark Tower.   There, you saw Loki standing on the balcony, in awe of his destruction.  You would've been afraid of him at the time if you weren't so determined to find out the truth.

You walked slowly up to Loki, fearful of what he'd do with the scepter to you if you ran up to him.  "You don't have to be so afraid.  I won't bite."  He slowly turned around to face you.  The first thing you noticed was his eyes.  A bright blue hue.  

"This isn't entirely you, Loki.  Is it?"  You asked him.

"What do you mean?  Of course, it is.  This is everything I could have ever asked for, and more."

"No, it's not.  You lived in your brother's shadow, that much is obvious," You noticed the grimace when you mentioned Thor, "But you don't truly want to be a king."

"Of course I do!"  He snapped at you.  "It's what I've wanted for years!  To be higher up than Thor, and to have a world to rule all on my own.  That is until I can find a queen,"  A mischievous glint in his eyes as he said the last part.

"There it is."

"What?"

"The scepter is influencing you.  It's using your weaknesses against you."

"You've clearly gone mad, you quim."

"Then tell me I'm wrong.  Tell me that if you didn't have that scepter that you'd still want to be better than Thor, that you'd want to rule over Earth.  If you really do want that, you'll put that scepter down right now and say it."  

He hesitated at first.  He was having an internal battle with what he wanted to do.  He so badly wanted to prove you wrong, but he knew deep inside that you were right.  Right as he was about to place it down on the ground and repeat everything you just said, you heard a roar.  

Your eyes widened and you quickly ran out of the way.  A large, green man suddenly pushed Loki across the room, making him crash into the wall.   You flinch as you see him quickly stand up.  

"ENOUGH!"  He yells.  "You are," He glances at you and then back at the Hulk, "all of you, beneath me.  I am a god, you dull creature, and I will not be bullied by-"

Before he could say anymore, Hulk grabbed him by the ankle and started smashing him to the ground over and over.  You covered your mouth, unable to look away from the scene before you.  It was shortly over, but he clearly did plenty of damage to Loki.  

Hulk walked away, muttering to himself, "Puny god."  He looked at you and nodded his head, before jumping off the balcony once more.

You nearly jumped out to go fight the army again too, but then you heard his whimpers.  You couldn't help it.  It was like some instinct kicked in.  He was in pain, and all you wanted to do was help him.  It was just in your nature.  

You ran over to him and quickly leaned over to inspect his wounds.  There were several cuts going across his face and probably dozens more that you didn't spot yet.  This was going to take time, but you didn't care.  

Loki was trying to slowly get up, but you pushed him down.  "Don't.  You'll do more harm than good if you sit up too quickly."  

"Why are you helping me?"  He grunted as he laid his head back down on the broken cement from the floor.  He was confused, but he wasn't sure if it was just from the several head injuries he just received.  

"Because you clearly need it.  Hulk smashing you on the ground like a rag doll can hurt.  Even if you are a god," You rolled your eyes.  As you were tending to some of his worst wounds, he seemed calm.  

It was a peaceful time for both of you despite the attack going on outside.  You weren't sure why you helped him even now, but it started a friendship.  A friendship no one was expecting.  The rest of the Avengers weren't happy to hear about this new found friendship.  Then again, why should they?  This is the same man who tried to rule the world and destroyed most of the city.  

Thor, however, found it interesting and remarkable.  No one had been able to push Loki to a limit in which he'd stay calm around them with the exception of Frigga.  He'd usually yell at someone, or start mocking others after a few moments of conversation.  Instead, he'd calmly respond to you as you tried to fix him up.  The Avengers weren't the happiest bunch to see that when they came up to the tower when it was all over, but Thor seemed excited.

"Hey Spacegirl," Tony gave you that nickname in reference to your powers long ago, "What are you doing?"  Tony asked as he saw you watching Loki slowly crawl onto the stairs to rest.  

"Watching him to make sure he doesn't go anywhere."  

"How long have you been doing this for?"

"About 20 minutes now."

"Why?"

"Because he was hurt, and I wanted to make sure he didn't die," Anyone could've seen through that lie if they knew you, "And you didn't want him making up another plan to conquer the city, did you?"

Thor may have been an oaf, but he could see that you were still somewhat worried for his brother.  It was like another power for the god of thunder.  "Well, if it's all the same to you," Loki started, "I'll have that drink now."

Clint raised his bow and had an arrow ready to shoot at Loki in case he moved.  "Alright, we'll pose up a storm later, let's go,"  Tony said and people rushed into the floor.  

Nat grabbed the scepter and started walking towards the men who were there to bring in everything for S.H.I.E.L.D.  "We'll take that off your hands for you," The one man walked up.  

"Be my guest," She said and gave him the scepter.  

As Cap walked past you, Thor, and Loki as you were putting handcuffs on him, Loki cast an illusion and mimicked what Steve said.  After returning to what he actually looks like he said, "I mean really, how can you-"

"Enough,"  Thor said as he placed a muzzle on the mischievous god.  You laughed as Loki glared at you.  

You all walked into the elevator as Tony sat down on the case that held the Tesseract.  Hulk started walking towards it and your eyes widened.  "No, no, maximum capacity, big guy!"  Tony yelled as Loki waved goodbye while the doors shut.  

Right before the elevator started moving you saw a dent in the doors.  "Well, he's not happy," You said while Loki looked at you with an amused glint.

The story didn't end there, obviously.  With Loki and Thor back in Asgard, it started to get boring around the headquarters.  Tony Stark offered you a job shortly after, and you worked with Pepper Potts and him to design the Avengers tower.  You designed the labs and figured out a chemical compound to keep the tower running on power for decades.  It was a breakthrough, but Tony would never admit to that if he didn't make it himself.

There were times when Thor came to visit the Avengers.  He'd talk and catch up with everyone.  One day you asked him if you could visit Asgard.  For some reason, you felt drawn to the place and wanted to see Loki.  

That day you saw the man himself without the scepter.  His eyes were green, and no longer the bright blue they were with the scepter in his hands.  You were happy.  You were able to get him into conversations and talk about the recent events from where he called, "Midgard."  

You two slowly became friends, and Thor saw that quickly.  That's a big reason why he allowed you to keep coming.  You showed the better side of Loki, and he was proud to get to see that.  It was like he was seeing his brother before his father went into Odinsleep again.  Frigga would watch as well, excited by the love that was slowly starting to form.  

"I know you'll be happy to hear this," You started the conversation one day, "Tony just beat Bruce up with his new nanotech accidentally."

"Are you sure it was accidentally?  I really wish the man of iron would simply destroy that creature," Loki grinned.

"Yes, I'm sure, and be careful with your words there.  They're my friends whether you like it or not.  I'll stop my visits if you're going to talk trash about them," You playfully warned with only a touch of seriousness in your voice.  To be fair, it was hysterical in person.

"As if I like your visits that much, Lady Y/N."

You sat there shocked for a second.  You were taken aback by what he said.  "Did you just call me by my name?"

"I believe I did, Lady Y/N.  I know you well enough to know that you aren't just some mewling quim," Loki replied.  He shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

"Well, first off, stop saying Lady in front of it, you're making me feel old."

"Why would you feel old?  Which one of us is quite a few centuries older here?"  He asked with an amused look.

"Secondly," You pretended to ignore his statement, "I finally looked up what mewling quim means on the Internet.  You, sir, have a bad mouth.  Captain America would not be happy with you."

"Well, first off," He mimicked your words, "I don't care what he thinks of me."

"Yeah, that was obvious," You rolled your eyes and smiled.

"Secondly, what's an Internet?"  

A couple of months later the two of you finally admitted your love for one another.  It may have seemed fast, but it wasn't really.  The days you spent with him merely felt like hours on Asgard.  Frigga and Thor were just coming back when the two of you confessed.  They hid behind the gate, waiting for the right moment to come in.  

When they did, Frigga gave her signature warm smile and congratulated you both.  Thor, on the other hand, loudly congratulated you both.  

"Thor, please don't be so loud about it!"  You tried to shush the cheering god.

"Yes, you big oaf, we don't need the whole kingdom to hear about it."  Loki agreed as he wrapped an arm around your waist.  It was like an instinct to lean your head slightly on his shoulder.

"The rest of the Avengers must know about this joyous event!" Thor smiled.  He really did mean well, but maybe it wasn't the best idea.

"Thor," You started, "I don't want them knowing yet.  I'll tell them when I'm ready, alright?"  

"Are you sure, Lady Y/N?"

"Yes, I'm sure.  I should be the one to tell them.  I will let them know as soon as I think I'm ready.  Promise me you won't tell them as soon as we get back."

"You have my word, Lady Y/N."  

"Thank you," You smiled.  He wasn't wrong though, it truly was a joyous event.  You just didn't know what would come in the next few years.

About a year after you had started dating Loki, you heard from Thor about his death.  It hit you like a tsunami.  The idea of him being dead seemed unreal in your eyes.  You couldn't imagine the scene of him dying in Thor's arms, no matter how descriptive Thor was about it all.  

It was like you lost a family member, and in a way, it kind of was.  Thor took off for good shortly after.  His visits became fewer and fewer, and after the Ultron incident, he was gone for good.  

You decided to be on Cap's side when the Civil War happened at the airport.  You felt horrible having to toss around a 15-year old kid through several portals, but it was what you had to do.  Even Bucky showed a few signs of regret when it came to fighting him.  Peter didn't belong in that fight, and Tony should never have taken him along.

Staying low because you broke several federal laws wasn't a fun thing.  You had to dye your hair to (Another natural color), get an entirely new wardrobe, and change your name.  Getting used to a fake name was hard.

All of this led up to where we are now.  But this wasn't something you could predict.  This would be the beginning of a war.  Even this isn't where we are in the present.  You're still only learning how we get to the beginning of the end.

~

"Y/N, I need you to meet me at the train station," Steve called you on your phone.  You were confused about why he was calling so late at night.

"What?  Why?  What's going on, Steve?"

"We found Wanda and Vision's location.  They're in trouble."

"I'm on my way."

You quickly got changed into dark clothes and combat boots.  It's better to look suspicious than stand out to whatever danger Vis and Wanda are in at the moment.  

Rushing out the door with a gun (just in case), you made it to the train tracks.  On the one side, you saw Wanda fighting a very tall alien, who seemed like a woman.  She was staring down at Wanda while Vision laid on the ground, hurt.  Two other aliens were watching from afar.  

On the other side of the tracks, you saw Steve who was waiting to give the command.  He spotted you and used hand-signals to let you know what to do.  He pointed to the alien woman and nodded towards you.  You moved in position and waited as a train flew through the tracks.  Wanda and Vision both turned and looked to see a silhouette through the trains.  

When the train passed, Steve stepped out and you went in for the first blow.  You used a portal to get behind the alien quickly and kicked her in the back of the knees quickly.  Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Falcon kick the other alien in the head and Nat starting with the other one.  Steve helped you out and pulled the weapon out of the alien's hands.  

She quickly got back up and used all of her force to bring you down.  You grunted but swiped at her ankles to bring her down.  Falcon swooped in and used explosives on her to stun her for a moment.  Steve and Nat used her weapon against her, waiting for the perfect moment to knock her out.  Before they could do so, the alien-woman ran towards one of her men.  "Get up," She commanded.

"I can't," He groaned.

You walked up to Steve, Nat, and Sam.  "We don't want to kill you, but we will," Nat calmly stated.

"You'll never get the chance again," The alien said before a ship in the sky quickly brought the two of them up.  As the four of you watched, the weapon in Steve's hand flew up along with them.  

"Who are they?" You asked Cap.

"That's what we have to find out."

~

After learning about Thanos and his plan to get all six infinity stones, you all ran for Wakanda.  If anyone knew a way to get the mind stone out of Vision safely so Wanda could destroy it, it'd be Shuri.  Along the way, you were able to pick up Bruce and Rhodey.  The two were glad to see you all this time has passed, and you were glad to see them too.  

That is until Bruce told you about Ragnarok.

"What?!"  You were shocked by what Bruce had told you.

"Loki was alive.  He was there and on Sakaar.  I don't know why or how, but he was there."

You couldn't tell if you were pissed, sad, or shocked by the revelation.  You supposed it could be all three at the time, but it was mainly shock in the end.  Your love was somehow still alive, even though Thor convinced you he was dead.  How was that possible?  Thor wouldn't lie about something like that.

"What happened afterward?"

"Well, it's a long story.  In short, Thor's older sister, the goddess of death, Hela came in and tried to take over Asgard.  We blew up the planet with her on it and Thor lost an eye in the end.  We were able to get the Asgardians on one big ship and took them out of there.  That's when it got really bad."  

"Bad?  How?  Did Loki take the space stone again or something?"  You joked lightly.  The atmosphere around the entire place had been too dark for your taste.

"Sort of.  This big guy named Thanos came in and killed half of the Asgardians.  He's going after all of the infinity stones so he can take out half of the universe."

"Why?  What's the point of that?"

"He has some sick belief that it'll make things better if half of all populations ceased to exist.  He took down the Hulk like he was nothing, Y/N.  The Hulk didn't stand a chance."

You were silent for a while, before asking, "Does he have any of the infinity stones yet?"

"One that I know of.  The purple one."

"The power stone."

"How'd you know which one it was?"

"Loki told me before he faked his death and decided to never tell me."

Arriving in Wakanda was incredible.  The entire kingdom is so gorgeous, and the barrier around it still amazed you.  Considering that's all technology impressed you beyond whatever Tony Stark has made.  

Meeting up with Bucky and T'Challa was a dream come true.  It had been forever since you've seen them, and it was nice to see them without having to fight other Avengers.  You know, act like they were normal friends with normal lives who don't have a metal arm or a vibranium suit.

When you met Princess Shuri, she was able to figure out how to get the stone out of Vision without harming him.  The problem was the giant spaceship that landed right outside the shield protecting the kingdom.  Wanda had to stay up here to destroy the stone and defend Shuri for the time being.

The fight seemed to go on forever against the Chitauri.  You must've slaughtered hundreds of them when Thor, a raccoon, and a tree arrived.  "Well, well, well, if it isn't the god himself," You stated as you used a Chitauri's weapon against itself, "Who are your friends?"

"I am Groot," the tree stated.  

"I'm (Y/N).  Nice to meet you," You grinned at Groot.  He smiled slightly before running to take care of a bunch of aliens that were surrounding M'Baku.  

"I see you copied my beard," Thor turned to see Steve.  Steve paid him no attention as he focused on finding Vision.  

You found your way into a battle against several of the "alien-dogs", as you liked to call them, with Thor.  "So, you mind telling me why you never told me that Loki is alive?"  You demanded to know as you slice another's head off.  

"I didn't know for the longest time.  I had to confirm my suspicions first.  Before I could have a chance to rest, I had to kill my sister and evacuate the Asgardians from the ship before Thanos could kill them all," He answered.  

"What happened to him?  Why isn't he with you and Groot and the raccoon?"  

"Thanos killed him right in front of me.  There was nothing I could do."

"You really believe that one?  This wouldn't be the first time, clearly."

"I know he died this time.  There was no way he could fake it, Lady (Y/N).  Wait," Thor stopped suddenly, "He's here."

"Thanos?"

"Yes.  I must go."  

"Thor, wait!"  You yelled as he suddenly ran towards the woods, leaving you by yourself.  You groaned, turning towards the rest of the Chitauri that was left.

~

You watched in complete shock as Sam disappeared right before your eyes.  "Sam!  No!" You yelled.  You held out your hand to him, and he tried to grab it, but he turned to dust and ashes before he could do so.  You were frozen in place, unable to respond to Rhodey when he asked where Sam was.  

You ran into the woods where everyone else was, and you didn't find many of them left.  "Oh, God," Steve said as he collapsed onto his knees.  You and Nat walked over to him cautiously, trying to offer him comfort.  However, what more could you do at this point?  

The next day, you rushed to a TV as soon as possible in the Avengers headquarters.  Many networks were down, but there were a few broadcasting the destruction that was being caused as people disappeared.  Some people caught it on tape.  They watched as children were confused while trying to grab their father's hand, or watching a woman slowly realize her boyfriend is no longer following her.  Others ran in fear as helicopters crashed into the sides of buildings in New York City.

"What are we gonna do?"  You asked out loud to no one in particular.  

Nat walked into the room with a device in her hands.  It was flashing blue and red, with a star in the center.  "What's that?" You asked her.  

"No idea.  Witnesses said they saw Fury using it right before he vanished too.  Whatever it is, he must've wanted someone to know about it."  

"It looks like a messenger of some sort.  But who could be so powerful that he'd want them here?" You asked.

Just as Nat turned around to leave the room, a woman seemed to appear out of nowhere, her eyes showing worry and fear.  "Where's Fury?"

[negasonicimagines]

blending in - {ellie phimister x reader}

You, El, and Wade hadn’t been on the mission for long before you got to your destination.

The neon, pulsating lights were glowing in the dim streetlight across from the club where you stood; in normal street clothes, your typical black jeans and longer blue sweater, and El, in her leather jacket adorned with pins of every possible cause.

God, those pins were cute. But that was a statement for another time.

“So, I’m gonna head in, do my work the way I do best. Quick penetration, fast withdrawal,” says Wade, Deadpool suit on and katanas slung across his back (as usual).

“Gross,” Ellie mutters under her breath, leaning back against the building across the street as you scoffed and grinned, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

“Think he can come up with something better?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back on the wall beside Ellie.

“Yeah, just give him a chance,” El says, laughing and frowning at the red-suited man. “Maybe get in there and save us the dramatics, Jeff Dunham.”

“You got it, Angst Monster. Try not to corrupt Fashion Week Felon while I’m doing your work for you,” he says, tapping her lightly on the nose and walking away as you blushed and looked down at your ring-clad hands.

“He’s such a douche,” Ellie says as she turns back to you, smiling and tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Lucky I have good company.”

You felt your blush come back. You and Ellie knew each other decently well; Colossus and her had found you fucking up some muggers in an alley behind your apartment, and when your cuts healed instantly, they knew that you belonged at Xavier’s.

Your parents were out of the picture, so when you were offered a warm bed, classes, and a place to stay, you didn’t really complain. You moved into the mansion close to instantly and you and Ellie caught like a house on fire; you had the same sense of humor, dislike for Wade’s slapstick jokes, and, ironically, were already mutuals on Twitter.

It wasn’t long before you started feeling things for Ellie; she was smart, beyond gorgeous, and being around her made your chest feel like your heart was dropping out of your ass. Hangouts were spent with you constantly putting your feelings out of your mind, doing little favors for Ellie, and butterflies anytime your hands accidentally grazed. But, as you kept reminding yourself, although she’s into girls, that doesn’t mean she’s into you. 

“Hello?” Ellie repeats, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Anyone home?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you breathed, silently admonishing yourself for getting lost in thoughts of your friend. Well, arguably, best friends. You were best friends by each other’s standards. A light blush overtook your face again, and you forced it down with a stone-faced expression. “Just wishing I could be home right about now.”

“Tell me about it!” Ellie half-yelled, causing you to giggle back and, for a second, lose your badly-kept composure. “We could be halfway done with those fucking Domino’s brownie cake things by now-“

“And finishing the Dr. Phil binge, yes, I know, don’t remind me,” you remarked grouchily, lightly tapping her on the shoulder with her fist. “Instead we’re here, waiting for the miraculous case of Benjamin Button’s humor to give us the go-ahead.”

Ellie cracked a smirk then, leaning back and looking at you under the dim glow of the streetlights.

God, she was fucked.

She’d been practically in love with you since the day you’d met, when you’d fought off a catcalled-turned burglar and throat-punched him so quickly that she didn’t even have time to start her powers up; she still remembers the second you’d seen her, knowing what she and the metal giant were there for and how they’d been tracking you for weeks. Your hair was falling over your forehead and your knuckles were bloody, but not for long, until your eyes glowed and the cuts healed and the brilliant smirk of confidence that crossed your features made her weak in the knees.

From then on, it was stolen glances during your chemistry class (ironic, she knows), shared pizzas and dinners on your respective beds while watching shows that made you laugh until you had tears in your eyes, and the occasional hand hold when both of you wanted to leave a party but didn’t know exactly how to say it. She knew that you weren’t straight, that was a given by the amount of things you retweeted, but she didn’t want to make anything weird. Ellie Phimister didn’t do weird.  But the way the light hit you just right in the alleyway, combined with the sweater that you didn’t know she loved made her want to risk it all.

That is, until-

“Hey! A little help, The L-Words!” came Wade’s screech from the earpiece and you were both jolted out of your thoughts and into action. Ellie shoulders started smoking as you walked with confidence across the street and into the club, pushing past sweaty clubgoers and dodging easily spilled drinks. Ellie reached across the threshold and intertwined her fingers with yours to keep each other together, and you kept moving.

You both knew there were four guys in the back, private rooms; guys that were part of a group that had tried various times to break into Xavier’s and wreak havoc, and you weren’t planning on having your rent-free haven blown apart by assholes.

The second the two of you started to move to the hallway leading the rooms, lined by drunken couples devouring each others’ faces, Wade’s voice broke through again.

“Hang on!” he yelled, and you could picture the rapid hand movements that usually came with Wade’s abrupt speeches. “They know you’re coming and they’re getting ready to go out. You have to blend in and throw them off while I do some back door recon. Two minutes. Don’t be an asshole and ruin this for me!”

“This isn’t just about you, asshole-“ Ellie barked into the comm’s receiver, but it blinked out before she could keep going. “Fuck.”

You both heard shuffling coming from the end of the hallway, knowing that you were about to be descended upon, and, against all odds, you two maybe kinda sorta were gonna go with Wade’s plan. The thing is that you had limited time.

“Shit,” you mumbled, looking at Ellie and waiting for her to make the first move, but she looked just as panicked as you; without a second thought, your brain kicked into overdrive, and you grabbed a discarded jacket on the floor and wrapped it around your shoulders. Then, you quickly moved back against the wall and looped your arms around Ellie’s neck.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, hands already forming around your waist.

“Blending in,” you said, and something clicked in her expression. The two of you both seemed to move in at the same time before your lips connected, and then the music started fading away.

Ellie’s hands slowly made their way up your back, her ring-clad pinky finger teasing the skin above your waistline. You moved in closer, tongue teasing her bottom lip to deepen the kiss, and she leaned back into you with equal force as you felt your back start to press against the wall. The two of you were entirely lost, both completely engaged in what was happening between the two of you, and oblivious to the agents and panicked clubbers that were running through the hallway and into the street.

One of Ellie’s thighs moved in between your own, and you felt your hands reach up and tangle themselves in her short, dark hair, finding their home in the longer bits of fringe at the back of her skull. She shivered at your touch, pressing more urgently against you, and the two of you continued your back-and-forth, a mess of hearts and hands and lips. Every repressed bit of attraction was coming out in full force, and there was nothing the two of you could do about it.

She started sucking your bottom lip into her mouth, and you let out a small moan at the feeling, shivering and feeling like your head was about to combust. She seemed to take that as a hint to keep going, this time nipping at your lip, and the pleasure and heat and sharp pain that came with her teeth caused you two to break apart.

“Sorry,” she breathed into your mouth, your fingers reaching to touch your lip.

“Whoa,” you spoke back, feeling the cut heal over in a second and looking back into the eyes of the girl you loved. “Ellie,” you sighed out, like her name was another word for God, and just when you were about to reconnect, Wade’s crimson form appeared over her shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Ellie, yelled, leaping back and shoving Wade so hard that steam rose from the spot where she’d pushed.

“As much as I hate to interrupt your lovefest, you both fucking MISSED the agents coming through here. I gave you a time distinction, and we missed it. They’re already gone, and we’re gonna have to go reconnect at the X-Fuck House,” Wade said, hands piled on the top of his head in exasperation.

He pushed past the two of you then, and you both looked back at each other, dissolving into giggles and starting to walk away.

Neither of you had spoken, only silently acknowledging that something major had changed in the last few minutes between you two.

On the way out of the building, Ellie reached out and lightly grabbed your arm. “Hey, Y/N,” she spoke in the moonlight, and you were more than happy to look back.

“More than friends?” she said, cut off by your leaning in and kissing the smile right off her face. Yes. Definitely more than friends.

[notbang]

doors (five of them)

rethaniel appreciation week day 4 → parallels (read on ao3)

1.

The first time she knocks on Nathaniel’s door, she has to believe she’s making him an offer he can’t refuse.

That’s the confidence that brings her to him, all legs and breathy and scantily clad. She’d felt powerless, after the wedding that wasn’t, but she’d taken all that hurt and found a way to wield it like a weapon, and standing on her porch in his running shorts Nathaniel had let her remember what it felt like to have power resting in the palm of her hand.

She thinks he’s interested. He’s not not interested, judging by the inches of him outlined where they’re nestled together, her hips cradling his. His body is warm between her fishnetted thighs where she’s straddled him, and it’s absurd, really, that she wasn’t expecting that—like he should be carved entirely from stone.

If she’s being completely honest with herself (she’s not) it’s not a transaction so much as an excuse—the alarm bells ringing in the background of this particular playing-with-fire endeavour sound suspiciously like the emergency squeal of an elevator. Josh doesn’t know about that night but it’s a special brand of vindictive, implicating the source of her infidelity as her partner in crime. Josh didn’t know about that night and he left her anyway, and it’s almost like retrospective absolution, leading her here.

Nathaniel’s hands are hovering at the back of her, ridiculously large in contrast to their hesitancy and radiating heat. At some point since they settled here her seductive caress of his shoulders turned into a compulsive exploration, the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck prickling against the palms of her hands.

“So what was your point?” he murmurs, clearing his throat, dazed.  

She’s feeling a little dazed herself, trying not to think too much about prior knowledge of what it’s like to kiss him. Trying not to wonder what it might be like to kiss him when he’s given the proper warning, with her limbs curling around his in enticing parentheses, or how he might repurpose his skills to areas elsewhere than her mouth.

Anything you want to me, she says, and sees the lightbulb of inspiration’s erratic shutter in his eyes. She wants, needs to know what anything you want to me entails. Has a few suggestions, if he needs help getting started.

(She doesn’t hear from him until she does, and anything you want to me starts with her shoulder blades digging hard into the wood of his door.)

2.

The second time she’s emboldened by the memory of his face buried against her neck and the arsenal of R-rated evidence she has at her perusal on her phone the entirety of her flight back from Buffalo, the wanting that rises up in her and threatens to boil over and overflow quickly backburnered in her stomach at a tortuous low simmer.

I would love to have sex with you again, she’d blurted out three days ago, the elegance of her articulation infinite as always, and she couldn’t have imagined it, the way his eyes had softened in confirmation that the sentiment was gratifyingly mutual. Three days ago she’d spoken the words aloud and since then the thought of it has taken stubborn root inside of her, spreading through her like a one-track-mind creeper vine.

She goes to his door and she jumps and he catches her, and some secret part of her latches onto that—wants to make it into a metaphor and use it in stubborn supporting argument for everything that’s about to follow.

He’s hard and solid and careful with his weight on her as he stumbles towards the bed and drops them down, and this is healthy, right? Because he wants her and she wants him back and she’s not engaged and he’s not her boss, and this is a cocoon she burrow herself inside of, free of therapy, and workbooks, and friends that still worry that she’s fragile while they’re hiding all the knives.

He pulls back from her and she knows what’s coming—can see the crease of it carved into his brow.

I’m bulletproof, she wants to assure him. Can’t you tell? I can rip myself to shreds and scatter them and still this thing won’t break.

“Just shut up,” she breathes instead, dragging him back down to her, over her, into her, letting herself just feel, and then his fingers are on her, teasing her, prising her open and it’s so much better than her own or heated words on a screen and an old lumpy couch in the lowlight of someone else’s living room.

She pretends not to notice, the way he’s so much gentler than the last time, even in his desperation to inhale her; the way he stops to catalogue each pulse point with his mouth, praising her heartbeat for still thrumming beneath her skin and carving I’m glad you’re home into its every expanse. He’s affectionate and eager and she responds to him in kind, and this is warm, this is good—she thinks she can grow to live in it, this loose, liminal space of the in-between. When Josh left and she fell apart she stopped thinking about the future, but here, tangled in Nathaniel’s grey sheets, his grey shirt, his grey life, the jagged black and white of her can see a case for focusing on the here and now.

“You didn’t answer me,” he mumbles against her shoulder once they’re spent from their second round. “About your trip.”

His fingers are tangled in her hair again, like its appeal to them is inherently magnetic and they cannot be pulled away. She hums and closes her eyes and focuses on the five point star of pressure expanding and contracting across her scalp, lets it regulate her breathing as the tingles radiate outwards.

(She doesn’t plan to stay. Doesn’t plan for any of it. She just never gets around to making the decision to leave, to slow down, to stop before either of them gets hurt.)

3.

He opens the door too quickly, like he was waiting for her; could somehow sense her there.

It’s been two, three weeks at most but she feels like she’s done this a thousand times before, and something inside of her trills in answering anticipation to his smile on agonising autopilot. This time is different, she has to remind herself, and draws her conviction tighter around her like a cape.

“What is it, like a sex thing? Because I’m not sure what else is still on the table for us.”

The laughter bubbles up out of her at that and it only makes it all the more harder, being hit with the deluge of memories of all their teasing turned challenges—her googling the most ridiculous Kama Sutra poses she could find and his ever creative solutions to negating the exigent issue of their height difference, her hamstrings still twingeing from their most recent acts of contortion. She can’t let herself think about the way his leather armchair sticks to her sweaty skin, or the way he makes her laugh then smiles with a hint of surprise every time like he’s never heard the sound before, like no one else around him has ever let him think he’s funny.

I’m happy but it’s not real, is all she can offer him, and she can sense his confusion—see the denial in his eyes that’s protesting you sat right across from me at that table and begged me not to do what you’re doing right now—and the sour taste of it twists in her gut. She’d wanted so desperately to believe that the point of all this was to be happy, too, but there’s so much left for her to sort out for herself separate to fusing to another person before happy can even begin to be a consideration.

She’s had this conversation with him countless times in her head on the way over, but none of it’s playing out the way it’s supposed to. Just speaking the words and tasting kiss and snuggle and cuddle on her tongue weakens her resolve and threatens to have her reaching for him, burying her head in his chest and the blue stripes of his shirt and telling him she’s sorry, that she takes it all back, undo.

Nathaniel takes a step towards her, and it’s like she can’t breathe beneath the weight of how much she wants to let him change her mind.

(I have to go, she repeats to herself like a mantra, blinking back tears as she takes the stairs blindly, two at a time. I have to go I have to go I have to go.)

4.

She hasn’t been to his apartment for the better part of a year—not since she broke it off and ran away, not since Mona came along and occupied her empty space, not since a handshake led to a kiss and a kiss led to an inevitable mistake. Not since that mistake became bigger than the both of them and they let themselves keep making it, let themselves pretend it was an outside force compelling them from inside that supply closet and not something they both consciously chose, until suddenly she couldn’t let herself pretend, not anymore.

He told you he loves you, in not so many words, was how Dr Akopian had phrased it, and she yearns so much for that to be true and something she can let herself deserve.

But then she thinks about how opening doors leads to other things slipping inside, too, to billow outwards and fill up a space. Lets certain other parts of you escape to make room.

If that’s what you want, he’d told her. As if she’s ever had any proper idea of what she wants in all this.

(She doesn’t knock, but the whole way home she thinks of the alternate version of herself in a parallel universe who does, and hopes with all her heart somewhere, someplace, she’s managing to get things right.)

4.

She pounds on his door with such focus and force she imagines herself breaking through it in her urgency, and when he finally answers she collapses against the door frame with an air of something she imagines resembles seductive, as if the slur of her words and heavy lids are entirely by design.

Look, she wants to goad the memory of her frozen, deer-in-headlights former self. Knuckles to wood, rinse and repeat—was that so fucking hard?

Nathaniel lets her in and his shirt is soft beneath her fingers, soft like the way he started looking at her at some point and never quite stopped, soft enough to scare her sometimes. But she’s feeling bruised and broken and raw, and it’s a softness she wants to crawl inside and pull tight around her until every last battered inch of her is covered in its gentle armour; until it seals itself shut over her and the desperation can’t get out. She wants to feel warm and wanted in a way Nathaniel has never denied her, wants to feel bad and brazen and better.

She’s high, but not high enough. She’s drunk, but she wants to be drunk off him, too.

Her senses are dulled but the defensive part of her mind is still whittled razor-sharp, the sting of perceived rejection still burning bright and hot enough to forge the blade. She knows every last button to press, the exact notch between the ribs to dig her fingers into and claw her way inside. You know I still think about you, she tells him, at night when I’m alone in my bed, because it’s what she’d like to believe is true of him, thinking about her. She didn’t pick him, but the idea of him letting her go is sweet and sour to her all at once. Especially when it feels like Greg just threw her overboard and turned his back as she began to buoy away.

Greg hates everything but Nathaniel wants her to be happy, and right now he’s like her very own personification of a butter commercial that she wants inside her and around her and swallowing her whole.

She wants to use him the way she used him to get back at Josh, the way she used him to get her A plus in living C plus, the way she used him for eight months to make a point to herself about how broken she is again and again and again. They way he lets her, every time; the sucker that sees every terrible part of her and never turns away.

He’s turning her away now, though, and how dare you, she thinks. How dare you not join me in this self-destruction when you’re just as messy and terrible as me.

(I thought you wanted me, she sneers to herself as she stumbles down his hallway, lip curling, spurned. I thought you’d always want me, but you’re just like everyone else.)

5.

She can’t be completely sure, the last time she knocks on his door; at which point she stops knocking because it isn’t locked or he’s with her or he gives her a key and the door is no longer just his but her own.

There’s a beginning to the end, though, where she goes to him and it is raining.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he swings the door open to look at her, his hair wet and spiky and stray droplets glistening on his skin where his throat rises up from the damp neckline of his burgundy sweatshirt, and then she’s laughing, because her curls are saturated from the downpour and plastered to her coat and the deep red pile of her sweater underneath. They’ve always been good at this part—the unconscious mirroring, this dance on an unpredictable delay—and a reassuring warmth starts to blossom through her at this suggestion that the page they are on is the same.

“Hi,” she says, giddy, breathless.

“Hi,” he echoes, cautious and confused because he can’t share in her excitement, not yet, not when he’s not privy to the decision she’s made in her head.

She only hesitates a moment and then her keys hit the floor and she tugs him down toward her by his neck, slow enough to give him every opportunity to stop, but then the resistance melts out of him all at once and she’s kissing him and he’s kissing her back, and it’s the first time in such a long time.

He’s kissing her gentle at first, then like she’s his sole source of air and she’d thought long and hard about taking this slow, but her body knows his and they have other plans.

“Rebecca,” he says once they’ve shoved her coat down over her shoulders and she’s fought her way out of the tangled armholes of her sweater to pull his body close to hers, his shower-seared skin hot against the damp-chilled surface of her own. “Not that I’m—” He breaks off on a groan when she sinks her teeth into the sinews of his neck, and she hides her pleased grin in the slope of his collarbones. “Not that I’m complaining, but what is this? What are we doing, here?”

It would be so easy, she thinks, to settle back into that well-worn groove; to shush him with her lips and her fingers and the eager trace of her tongue, to cant her hips forward and lock her thighs until he forgets what he’s asked her, forgets words. She could tell him any number of things, present him with a hundred variations on every unfairness with which she’s come to him before and he’d still give her this, she knows. But they’ve been down so many ill-fated paths already, the both of them burned for their lack of clarity, and he’s so tentative in his hopefulness that it makes her heart squeeze.

She takes his face in her hands, thumbs sweeping his cheeks, reacquainting herself with every last one of its lines.

“It’s been a year,” she tells him, lilting low. “And I don’t know about you, but… I don’t want to waste any more time.”

That sets free a desperate kind of whine in him that has him crushing her in his endless arms, pressing her down into his bed so hard it could make a mould of the two of them, the mattress recasting around them to reset every bittersweet memory they’ve left in it. His hand is unsnapping her bra and she’s squirming to get at the fly of her jeans and all the while he’s nuzzling against her, kissing her chin, sighing his relief into the space below her ear.

“I might need to borrow some clothes,” she breathes, back arching, hips tilting into where he’s slid his hand. “All mine are—oh—all mine are wet.”

“Soaked,” he agrees, his fingers slick against the silk.

He’s reluctant to shift off of her, after, and slides back into the bed to wrap himself around her as if afraid to blink and find her gone.

His nose nudges hers and she can see in his expression that he wants to tell her, the words curling and ready on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know if it’s appropriate, or he’s allowed, and she’s overcome with so much answering affection that her entire body hums with it, warming her from the inside out.

“Hey,” she begins, and waits until his eyebrows slope upward expectantly to beckon him closer with a crook of her finger, as if there aren’t already mere millimetres between them. She drags his earlobe between her teeth, eliciting a shudder, chuffing softly against the flushed shell of his ear. “There are feelings inside me that are still pertinent to you,” she confesses, seriously, then descends into laughter as he rolls over, growling, taking her with him, trapping the delighted sound of it with his mouth enmeshed with hers.

[freakynerd85]

Stupidity

Title: Stupidity

Pairing: James Ashton x Vivian (MC)

Rating: Angst

Word count: 1,474

My disclaimer: This character is owned by PB, I just enjoy some elaboration. I really love James Ashton and I love Choices fanfics, especially nasty ass stuff but there isn’t much featuring my original bae, James Ashton from The Freshman series

So, I decided to put my amateur ass talent to work and write with James being the *star of the story*

A/N: * is a separator due to scene change, use of Daddy. My pc is broken. This is my first time posting from my phone (a full story). Don’t judge me too harshly lol.

0Will my heart ever heal? Its been years and I can't stop missing my ex. I'm still not over the way he left me, let alone being over that he left me at all. To make matters worse, I KNOW his wife (the girl he left me to be with) is a murderer and if I could convince him to see her faults than he would leave her murdering ass and be back with me. My therapist tells me that I need to stop picking at the wound if I want to heal, but the only thing I WANT is my relationship with James back!! Sigh. She also suggested finding companionship in a pet. I love Ash, my cat but he is not a replacement. I guess I'm going to attempt to let it be. I miss him and I hope he thinks of me. Even this writing exercise makes me think of him.

Writing in a journal is something James would do.." Comfort shut the Moleskine journal her therapist insisted she started using and sighs heavily before flopping on her couch. Ash meows, but its a deep sound, unlike his usual voice. "Are you crying, boy? Come here." She pats her lap and as if he understands, Ash follows the command to sit on her lap. She pets him. "Your eyes look sad. Are you sad? What's the matter?" He lets out the same low meow as he jumps off her lap. "I guess we're going to the vet."  She stood up to put some real clothes on. "The vet won't appreciate seeing me in lingerie the way James did -y'know what I mean Ash?" She looks around. "Ash?" and doesn't see her cat so she walks the house to find Ash sleeping on the bathroom floor. "My poor, sick boy" she puts him in his carrier and head to the vet

**

"Comfort Greene and Ash" the woman at the front desk calls for them and Comfort frantically rushes to the desk, for fear of losing her place. "Yes! Yes, we're here. Ash is my cat. He's a year old."

"Okay, Ms. Greene, the doctor will see you. Straight to the back "

"Doc?" Comfort walks in the room with Ash in hand, when a man in a blue jumpsuit turns around and smiles. His smile seems to glow, "uhh no, she stepped out. I'm just in here fixing the x-ray machine."

He's so attractive. Maybe flirting with him will help me forget about he who must not be named.

"She trusts you in here alone? You must be someone special." He smiles while putting strands of his golden blonde hair behind his ear.

"Nah. Just a maintenance man maintaining things." He holds out his hand. "Shaun. And you are...?"

"Comfort. My name is Comfort."

"Comfort." He repeats and realizes that he recognizes the name from Vivian's complaints and more importantly from the news coverage of The Black Mamba case.

"I recognize you...you used to date that Ashton guy."

"James! You know him?"

"I'm in love with the girl he married"

"Really!? I hate the bitch. I'm, probably obviously, still in love with him."

"It seems like we can help each other, Comfort. Meet me around 6 pm at Linnie's coffee. You know where it is. "

Although he has not completed his work on the machine, he exits the room leaving Comfort in a haze of anticipation and mystery that she quickly shakes away when the veterinarian, Dr. Moya Aven, enters the room.

"Dr. Aven!? I don't know why the name didn't occur to me when I was making the appointment. You were involved with the trial."

"As were you. What a small world. Anyway, my dear, what's going on with this little guy?" Her acknowledgment of mutual recognition is quick and seemingly dismissive as she looks over Ash.

"He's crying. Like a sad meow, as if he's being deflated"

"Oop. Found the issue" as she picks a short looking grain from Ash's butt. "Poor little guy stomach is bothering him. He's got worms. Easy to treat. " Dr. Aven gave Ash a shot, spoke about healthy upkeep and sent Comfort and Ash home.

**

Comfort stands in front of the mirror, holding a short blue dress in front of her figure. "Ash, should I wear a date dress? I mean, we're meeting to talk about the people we are actually in love with. But wearing a dress is fun. Plus Shaun is cute." Posing in the mirror silently, she speaks again "I

figured it out. You didn't help." She turns to look at her cat "Why am I trying to have a conversation with my cat? Am I talking to myself? Yes, Comfort, you're talking to your damn self." She chuckles before petting Ash and retreating to get dressed. After arguing (in her mind) about gold OR silver accessories, high heel or no heel she decides on gold accessories with a high heel and leaves the house.

**

The sun has almost completed its daily farewell when she arrives at the coffee shop, leaving the cafe near-empty and unlike the chaos of AM hours. She spots Shaun already sitting at a table, waiting on her.

"Hello, Shaun."

"Damn Comfort. You're hot as hell"

She laughs and looks down "Thanks." She looks back up at Shaun who slides her a cup.

"Its hot cocoa. I wasn't sure how you drank your coffee"

"You're not going to poison me, are you?" She laughs at her joke while Shaun remains stone-faced.

"Okay...well, um, the last time I was here was with James.

He introduced me to Vivian as well stood outside, waiting to see if Reyna was okay."

"I remember that hella different."

"How so?"

"Look. Comfort. You want James back and I want Vivian for myself. Let's work together to make this happen"

"You're straight to the point. Okay, Shaun. How do we do this?"

"Okay, I have minimal contact with Vivian so I know what moves she makes. I've been planting random notes to make her seem guilty. He'll get suspicious and that's where you come in. Befriend him, tell him some bullshit like you respect his marriage, you just wanna be friends. Then he'll run directly to you as Vivian looks guiltier and she'll run to me because he's being distant."

"Seem guilty? She IS guilty.",

Shaun allows his head to fall back while heavily sighing before he returns to looking at Comfort, slightly hunched he lowers his voice to a sort of half whispering, half normal volume.

"I forgot you don't know."

"Don't know?"  

"Let's take a drive. My car." She follows his lead to his car and gets in.

"Okay Shaun, what the hell?"

"To make a long story kinda short, Vivian and I used to make out and touch but never had sex. She called it quits when James got with u and she wanted him back.".

"Okay, and...?"

"I acted like I wanted them together. Told her to talk to his girlfriend and scare her a little. I gave her what she thought was a sedative to knock her out while she talked to James. But it was really poison and she killed the bitch."

"Wait. You're blowing my mind here. So Vivian didn't even know she was poisoning her?"

"Yeah"

"And you said James girlfriend so that was meant for ME!?"

Silence.

"I am still in the car with you Shaun. Say something."

"Ain't nothin to say but to admit yeah u were the supposed target. Vivian thought ol' girl was his girlfriend tho."

I'll deal with the shock of almost being a murder victim when I'm home. Why you wanna kill, I'll just say "his girlfriend "?"

"Sending him into a depression woulda made him cold and distant which would a turned Vivian off of him and send her right back to me. Kinda what I'm tryna do now; making him question her innocence and all."

"Damn Shaun. You're kinda ruthless."

"Vivian for me. James for you."

"Why does Vivian still talk to you after you set her up like that?"

"She's afraid I'll say something."

Pulling to the side of Comfort car, they are back at the coffee shop and he is preparing to end the conversation.

"She's already been found not guilty."

"Nobody knows. Not James or anyone but she and I."

He leans to open her door signaling her to get out

"Okay. One last question."

No longer hiding his irritation, Shaun sighs and rolls his eyes "Okay, what"

"How the hell did you get snake venom?"

"Think about it. Where did we meet?"

Comfort finally exits the car as she yells, "THE VET!!"

Shaun shakes his head. "I have your number. I'll be in touch," shutting the car and driving off. Comfort gets in her car and does the same.

Shaun’s idea failed, James and Vivian continues their marriage happily and stopped talking to both Shaun and Comfort deeming them toxic to their marriage and bad for the kids to be around

[strikersunindie-a]

Adventure Down Underground || Hanson/Scott

@blue-eyed-devils​

Scott had to be flown in by helicopter to get to the top of the mesa. He got a great view of the arid landscape, reminding him once again how far he was from his frigid homeland.

The helicopter dropped him with a cloud of dust, leaving Scott to locate Dr Hanson alone. He’d read enough of the detailed reports to know the dig site, even if it was his first time visiting. A cave marked by First Nations drawings leading down into an extensive underground network left by a lost civilization.

The historical significance of which had drawn Dr Hanson, but Scott was more interested in finding the cause of their demise - for it’s modern day applications.

Scott figured he wouldn’t find the man in the cluster of tents, so he pulled out a torch from his backpack and started his descent into the caves. About halfway down the cave floor changed to rough-hewn steps, eventually leading down to a big cavern with buildings and walls cut into the stone. A series of flickering torches led him down to where Dr Hanson was working.  

The man must have heard him approach but didn’t look up, seemingly too entranced with his work. Scott hadn’t met him in person before, only spoke briefly on the phone. He was taller and more fit & handsome than he’d expected. Scott stowed his backpack by one of the metal cases and dusted off his white shirt before approaching Dr Hanson.

“I’m Scott Verdant,” he said, offering his hand. “I believe you were expecting me?”

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

Hanson had surprised the crew when they first met him as well. As the leading archeologist, they were expecting some nerdy academic, with thick rimmed glasses, sunscreen all over the place, and either sweating buckets with just a few steps or overly lean. Hanson was fit and definitely caught the eye of a couple of members, but he ignored it all and had them focus on mapping and setting up the caves.

It was magic when they finally discovered the route to the city of stone. Despite centuries of neglect, nearly all the buildings were intact. It took them days to set everything up, knowing they were going to eventually explore each one to see what life was like inside. Unfortunately, the items inside weren’t as intact, as opening the door to one with the utmost care caused many items to finish turning into dust. With the funding they received however, they used a machine to chart the place, similar to sonar.

Hanson was examining one house with certain inscriptions when he heard someone approaching. He just assumed it was one of the workers, giving him an update, but he didn’t think it would be their financial savior!

“Mr. Verdant! Welcome!” Mr. Hanson walked over to the man, taking it and giving him a strong and enthusiastic grip. “You’ll be very pleased to hear we’re making great progress on everything. Come!” The excitement was almost like a kid’s at this point, as he showed the drawings he was examining.

“So this is interesting because somehow, this is similar to Anasazi drawings and language. Yet it’s older, meaning this would be a connecting point to that tribe that mysteriously disappeared. At this point, I can tell you that it wasn’t another tribe that wiped them out.”

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

Theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement. He funded Hanson’s expedition and Scott got access to anything unearthed. Hanson’s eyes lit up as he spoke passionately.

Passion is good. Means he’s fully engaged with the task at hand and more tractable. Boys and their toys….So predictable.

Scott came in closer and quickly glanced over the drawings. “You found these here? Do you think we’ve finally found the lost tribe?”

He considered Hanson’s conclusion for a moment. “So not another tribe. Maybe my theory that this is a special religious site is more plausible. Maybe they had a mass sacrifice and must be somewhere special. How the progress going on the lower levels?”

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

“Perhaps, but we haven’t been able to find any remains inside. Each house is practically sealed, any new motion might turn the contents into dust. That machine you got for us however is helping us map each one though.” He knew that Hanson would want some artifacts for his personal collection, but Scott hoped that he would at least get to examine and photograph them for research.

“I’m not sure about the mass sacrifice, but it definitely possible this was a religious site. Or perhaps something similar to a last stronghold, where they go for safety.” It was pure speculation at this point, as he’d need more time to examine everything.

“However, we’ve opened the way to the lower levels at least and cleared a path. There is where it’s real interesting. Come,” he said as he clipped a portable light to himself. “Once we found this, I wanted us to double back and examine each place carefully, in case we can find more things related to this.” As they traversed down, things got darker, but it was definitely carved out. At the end was a massive wall, but had a few indents in it that were definitely man made.

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

He followed after Hanson, eager to see what they might find. Scott was inexperienced with being on dig sites and archaeology in general, but he knew a fair amount about geology and the natural world.  

He noticed how the rock changed the further they went down. Softer sandstone changing to denser rocks like granite in the torchlight.  “There just has to be so much more than what we’ve found. To sustain a community of this size to build all this….they’d need a fresh water and food source. Where’s the signs of all that? There just has to be more to unearth h-”

A rock suddenly crumbled underneath his foot. Scott stumbled forward, bumping smack into Hanson’s surprisingly solid body. “So sorry,” he said, steadying himself. He gave the man’s shoulder a brief pat. “I should be more careful, less excited.” He smiled ruefully and gestured for Hanson to continue the way.

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

Hanson was familiar with the area and knew where to stand. He was also rather light footed because of the fact many places could simply crumble underneath a step. Scott however, was not. So while he was a bit startled by feeling the man’s body against his own, he held firm so Scott didn’t fall anywhere else. Then he turned around to make sure Scott was secure before turning to the wall.

“I’ve only allowed a few people in here because they know how to examine things. Please, don’t touch anything. Even something like the oils from our fingers can affect the composition and quality of any artifacts.” Hanson didn’t like having to tell his benefactor this, but it was necessary.

He pushed open the wall and revealed a rather large cave. It was raised, as much of the floor was covered in water that led even deeper. The walls were covered in a bio-luminescent algae, that revealed patches of mushrooms and other fungus growing. “The water must have come from there, while they ate the mushrooms. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if these are poisonous or not, or if the water is actually safe to drink either.” There were paintings there too, around the algae on the wall, of creatures that didn’t look like the humans they’ve seen everywhere else.

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

Scott wanted to point out it was an accident, not deliberate, but he held his tongue. The man had a point and there was need to distract Hanson further.

He followed after the man, down through to a cave covered in fungi, bio-luminescent algae and rock art. “It’s beautiful…” breathed Scott, as he looked all around.

“You think the fungi was still around in their time? Maybe some of it has hallucinogenic properties,” he wondered. “How deep is this water? Perhaps there is more to be revealed in it’s depths… -but after we’ve fully explored this complex, of course.” he quickly added.

Scott raised his torch to view the cave drawings as they passed. Beautiful… so pristine…But nothing unremarkable. What if this site comes up empty? That this whole project’s been a waste of time and money?

He followed Hanson through the cave, down some rough-hewn steps that seemed to go on forever till eventually they stopped at a passageway, cleanly cut into the stone. Already Scott could tell the masonry was different here. The passageway led out into an enormous ante chamber, filled with countless carved stone pillars and other things Scott didn’t recognise. The chamber was so big, his torchlight didn’t reveal the end to it.

“Wow!” Scott didn’t know where to look first. “Hanson! This is incredible! This is it, right? You’ve found it!”

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

Although Hanson had lectured Scott just moments before on proper behavior at a site like this, Hanson couldn’t help but enjoy the look on Scott’s face. It was as if the man got younger again, the stress of life seemingly lifted as it was replaced by wonder and awe. It was how Hanson first felt when he first saw the giant t-rex skeleton in a museum.

“I have to study some more to confirm it, but yes, I do believe that this chamber was likely used in some sort of ritualistic manner.” The chamber was huge underneath the earth, though there was clearly air filtering in through some natural vents.

“If you look closely at the pillars here, you can see markings of some sort that are repeated on each of them, with only very slight differences. And they all lead to that center,” he said as he pointed to each one with the torch. “I wish to leave this last while we explore further up, to see if we can gather clues as to the details of each markings,” he said to Scott, hoping the investor would listen to him.

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

Scott aimed his torch in the direction where Hanson was pointing. The centre had some kind of stone altar, or at least what appeared to be to Scott’s untrained eyes. Below the altar, a channel was cut into the stone, leading away into the shadows.

“Are those cut lines down there to capture blood from their sacrifices?” asked Scott, thinking out-loud. The run-off might lead to human remains -  And I can finally get a sample of the disease!

“Wonder where it leads to?”  Too excited, Scott immediately set off after it.  A half-dozen paces and there was a soft click!  A sickening sound of stone scraping again stone echoed in the chamber. Scott stumbled. The floor beneath them started to give way.

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

Scott felt a strong hand gasp his as he fell. Sliding on stone into darkness for a few scary moments. Scott tumbled on a hard surface before his whole left side slammed into solid stone, his skull hitting it with a lound thump. “Are you alright?”  asked Hanson, from somewhere in the dark. “I’ll live,” muttered Scott, rubbing his pounding head. It felt a little sticky.  Must be bleeding. I'm getting too old for this. His eyes adjusted to the gloom, lit only by the flashlight that must have fallen with them. Scott pulled himself to his feet with a groan. “It looks like this might have been a dumping ground for sacrifices,” stated Hanson. “What was that? Was that you?” “Hmn? Oh that’s a snake. Easy now. Stay still while I find it.” Scott grabbed the flashlight and looked around for the snake. “He’s just warning us that we’re in his home. Give him space and he’ll be fine.”  The flashlight’s beam revealed a number of snakes, most were relaxed and out of range, except the one coiled up in strike position near Hanson. “Stay calm. That’s it. I’m gonna distract him, and you’re gonna step back towards me when I do.”   Scott slowly bent down to pick up a rib bone. “Alright,  ready-”  He tossed the bone with the snake’s reach, but away from Hanson. The snake dived after the bone, sensing movement in the air. He sighed with relief when Hanson stepped beside him, the two men pressed close together against the wall. “Phew. I didn’t want to tell you that was a black  desert cobra and pretty venomous. You good?”

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

Hanson was a bit surprised by how concerned Scott sounded. Of course he knew that snakes around here probably were poisonous, as he worked in these environments. But anti-venom was on the campsite, not on him, and even all of his powers couldn't stop that. When he saw Scott toss the bone, Hanson jumped to Scott's side against the wall. "Yeah. But how the hell are we gon a get outta here," he wondered aloud, looking at the walls and ground to see if there was an way out. There had to be, since even snakes needed oxygen to live. They were still breathing after all so there had to be an exit. "Guess you're getting a bit more adventure than you paid for," he joked as he looked at Scott, trying to lighten the mood."Here, hand me the light," he said. Looking around, he waved the light up above and saw a bunch of stalactites, but one area was clear. "There. I think we need to find a way to press it. Otherwise we will be stuck here." Looking down at the ground, some snakes were nearby but they were relaxed at the moment too. "If only we could make a torch. The fire would scare them away," he said, trying to figure out who to do so without revealing his ability.

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

Scott passed Hanson the torch and looked up where he was pointing the light. a A bunch of stalactites. What’s he thinking? All the way up there?

 “Um...how would we even get there?  You on my shoulders? I'm not a smoker so no lighter or matches. Nothing to burn anyway, unless you’re counting clothes.” Scott paused to check his pockets. “But I do have a Swiss army knife. And some gum, if you want.”   He lightly touched Hanson’s arm. “Shine the light back down here. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” 

Scott took hold of Hanson’s hand, an unconscious gesture, needing the other man close and safe as they inched along the wall, away from the snakes. His foot crunched on something in the shadows more solid that sand. Scott immediately stopped, feeling Hanson bump up against his backside. “There’s something down there. Point the light down a bit.” 

 The light revealed a pile of bones blocking his way. Scott didn’t recoil, instead it got him thinking.  “Now if I had a chamber with a trap door or sacrificial pit, I wouldn’t want the dead bodies stinking up my lair. No, I’d want them cleared out.” 

 He knelt to start moving the brittle bones away from the wall. They were tangled up with bits of god knows what else but Scott grit his teeth and worked them free revealing a fair-sized opening cut 

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy

Our heroes get an invitation they can’t refuse.  They aren’t very gracious houseguests.

The passed the books around and began to study them, looking for anything that might be relevant to the situation they had encountered.  While the others were understandably more interested in the Newtonian and Hermetic writings that could actually be read, Natasha found herself drawn to the Voynich Manuscript.  The alphabet looked a bit like Sanskrit and a bit like Thai, but was nothing she could read. Far more interesting were the illustrations that accompanied it.

Nat remembered hearing that the prevailing theory was that the manuscript was a book of medicine or botany, possibly both.  She could see where the idea had come from – many of the pages bore drawings of plants with exaggerated flowers and roots.  Most of them were unidentifiable, although she thought she recognized a water lily leaf in one illustration, and something that might have been rosemary in another.  This could certainly be some kind of medieval pharmacopeia.

Another section was decorated not with plants but with drawings of naked women bathing.  Some of them were possibly supposed to be pregnant, others were sliding down tubes and climbing in and out of tubs.  Maybe, Nat thought, they represented Madame Desrosiers’ healing elixir, made of tiny organisms that entered the boy and patched it so it could repair itself.  Or maybe they were Neustadt’s homunculi, artificially produced humans who lived and died in a few days.

A third chapter seemed to be astronomical, full of circular drawings and diagrams, some of them spread over multiple pages, labeled with the signs of the zodiac.  Some were fairly straightforward, others seemed abstract, still more were rings within rights of heaven knew what… but in the light of what Neustadt had said yesterday, Nat found herself wondering if they were encoded technical diagrams. The Philosopher’s Stone was supposed to be some kind of nuclear reactor.  Fusion reactors, as science was currently exploring them, were made of rings and spheres.  Could this be a plan of such a thing, disguised to keep the secrets from those who weren’t initiated.  Those without the key?

“Who knew Newton was such a kook?” asked Sam, pushing a book aside.  “This stuff is crazy.”

“What’s it say?” asked Sharon.

“The balance of Libra allows the stone to come to its full perfection,” Sam read aloud, “but the venom of Scorpio destroys it.  This guy discovered gravity?”

“Does that mean anything to you?” Sir Stephen asked Jim.

Jim shook his head.  “If you’re gonna make the Philosopher’s Stone, do it in October?” he guessed.  “I dunno.”  He turned a page in the book he’d been reading.  “Here he’s talking about seeking God through chemistry, which I would have figured involved more cannabis than mercury but then, I’m not an alchemist.”

“How did you know that Libra is October?” asked Nat.

“Huh?” asked Jim.  “Libra is… it’s September twenty-third to October twenty-third, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, “but how did you know that?  Did Neustadt tell you?”

“I don’t know.  Doesn’t everybody know that?” asked Jim.

“I’m sure a lot of people do,” she said.  “But Neustadt said you only know what he tells you to know, so did he tell you the dates of the zodiac, or do you just… know it?”

Jim shrugged again, uncomfortable.

“Relax,” said Allen, and put a hand on his back – Jim flinched at the touch as if he’d been bitten.  “Relax,” Allen repeated.  “You’re not being tested.  I don’t know how I know half the things I know, either.  I don’t think anybody does.”

“Yeah, but you’re a… a normal person,” said Jim.

“Actually, no, I’m not,” said Allen.  “Natasha made me up, because her father abandoned her.  It was just an accident that I was brought to life.  I’m… still coming to terms with that, I guess.”

Jim looked at Nat for confirmation or denial, and she nodded.

“I told you we were weird,” she said.

“Fear not, Jim,” said Sir Stephen.  “You are my friend whether you remember me or not.  I will not abandon you.”

“Yeah, we’ll look after you,” Allen agreed, and Nat felt something twinge inside her.  Why was Allen promising to take care of Jim? Allen Jones was supposed to take care of Nat.  He’d said he wanted to make up for the real parents who hadn’t loved her enough to raise her.  Was it because she didn’t want to tell him about her past that he was taking Jim under his wing?  Or was it because what she’d told him about it so far had scared him, while Jim safely had no past at all?

That emotion probably deserved some analysis, but for the moment she didn’t get the opportunity.  One of the hotel employees approached the table and said, “excuse me, are you Dr. Jones?”

“Yes,” said Nat, quickly settling her features back into neutrality.  “What do you need?”

“You have a message,” he said, and gave her a postcard.

It had a picture of Guedelon Castle on it, and an address – Nat recognized the latter.  It was Neustadt’s empty apartment in Neapoli.  The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the picture of the castle told her what she needed to know.  Her first reaction was annoyance, since it meant that if they’d stayed at the apartment just a few minutes longer they probably would have met Desrosiers when she arrived.  That led to her second thought, which was that having missed the woman once, they could not afford to miss her again.

“What is it?” asked Sam.

“Madame Desrosiers is waiting for us,” said Nat.

Taking the Metro across Athens again was excruciating – not just because of the heat and the crowds, but because they had no idea what they would find when they got there.  Maybe Desrosiers really did want to talk to them… but given her behaviour last time they’d met, that didn’t seem likely. More likely this was some kind of trap, like Neustadt’s proposed trip to Kotor.

Of course, Nat wasn’t the only one worried about it.  The others were quiet and thoughtful during the train ride – and then there was Jim.  He was standing, hanging on to one of the poles to stay upright, and he looked like he would have needed to do so even if the train hadn’t been moving.  He was visibly shaking.  Allen and Sir Stephen kept close to him, ready to catch him if he passed out.

Back at the apartment building, they climbed the stairs to the third floor again, and knocked on the door.  What if they’d taken too long getting here?  What if she’d changed her mind and left?

The door opened.

Neustadt had been dressed in shorts and a t-shirt like a tourist.  Helene Desrosiers had her hair up and was wearing an elegant blue and white printed dress with elbow-length sleeves.  She looked at her guests, and breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

It didn’t last long.  Although nobody gave any sort of command, somehow by mutual agreement the entire group pounced at once.  Sir Stephen and Sam grabbed Desrosiers by the arms and marched her into the bedroom, where the empty chair was waiting for her.  Sharon pulled out a set of handcuffs to chain her to the chair, and the rest of them stood around, on their guard in case Desrosiers had something up her sleeve to help her escape.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked. Their behaviour clearly shocked her.

“We’re tying you up so we can talk to you and you can’t run away this time,” Natasha said calmly.  “How did you know we were in the city?”

“I have friends here!” Desrosiers told them.  “They know where I am, and they told me he had a homunculus watching you!” She looked at Jim.  “Did you warn him I was here?”

Nat remembered the café owner’s phone call, apparently to his mother… had that been talking in code?  “He seemed to already know,” she said.  “Why do you want to talk to us now, after you didn’t want to say anything earlier?”

“I need to know what he told you,” Desrosiers said.  “Neustadt.  What did he say?”

“Why?” asked Nat.  Neustadt had said Desrosiers was secretive.  Was she intending to kill them if they’d learned too much?  If so, she was going to find out how hard some of them were to kill.

“Because I need to know what he’s doing and now I’ve missed him!” she said. “What did he say?”

So the note had been for Desrosiers.  “He told us he stole the mummy, and then you stole it from him in turn,” said Nat.

“I did not!” said Desrosiers.

“He said you were the one who murdered the various previous owners,” Nat added, “as well as your own husband.”

“Lies,” Desrosiers insisted.  “I have only ever tried to retrieve the mummy by pointing out that it belongs to me, and nobody’s ever listened to me!”

“And he said you were going to destroy the Key to decoding the Voynich Manuscript,” Nat finished.

Desrosiers paused for a moment before answering.  “Now… that, I would do if I could,” she admitted.  “But only because it needs doing.  You don’t understand how dangerous the Philosopher’s Stone is.”

“No, we don’t,” Nat agreed.  She sat down on the floor at Desrosiers’ feet, just out of kicking range, and looked up at her.  “You had a chance to tell us, but you didn’t.  Tell us now. Tell us what the hell is going on because our job is to know what’s going on and you’re making it really hard to do it.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Desrosiers said stiffly.  “As I understand you people, your job is to keep the world safe from ancient magic and cursed tombs and whatnot, and the easiest way you can do that is to keep out of my way and let me do my job.”

“What is your job?” asked Sam.  “Besides annoying museum directors.”

Desrosiers said nothing.

“What about me?” Jim wanted to know.  “Don’t I deserve to know what’s going on?”

She looked up at him, and Natasha saw, for a brief moment, a change in her expression.  Her anger and resentment subsided, and in their place was… pity, perhaps.  Interesting.

“I don’t know that there’s much you can do about it in the time you have,” said Desrosiers.

“Have you ever made something like him?” Nat asked.

“A long time ago,” Desrosiers admitted.  “Only once or twice.  I couldn’t bring myself to do it again, not knowing how the poor creatures wouldn’t last. Paracelsus himself condemned the creation of homunculi, and he was the only who first invented them.  He said it was an evil act to create a creature with a mind but no soul, one who could live only a short while and never know God. I may not believe in God,” she added, “but I know that creating things like you is cruel.”

“Can you help him?” asked Sir Stephen.

“Help him with what?”  Desrosiers frowned.

“Help him to live longer,” Sir Stephen said, in the evident belief this should have been obvious.

“I don’t want to die,” Jim agreed.

Desrosiers looked up at Jim again.  “If I do, will you let me go?”

“We’re far more likely to,” said Sir Stephen.

“But you’ve also got to answer our questions,” Nat agreed.  “We can’t let you run off a second time.”

“What are your questions?” Desrosiers asked, with a sigh of defeat.

[averyella]

Who Framed Roger Stone?

FRUSTRATED THAT THE HOUSE AND SENATE INTELLIGENCE COMMITTEES CAN’T FIND ANY PROOF OF TRUMP-RUSSIAN COLLUSION, OBAMA AND THE DEMOCRATS ARE SUING THE TRUMP CAMPAIGN AND MYSELF IN AN EFFORT TO HARASS AND DISTRACT

By Roger Stone

Yesterday I accepted service from an Obama controlled left wing front group called “Protect our Democracy”, who is suing the Trump campaign and myself, claiming that I violated the civil rights of three DNC donors who were identified by WikiLeaks. This is based on the false premise that I colluded with the Russians to hack the DNC email servers and deliver the material to Julian Assange.

Ironically, the lawsuit for invasion of privacy contained my home address in the caption that was posted online and emailed to virtually every reporter in America.  Frankly I am tired of the death threats and daily vituperation my family is subjected to on social media and the net but I’ll never stop speaking out.

This ridiculous lawsuit offers no evidence nor proof of these wild allegations but merely strings together a series of publicly reported falsehoods regarding my contacts and alleged advance knowledge of the Wiki Leaks disclosures. It’s actually hard to believe that any reputable lawyer would put their name on this preposterous lawsuit and not realize that they are courting sanctions.

The left knows that any time and energy I have to spend to defend this bogus lawsuit is focus I cannot put on defeating the Deep State Coup D’état now taking place with the Generals seizing control of the White House and Robert Muller as the designated Lord High Executioner. This lawsuit is designed to be a pain in the ass, a distraction and an absurd abuse of the Judicial process.

The lawyers putting their name on this piece of crap include a former Federal Judge and several partners of prestigious white-shoe law firms. I can predict that each of them will be subject to complaints to their respective State Bars over this frivolous abuse of due process. These complaints cannot just be dismissed and hearings and bar investigation will be real.

It is notable that this nuisance lawsuit treats the claim that the DNC servers were hacked as an indisputable fact when in fact, only last week a number of experienced intelligence agency veterans came forward to say that the technological evidence indicates that the purloined material was not hacked at all but was most likely loaded to thumb drives and removed from the premises.

The British Diplomat Craig Murray publicly claimed that he received this data in a parking lot near Washington’s American University and passed it on to Wiki Leaks. Julian Assange has publicly confirmed this. There has been widespread speculation than the person who handed the thumb drive to Murray is none other than Seth Rich.

Why do all of those who think the polite thing to do is to stop asking who murdered Seth Rich ignore the fact that Julian Assange publicly offered a $25,000 reward for information that led to the capture of Rich’s murderer? Although Assange has declined to confirm that Seth Rich was indeed a source, it is notable that he has posted the links to numerous third-party stories that make this claim.

The Obama funded lawsuit relies upon the hacking of the DNC, and is therefore based on something that actually never happened. Isn’t it curious that DNC never let the FBI examine the so called hacked email servers? Instead the DNC used a private contractor, CrowdStrike to perpetuate an entirely false narrative about Russians hacking the DNC.

It doesn’t matter how many mindless Intelligence Agency bureaucrats or idiotic members of the House and Senate Intelligence Committees repeat the mantra “the Russians hacked the Democratic National Committee.” None of them can produce any actual proof that this happened. Neither can the lawyers behind this ludicrous harassment lawsuit.

Their lawsuit is a steaming bowl of shit. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, “after this, therefore because of this” is a fallacy as a legal premise. That I had some knowledge of the events that unfolded does not in any way prove that I made those things happen or that I colluded with agents of the Russian State or anyone else to tip the election to Donald Trump.

This poorly drafted harassment lawsuit recycles again the false claim that my tweets somehow prove that I had advance knowledge of the hacking of John Podesta’s email simply because I predicted that his business dealings with his brother Tony and the Clintons with the oligarchs around Putin were going to get scrutiny. In fact, the Uranium deal, the Joule banking deal and the lucrative Gazprom contract were all reported by the mainstream media in the fall.

Note I tweeted it the day my friend Paul Manafort stepped down over trumped up charges that he had done something improper in the campaigns of Victor Yanukovych. I knew from an opposition report by Dr. Jerome Corsi that I had read on August 1st, that Podesta was in tight with Putin and had money laundered funds from the Russian Mafia. I even wrote about it.

WikiLeaks themselves posted on their Twitter feed on July 21st the bold declaration that they had the goods on Hillary Clinton and that they would publish them in October. I most certainly had an independent source, a journalist who knows Assange confirmed that the tweet was accurate. I have at various times described this journalist as a “go between” “emissary” and “mutual friend.” Throughout August and September this journalist continued to assure me that WikiLeaks had and would publish devastating information that would severely harm Hillary Clinton’s prospects in the election. He was right.

None of this, however, proves that I had advanced knowledge of the content, format or source of any of the material, nor did I have any knowledge of where it came from. I speculated that much of the material would be related to the Clinton Foundation which actually turned out to be partially true.

Those who criticized WikiLeaks and Julian Assange for publishing material from whistle blowers or classified material are strongly urged  to read the court’s decision in USA v. New York Times in The Pentagon Papers case. The Washington Post routinely publishes purloined  material that’s classified. Bob Woodward has made a career of it. Julian Assange is a journalist who belongs to no party or ideology. He clearly sees the evil of the Deep State and the bi-partisan duopoly that has managed America for the last 30 years and presided over the erosion of our civil liberties and the destruction of our economy.

CIA Mike Pompeo continues to smear Julian Assange as a “Russian asset” which is false. Sources tell me that the Justice Department has convened a secret Grand Jury in order to secure an indictment against Julian Assange, although what law he has allegedly broken is not clear. It’s a slippery slope when you start jailing journalists.

This liberal hit job lawsuit against me and the Trump Campaign also recycles the misinformation about a now public exchange with Guccifer 2.0 a hacker the Intelligence Agency insists, again without proof that he is a Russian cut out. In fact, there is direct evidence showing that the computer program allegedly used by Guccifer 2.0 is actually registered to a Democratic National Employee. The simple fact is that my only exchange with Guccifer 2.0 was over the direct message function of Twitter and came almost six weeks after Wikileaks published the DNC material which Guccifer claims he hacked. Therefore, collusion by me would be impossible without a time machine. Any inference that this constituted collusion is disproved by the timing, content and context of the actual exchange

I have released the entire exchange publicly and it is banal and innocuous. In fact, when Guccifer 2.0 sends me a link to some kind of vote targeting program, which I later learned was stolen by some Florida Political Consultant, I entirely disregarded it as “pretty standard” and forwarded it to no one. He asks how he can help me and I ignore the offer.

Factcheck.org which is funded by the Walter Annenberg Foundation confirmed that there was no evidence that I knew about the hacking of Podesta’s emails or that I had advance knowledge of the content of the WikiLeaks Clinton October disclosures. They correctly point out the “coincidence” that was footnoted by the timing of some of my tweets.

This lawsuit which the Obama’s “Project for Democracy” is actively using for fund raising merely recycles the demonstrably false claims of the buffoons on the House and Senate Intelligence Committees. The lawsuit itself proves less than nothing. It’s clear that the Democrats, frustrated by the failure of either Congressional Committee to find evidence of collusion between the Russians and the Trump Campaign, would now like use this baseless lawsuit to conduct a “fishing expedition” and distract me from the fight to Make America Great Again.

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to defend against the suit by retaining an attorney admitted to the DC Bar. The costs of a long-drawn-out harassment lawsuit are more than my family can bare when coupled with the ongoing legal costs of negotiations with the House and Senate Intelligence Committees, neither of whom want to allow me to testify in public for fear that I will humiliate them and expose the entire canard of Russian collusion. That’s why my friends have set up the Roger Stone Legal Defense Fund which you can find at: http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/.

Sources:

http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/

https://unitedtoprotectdemocracy.org/privacylawsuit/

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/politics/FactCheck-Misrepresenting-Stones-Prescience.html?mobi=true

https://stonecoldtruth.com/russian-mafia-money-laundering-the-clinton-foundation-and-john-podesta/

https://consortiumnews.com/2017/07/24/intel-vets-challenge-russia-hack-evidence/

from https://stonecoldtruth.com/who-framed-roger-stone/ from Roger Stone http://rogerstone1.blogspot.com/2017/08/who-framed-roger-stone.html

[milaleah]

Who Framed Roger Stone?

FRUSTRATED THAT THE HOUSE AND SENATE INTELLIGENCE COMMITTEES CAN’T FIND ANY PROOF OF TRUMP-RUSSIAN COLLUSION, OBAMA AND THE DEMOCRATS ARE SUING THE TRUMP CAMPAIGN AND MYSELF IN AN EFFORT TO HARASS AND DISTRACT

By Roger Stone

Yesterday I accepted service from an Obama controlled left wing front group called “Protect our Democracy”, who is suing the Trump campaign and myself, claiming that I violated the civil rights of three DNC donors who were identified by WikiLeaks. This is based on the false premise that I colluded with the Russians to hack the DNC email servers and deliver the material to Julian Assange.

Ironically, the lawsuit for invasion of privacy contained my home address in the caption that was posted online and emailed to virtually every reporter in America.  Frankly I am tired of the death threats and daily vituperation my family is subjected to on social media and the net but I’ll never stop speaking out.

This ridiculous lawsuit offers no evidence nor proof of these wild allegations but merely strings together a series of publicly reported falsehoods regarding my contacts and alleged advance knowledge of the Wiki Leaks disclosures. It’s actually hard to believe that any reputable lawyer would put their name on this preposterous lawsuit and not realize that they are courting sanctions.

The left knows that any time and energy I have to spend to defend this bogus lawsuit is focus I cannot put on defeating the Deep State Coup D’état now taking place with the Generals seizing control of the White House and Robert Muller as the designated Lord High Executioner. This lawsuit is designed to be a pain in the ass, a distraction and an absurd abuse of the Judicial process.

The lawyers putting their name on this piece of crap include a former Federal Judge and several partners of prestigious white-shoe law firms. I can predict that each of them will be subject to complaints to their respective State Bars over this frivolous abuse of due process. These complaints cannot just be dismissed and hearings and bar investigation will be real.

It is notable that this nuisance lawsuit treats the claim that the DNC servers were hacked as an indisputable fact when in fact, only last week a number of experienced intelligence agency veterans came forward to say that the technological evidence indicates that the purloined material was not hacked at all but was most likely loaded to thumb drives and removed from the premises.

The British Diplomat Craig Murray publicly claimed that he received this data in a parking lot near Washington’s American University and passed it on to Wiki Leaks. Julian Assange has publicly confirmed this. There has been widespread speculation than the person who handed the thumb drive to Murray is none other than Seth Rich.

Why do all of those who think the polite thing to do is to stop asking who murdered Seth Rich ignore the fact that Julian Assange publicly offered a $25,000 reward for information that led to the capture of Rich’s murderer? Although Assange has declined to confirm that Seth Rich was indeed a source, it is notable that he has posted the links to numerous third-party stories that make this claim.

The Obama funded lawsuit relies upon the hacking of the DNC, and is therefore based on something that actually never happened. Isn’t it curious that DNC never let the FBI examine the so called hacked email servers? Instead the DNC used a private contractor, CrowdStrike to perpetuate an entirely false narrative about Russians hacking the DNC.

It doesn’t matter how many mindless Intelligence Agency bureaucrats or idiotic members of the House and Senate Intelligence Committees repeat the mantra “the Russians hacked the Democratic National Committee.” None of them can produce any actual proof that this happened. Neither can the lawyers behind this ludicrous harassment lawsuit.

Their lawsuit is a steaming bowl of shit. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, “after this, therefore because of this” is a fallacy as a legal premise. That I had some knowledge of the events that unfolded does not in any way prove that I made those things happen or that I colluded with agents of the Russian State or anyone else to tip the election to Donald Trump.

This poorly drafted harassment lawsuit recycles again the false claim that my tweets somehow prove that I had advance knowledge of the hacking of John Podesta’s email simply because I predicted that his business dealings with his brother Tony and the Clintons with the oligarchs around Putin were going to get scrutiny. In fact, the Uranium deal, the Joule banking deal and the lucrative Gazprom contract were all reported by the mainstream media in the fall.

Note I tweeted it the day my friend Paul Manafort stepped down over trumped up charges that he had done something improper in the campaigns of Victor Yanukovych. I knew from an opposition report by Dr. Jerome Corsi that I had read on August 1st, that Podesta was in tight with Putin and had money laundered funds from the Russian Mafia. I even wrote about it.

WikiLeaks themselves posted on their Twitter feed on July 21st the bold declaration that they had the goods on Hillary Clinton and that they would publish them in October. I most certainly had an independent source, a journalist who knows Assange confirmed that the tweet was accurate. I have at various times described this journalist as a “go between” “emissary” and “mutual friend.” Throughout August and September this journalist continued to assure me that WikiLeaks had and would publish devastating information that would severely harm Hillary Clinton’s prospects in the election. He was right.

None of this, however, proves that I had advanced knowledge of the content, format or source of any of the material, nor did I have any knowledge of where it came from. I speculated that much of the material would be related to the Clinton Foundation which actually turned out to be partially true.

Those who criticized WikiLeaks and Julian Assange for publishing material from whistle blowers or classified material are strongly urged  to read the court’s decision in USA v. New York Times in The Pentagon Papers case. The Washington Post routinely publishes purloined  material that’s classified. Bob Woodward has made a career of it. Julian Assange is a journalist who belongs to no party or ideology. He clearly sees the evil of the Deep State and the bi-partisan duopoly that has managed America for the last 30 years and presided over the erosion of our civil liberties and the destruction of our economy.

CIA Mike Pompeo continues to smear Julian Assange as a “Russian asset” which is false. Sources tell me that the Justice Department has convened a secret Grand Jury in order to secure an indictment against Julian Assange, although what law he has allegedly broken is not clear. It’s a slippery slope when you start jailing journalists.

This liberal hit job lawsuit against me and the Trump Campaign also recycles the misinformation about a now public exchange with Guccifer 2.0 a hacker the Intelligence Agency insists, again without proof that he is a Russian cut out. In fact, there is direct evidence showing that the computer program allegedly used by Guccifer 2.0 is actually registered to a Democratic National Employee. The simple fact is that my only exchange with Guccifer 2.0 was over the direct message function of Twitter and came almost six weeks after Wikileaks published the DNC material which Guccifer claims he hacked. Therefore, collusion by me would be impossible without a time machine. Any inference that this constituted collusion is disproved by the timing, content and context of the actual exchange

I have released the entire exchange publicly and it is banal and innocuous. In fact, when Guccifer 2.0 sends me a link to some kind of vote targeting program, which I later learned was stolen by some Florida Political Consultant, I entirely disregarded it as “pretty standard” and forwarded it to no one. He asks how he can help me and I ignore the offer.

Factcheck.org which is funded by the Walter Annenberg Foundation confirmed that there was no evidence that I knew about the hacking of Podesta’s emails or that I had advance knowledge of the content of the WikiLeaks Clinton October disclosures. They correctly point out the “coincidence” that was footnoted by the timing of some of my tweets.

This lawsuit which the Obama’s “Project for Democracy” is actively using for fund raising merely recycles the demonstrably false claims of the buffoons on the House and Senate Intelligence Committees. The lawsuit itself proves less than nothing. It’s clear that the Democrats, frustrated by the failure of either Congressional Committee to find evidence of collusion between the Russians and the Trump Campaign, would now like use this baseless lawsuit to conduct a “fishing expedition” and distract me from the fight to Make America Great Again.

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to defend against the suit by retaining an attorney admitted to the DC Bar. The costs of a long-drawn-out harassment lawsuit are more than my family can bare when coupled with the ongoing legal costs of negotiations with the House and Senate Intelligence Committees, neither of whom want to allow me to testify in public for fear that I will humiliate them and expose the entire canard of Russian collusion. That’s why my friends have set up the Roger Stone Legal Defense Fund which you can find at: http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/.

Sources:

http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/

https://unitedtoprotectdemocracy.org/privacylawsuit/

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/politics/FactCheck-Misrepresenting-Stones-Prescience.html?mobi=true

https://stonecoldtruth.com/russian-mafia-money-laundering-the-clinton-foundation-and-john-podesta/

https://consortiumnews.com/2017/07/24/intel-vets-challenge-russia-hack-evidence/

from Roger Stone – Stone Cold Truth https://stonecoldtruth.com/who-framed-roger-stone/ from Roger Stone https://rogerstone12.tumblr.com/post/163981408913

[rogerstone12]

Who Framed Roger Stone?

FRUSTRATED THAT THE HOUSE AND SENATE INTELLIGENCE COMMITTEES CAN’T FIND ANY PROOF OF TRUMP-RUSSIAN COLLUSION, OBAMA AND THE DEMOCRATS ARE SUING THE TRUMP CAMPAIGN AND MYSELF IN AN EFFORT TO HARASS AND DISTRACT

By Roger Stone

Yesterday I accepted service from an Obama controlled left wing front group called “Protect our Democracy”, who is suing the Trump campaign and myself, claiming that I violated the civil rights of three DNC donors who were identified by WikiLeaks. This is based on the false premise that I colluded with the Russians to hack the DNC email servers and deliver the material to Julian Assange.

Ironically, the lawsuit for invasion of privacy contained my home address in the caption that was posted online and emailed to virtually every reporter in America.  Frankly I am tired of the death threats and daily vituperation my family is subjected to on social media and the net but I’ll never stop speaking out.

This ridiculous lawsuit offers no evidence nor proof of these wild allegations but merely strings together a series of publicly reported falsehoods regarding my contacts and alleged advance knowledge of the Wiki Leaks disclosures. It’s actually hard to believe that any reputable lawyer would put their name on this preposterous lawsuit and not realize that they are courting sanctions.

The left knows that any time and energy I have to spend to defend this bogus lawsuit is focus I cannot put on defeating the Deep State Coup D’état now taking place with the Generals seizing control of the White House and Robert Muller as the designated Lord High Executioner. This lawsuit is designed to be a pain in the ass, a distraction and an absurd abuse of the Judicial process.

The lawyers putting their name on this piece of crap include a former Federal Judge and several partners of prestigious white-shoe law firms. I can predict that each of them will be subject to complaints to their respective State Bars over this frivolous abuse of due process. These complaints cannot just be dismissed and hearings and bar investigation will be real.

It is notable that this nuisance lawsuit treats the claim that the DNC servers were hacked as an indisputable fact when in fact, only last week a number of experienced intelligence agency veterans came forward to say that the technological evidence indicates that the purloined material was not hacked at all but was most likely loaded to thumb drives and removed from the premises.

The British Diplomat Craig Murray publicly claimed that he received this data in a parking lot near Washington’s American University and passed it on to Wiki Leaks. Julian Assange has publicly confirmed this. There has been widespread speculation than the person who handed the thumb drive to Murray is none other than Seth Rich.

Why do all of those who think the polite thing to do is to stop asking who murdered Seth Rich ignore the fact that Julian Assange publicly offered a $25,000 reward for information that led to the capture of Rich’s murderer? Although Assange has declined to confirm that Seth Rich was indeed a source, it is notable that he has posted the links to numerous third-party stories that make this claim.

The Obama funded lawsuit relies upon the hacking of the DNC, and is therefore based on something that actually never happened. Isn’t it curious that DNC never let the FBI examine the so called hacked email servers? Instead the DNC used a private contractor, CrowdStrike to perpetuate an entirely false narrative about Russians hacking the DNC.

It doesn’t matter how many mindless Intelligence Agency bureaucrats or idiotic members of the House and Senate Intelligence Committees repeat the mantra “the Russians hacked the Democratic National Committee.” None of them can produce any actual proof that this happened. Neither can the lawyers behind this ludicrous harassment lawsuit.

Their lawsuit is a steaming bowl of shit. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, “after this, therefore because of this” is a fallacy as a legal premise. That I had some knowledge of the events that unfolded does not in any way prove that I made those things happen or that I colluded with agents of the Russian State or anyone else to tip the election to Donald Trump.

This poorly drafted harassment lawsuit recycles again the false claim that my tweets somehow prove that I had advance knowledge of the hacking of John Podesta’s email simply because I predicted that his business dealings with his brother Tony and the Clintons with the oligarchs around Putin were going to get scrutiny. In fact, the Uranium deal, the Joule banking deal and the lucrative Gazprom contract were all reported by the mainstream media in the fall.

Note I tweeted it the day my friend Paul Manafort stepped down over trumped up charges that he had done something improper in the campaigns of Victor Yanukovych. I knew from an opposition report by Dr. Jerome Corsi that I had read on August 1st, that Podesta was in tight with Putin and had money laundered funds from the Russian Mafia. I even wrote about it.

WikiLeaks themselves posted on their Twitter feed on July 21st the bold declaration that they had the goods on Hillary Clinton and that they would publish them in October. I most certainly had an independent source, a journalist who knows Assange confirmed that the tweet was accurate. I have at various times described this journalist as a “go between” “emissary” and “mutual friend.” Throughout August and September this journalist continued to assure me that WikiLeaks had and would publish devastating information that would severely harm Hillary Clinton’s prospects in the election. He was right.

None of this, however, proves that I had advanced knowledge of the content, format or source of any of the material, nor did I have any knowledge of where it came from. I speculated that much of the material would be related to the Clinton Foundation which actually turned out to be partially true.

Those who criticized WikiLeaks and Julian Assange for publishing material from whistle blowers or classified material are strongly urged  to read the court’s decision in USA v. New York Times in The Pentagon Papers case. The Washington Post routinely publishes purloined  material that’s classified. Bob Woodward has made a career of it. Julian Assange is a journalist who belongs to no party or ideology. He clearly sees the evil of the Deep State and the bi-partisan duopoly that has managed America for the last 30 years and presided over the erosion of our civil liberties and the destruction of our economy.

CIA Mike Pompeo continues to smear Julian Assange as a “Russian asset” which is false. Sources tell me that the Justice Department has convened a secret Grand Jury in order to secure an indictment against Julian Assange, although what law he has allegedly broken is not clear. It’s a slippery slope when you start jailing journalists.

This liberal hit job lawsuit against me and the Trump Campaign also recycles the misinformation about a now public exchange with Guccifer 2.0 a hacker the Intelligence Agency insists, again without proof that he is a Russian cut out. In fact, there is direct evidence showing that the computer program allegedly used by Guccifer 2.0 is actually registered to a Democratic National Employee. The simple fact is that my only exchange with Guccifer 2.0 was over the direct message function of Twitter and came almost six weeks after Wikileaks published the DNC material which Guccifer claims he hacked. Therefore, collusion by me would be impossible without a time machine. Any inference that this constituted collusion is disproved by the timing, content and context of the actual exchange

I have released the entire exchange publicly and it is banal and innocuous. In fact, when Guccifer 2.0 sends me a link to some kind of vote targeting program, which I later learned was stolen by some Florida Political Consultant, I entirely disregarded it as “pretty standard” and forwarded it to no one. He asks how he can help me and I ignore the offer.

Factcheck.org which is funded by the Walter Annenberg Foundation confirmed that there was no evidence that I knew about the hacking of Podesta’s emails or that I had advance knowledge of the content of the WikiLeaks Clinton October disclosures. They correctly point out the “coincidence” that was footnoted by the timing of some of my tweets.

This lawsuit which the Obama’s “Project for Democracy” is actively using for fund raising merely recycles the demonstrably false claims of the buffoons on the House and Senate Intelligence Committees. The lawsuit itself proves less than nothing. It’s clear that the Democrats, frustrated by the failure of either Congressional Committee to find evidence of collusion between the Russians and the Trump Campaign, would now like use this baseless lawsuit to conduct a “fishing expedition” and distract me from the fight to Make America Great Again.

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to defend against the suit by retaining an attorney admitted to the DC Bar. The costs of a long-drawn-out harassment lawsuit are more than my family can bare when coupled with the ongoing legal costs of negotiations with the House and Senate Intelligence Committees, neither of whom want to allow me to testify in public for fear that I will humiliate them and expose the entire canard of Russian collusion. That’s why my friends have set up the Roger Stone Legal Defense Fund which you can find at: http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/.

Sources:

http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/

https://unitedtoprotectdemocracy.org/privacylawsuit/

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/politics/FactCheck-Misrepresenting-Stones-Prescience.html?mobi=true

https://stonecoldtruth.com/russian-mafia-money-laundering-the-clinton-foundation-and-john-podesta/

https://consortiumnews.com/2017/07/24/intel-vets-challenge-russia-hack-evidence/

from Roger Stone – Stone Cold Truth https://stonecoldtruth.com/who-framed-roger-stone/

[ariaanna27]

Who Framed Roger Stone?

FRUSTRATED THAT THE HOUSE AND SENATE INTELLIGENCE COMMITTEES CAN’T FIND ANY PROOF OF TRUMP-RUSSIAN COLLUSION, OBAMA AND THE DEMOCRATS ARE SUING THE TRUMP CAMPAIGN AND MYSELF IN AN EFFORT TO HARASS AND DISTRACT

By Roger Stone

Yesterday I accepted service from an Obama controlled left wing front group called “Protect our Democracy”, who is suing the Trump campaign and myself, claiming that I violated the civil rights of three DNC donors who were identified by WikiLeaks. This is based on the false premise that I colluded with the Russians to hack the DNC email servers and deliver the material to Julian Assange.

Ironically, the lawsuit for invasion of privacy contained my home address in the caption that was posted online and emailed to virtually every reporter in America.  Frankly I am tired of the death threats and daily vituperation my family is subjected to on social media and the net but I’ll never stop speaking out.

This ridiculous lawsuit offers no evidence nor proof of these wild allegations but merely strings together a series of publicly reported falsehoods regarding my contacts and alleged advance knowledge of the Wiki Leaks disclosures. It’s actually hard to believe that any reputable lawyer would put their name on this preposterous lawsuit and not realize that they are courting sanctions.

The left knows that any time and energy I have to spend to defend this bogus lawsuit is focus I cannot put on defeating the Deep State Coup D’état now taking place with the Generals seizing control of the White House and Robert Muller as the designated Lord High Executioner. This lawsuit is designed to be a pain in the ass, a distraction and an absurd abuse of the Judicial process.

The lawyers putting their name on this piece of crap include a former Federal Judge and several partners of prestigious white-shoe law firms. I can predict that each of them will be subject to complaints to their respective State Bars over this frivolous abuse of due process. These complaints cannot just be dismissed and hearings and bar investigation will be real.

It is notable that this nuisance lawsuit treats the claim that the DNC servers were hacked as an indisputable fact when in fact, only last week a number of experienced intelligence agency veterans came forward to say that the technological evidence indicates that the purloined material was not hacked at all but was most likely loaded to thumb drives and removed from the premises.

The British Diplomat Craig Murray publicly claimed that he received this data in a parking lot near Washington’s American University and passed it on to Wiki Leaks. Julian Assange has publicly confirmed this. There has been widespread speculation than the person who handed the thumb drive to Murray is none other than Seth Rich.

Why do all of those who think the polite thing to do is to stop asking who murdered Seth Rich ignore the fact that Julian Assange publicly offered a $25,000 reward for information that led to the capture of Rich’s murderer? Although Assange has declined to confirm that Seth Rich was indeed a source, it is notable that he has posted the links to numerous third-party stories that make this claim.

The Obama funded lawsuit relies upon the hacking of the DNC, and is therefore based on something that actually never happened. Isn’t it curious that DNC never let the FBI examine the so called hacked email servers? Instead the DNC used a private contractor, CrowdStrike to perpetuate an entirely false narrative about Russians hacking the DNC.

It doesn’t matter how many mindless Intelligence Agency bureaucrats or idiotic members of the House and Senate Intelligence Committees repeat the mantra “the Russians hacked the Democratic National Committee.” None of them can produce any actual proof that this happened. Neither can the lawyers behind this ludicrous harassment lawsuit.

Their lawsuit is a steaming bowl of shit. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, “after this, therefore because of this” is a fallacy as a legal premise. That I had some knowledge of the events that unfolded does not in any way prove that I made those things happen or that I colluded with agents of the Russian State or anyone else to tip the election to Donald Trump.

This poorly drafted harassment lawsuit recycles again the false claim that my tweets somehow prove that I had advance knowledge of the hacking of John Podesta’s email simply because I predicted that his business dealings with his brother Tony and the Clintons with the oligarchs around Putin were going to get scrutiny. In fact, the Uranium deal, the Joule banking deal and the lucrative Gazprom contract were all reported by the mainstream media in the fall.

Note I tweeted it the day my friend Paul Manafort stepped down over trumped up charges that he had done something improper in the campaigns of Victor Yanukovych. I knew from an opposition report by Dr. Jerome Corsi that I had read on August 1st, that Podesta was in tight with Putin and had money laundered funds from the Russian Mafia. I even wrote about it.

WikiLeaks themselves posted on their Twitter feed on July 21st the bold declaration that they had the goods on Hillary Clinton and that they would publish them in October. I most certainly had an independent source, a journalist who knows Assange confirmed that the tweet was accurate. I have at various times described this journalist as a “go between” “emissary” and “mutual friend.” Throughout August and September this journalist continued to assure me that WikiLeaks had and would publish devastating information that would severely harm Hillary Clinton’s prospects in the election. He was right.

None of this, however, proves that I had advanced knowledge of the content, format or source of any of the material, nor did I have any knowledge of where it came from. I speculated that much of the material would be related to the Clinton Foundation which actually turned out to be partially true.

Those who criticized WikiLeaks and Julian Assange for publishing material from whistle blowers or classified material are strongly urged  to read the court’s decision in USA v. New York Times in The Pentagon Papers case. The Washington Post routinely publishes purloined  material that’s classified. Bob Woodward has made a career of it. Julian Assange is a journalist who belongs to no party or ideology. He clearly sees the evil of the Deep State and the bi-partisan duopoly that has managed America for the last 30 years and presided over the erosion of our civil liberties and the destruction of our economy.

CIA Mike Pompeo continues to smear Julian Assange as a “Russian asset” which is false. Sources tell me that the Justice Department has convened a secret Grand Jury in order to secure an indictment against Julian Assange, although what law he has allegedly broken is not clear. It’s a slippery slope when you start jailing journalists.

This liberal hit job lawsuit against me and the Trump Campaign also recycles the misinformation about a now public exchange with Guccifer 2.0 a hacker the Intelligence Agency insists, again without proof that he is a Russian cut out. In fact, there is direct evidence showing that the computer program allegedly used by Guccifer 2.0 is actually registered to a Democratic National Employee. The simple fact is that my only exchange with Guccifer 2.0 was over the direct message function of Twitter and came almost six weeks after Wikileaks published the DNC material which Guccifer claims he hacked. Therefore, collusion by me would be impossible without a time machine. Any inference that this constituted collusion is disproved by the timing, content and context of the actual exchange

I have released the entire exchange publicly and it is banal and innocuous. In fact, when Guccifer 2.0 sends me a link to some kind of vote targeting program, which I later learned was stolen by some Florida Political Consultant, I entirely disregarded it as “pretty standard” and forwarded it to no one. He asks how he can help me and I ignore the offer.

Factcheck.org which is funded by the Walter Annenberg Foundation confirmed that there was no evidence that I knew about the hacking of Podesta’s emails or that I had advance knowledge of the content of the WikiLeaks Clinton October disclosures. They correctly point out the “coincidence” that was footnoted by the timing of some of my tweets.

This lawsuit which the Obama’s “Project for Democracy” is actively using for fund raising merely recycles the demonstrably false claims of the buffoons on the House and Senate Intelligence Committees. The lawsuit itself proves less than nothing. It’s clear that the Democrats, frustrated by the failure of either Congressional Committee to find evidence of collusion between the Russians and the Trump Campaign, would now like use this baseless lawsuit to conduct a “fishing expedition” and distract me from the fight to Make America Great Again.

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to defend against the suit by retaining an attorney admitted to the DC Bar. The costs of a long-drawn-out harassment lawsuit are more than my family can bare when coupled with the ongoing legal costs of negotiations with the House and Senate Intelligence Committees, neither of whom want to allow me to testify in public for fear that I will humiliate them and expose the entire canard of Russian collusion. That’s why my friends have set up the Roger Stone Legal Defense Fund which you can find at: http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/.

Sources:

http://www.whoframedrogerstone.com/

https://unitedtoprotectdemocracy.org/privacylawsuit/

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/politics/FactCheck-Misrepresenting-Stones-Prescience.html?mobi=true

https://stonecoldtruth.com/russian-mafia-money-laundering-the-clinton-foundation-and-john-podesta/

https://consortiumnews.com/2017/07/24/intel-vets-challenge-russia-hack-evidence/

from Roger Stone – Stone Cold Truth https://stonecoldtruth.com/who-framed-roger-stone/

from Roger Stone https://rogerstone1.wordpress.com/2017/08/09/who-framed-roger-stone/