#i found one actually. from obama. and they were like you can find the full statistics in this cool pdf if you just click this link here :)

[theskymother]

if i make one more post on here between now and next thursday i need you to all scream at me like spam me with the griffin mewing animations start sending those tiger bots to follow me or something. chase me away from here okay guys okay

[bedlamsbard]

Part 2 of the "Hydra took over SHIELD before Steve came out of the ice" concept! This is in the back of my head as one of the concepts that's likely to turn into a full story, but I know better than to make any promises. (Note: I use the 2008 date from the BW deleted scenes for Natasha's defection.)

This sequence immediately follows the previous sequence.

About 5.3K below the break.

*****

Alexander Pierce had come to tell Peggy personally the day after he had forced Nick Fury out of SHIELD.   At that point Howard’s son had been dead for six months, killed in an industrial accident that most newspapers had written off as the tragic but natural outcome of Tony Stark’s increasingly erratic behavior.  Howard had kept the two halves of his life so separate that Peggy could count on one hand the number of times she had actually met Tony Stark, even considering the years when he had still been in nappies.  She hadn’t gone to the elaborate funeral that Obadiah Stane had thrown for his erstwhile employer.

Pierce she had known quite well from his SHIELD days, before he had moved over to the State Department and later to the World Security Council.  He had been quiet and apologetic, with barely concealed anger underlying his words and a couple of SHIELD agents posted at the door to keep anyone from overhearing their conversation.

“Nick got away,” he told her after he had given her the Cliff’s Notes of the situation over at SHIELD – much worse than he had given out, Peggy had found out later, since there were still active sieges going on at half a dozen SHIELD stations worldwide even while he had been sitting in her room drinking tea.  “We’re doing what we can to find him, but cleaning up SHIELD is going to take priority.  Besides, he knows the entire playbook – he wrote the playbook, at least the parts of it that you and Howard Stark didn’t write.”

“You’re absolutely certain?” Peggy had asked.  “Turning us against each other is the sort of thing our enemies have tried in the past –”

Pierce had put down his teacup to gesture one-handed at the sling on his left arm.  “I got this when he shot me.  Personally.”  He picked up his teacup again.  “I wish I had any doubt at all.”

Peggy nodded slowly.  “Will you be all right?”

He smiled a little.  “Flesh wound.  It will take us months – probably years – to untangle all the damage he and his people have done.  We’re not sure yet how deep it goes.  I’m sure you can imagine the calls I’m getting right now.”

“Certainly an eventful start to a new administration,” Peggy observed; President Obama had taken office barely a month previously.

Pierce winced.  “The White House is responsible for a fair number of those calls.”  He glanced over at the door, then said, “I’m going to leave a protective detail here for you.  Right now Nick’s acting erratically and there’s a chance that he might come after you.  A small chance,” he hastened to assure her, “but a chance nevertheless.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Peggy said.

“You’ll hardly know they’re here,” Pierce said.  “Madame Director –”

“It’s been Peggy for years, Alex.”

He smiled again.  “Peggy.  It’s just until we catch Nick and his people.  Better safe than sorry, that’s what you taught me, remember?”  He hesitated a little, and Peggy might have passed the better part of her century, but she could still tell when he was acting.  Whatever he was going to say next, he had come here expecting to tell her.

“Spit it out,” she instructed him.  “It can’t be worse than anything else you’ve just told me.”

Pierce sighed. “Like I said, we’re still digging and will be for a while, but – it looks like Nick might have been involved in the Stark murder.  Howard, not Tony, I mean.”

Peggy actually stopped breathing for a moment, then started coughing.  Pierce jumped to help her, getting her a glass of water instead of more tea.  She waved him off until she had gotten her breath back, then croaked, “You’re sure?”

“No,” Pierce said, watching her.  “But it’s looking that way right now.  This didn’t start recently and it didn’t start when he became director of SHIELD.  He’s been at this a long time.  A regular Philby.”

Yes, Peggy had thought later, after Nick Fury had finally gotten in to see her without being shot or arrested.  A regular Kim Philby.  Only Pierce had been talking about himself, not Nick Fury.

After more than three years she knew her security detail quite well, since Pierce didn’t rotate them.  That was probably for Peggy’s benefit more than theirs; the more familiar with them she was the less she would suspect them of anything, like, for instance, being Hydra.  She was fairly certain that they were all Hydra; it wasn’t to Nick’s benefit to waste any of his SHIELD loyalists on her, not when every single one of them was needed in the Triskelion or at one of the satellite SHIELD stations.

She waited a full twenty-four hours after Nick had left before she got out her photo albums, trying not think about what he had said in the meantime.  There was nothing suspicious about that, she told herself; it was an old woman’s prerogative to dwell on her past if that was what she wanted to do.

There weren’t many photographs from the war – not hers, anyway.  She had a few from Bletchley, one from SOE, and a dozen or so from the SSR.  None of the SSR photographs in her album had copies in SHIELD’s files or anywhere else; Peggy thought that she was owed the privacy of her own memory, at least for a few more years.  After that, it would be up to Sharon to decide what to do with them.

They had all been so young, she thought, turning pages slowly.  It had been a lifetime ago, almost three-quarters of a century, and Peggy had buried everyone in those photos except for the ones who had never had graves – and who hadn’t died at all, as it turned out.

Steve’s alive, Peggy told herself, staring at a photograph of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes sharing a bottle of Coke and laughing, both of them looking impossibly young.  Nick had told her about Barnes a few years ago and that had been hard enough, even though Peggy had never had much to do with Barnes.  Steve’s alive, and Hydra has him.  They’ve had him for the last six months.

Peggy wished she didn’t know exactly what Alexander Pierce had done once he had made the decision to use sex with Steve.  She had done it herself – sat at her desk with a stack of personnel files, trying to determine which SHIELD agent would have the most appeal for their target.  It wasn’t just about looks, though looks helped.

An operator, she thought.  Someone physically capable, even if there was no one else who could go toe to toe with Captain America for more than a minute or two.  That she would be beautiful went without question.  Probably not someone who physically resembled Peggy herself, which meant that it wasn’t Sharon; that was something of a relief to Peggy.  Pierce was too subtle to be so heavy-handed.  Someone who wasn’t going to be overly-impressed by Captain America; Steve had never had much patience for that.  Someone with a sense of humor who could keep up with him intellectually.  Maybe a veteran, but maybe not.

And most importantly, someone whom Pierce thought was willing to sleep with Captain America for Hydra.

*

She was still thinking about that a week later when one of Pierce’s agents on her security detail knocked on her door.  The woman came in after Peggy had called her agreement, still holding her mobile phone.

“Madame Director, I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said.  “There’s been an incident at the Triskelion and Director Pierce would like to take you into protective custody for the time being.”

“What kind of incident?” Peggy asked, startled.

“Agents were killed,” said the Hydra agent.  “That’s all I know, ma’am, I’m sorry.  Let me help you pack a bag; Sarah’s bringing around the car.”

“Well, that’s dreadful, but I don’t see what it has to do with me,” Peggy said, hoping that her poker face could still hide an adrenaline spike.  The only reason she could think of for Pierce to want her moved was that something had happened with Steve.  Nick got him out.

“There might be some threat, ma’am,” the agent said apologetically.  “Where do you keep your bags, ma’am?”

Since she searched Peggy’s room regularly, she knew perfectly well, but Peggy directed her anyway.  She packed up her jewelry and her photographs while the agent packed her clothes; Peggy knew Nick well enough to guess that he had his own agents watching the home and they would be moving in at any moment.  Once they took her, she wouldn’t be coming back; better that Hydra do her packing for her than waste time making Nick’s SHIELD loyalists do it.

“I need my pictures,” she told the agent, who nodded in understanding and wrapped the framed photographs carefully in several scarves before closing the suitcase lid on them.  She helped Peggy into her coat and turned towards the door, where the man who had just come quietly in promptly tazed her.

“Phil Coulson, Madame Director,” he said, catching the Hydra agent and lowering her to the floor.  “Nick sent me; Abe’s boy is out of the hospital and Nick thought it would cheer him up if you came to visit.  Is this everything?” he added, looking at her suitcase.  “I hate packing.”

“That’s everything,” Peggy said, amused.  “Is Abe’s boy all right?  Our friend told me there was some trouble with the surgery.”

“He’s sleeping now, but he’ll be all right,” Coulson said, and Peggy felt a knot of unease loosen in her chest. “Not to hurry you, but we’ve only got a fifteen minute window.”

He bundled Peggy and her bags out of the home and into a waiting a car, which was driven by an Asian woman who looked vaguely familiar.  At the other end of the block, two identical cars turned out of a shaded driveway and peeled off in opposite directions; through the window Peggy saw that they had the same license plate as the car she was in.  She sat quietly in the back with Coulson for another twenty minutes of circuitous driving until the Asian woman said, “I think we’re clear.  Melinda May, Madame Director.”

“Pleasure,” Peggy said, then looked at Coulson. “Is Steve – Captain Rogers – really all right?  Give me a situation report.”  She hesitated.  “This is about Captain Rogers, isn’t it?”

“Last I heard,” Coulson said.  “I don’t know much; Director Fury can tell you more when we reach headquarters.”

“Tell me what you do know,” Peggy ordered.

Coulson exchanged a look with May in the rearview mirror, then said, “Sometime in the last five hours, Captain Rogers killed the scientist Hydra’s had working on – on him, along with some STRIKE agents.  The agent Pierce and Sitwell have had handling him is one of ours; she was meeting with Fury today while Captain Rogers was supposed to be in the lab.  Captain Rogers broke out of the Triskelion and trailed her to the meet, where he disabled another half-dozen SHIELD agents – ours, this time.  He apparently had a nice conversation with Fury before Hydra realized he was gone and activated his governor implant.  That was about half an hour ago.  Last I heard he was going into emergency surgery to remove the implant.”

“Pierce put a governor implant in Steve?” Peggy said, shocked and then annoyed with herself for being shocked.  Of course Alexander Pierce would have put a governor implant in Steve Rogers.  “Of course he did.  Steve – Captain Rogers – broke himself out?  What’s been happening in there?  What have they been doing to him?”

Coulson just shook his head.

*

Nick told her more once they had arrived at the SHIELD black site.  Peggy had no idea where he and his SHIELD loyalists had been hiding out for the past three years, but since they were still running around, apparently Pierce didn’t know either.

“Rogers wiped the computers in the lab, stole the data, and set a time-delayed explosive on his way out,” he informed her.  “The Triskelion’s on high alert right now, so none of our people still inside have been able to tell us exactly how much Hydra knows or if they managed to save any of the data or biological samples.  We have to assume they’ve got some of it stored off-site.  A good kill on Nagel,” he added. “Rogers is still under and can’t tell us what sent him over the edge today, but from everything I know about Nagel he’s a nasty piece of work.  Romanoff says he did a number on Rogers while they were at the Triskelion; he’s been working on him ever since he came out of the ice.”

“Wilfred Nagel?” Peggy said. “I recognize that name –”

“Yeah, he’s a son of a bitch.  When Romanoff – my agent – found out what he was doing to Rogers she told us we had to exfil him first chance we got.  That was a couple weeks ago.”

Peggy took a deep breath. “What was he doing to Captain Rogers?”

“Testing his enhanced healing, among other things.  Romanoff said Rogers was terrified of him.”

“Steve’s not afraid of anything,” Peggy said reflexively, but she knew from Nick’s expression and the gentle tone in his voice that it was the truth.  She also knew that “testing his enhanced healing” was a polite way to say “torture,” though from what she knew about Dr. Nagel he probably hadn’t even thought about that.  He would have been one of Arnim Zola’s protegees if Zola had lived longer.  She shut her eyes, breathing hard, before she looked at Nick again and said, “Where is he now?”

“Just came out of surgery.”

“I want to see him.”

Nick nodded.  He took her down several hallways to a makeshift but very clean series of rooms being used as a medical bay, stopping her in a room with a large window into a second room.  Beyond it, Peggy could see a woman sitting by a hospital bed.  She was young and very pretty, currently engaged in braiding her curling red hair into a thick plait.  Most of her attention seemed to be fixed on the man sleeping beside her.

It was Steve.

He looked like Steve, Peggy thought with a shock.  He looked like the Steve Rogers who lived only in her memory and her photographs, like he hadn’t aged a day in sixty-seven years of Sleeping Beauty slumber.  The shield was propped up at the foot of the bed.

Peggy took a deep breath, her heart hammering.  She pressed her hand to her chest in an attempt to calm herself down, then made herself ask, “Is that her?”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Nick said.  “Alexander Pierce’s handpicked choice to handle Captain America and fortunately one of our agents; she would have been my choice too.”  He hesitated for an instant, then went on, “You’re not going to like this part.  She’s ex-SVR, Red Room-trained; defected in ’08, the same week that the fiasco at Stark went down.”

He was right; Peggy didn’t like it.  She was a little shocked that Steve evidently had.  “Red Room?” she repeated, focusing on that.  “I thought the program had been shut down in 1993, 1994, not long after the Soviet Union met its ignominious end.  That girl’s, what, twenty-five?  Twenty-six?”

“Twenty-seven, same age as Rogers, give or take seven decades and a few years.” Nick shook his head. “The Red Room just went underground.  Romanoff killed the guy running it when she left.”  The corner of his mouth quirked a little. “So she and Rogers have got that in common.”

“Pierce isn’t dead, is he?” Peggy said, startled.

“Not that I’ve heard, but I doubt he’s going to last much longer,” Nick said.  His fingers flexed a little, like he was thinking about wrapping them around Alexander Pierce’s neck.  “This is it, Peggy, I can feel it.  This is how they lose and we win.”

*

“I’m sorry about this, Nat.”

Natasha finished tying off the end of her braid and looked up at Clint, frowning.  “About what?”

“Getting you into this.”  He pushed away from where he had been slouching by the door and came over to her, pulling up another chair next to Steve’s bed but angling it so he wasn’t looking at Steve.  “I made you some promises four years ago and six months later you were dumped into Hydra.”

Natasha shrugged.  “I knew what I was doing.  You and Fury and Hill made it pretty clear to me what I was getting myself into when I decided to stay.  Besides, it’s nothing I’ve never done before.”

Clint tipped his head towards Steve and said, “Not this.”

Natasha glanced up at him, frowning. “What you think I did?  I’ve done it before.  Besides, this wasn’t that.”

“They made you sleep with him.”

“No, they wanted me to sleep with him,” Natasha corrected.  “I slept with him because I wanted to.  There’s a difference.”

His mouth worked briefly.  “You should never have been in a position where we ended up having this conversation.”

“I had plenty of chances to get out, Clint,” Natasha reminded him, flicking a glance at the two-way mirror that took up most of one wall.  She was pretty sure that there was someone behind it, keeping an eye on them; whoever it happened to be was certainly getting an earful.  “It was my choice to stay under, not yours.”

“But you shouldn’t have –”

“Four years ago you said I had the right to be able to make my own choices,” Natasha cut him off. “That means all of my choices, Clint, even the ones that you wouldn’t make.  Even the ones that you wouldn’t have to make.”

He winced.  Clint was more of a soldier than a spy; he could flirt with the best of them, but like Americans Natasha had known he didn’t have the temperament for the kind of work she had been trained for.  Even if he hadn’t already been too closely associated with Fury to pull it off, he wouldn’t have lasted more than a year undercover with Hydra.  Natasha had no idea who the other loyalists at the Triskelion were and had forced herself not to speculate; it was safer for all of them if no one knew who the others were.

“Sitwell and Pierce couldn’t have made me sleep with him,” Natasha added. “They knew that.  If they had wanted someone who would try to jump into bed with him immediately, there are other people they could have chosen.  It wouldn’t have worked, anyway.  He’s not that kind of guy.”

“And I’ve got no idea what kind of guy he is, Nat,” Clint said. “Everything I know about him comes out of reports and History Channel documentaries.”

“Didn’t one of those say he was abducted by aliens?”

“Yeah, but according to the alien I know, that one’s not true.”

Natasha’s eyebrows went up. “What alien?”

Clint waved that aside.  “That’s not important.  What is important is that I don’t know anything about this guy except that Hydra’s had its fingers in his brain for the past six months and he didn’t even notice.”

“He noticed,” Natasha said pointedly, “or he wouldn’t be here right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Convenient,” Clint said suspiciously.  “So what the hell were they doing to him in that lab today that finally made him snap?”

“Does it matter?”  There was a scratchy note but no emotion in Steve’s voice.

Clint and Natasha both jumped; Natasha hadn’t realized he was awake and Clint clearly hadn’t either.  Steve flinched when she bent over him, his mouth trembling a little and tears leaking slowly from the corners of his eyes, and Natasha knew immediately that he had been awake for a lot longer than he had let on.

“It’s just me,” she assured him.  “It’s just me.  Ignore Barton, he’s being an idiot.”

Clint had already gotten up to pour some water from the pitcher on a nearby table, his expression suggesting that he knew he had fucked up by having this conversation where Steve could overhear it.

“They took the implant out,” Natasha assured Steve before he could bring himself to ask about it.  “Mine too.”  She turned her head and held her braid out of the way so that he could see the bandage on the back of her neck.  “Mine was easy to take out, yours not so much, but it’s gone.  How do you feel?”

He moved one shoulder in a shrug and didn’t say anything, but he let Natasha help him sit up.  He looked suspiciously at the cup Clint brought over and didn’t make any move to take it; Natasha finally took the cup out of Clint’s hand and took a sip to prove to Steve that it was just water.  His hands were shaking, but he took it from her, and she closed her hands over his and held it steady until he could drink without spilling water all over himself.

“I’ll tell Fury you’re awake,” Clint said, beating a hasty retreat.

“I knew you were under orders,” Steve said eventually.  “I’m not – I knew.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything Brock Rumlow says, either,” Natasha told him, which got the corner of his mouth to turn up briefly before he went back to frowning.

“If I hurt you –”

“You didn’t hurt me.”  Natasha put her hand to his cheek to make certain he was looking at her and said, “You never laid a hand on me I didn’t want you to.”

Steve stared at her for a long moment, then nodded.

“Do you hate me?” Natasha asked him softly.  “For lying to you?”

He shook his head. “You didn’t lie to me.  You didn’t tell me everything, but you didn’t lie to me, either.”

Natasha took the empty cup from him and set it aside, returning to her seat on the bed next to him.  “I am so sorry that this happened to you,” she said when his gaze flickered up to hers.  “I wish I’d been able to get you out earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.��

“I still should have tried,” Natasha said, and was a little surprised to realize that she meant it.  She had weighed the chances of an exfil early on and discarded the option as unviable in those first few months; Steve was watched too closely.  Even the ops they had had been on had always been in company with STRIKE and had been in isolated areas that made it nearly impossible to run.

“It would have gotten both of us killed,” Steve said bleakly, his mouth working silently.

Natasha wondered if he had been running the same math that she had and when he had started doing so.  “Probably not killed.”

He grimaced and made a gesture of acknowledgment, knowing as well as she did that the two of them together were too valuable to Alexander Pierce to risk that.

“Nat,” he said hesitantly.  “The ops we ran for Pierce –”

He didn’t have to finish the question. “I don’t know for sure,” Natasha told him. “I can find out.  But for what it’s worth, most of what they’ve been doing at the Triskelion is what SHIELD – the real SHIELD – was doing four years ago.  I think the ops we were on were like that.  They’d – Sitwell and Pierce would have wanted to have you on softballs first, and push it up from there to see how far you’d go.  Not that they talked about it with me at all.”  She bit her lip.  Rumlow had said a few things that in retrospect made her think that he had known very well what Pierce was doing, whether or not Sitwell had ever told him.

Steve shut his eyes, breathing hard, and put his head in his hands.  Natasha had known what she was doing; Steve had just found out he had been running missions for Hydra since he had first gone into the field three months ago.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, not sure whether or not to reach for him.  She would have known what to do back at the Triskelion, when she knew they were under surveillance and that Steve had no idea what had been done to him, but now he did and Natasha didn’t know what to do.

Steve’s gaze cut sideways, then went up as the door opened and Nick Fury came in.  Natasha sat back, feeling self-conscious and obscurely guilty.

Fury considered her for a moment, then turned his attention to Steve.  “How are you feeling, Captain Rogers?”

“Like I’ve had a chunk of metal pried out of my spinal column,” Steve said, hesitating before he added, “Thank you.”

Fury nodded acknowledgment.  “I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you.”

Steve looked wary, then his eyes widened as Fury stepped back so that Coulson could wheel in an elderly woman in a wheelchair.  She smiled a little tremulously and said, “Hello, Steve.”

“Peggy?”  He stood up like he meant to go to her, and then stopped, his expression uncertain.

“It’s all right,” Peggy Carter said. “I don’t bite.”  She held out a hand to him, smiling.

Despite the thinness of her face and the mass of wrinkles, her bones were still elegant; Natasha could see the beauty of the woman she had been seven decades earlier.  She had seen pictures of Peggy Carter before, some video footage from later in her life – there was none from the Second World War – but none of it compared to the woman herself.  There was a blazing aliveness to her despite the fact that she had to be, at Natasha’s quick estimation, ninety-six or ninety-seven.

Natasha eyed her a little warily.  She knew perfectly both who Peggy Carter was and who she was to Steve; she also knew that her great-niece Sharon was back at the Triskelion.  To the best of her knowledge, Sharon was part of Pierce’s inner circle, Sitwell’s second in command.  There was always the chance that she was another one of Fury’s loyalists, but Natasha wasn’t willing to bet money on it.

Steve went hesitantly to Peggy, his bare-footed passage near-silent.  He only touched her fingertips at first, like he was afraid she would vanish, then went slowly to his knees in front of her. “Hi.”

“You’re late,” she told him, reaching down to turn his face up to her.

“Traffic,” he said, trying to sound light, but his voice was trembling on the syllables.  Then he put his head down against her knee and started to cry.

Fury caught Natasha’s eye and moved his chin slightly in the direction of the door; Natasha nodded and got to her feet.  As Natasha passed her, Peggy reached out to touch her sleeve.  Natasha paused and looked down at her.

“Thank you,” Peggy said.

Natasha nodded in response and followed Fury and Coulson out.

“How’s he doing?” Fury asked after he had closed the door behind them.  Clint was waiting in the corridor; he nodded to Coulson as the other man left, presumably for the observation room that looked in on the hospital room.

Natasha thought the answer to that was fairly obvious, but said, “He’s scared.  He just found out about Hydra a few hours ago, remember?  He doesn’t know anyone here except for me – and Peggy Carter,” she added, glancing back over her shoulder at the door, “– and he doesn’t have any reason to believe that we’re any different than them.”

Clint scowled. “We didn’t put a fucking chip in his head.”

“You know he has no way of knowing that,” Natasha said. “It’s not the first time he’s woken up in a hospital bed after emergency surgency.  Though the last time it wasn’t to a stranger standing over him accusing him of rape.”

“That’s not –”

“That’s what he heard,” Natasha said, a little surprised at how angry she was.  “You had no right to say that about him.  Or about me.”

Clint shot a slightly panicked look at Fury, whose expression suggested that since he had gotten himself into this mess he was perfectly capable of getting himself out.  “You two need a minute?”

Natasha nodded, her mouth tight.

“Get this cleared up fast,” Fury advised. “Pierce isn’t going to give us much time.  Even if he doesn’t know for sure, by now he has to guess that we’ve got Rogers.”

He was already reaching for his earpiece as he left.

“You have no idea what it’s like there,” Natasha told Clint.  “You’ve been here for the past three and a half years.  You don’t know.”

Clint took a deep breath, then said, “So what’s it like?”

Natasha thought for a moment before she said, “Everyone’s watching each other all the time, telling on each other to Sitwell or Carter or Rumlow.  They’re always looking for loyalists, people who didn’t buy Pierce’s story about Fury but weren’t involved in the sieges.  Sometimes people just disappear.  If you know about Hydra, then it’s worse.  You’d think it means they trust you, but it doesn’t; it just means they have more to lose if they’re wrong about you, so they watch.  All the time.  I know every inch of that apartment Steve and I had in the Triskelion was wired.  I’m pretty sure he did too, but we never talked about it.  You don’t talk about it.  No one does.  Everyone knows, but no one talks about it.  You go on ops, you don’t know why, you don’t ask; you just hope they’re one of the ones that SHIELD would have run anyway and not one of Pierce’s pet projects.  Steve and I weren’t the only ones with governor implants there; everyone has them, even Sitwell and Rumlow.”

“Nat…”

“I grew up like that, Clint,” Natasha said bluntly.  “It’s all I’ve ever known.  Even the six months I was at SHIELD, I know Fury had me under surveillance; I know you were reporting to him about me.”

“Nat –”

“Do you know the difference between being in the Red Room and being in Hydra?” Natasha asked him.

Clint shook his head.

“When I joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight,” Natasha said.  “But I just traded in the SVR for Hydra.  The difference is that I knew whose lies I was telling and why I was telling them.  All that time I was under it was a chance to make up for all the pain and suffering I’d caused.”  She raised one shoulder. “That I was still causing.  That maybe I could wipe out some of the red in my ledger even while I was adding new lines.  I didn’t do it for SHIELD or for Fury or even for you.”  She swallowed hard, surprised to find her hands were shaking a little.  “You had no right to say that to me.”

Clint took a deep breath, clearly fighting back an assortment of automatic responses, then finally said, “You know I never liked the idea of you staying in.  I just want you to be safe.”

“What’s safe?” Natasha said, shaking her head.  They had been working together closely the six months she had been with SHIELD, but since Hydra had forced Fury out she had seen him perhaps a dozen times.  “You and I, we’re not the kind of people who get to have that.  I owe you for getting me out of the Red Room, but I don’t owe you that.”

“You got yourself out of the Red Room,” Clint said.  “I just threw you a rope, that’s all.”  He hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Natasha said.  She wasn’t sure if he actually meant it, but it was probably the best she was going to get.

Clint ran a hand back through his hair, looking tired.  “Are you in love with him?”

Natasha glanced up at him, startled by the blunt question.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.”

[liminaltrainstation]

Rain Termites

On my last night in Africa I hear the rain pour down outside my gated windows. Each time I think the downpour is at its peak, it gets even heavier. The thunder and lighting here are deeper, more rumbling and severe. Every time I hear it I feel as thought I will wake up the next day to find a flood has come over the land. It never happens though, the only evidence of the heavy rains are the hundreds of rain termite wings scattered on the front stoop. Fairy wings, breaking off the termite bodies after such a short life. Rising to their life and their death during rainfall. The first time I saw them emerge, descend on us actually - in the restaurant, I had stared at them in disgust. Hurriedly putting on my black rain jacket and zipping it up to my face, terrified I would feel them against my skin. Now, I look at their scattered wings with a weird affection. Some of their wings make their way into the house, fluttering about the floor of the bathroom and bedroom and living room. My toes brush past them now, unafraid. 

One last yango ride to and from East Park Mall - upon Anthonys request to find food, as our fridge was full of nonsense and rot. Sure, we can go, I said, half annoyed. I was enjoying the stillness of the empty room. An emptiness and privacy I had not been granted in nearly 16 days. Begrudgingly I wear my glasses out, no makeup on, brown dress that I didn’t know if I hated or loved. Sitting in the back of the yango I let my eyes wander the long stretch of Obama road one more time. Car boots filled with vegetables, CHOPPIES where it seemed people were always lingering. Salon after salon with girls stretching their neck to let braiders lazily move their fingers - but somehow also delicate and quick to create a hundred thin, long, swinging braids as was the current fashion amongst the youth. Walking through East Park, I feel a strange power roiling around in me. I had felt it on New Years Eve as well, in my body and my bones at Granddaddys, a weird mature confidence. An understanding that my priorities were changing. An understanding that no matter what, my mind and body and form were mine. 1 minute before New Years, walking fast through the parking lot outside scanning for Bupe, Byuna, Misha, Bessie or any of the others, but I couldn’t find them fast enough. I looked at my phone in panic, 10 more seconds till midnight, what if I don’t find them? And then quickly, fast, midnight closed in, fireworks all around us, lighting up the sky but strangely close to land unlike the fireworks I was used to seeing in Canada. This was closer, more immediate, touchable almost. My panic moved away and was replaced by an understanding. A weird cosmic sign - of course I had to feel the first seconds of the New Year alone. Surrounded by the bursting light, in what felt at times like the heart of the world. 15 seconds alone - only mine and nobody else’s, and then I found them. Just a couple cars away. Happy New Years Happy New Years - phones pointed to the sky, laughing and moving and swaying, Byuna balancing on one leg hugging the man she claimed she was only casually seeing. Misha hurriedly calling a yango, so quickly after the countdown, as if she needed to run away from some realization and feeling that hit her. I didn’t want to leave, but I dignified her need to escape with a quiet nod. Sure, we could leave. 

The morning of our flight, I anxiously trek through the farm plot in my chunky black sandals that I had grown to hate, pushing into the wet red sand, looking for Humphrey. To make sure he would take us to the airport like he said. While I liked the casual, easygoing nonchalance of Humphreys demeanour It was not a personality trait I trusted when it came to ensuring I was at a certain place, at a certain time. ‘GOOD MORNING’ he yells from his front yard. ‘WHERE ARE YOU GOING?’ ‘I was coming to check on you. 10 am’ I ask and demand both at once, waving and turning around to go back to our house. Later, aunty Mwonza asks me why the name CONTRA. I never know how to answer this question, each time giving people a new variation of the truth. It was somewhere in between it all. My armour, my shield. My true form. Defiant and strong and wicked and big. She goes on to tell me about each of her children, her dreams for all of them. Their dreams for themselves. Tambo, still marred by Sickle Cell, waking up at 1 am each night to study extra hard to make up for the time lost to hospital visits. Nanangay, oldest son, ignored by his father, sent off by the mother to boarding school, then Cypress and now Russia hoping his natural intellect would bloom. That he would stray so far from his fathers personality. The second son, quiet and withdrawn, wanting to become a pilot, she had assessed him and thought ‘I’m not that worried about him’. Lusa - too little still, only about 11, but easily the one in the family that would march into her future with no problems. Child who saved her own brother from Sickle Cell, simply by being a perfect match for what he needed. Disarming, and quick and free, Lusa would move swiftly through life, already acting like a young American girl. ‘I prayed for Anthony this morning, that he would get the passport stamp’ Aunty Mwonza had shared with me. I looked at her and wondered somewhere in me if her prayers had been what worked. Why can’t they be? Why can’t the energy we ask of the universe come back and reward us? Looking at her, and the ways in which almost every moment of her life had been about sacrifice, to her children, carrying the shame and abuse of her horrible married through towards her new life - growing chillies and eggplants and cucumbers on the Maseka farm plot, finding ways to make sure her children would not only survive but also live bigger than her. I look at her and think, yes, if anyones prayers should be answered it is hers. 

[pashterlengkap]

Man parades rainbow-painted donkey through GOP campaign rally in bizarre attack on trans people

A supporter of the Republican nominee for North Carolina governor painted a donkey rainbow colors and paraded it in front of a rally in an elaborate – yet bizarre – attack on transgender people. At an event for North Carolina Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson’s (R) gubernatorial campaign, someone painted a donkey rainbow colors, put a unicorn horn on it, and brought it in front of Robinson as he gave a speech. The crowd laughed. Related: GOP official tells transgender people to defecate on public street corners “If you are confused, find a corner outside somewhere to go.” The joke was that it’s the famous “gender unicorn,” which is used to explain basic vocabulary around LGBTQ+ identities. Robinson ranted about the gender unicorn in his 2021 speech at the state’s Republican convention, saying that he had just seen it online for the first time. Your LGBTQ+ guide to Election 2024 Stay ahead of the 2024 Election with our newsletter that covers candidates, issues, and perspectives that matter. Daily * Weekly * Good News * “I thought to myself, that is not a rainbow unicorn,” Robinson said in 2021. “That is a painted-up, marked-up, dressed-up jackass.” WRAL News said that he insisted that people can dress up a donkey, but “test its DNA, and it’s a donkey.” He then called LGBTQ+ people “demonic” and accused them of forcing their views on children. One of his supporters apparently remembered that speech, hence the painted donkey at the Robinson event in 2024. “You found that thing!” Robinson shouted at the man, who was smiling, apparently proud of himself. “What Democratic hellhole did you find that thing in?” “That is a rainbow, striped up painted jackass!” he said, promising to tell the “story” behind the donkey later. “I can’t believe the impact that story actually made.” This Mark Robinson GOP event got really weird. pic.twitter.com/99EktmQihA— PatriotTakes (@patriottakes) March 21, 2024 Robinson’s long history of inflammatory comments is being highlighted as the November election looms closer. In March 2023, Robinson declared that God created him to battle against LGBTQ+ rights and added, “Makes me sick every time I see it — a church that flies that rainbow flag, which is a direct spit in the face of God almighty.” In 2017, he wrote on Facebook, “You CAN NOT love God and support the homosexual agenda.” In 2021, Robinson compared LGBTQ+ people to cow dung and claimed straight people are superior to gay people due to their ability to procreate. In the same sermon, he declared there are only two genders and disparaged trans people’s bodies: “I don’t care how much you cut yourself up, drug yourself up and dress yourself up, you still either one of two things — you either a man or a woman.” He also said people who support events like Drag Queen Story Hour do so because they desire to molest children. He has previously proclaimed that being gay is a step before pedophilia, that former First Lady Michelle Obama is secretly a trans woman, and that trans-affirming people are “devil-worshipping child molesters.” He also condemned gay people as an “abominable sin” in response to the 2016 Pulse massacre. Robinson created an education task force to investigate and remove LGBTQ+ literature from public schools, as well as report instances of LGBTQ+ inclusion in schools. Teachers’ names, employers, and information were released unredacted in the report, yet many of the complaints weren’t verified or even authenticated. Also in 2021, he refused to heed calls for his resignation after he declared that homosexuality and “transgenderism” are “filth.” He has also called the trans equality movement “demonic” and “full of the spirit of Antichrist.” In November of that year, he allegedly wagged his finger in the face of a state lawmaker who made a speech about supporting LGBTQ+ people. He also called claims that millions of Jewish people were killed during the… http://dlvr.it/T4cpdg

[ear-worthy]

Pod-Alization: Trevor Noah Podcast Debuts; Who Killed JFK?

Who Killed JFK? podcast debuts on iHeart Conspiracy theories have been around since the days when Egyptian Pharaohs and Roman Emperors dropped dead suddenly and mysteriously. In today's world, social media has amped up the distribution of all kinds of crazy conspiracy theories. You can thank Fox News for being the legitimizer of such crackpot-ness.

Perhaps, the genesis of the modern American conspiracy theory is the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on Novwember 22, 1963.

Was it the mob? Castro? The Russians? I'm sure Trump would find a way to blame Barack Obama for this event.

This new podcast from iHeart has names of distinction and lifelong commitment to excellence associated with the show -- Soledad O'Brien and Rob Reiner.

Who Killed JFK? takes us back 60 years ago to one of the most tragic moments of the 20th century, when questions still surround the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

Join award-winning journalist Soledad O'Brien and beloved filmmaker Rob Reiner on Wednesdays as they team up to discover the truth behind the assassination, revealing how the ramifications of the 1963 tragedy still impact American society today. *************************************************************

Trevor Noah podcast debuts There's a new maxim in media. Those who don't want to do TV anymore, do podcasts. See Conan O'Brien, Dax Sheppard, Joe Rogan, et al.

Spotify likes to throw around the phrase "highly anticipated" a lot when referring to its original podcast releases.

But its original podcast What Now? with Trevor Noah, which launched on Thursday, November 9, is actually "highly anticipated."

To Noah's credit, he begins with a top-shelf guest who is a notch above the typical celebrity babblefest on audio or video talk shows.

This first episode features a conversation with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.

According to Spotify, "What Now? with Trevor Noah is a show wherein each episode Trevor will go deep with a special guest, including entertainers, CEOs, actors, athletes, and thought leaders. These are the kind of conversations that happen behind the scenes, full of radical candor, authentic back-and-forths, and honest reactions, with Trevor bringing to bear his classic, effortlessly playful and equally probing style.

On the first episode of What Now?, Trevor Noah and Dwayne Johnson get real — discussing everything from Dwayne's troubled youth and his lifelong struggles with depression, to Dwayne listening, understanding and responding to public feedback surrounding the launch of his fund following the Maui fires, and whether he'd ever consider running for President of the United States.

The video episode is available exclusively on Spotify, with audio episodes available wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes will publish weekly every Thursday.

Some highlights in the video episode include:

Trevor On Having a Spirited Conversation (1:00)

Trevor: “If there's one thing I've always loved, it's having a spirited conversation. I've always loved how the words coming out of another person's mouth can change how the mush in your brain processes or sees the world that it's seen a certain way for such a long time. It feels like these days, though. We might be losing that ability. Oh, it's become a little bit harder. You know. A few days ago, I was. I was at an event and. People were having really interesting and dynamic conversations, conversations about really difficult topics… men, women, young and old alike. And every few minutes somebody would start their opinion with the phrase. Now, I would never say this in public, but. Or, I would never say this if I was being recorded, but. And I found that fascinating. So many of us have opinions and ideas about the world that we live in. That we are either unable or unwilling. Or too scared to share. And I thought to myself. If we cannot have conversations about difficult things, if the conversations themselves are now the difficult things, then what hope do we have of fixing the difficult things? You know, I almost think of it like a minefield. One of the most dangerous places you can ever walk into is a minefield. Because you do not know. Where they are. You do not know when your last step may be. All you know is at any moment, something could blow up. But the danger comes when you step into the minefield. Imagine if discussing how to navigate the minefield was as dangerous as the minefield itself. That's what I feel like we're living in now.”

The Rock On His Connection to His Culture (13:33)

“At a very early age from my mom and my dad, it was always ‘what you are is perfect’ and ‘what you are is cool.’ Black culture, Samoan culture. We come from a world of pro wrestling. And at that time, Trevor, if you think about it, pro wrestling was nowhere near the global juggernaut that it is today. And it was, it was a very small subculture. So be proud of everything that you are out of the gate, It was always ‘be proud’… It's a cool thing. And I got to tell you, as you go down the road of life, you start to realize just how special culture is, how special all of our culture is.”

The Rock On Why He Wanted to Be A Wrestler (17:32)

“Not only did I grow up in it… but man, I loved it. I loved wrestling. I love the antics of it. I love the characters of it. And especially at that time, you know, when you grow up in the 80s, wrestling back then was a whole different, I think, unique experience in that a lot of people bought into it and they felt like it was real and they'd have these local stars every week and they'd be on their television sets, just their local TVs, and they would talk down the lens about what they're going to do to their opponent this Saturday night at whatever little arena they're wrestling in. I loved all that, and I had a front-row seat watching my dad and my grandfather and everybody in my family live their passions and it's what they, I believe, were all born to do… And so. I think the yearning of it, it started to happen for me when, to be honest, when we were evicted out of Hawaii. So we were living in a little apartment. We were evicted when I was 13 or 14 years old. And I remember in that moment I never wanted to feel that again. I was with my mom and we came home and there was a padlock or there was a notice… I remember just her and I were standing there. She was crying. She didn't know what to do. And my dad was wrestling in Tennessee at that time. And I remember then thinking, I never want to experience this again and what can I do to change it? What can I do? Like, what can I do with my own two hands on 14 so I can't do shit, right?… So I remember at that time thinking, well, all the heroes in my life are these guys. These guys who are, they’re big, they’re strong. They're pro wrestlers. I bet you if I built my body and if I went to the gym, then I could change the scenario. So from that moment, I think that is the defining moment.”

The Rock On Starting the People’s Fund of Maui and Reacting To The Initial Backlash (22:32)

Trevor: “…you know, when you feel like you've missed a news cycle, like The Rock and Oprah under fire. But for what? And people were like, Oh, you're the problem. And how dare you? And why would you? And I was like, Man, our whole lives, people have asked people to join into a worthy cause. When did this become a criticism or a fight? And I would love to know how you process that.”

The Rock: “I woke up the next morning wondering the same thing. Thinking. What? What happened? Did I miss something? So it took me a couple of weeks to really process that. And I felt like that moment was a pivotal moment for me in my life for a few reasons. Number one, I want to go back to the brass tacks of it and the whole idea of creating this fund, the People's Fund of Maui, is to help people and help survive and thrive. These are my people. These are my Polynesian people. My Hawaiian Kanaka Ohana. My grandparents. They're all buried in the islands, you know, So it meant so much to me. And I know it meant so much to our people, Right. That we were able to come together and create this fund. Over 8000 survivors, by the way we're helping right now. It's really beautiful. But what's interesting is when all that started to happen and the backlash started to happen and it started to come our way. So I always feel like in moments like that, it's important. Not to get caught up in it. It's important just to pause. Let's be prudent. Let's pause. But let me just wait and see. And. I felt like my gut said it's going to take a couple of weeks, but let me really take a look at it. I don't want to respond to it right now. Yeah, let's stay focused on the mission. And the mission is to help the survivors right now who have nothing. And they are devastated. And so let's continue to stand the fund up on its feet. But at the same time, I want to pay attention to this. And it really tested my ability to separate noise from criticism that was really worthy of my attention in this case and this noise. And at first it was a wave of noise. Okay, how dare you ask us for money? And I thought the same thing you did was right. Whatever you can give, if you want to give a prayer. Great. A buck, seven bucks, or nothing. So there was the noise that started to feel like it was political noise. Then it started to feel like it was. It just started to feel really noisy. And I wanted to make sure that we just paused and I was just waiting for. Well, where's the criticism here that is worthy of my attention? That really makes sense. And then, Ah, that's it. This is what I feel I got. And it took me weeks before I figured this out. And I had a I just had a moment one night, and I think I was as I usually do, I was having a drink, drink off and clear my mind and clear all this shit up in my head. And once all that left, I thought, Ah, that's it. And I saw someone had posted something and it was something to the effect of basically don't pay attention to these guys and all this other bullshit that they're saying. However, you're one of us. And when I read You're one of us was the thing that made me go. Got it. Went back to when I was in Hawaii. When I got evicted, we had nothing. I was a troubled kid. I got arrested like you. I mean, you know, we both were troubled kids, arrested multiple times. I was always pissed that we were broke. There's a difference between being poor and then being broke. And I was pissed. I was always angry, getting in fights, getting in trouble. And the last thing I realized in that moment, the last thing that I wanted to hear was somebody asked me for money. Especially if the dude who I like, right, is asking me for money, and he already has money, and I get it. And a lot of times when you're in that situation, I've been there when you are living paycheck to paycheck. You're in it. Yeah. And you're not necessarily vibrating, you know, at a certain level and you're in it. So I came out of that and then I went, That's right. I got it. Now I understand. And you know what? Last thing you wanted was to hear people ask for money regardless of the situation.”

Trevor On The Power of Global Connection (51:57)

Trevor: “I mean, we were doing your moves in the gym at school. We had detention, and we had this like giant room where you would just get locked in and was like, that's your detention. It was like a gym, really, but it was a massive gym and we would put out all these mats. And would be like alright we’re practicing The Rock’s moves. Let's go and everyone would get in there and I'm talking like almost two stories high and we'd climb up on the railing. That's just a cage match. And you'd grab someone. You know what I mean?… Think about that connection. Think about how far that was. Think about how far you were from me in South Africa. Think about how far I was from you in the United States. And yet in that moment, we were connected.”

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[glattandblade]

hanahaki fic with any character?

Sure thing! Thank you for your request <3 I’ve never written Hanahaki before, so I hope I did it justice :D Thank you again!

By Author Blade <3

Title: Hanahaki (C!Schlatt x GN!Reader)

Summary: You’ve developed Hanahaki disease. And the cure seems out of reach.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending!), lots of mentions of death, also lots of mentions of vomiting & coughing (related to flowers), cursing

Word Count: 1212

Recently, your illness has been getting worse.

What started as coughing up a few petals every couple of days has gradually grown into choking on full bouquets. 

Your doctor had told you it was Hanahaki, the disease of unrequited love. Your face had paled at that. The only way to cure Hanahaki was to have your beloved return your feelings. And God knows that wasn’t going to happen, on account of your “beloved” being kind of a dick.

Schlatt’s a self centered, rude, annoying, fucking dick.

But all the same, you loved him. 

It’s gross.

The flowers started forming when you began working for him. It was hard moving and starting a new life, but you found yourself very close to your boss- the President. He was kind to you… sometimes. Being his secretary, you had the power to fuck him over a bit, so he usually leaned on your good side.

That doesn’t mean you were free from his teasing and overall cockiness.

As the disease progressed, you started to wonder why you were in love with someone like him. Why go through all this pain for him? What’s the fucking point if nothing is going to come out of it? You’d be leaning over the toilet, choking on your third rose, wishing you could just Get. Over. Him.

But then he’d gently knock at the door, ask if you were okay, and your heart would squeeze. You’d quickly flush away the flowers, tell him you were fine, and hope to God that he didn’t see it as important enough to prod.

It worked for a while, but then it became a daily occurrence. 

You’d have to slip away from your duties after a terrible coughing fit to go get it all out of your system in the bathroom. At first, Schlatt was angry that you’d leave your desk or skip out on meetings, but then he noticed the pattern. He never pushed you further than asking if you were alright through a closed door whenever he passed by and heard the coughing. He did feel like his secretary’s health was something he should know about, though. He just never knew how to approach you about it.

Caring would look vulnerable, and he’s got a fucking country to run. He was never good with feelings in the first place anyway, so he just stuck to the sidelines, making mental notes on your health for the day. Maybe one day you’d tell him and he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Or you’d die and he would know the answer.

What he didn’t know was that thoughts like those were what was killing you.

After a particularly hard day, you spent the whole night over the toilet. He had touched you. A light graze of the fingers, sure, but it was enough to send the flowers into overdrive. You called in the next day, hoping everyone would assume that you were just overworked and needed the day off, but Schlatt was more aware of the situation than that, to your dismay.

He had showed up at your house. You could feel the flowers building up your throat. You held them down as much as you could as he talked to you, but it was hard.

You could barely register what he was saying as you started to cough so hard that you fell to your knees. He reached out and caught you, but that just made it worse. You couldn’t hold them back anymore, and the flowers started to fly out, all over the floor and all over him.

He stared at them with curious concern. He held you in a gentle way he didn’t think possible, taking one of the flowers between his fingers. 

Hanahaki.

Of course, he’s heard about it. Who hasn’t? The death rate for Hanahaki’s way too high.

The two of you moved to the bathroom where you finished your fit.

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet when he spoke, breaking the silence, “Who is it?” You almost didn’t hear him.

“It.. it doesn’t matter, Schlatt.” Your voice was hoarse, it hurt to talk. You could feel the flowers fighting to come back up as he got closer to you, sitting down on the floor next  to you. You coughed hard before continuing, “I-I’ll be okay.”

“Well I really fuckin’ doubt that, sweetheart. You just threw up my dead Grandma’s bouquet.” Usually, that would make you laugh, at least a little, but you could feel the flowers pushing at your throat and squeezing your lungs from just how close he was to you.

“Just tell me, (Y/N). Maybe I can help.”

You smiled at him, though it was sad. Those words only made it worse. He didn’t realize that the kindness he was showing you was only feeding the flowers.

“You aren’t going to be… mad? Or laugh?” It felt silly, but you needed the reassurance right now.

“We’re not fucking 12, (Y/N).”

“Right.”

You cleared your throat, hoping to suck down any stray flowers so you could speak. Your brain found it hard to find the right words, so you just went with the shortest, simplest thing you could think of. Something he’d understand immediately and you wouldn't have to repeat yourself. 

“I love you.”

He paused, then looked at you, eyes wide and mouth open a bit.

“You what?”

Okay, not the best reaction, but he didn’t seem mad, at least.

“Schlatt don’t make me repeat myself, my throat hurts as it is.” A tease, a joke. Lighthearted enough to distract yourself from the fact that if he doesn’t reciprocate, you’re dead.

“No, no. I get it. I’m sexy as fuck- I’m the president, for God’s sake. And any one knows that everyone and their mom wanted to fuck Obama-”

He rambled on for a bit like that, inflating his ego a little in the process. You stared at him blankly, waiting for him to finish to give you a proper answer.

“You’re my secretary, though! Isn’t that kind of weird? Actually it’s kind of hot-”

You rolled your eyes.

“But if people found out? My name would be smeared. Then again, you’re really pretty. Have I told you that? Oh fuck, maybe now isn’t the right time-”

“Schlatt?”

He turned to you, having looked away during his rant, “Yeah?”

“Are you going to kiss me? Or just ramble like an idiot?”

“I’m not an idiot. Maybe a fool, but I’m not an idiot.”

“So are you going to kiss-” And before you could finish, he leaned forward, cutting you off with a kiss.

And it was a damn good kiss at that, for this kiss was enough to seal that he did, in fact, give a shit about you. You felt a weight lift off your lungs, your throat cleared up, and for the first time in months, you felt happy.

His hands on your hips, your arms around his neck, the way he had to bend down to reach your lips and you had to push yourself up to reach his... It was uncomfortable, actually. You’re on the bathroom floor for Christ’s sake, but you wouldn’t trade this kiss for the world.

You were finally free of that wretched disease, and now you could kiss him whenever you wanted.

Masterlist

[stitchieau-the-actual-one]

Fuck what or where can I vent about this...

WARNING: IF YOU DON’T LIKE OTHER PEOPLES OPINIONS OR HAVING A THOUGHTFUL DISCUSSION, THEN THIS POST AIN’T FOR YOU! MOVE ON!

we good?

Are the Radicals gone?

yes?

good.

Honestly, America has gone to shit since Biden came into office. Actually no... It’s been shit since Obama’s administration. just a constant shit show, an awful comedy of errors.

I legit no longer feel safe or comfortable in my own country. 

I feel like I am not being heard as a US citizen, and how I vote or what I say no longer matters because some rich Democrat or rich Republican decided it just doesn’t. I feel like nothing I say or do matters anymore and that if I speak at all, people are either going to label me as a “Bigot.” or “TERF.” on one end or “Snowflake.” “SJW.” on the other. Or just flat out be told to “pick a side.” when both are shit. 

One is spray painted gold.

The other is covered in literal gold.

And I hate it, I hate every single second of it. the fact I have to constantly pick the lesser of two evils and that if I vote “wrong” or “Wrong think” people are just going to silence me. In a country of free speech. It’s ass backwards but its true. 

so here’s some stuff that may or may not ruffle your jimmies:

1) The Riots are and ALWAYS will be unwarranted and should DEFINITELY be stopped:

I feel like it should go without saying, but apparently this is a controversial statement... which it shouldn’t be. Look, you were taught as a kid that stealing, breaking, arson, assault, battery, destruction of private and public property is bad and unacceptable. So why do you think that suddenly changes when you’re an adult? You still got spanked and/or sent into timeout didn’t you? You got disciplined (not punished there IS a difference) for it right? Well as an adult, news flash! It’s the government instead of your parents who discipline your shitty behavior. (Also furthermore: ACAB just helps the rich since their the only people who can AFFORD personal protection, so Defunding police would just help criminals find victims and get away with a variety of crimes. Since there’s no longer any scruples to prevent this.)

Do I believe that the national guard and riot police should’ve been called in:

Yes.

Do I believe that EVERYONE involved was being shitty?

No.  

Do I believe that in cases like these Potentially fatal force is nessecary to control a growingly restless and violent crowd?

AbsoFUCKINlutely!

Do I believe children should be at large protests?

No.

Do I believe the entire situation could’ve been avoided if people ignored Social Media?

Fuck, Yes.

But sadly I and the rest of us do not live in a perfect vacuum of morale and decency, which brings me to another point.

Can we please stop the whole Marxism/Communism trend? Please?

Tldr of my opinion on this issue: If it doesn’t work the first time it won’t work for the *insert whatever number it is* time either. just let this fantasy die already PLEASE!

my actual explanation on how I feel about it:

 So Marxism is a type of Communism. Which if you didn’t know, Communism is the extreme of Socialism... and the Extreme/Radicalized version of literal ANYTHING! ISN’T GOOD! FULL STOP! 

I honestly feel like the current education system fails to teach kids the issue as to WHY Communism and more accurately Marxism just... doesn’t work. Like at all, not even a little bit. But in order to talk about Marxism and why it just fails in a spectacular way we need to take a Rrrrreally old piece of text into consideration.

Plato’s utopia.

Plato based his utopian world off of a fantasy, a morale void, a perfect vacuum that was the foundation to a squeaky clean world. Of rainbows, gumdrops and candy cane frogs. where everyone was a productive and virtuous citizen that strived to better mankind.

however it suffers a major flaw.

that’s just not how Humanity let alone how the universe works in general. We don’t live in that perfect virtuous vacuum Plato so desperately wanted us too. 

Humans are by default, infallible, selfish, self centered, bratty, judgmental pricks who no matter how virtuous have dark and destructive tendencies. Whether it’s aimed towards ones self or their community, it doesn’t matter. Humans are just naturally assholes and if you don’t believe me go sit down, pick any point in history and just listen. History is filled to the brim with examples of why we don’t live in a perfect vacuum of virtue. Even with the best of intentions people still make one another miserable whether they know it or not. People are greedy, selfish, self serving and otherwise shitty one way or another. so ultimately even if its intent if founded in the purest, kindest, sweetest whatever have yous. It won’t work. 

Similar to how Plato’s utopian society doesn’t work, neither does Marxism nor Communism. it realize to heavily on that Vacuum that just doesn’t exist.

if you don’t believe me, just ask anyone from a Communist/Marxist country or if you’d rather read instead. Go read “Animal Farm” and come back, its okay I’ll wait.   

On the other hand this absolutely DOES NOT mean I am okay or fine with Facism or really ANY radicalism in general. if it isn’t clear already. 

not that brings me to the most controversial opinion I have and one not a lot of people (yourselves included) won’t like me for (most likely)

My stance on BLM:

I.

Don’t

Like.

Supremacy.

Of.

ANY. 

Kind.

And you know what, that’s just how I feel. If your movement involves challenging something by doing more of the same thing by design but just a different coat of paint. then no. I don’t like your thoughts or your movement because that’s just toxic and literally detrimental to everyone around you. 

if you feel like the only way to fight “White supremacy” is with “Black supremacy” then expect me to think your a horrible (closeted) racist. The people who bang the table the loudest about an issue, are usually the people causing it in the first place. So how do we solve the issue of racism, the same way you deal with terrorists actually. By making fun of them and mocking their awful opinions. 

Everyone is special and one of a kind, and even considering the notion of it not and taking it seriously is beyond the scope of any sane logic one should have. Treating racism with even a monikerum, a snibblie of seriousness is only feeding into and perpetuating the said issue.

if you make fun of it, like how we make fun of outdated ideals like Sexism and Terrorism. laugh at the people who do toxic shit, they fucking HATE being mocked or laughed at since they honestly want you to be a misreble as they are. So don’t let them. Also education is good, ignorance bad.

anyways may write a part 2 later, my second dose of the covid shot (moderna) kicked in and I am suffering...

[theculturedmarxist]

The Israeli newspaper Haaretz has run a fascinating long report this week offering a disturbing snapshot of the political climate rapidly emerging across Europe on the issue of antisemitism. The article documents a kind of cultural, political and intellectual reign of terror in Germany since the parliament passed a resolution last year equating support for non-violent boycotts of Israel – in solidarity with Palestinians oppressed by Israel – with antisemitism.

The article concerns Germany but anyone reading it will see very strong parallels with what is happening in other European countries, especially the UK and France.

The same European leaders who a few years ago marched in Paris shouting “Je suis Charlie” – upholding the inalienable free speech rights of white Europeans to offend Muslims by insulting and ridiculing their Prophet – are now queuing up to outlaw free speech when it is directed against Israel, a state that refuses to end its belligerent occupation of Palestinian land. European leaders have repeatedly shown they are all too ready to crush the free speech of Palestinians, and those in solidarity with them, to avoid offending sections of the Jewish community.

The situation reduces to this: European Muslims have no right to take offence at insults about a religion they identify with, but European Jews have every right to take offence at criticism of an aggressive Middle Eastern state they identify with. Seen another way, the perverse secular priorities of European mainstream culture now place the sanctity of a militarised state, Israel, above the sanctity of a religion with a billion followers.

Guilt by association

This isn’t even a double standard. I can’t find a word in the dictionary that conveys the scale and degree of hypocrisy and bad faith involved.

If the American Jewish scholar Norman Finkelstein wrote a follow-up to his impassioned book The Holocaust Industry – on the cynical use of the Holocaust to enrich and empower a Jewish organisational establishment at the expense of the Holocaust’s actual survivors – he might be tempted to title it The Antisemitism Industry.

In the current climate in Europe, one that rejects any critical thinking in relation to broad areas of public life, that observation alone would enough to have one denounced as an antisemite. Which is why the Haaretz article – far braver than anything you will read in a UK or US newspaper – makes no bones about what is happening in Germany. It calls it a “witch-hunt”. That is Haaretz’s way of saying that antisemitism has been politicised and weaponised – a self-evident conclusion that will currently get you expelled from the British Labour party, even if you are Jewish.

The Haaretz story highlights two important developments in the way antisemitism has been, in the words of intellectuals and cultural leaders cited by the newspaper, “instrumentalised” in Germany.

Jewish organisations and their allies in Germany, as Haaretz reports, are openly weaponising antisemitism not only to damage the reputation of Israel’s harsher critics, but also to force out of the public and cultural domain – through a kind of “antisemitism guilt by association” – anyone who dares to entertain criticism of Israel.

Cultural associations, festivals, universities, Jewish research centres, political think-tanks, museums and libraries are being forced to scrutinise the past of those they wish to invite in case some minor transgression against Israel can be exploited by local Jewish organisations. That has created a toxic, politically paranoid atmosphere that inevitably kills trust and creativity.

But the psychosis runs deeper still. Israel, and anything related to it, has become such a combustible subject – one that can ruin careers in an instant – that most political, academic and cultural figures in Germany now choose to avoid it entirely. Israel, as its supporters intended, is rapidly becoming untouchable.

A case study noted by Haaretz is Peter Schäfer, a respected professor of ancient Judaism and Christianity studies who was forced to resign as director of Berlin’s Jewish Museum last year. Schäfer’s crime, in the eyes of Germany’s Jewish establishment, was that he staged an exhibition on Jerusalem that recognised the city’s three religious traditions, including a Muslim one.

He was immediately accused of promoting “historical distortions” and denounced as “anti-Israel”. A reporter for Israel’s rightwing Jerusalem Post, which has been actively colluding with the Israeli government to smear critics of Israel, contacted Schäfer with a series of inciteful emails. The questions included “Did you learn the wrong lesson from the Holocaust?” and “Israeli experts told me you disseminate antisemitism – is that true?”

Schäfer observes:

The accusation of antisemitism is a club that allows one to deal a death blow, and political elements who have an interest in this are using it, without a doubt… The museum staff gradually entered a state of panic. Then of course we also started to do background checks. Increasingly it poisoned the atmosphere and our work.

Another prominent victim of these Jewish organisations tells Haaretz:

Sometimes one thinks, “To go to that conference?”, “To invite this colleague?” Afterward it means that for three weeks, I’ll have to cope with a shitstorm, whereas I need the time for other things that I get paid for as a lecturer. There is a type of “anticipatory obedience” or “prior self-censorship”.

Ringing off the hook

There is nothing unusual about what is happening in Germany. Jewish organisations are stirring up these “shitstorms” – designed to paralyse political and cultural life for anyone who engages in even the mildest criticism of Israel – at the highest levels of government. Don’t believe me? Here is Barack Obama explaining in his recent autobiography his efforts as US president to curb Israel’s expansion of its illegal settlements. Early on, he was warned to back off or face the wrath of the Israel lobby:

Members of both parties worried about crossing the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC). Those who criticized Israeli policy too loudly risked being tagged as “anti-Israel” (and possibly anti-Semitic) and confronted with a well-funded opponent in the next election.

Corbyn, it seems, has found an unlikely ally in former US President Obama. In his new autobiography, he writes of the Israel lobby's power: 'Those who criticized Israeli policy too loudly risked being tagged as "anti-Israel" (and possibly anti-Semitic)' https://t.co/tKmy8q3Cws

— Jonathan Cook (@Jonathan_K_Cook) November 26, 2020

When Obama went ahead anyway in 2009 and proposed a modest freeze on Israel’s illegal settlements:

The White House phones started ringing off the hook, as members of my national security team fielded calls from reporters, leaders of American Jewish organizations, prominent supporters, and members of Congress, all wondering why we were picking on Israel … this sort of pressure continued for much of 2009.

He observes further:

The noise orchestrated by Netanyahu had the intended effect of gobbling up our time, putting us on the defensive, and reminding me that normal policy differences with an Israeli prime minister – even one who presided over a fragile coalition government – exacted a political cost that didn’t exist when I dealt with the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Japan, Canada, or any of our other closest allies.

Doubtless, Obama dare not put down in writing his full thoughts about Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu or the US lobbyists who worked on his behalf. But Obama’s remarks do show that, even a US president, supposedly the single most powerful person on the planet, ended up blanching in the face of this kind of relentless assault. For lesser mortals, the price is likely to be far graver.

No free speech on Israel

It was this same mobilisation of Jewish organisational pressure – orchestrated, as Obama notes, by Israel and its partisans in the US and Europe – that ended up dominating Jeremy Corbyn’s five years as the leader of Britain’s leftwing Labour party, recasting a well-known anti-racism activist almost overnight as an antisemite.

It is the reason why his successor, Sir Keir Starmer, has outsourced part of Labour’s organisational oversight on Jewish and Israel-related matters to the very conservative Board of Deputies of British Jews, as given expression in Starmer’s signing up to the Board’s “10 Pledges”.

It is part of the reason why Starmer recently suspended Corbyn from the party, and then defied the membership’s demands that he be properly reinstated, after Corbyn expressed concerns about the way antisemitism allegations had been “overstated for political reasons” to damage him and Labour. (The rightwing Starmer, it should be noted, was also happy to use antisemitism as a pretext to eradicate the socialist agenda Corbyn had tried to revive in Labour.) It is why Starmer has imposed a blanket ban on constituency parties discussing Corbyn’s suspension. And it is why Labour’s shadow education secretary has joined the ruling Conservative party in threatening to strip universities of their funding if they allow free speech about Israel on campus.

Disturbing to learn from this article that Labour backs threatening funding to universities to bully them into adopting the IHRA re-definition of antisemitism – a definition that protects Israel from criticism and would ban most forms of solidarity with Palestinians on campus

— Jonathan Cook (@Jonathan_K_Cook) December 8, 2020

Two types of Jews

But the Haaretz article raises another issue critical to understanding how Israel and the Jewish establishment in Europe are politicising antisemitism to protect Israel from criticism. The potential Achilles’ heel of their campaign are Jewish dissidents, those who break with the supposed “Jewish community” line and create a space for others – whether Palestinians or other non-Jews – to criticise Israel. These Jewish dissenters risk serving as a reminder that trenchant criticism of Israel should not result in one being tarred an antisemite.

Leading Palestinians warn: 'The fight against antisemitism has been increasingly instrumentalised by the Israeli government and its supporters in an effort to delegitimise the Palestinian cause and silence defenders of Palestinian rights' https://t.co/Shu1Z7XYM1

— Jonathan Cook (@Jonathan_K_Cook) December 1, 2020

Israel and Jewish organisations, however, have made it their task to erode that idea by promoting a distinction – an antisemitic one, at that – between two types of Jews: good Jews (loyal to Israel), and bad Jews (disloyal to Israel).

Haaretz reports that officials in Germany, such as Felix Klein, the country’s antisemitism commissioner, and Josef Schuster, president of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, are being allowed to define not only who is an antisemite, typically using support for Israel as the yardstick, but are also determining who are good Jews – those politically like them – and who are bad Jews – those who disagree with them.

Despite Germany’s horrific recent history of Jew hatred, the German government, local authorities, the media, universities and cultural institutions have been encouraged by figures like Klein and Schuster to hound German Jews, even Israeli Jews living and working in Germany, from the country’s public and cultural space.

When, for example, a group of Israeli Jewish academics in Berlin held a series of online discussions about Zionism last year on the website of their art school, an Israeli reporter soon broke the story of a “scandal” involving boycott supporters receiving funding from the German government. Hours later the art school had pulled down the site, while the German education ministry issued a statement clarifying that it had provided no funding. The Israeli embassy officially declared the discussions held by these Israelis as “antisemitic”, and a German foundation that documents antisemitism added the group to the list of antisemitic incidents it records.

Described as ‘kapos’

So repressive has the cultural and political atmosphere grown in Germany that there has been a small backlash among cultural leaders. Some have dared to publish a letter protesting against the role of Klein, the antisemitism commissioner. Haaretz reports:

The antisemitism czar, the letter charged, is working “in synergy with the Israeli government” in an effort “to discredit and silence opponents of Israel’s policies” and is abetting the “instrumentalization” that undermines the true struggle against antisemitism. 

Figures like Klein have been so focused on tackling criticism of Israel from the left, including the Jewish left, that they have barely noted the “acute danger Jews in Germany face due to the surge in far-right antisemitism”, the letter argues.

Again, the same picture can be seen across Europe. In the UK, the opposition Labour party, which should be a safe space for those leading the anti-racism struggle, is purging itself of Jews critical of Israel and using anti-semitism smears against prominent anti-racists, especially from other oppressed minorities.

Extraordinarily, Naomi Wimborne-Idrissi, one of the founders of Jewish Voice for Labour, which supports Corbyn, recently found herself suspended by Starmer’s Labour. She had just appeared in a moving video in which she explained the ways antisemitism was being used by Jewish organisations to smear Jewish left-wingers like herself as “traitors” and “kapos” – an incendiary term of abuse, as Wimborne-Idrissi points out, that refers to “a Jewish inmate of a concentration camp who collaborated with the [Nazi] authorities, people who collaborated in the annihilation of their own people”.

In suspending her, Starmer effectively endorsed this campaign by the UK’s Jewish establishment of incitement against, and vilification of, leftwing Jews.

The aggressive purge of Jews from the Labour Party under the repressive rule of @Keir_Starmer marches on.

I haven't seen a sustained campaign of overt anti-Semitism quite like the effort of Labour centrists to create lists of Good Jews & Bad Jews and purge the latter. https://t.co/wVwnu47QJP

— Glenn Greenwald (@ggreenwald) December 3, 2020

Earlier, Marc Wadsworth, a distinguished black anti-racism campaigner, found himself similarly suspended by Labour when he exposed the efforts of Ruth Smeeth, then a Labour MP and a former Jewish official in the Israel lobby group BICOM, to recruit the media to her campaign smearing political opponents on the left as antisemites.

In keeping with the rapid erosion of critical thinking in civil society organisations designed to uphold basic freedoms, Smeeth was recently appointed director of the prestigious free speech organisation Index on Censorship. There she can now work on suppressing criticism of Israel – and attack “bad Jews” – under cover of fighting censorship. In the new, inverted reality, censorship refers not to the smearing and silencing of a “bad Jew” like Wimborne-Idrissi, but to criticism of Israel over its human rights abuses, which supposedly “censors” the identification of “good Jews” with Israel – now often seen as the crime of “causing offence”.

Ok, we've now officially moved from Alice Through the Looking Glass into the Twilight Zone.

Ruth Smeeth, ex-Israel lobbyist for Bicom and a key player in outlawing solidarity for Palestinians in the Labour party, is the new CEO of free speech group Index on Censorship! https://t.co/UmHXbTQETS

— Jonathan Cook (@Jonathan_K_Cook) June 15, 2020

Boy who cried wolf

The Haaretz article helps to contextualise Europe’s current antisemitism “witch-hunt”, which targets anyone who criticises Israel or stands in solidarity with oppressed Palestinians, or associates with such people. It is an expansion of the earlier campaign by the Jewish establishment against “the wrong kind of Jew”, as identified by Finkelstein in The Holocaust Industry. But this time Jewish organisations are playing a much higher-stakes, and more dangerous, political game.

Haaretz rightly fears that the Jewish leadership in Europe is not only silencing ordinary Jews but degrading the meaning – the shock value – of antisemitism through the very act of politicising it. Jewish organisations risk alienating the European left, which has historically stood with them against Jew hatred from the right. European anti-racists suddenly find themselves equated with, and smeared as, fledgling neo-Nazis.

If those who support human rights and demand an end to the oppression of Palestinians find themselves labelled antisemitic, it will become ever harder to distinguish between bogus (weaponised) “antisemitism” on the left and real Jew hatred from the right. The antisemitism smearers – and their fellow travellers like Keir Starmer – are likely to end up suffering their very own “boy who cried wolf” syndrome.

Or as Haaretz notes:

The issue that is bothering the critics of the Bundestag [German parliament] resolution is whether the extension of the concept of antisemitism to encompass criticism of Israel is not actually adversely affecting the battle against antisemitism. The argument is that the ease with which the accusation is leveled could have the effect of eroding the concept itself. 

The Antisemitism Industry

It is worth noting the shared features of the new Antisemitism Industry and Finkelstein’s earlier discussions of the Holocaust Industry.

In his book, Finkelstein identifies the “wrong Jews” as people like his mother, who survived a Nazi death camp as the rest of her family perished. These surviving Jews, Finkelstein argues, were valued by the Holocaust Industry only in so far as they served as a promotional tool for the Jewish establishment to accumulate more wealth and cultural and political status. Otherwise, the victims were ignored because the actual Holocaust’s message – in contrast to the Jewish leadership’s representation of it – was universal: that we must oppose and fight all forms of racism because they lead to persecution and genocide.

Instead the Holocaust Industry promoted a particularist, self-interested lesson that the Holocaust proves Jews are uniquely oppressed and that they therefore deserve a unique solution: a state, Israel, that must be given unique leeway by western states to commit crimes in violation of international law. The Holocaust Industry – very much to be distinguished from the real events of the Holocaust – is deeply entwined in, and rationalised by, the perpetuation of the racialist, colonial project of Israel.

In the case of the Antisemitism Industry, the “wrong Jew” surfaces again. This time the witch-hunt targets Jewish leftwingers, Jews critical of Israel, Jews opposed to the occupation, and Jews who support a boycott of the illegal settlements or of Israel itself. Again, the problem with these “bad Jews” is that they allude to a universal lesson, one that says Palestinians have at least as much right to self-determination, to dignity and security, in their historic homeland as Jewish immigrants who fled European persecution.

Keir Starmer needs to listen to the 'proudly pro-Israel' Americans for Peace Now. They reject the IHRA definition for 'weaponising' antisemitism and allowing 'McCarthyite witch hunts' of Israel critics. Only those living in a 'black hole' could support it https://t.co/mNCj0LqCky

— Jonathan Cook (@Jonathan_K_Cook) December 6, 2020

In contrast to the “bad Jews”, the Antisemitism Industry demands that a particularist conclusion be drawn about Israel – just as a particularist conclusion was earlier drawn by the Holocaust Industry. It says that to deny Jews a state is to leave them defenceless against the eternal virus of antisemitism. In this conception, the Holocaust may be uniquely abhorrent but it is far from unique. Non-Jews, given the right circumstances, are only too capable of carrying out another Holocaust. Jews must therefore always be protected, always on guard, always have their weapons (or in Israel’s case, its nuclear bombs) to hand.

‘Get out of jail’ card

This view, of course, seeks to ignore, or marginalise, other victims of the Holocaust – Romanies, communists, gays – and other kinds of racism. It needs to create a hierarchy of racisms, a competition between them, in which hatred of Jews is at the pinnacle. This is how we arrived at an absurdity: that anti-Zionism – misrepresented as the rejection of a refuge for Jews, rather than the reality that it rejects an ethnic, colonial state oppressing Palestinians – is the same as antisemitism.

Extraordinarily, as the Haaretz article clarifies, German officials are oppressing “bad Jews”, at the instigation of Jewish organisations, to prevent, as they see it, the re-emergence of the far-right and neo-Nazis. The criticisms of Israel made by the “bad Jew” are thereby not just dismissed as ideologically unsound or delusions but become proof that these Jews are colluding with, or at least nourishing, the Jew haters.

In this way, Germany, the UK and much of Europe have come to justify the exclusion of the “wrong Jew” – those who uphold universal principles for the benefit of all – from the public space. Which, of course, is exactly what Israel wants, because, rooted as it is in an ideology of ethnic exclusivity as a “Jewish state”, it necessarily rejects universal ethics.

What we see here is an illustration of a principle at the heart of Israel’s state ideology of Zionism: Israel needs antisemitism. Israel would quite literally have to invent antisemitism if it did not exist.

This is not hyperbole. The idea that the “virus of antisemitism” lies semi-dormant in every non-Jew waiting for a chance to overwhelm its host is the essential rationale for Israel. If the Holocaust was an exceptional historical event, if antisemitism was an ancient racism that in its modern incarnation followed the patterns of prejudice and hatred familiar in all racisms, from anti-black bigotry to Islamophobia, Israel would be not only redundant but an abomination – because it has been set up to dispossess and abuse another group, the Palestinians.

Antisemitism is Israel’s “get out of jail” card. Antisemitism serves to absolve Israel of the racism it structurally embodies and that would be impossible to overlook were Israel deprived of the misdirection weaponised antisemitism provides.

An empty space

The Haaretz article provides a genuine service by not only reminding us that “bad Jews” exist but in coming to their defence – something that European media is no longer willing to do. To defend “bad Jews” like Naomi Wimborne-Idrissi is to be contaminated with the same taint of antisemitism that justified the ejection of these Jews from the public space.

Haaretz records the effort of a few brave cultural institutions in Germany to protest, to hold the line, against this new McCarthyism. Their stand may fail. If it does, you may never become aware of it.

The fraudulent 'Labour antisemitism' controversy has empowered the most thuggish elements in the organised British Jewish community.

Case in point: the Campaign Against Antisemitism effectively calls for Professor David Feldman to keep quiet or be sacked. https://t.co/QWvNg84c2E

— JamieSW (@jsternweiner) December 4, 2020

Once, the “bad Jews” have been smeared into silence, as Palestinians and those who stand in solidarity with them largely have been already; when social media has de-platformed critics of Israel as Jew haters; when the media and political parties enforce this silence so absolutely they no longer need to smear anyone as an antisemite because these “antisemites” have been disappeared; when the Jewish “community” speaks with one voice because its other voices have been eliminated; when the censorship is complete, you will not know it.

There will be no record of what was lost. There will be simply an empty space, a blank slate, where discussions of Israel’s crimes against Palestinians once existed. What you will hear instead is only what Israel and its partisans want you to hear. Your ignorance will be blissfully complete.

[madamspeaker]

What did you think of the new biography? Is it better than Molly Ball's?

There is a rather long answer. I’ve popped it under a cut to spare everyone’s dashboard.

It's disappointing. I'm not saying this to put anyone off reading it - if you haven't read a book about Nancy before, it's a perfectly fine starter - but I suspect I made the error of getting my hopes up when Axios revealed that Paul had been interviewed for it and what it and the interviews with others might mean in terms of overall insights the book might provide. Paul's contribution, such as it is, is lovely, but I have to assume Page didn't spend very long talking to him given how few times he's quoted. I don't know the relationship between interviewer and interviewee, if he simply refused to answer some things, but we get no insight into how he felt to see his wife become Speaker. No insight into how he feels about the Republican attacks on her, the death threats etc. At one stage Alexandra asks her father what he thinks of his name being a dirty word. Page doesn't provide us his answer.

And therein lies the fundamental issue with the book  - potential but no follow through. The accident which the NY Post so callously called their favorite bit is given two lines of attention. I'm not making a case for traumatic stories filling every page, but when Page has spent a bit of time recounting a car accident Paul himself was in as a teenager, it might be worth devoting a little bit of time too to such an event later in Nancy's life when her husband pulls her and their children free of the jeep they were in, but then this feels typical of a book that spends a full chapter on Nancy's relationship with the "squad" but devotes next to no time talking about her longstanding relationships with others in Congress. Barbara Boxer and Rosa DeLauro manage a paragraph, which is more than Nita Lowey, who only gets a passing mention via a reference to Ilhan Omar. Now bear in mind that DeLauro, Lowey, and Pelosi were seen as such a legislative clique that the moniker DeLowSi was coined about them. You'd never know that from this book. Indeed it is never mentioned.

The book spends too much time on things it shouldn't, and doesn't devote nearly enough time, or simply skips altogether, things it should be giving chapters too. Nancy's trip to Tiananmen Square gets a passing mention. This in particular irked me because I'd listened to Nancy recount that trip in a Zoom yesterday afternoon. That whole incident should have been given more page space, but instead it's slipped in without much detail. The repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell doesn't even warrant a mention, nor does the climate bill that Nancy had wrangled through the house just before the ACA.

I think the main issue with the book is that is framed within the context of Trump. It's like Page mentally decided that whilst everything before 2016 was fine and moderately interesting, she knew her selling point would be Nancy in the era of the orange freakshow. It's like she wanted to run through everything else so she could get to 2016, but she also knew that she couldn't very well write about Nancy without mentioning the 2008 bailout of the banks, or the ACA. Now to be fair to Page, her chapter on the bailout, "Meltdown" is actually great. It's one of the standouts of the book along with "Earthquake", her chapter on Nancy and AIDS. Indeed "Earthquake" is such a good chapter that I'd probably keep screenshots to hand so that if any leftist asshole ever says Nancy hasn't done anything good, I can reply with them. The other standout is "Sala". Is it better than Ball's? I think they sit at much the same ranking. Each author has her own strengths, and I suspect the fact that Ball wrote her book a full year earlier than Page's might contribute to the focus shift between them. Ball's ACA chapter was genuinely a thrilling read - Page's is less so, but both women make the case that the ACA was as much Nancy's as Obama's, probably more, Page even goes so far as to call the chapter "PelosiCare". The thing I notice with Page though is that her interest seems to wane when Nancy becomes minorirty leader. That period doesn't really get much of a look in beyond mid-terms and leadership elections, whereas Ball, to her credit, kept with Nancy during that period and showed her to be the fixer of messes when things invaraibly went south between Obama and Boehner. Again I think this comes down to Page rushing to get to the Trump years.The other thing that jumped out at me was how Page is less inclined to show Obama as naive. Ball essentially presents a picture of a man, who whilst good and decent, was also legislatively over idealistic, often to the point of throwing Nancy under a bus, only for her to have to crawl out and fix the mess.You get very little of that with Page. There are insinuations from others, but Page never makes the final connection. Just a mention about the book's structure. On the face of it it seems linear and chronological, but within chapters Page has a habit of jumping around, and to the point that she has to explains things twice. I don't know if this is her style, or a case of poor editorial decisions, but at least three times I had to make sure I hadn't accidentally swipped backwards on my ereader when I found myself reading what seemed to be the exact same wording that I had seen minutes earlier. What does it cover? The insurrection is in there, athough given the time Page devotes to it, she'd had been better off not bothering and instead holding off to write something more substantial for the paperback next year. Her deadline seems to have been somewhere between impeachment #2 and inauguration day. The WaPo has a much better account of January 6th than Page does. The ACA and the 2008 bailout get the bulk of the legislative accomplishments, to be expected, but I was genuinely delighted to see Page cover Nancy's AIDS achievements too. Indeed she lists them. Covid relief gets a bit of time, not all that much given how much it dominated last year, but clearly Page's deadline blocked her from covering the ARP. If you are hoping for some insight into how Nancy or her family felt when she became Speaker, or feel about her accomplishments, being the subject of death threats etc, you won't find them here. Nor will you find any mention of what Nancy does for fun (the crossword gets a solitary mention). You'd never guess her to be into theatre or music. Sport gets a brief mention, but that whole recreational side of Nancy just doesn't feature. There is at least one questionable quote source that frankly made me raise my eyebrows when I saw his name. Sean Spicer, not exactly the bastion of truth, is quoted a couple of times in the book. The justification being that he had worked for Bush jnr. Weirdly Page does not interview Bush. She spends a lot of time on Nancy's parents, pre Nancy. I get the need to give some context to the environment Nancy grew up in, but she spends more time on them than she does on Nancy as kid or teenager. Almost like she is compensating for how deficient her book is when it comes to Nancy's personal life.

I appreciate that all that above seems very negative on my part, but when a book is billed as the "definitive biography", and the end result is far from it, then I think some criticism is valid. Page's book is a easy enough read, once you get used to the fact that she can repeat herself. She's fair narrator of Nancy the politician, but like Ball, she never gets close to Nancy away from Congress. Maybe this is why Page stuck on "Lessons of Power" to the title - in a way it gives her cover for essentially failing to get to grips with Nancy away from the Hill. In a way I wish Page and Ball had colaborated - both their books have strengths that the other doesn't, and together they might have been able to manage something more. As it goes, Page's book is a decent enough effort, but it's not definitive. Indeed such a book probably seems unlikely to ever materialise.

[smokeybrand]

Mutiny

I’m not a fan of Joe Rogen. I find a lot of what he says to be problematic as f*ck but the way he says it, is FAR more damaging. Dude pushes some wild, dangerous, nonsense under the guise of “free speech”, disingenuous “debate”, and insidiously leading questions. Rogen is the Frat Boy version of Tucker Carlson in a lot of ways and that sh*t just doesn’t appeal to me. Beta males who think too highly of themselves listen to this due and take him seriously. These are people who are not self-actualized, who’s entire personality is based on their car or their sneakers or some other superficial bullsh*t they confuse for a personality, and that’s what Rogen’s entire show is; Superficial bullsh*t. So when he pushes dumb-f*ckery like “Don’t get the shot if you’re young and healthy”, these idiots who are either teenagers or have the mentality of teenagers, f*cking listen and we have a spike in cases. Because Joe Rogen said so.

The other day, this asshole bought into that whole “White Fear” sh*t, talking about how the Straight White Male is the most persecuted demo in America and i just groaned. This is the same exact sh*t Carlson does on his show, verbatim, just slightly less racist. It’s the current strategy of what is fast becoming the American Fascist Party, Republicans. It’s hypocritical f*cking nonsense and i hate it. How the f*ck would Joe Rogen, a Straight White Male with a whole ass podcast, be silenced or censored or persecuted/ He’s a multi-millionaire with one of the most popular platforms on f*cking Spotify. How the f*ck would any White person, especially Straight White Males, get silenced in the US? The bones of this country are built to uphold a very specific form of White Supremacy. Hell, cats talk about all these rights and liberties but, in the very beginning, those rights were only extended to White Male Landowners; basically Rich White Men, and guess who the f*ck Joe Rogen is? The constitution had to be amended to include every one else which means this country was designed to be a haven for objective White Supremacy. The fact that they replaced Straight with Rich is just a misnomer used to broaden that division and you have assholes with real audiences buying into that dangerous bullsh*t, disseminating that poison to their followers. And they just drink that persecution complex kool-aid, up. It’s f*cking absurd.

The irony in all of this is the fact that the country is getting younger and browner. Statistically, by the time Gen Z’s kids come of age, we’ll outnumber White people. The margin will be slight but they’ll be the overall minority in this country and that’s why we have all of this fear-mongering and treasonous tantrums. That system the Founding Fathers built to protect their power, is falling apart. It's all a matter of time. Why do you think they're fighting so hard to keep DC and Puerto Rico from becoming actual States? I can guarantee those cats who signed the Constitution never anticipated the influx of melanated people over the years, interbreeding with their lily White sensibilities, or the homogeneity desegregation would bring to society or the way Black culture ended up shaping the entire American zeitgeist or how the Internet just blew the doors off any illusion US citizens had about our true status in the world at large. I was born in 1984. Ten years before i existed, the South was still heavily segregated. My generation, the Millennials, were the very first to be completely free from the social consequences of the Civil Rights Movement. We were far enough removed from that to just see people, not race. I was exposed to so many more cultures, religions, and people, as a kid, than my ma had been when she was young. It wasn’t like, all of a sudden, we were singing kumbaya together, but it was definitely a start, one that has only gained more and more momentum as the Generations who came after mine, started coming of age in a world whose borders are just ceremonial at this point because of the Tech age.

I met my chick and made friends across the globe in a chatroom. One of my closest friends lives in New Zealand. Another stays in Finland. My birthday twin lives in England. She’s a year older than i am and has a beautiful family. My Puerto Rican sister met her dude around the same time i met my chick. He’s from Alabama. She moved from the island to be with him and they've settled down in Georgia where they share a beautiful daughter. My best friend became so close with an Asian girl from Australia, that he adopted her as his own sister. They spoke at least twice a week for the next fifteen years, all the way up until he passed away. The world is much smaller, much clearer, than it has ever  been before, and it turns out that it’s full of color. Color these Straight White Men are, apparently, terrified of. That’s got to be it. That’s got to be why they’re throwing these big ass tantrums and constantly fear-mongering about it. I don’t understand. When Brie Larson said what she said, it was the truth. There are THOUSANDS of films about White dudes you can watch. The entirety of film history is Straight White Males. What is so bad abut getting some chicks or People of Color or some LBGTQ representation in a few leads? Why can't we have strong Black performances in movies where we don't play the “magical Negro” or f*cking Slave? Why can't we have an all Asian cast when the principals aren't constantly fetishized? What is so terrible about giving a role to a Muslim that isn't linked to some ridiculous terrorist trope? Who’s really offended by this and why are they so goddamn fervent about it? Straight White Males, bud.

It’s because their grip on the reins is slipping. The power and the privilege they’ve had for so long, too long, is started to tip in the other direction. The playing field is, ever so slowly, evening out and these Straight White Males are losing their sh*t. They’ll talk about “being racist against white people” and “it's fine to interview everyone but hire cats who are qualified” with one breath but then absolutely savage voting rights directly focused on crippling the Black vote and desperately cling to the idea that 45 still deserves to be president, even though a steady stream of his criminal incompetence has been flowing out of the the White House since he’s left. The level cognitive dissonance is f*cking hilarious. It’s as bad as the GOP complaining about “cancel culture” while literally silencing Liz Cheney. Are you f*cking kidding me? I gotta sit here and listen to a very vocal minority complain about the direction of the MCU because they’ve decided to add a plethora of female and POC roles going forward into Phase Four. They keep asking “who's this for?” and it's obvious it's for everyone, not just Straight White Males. That, to them, means it's going to be bad. Just because the focus has shifted from three White dudes in leading roles, suddenly the MCU has lost it's way. It’s like, all of a sudden, just because the MCU wants to represent their audience as a whole, not just a narrow and shrinking part of it, we’re not supposed to trust in Feige anymore. Are you kidding me? The Green Knight is slated to be another massive hit for A24. The cat who wrote that film was bounced from studio to studio because he created that story specifically as a vehicle for Dev Patel and no major studio wanted to make it with him in the lead. Dev Patel is a f*cking Oscar winner and a brilliant actor but this movie, draped in surreal and beautiful imagery, driven by a visceral, bloody, focus, wasn’t going to get made because the lead this plot was specifically written for, happens to be brown. But Straight White Males are the ones being silenced? Okay, bud.

Joe Rogen is a symptom of a greater problem and it’s the problem of White Fragility. White Fragility fuels the worst of our society. It's the genesis of racism and bigotry. It drives Nationalism and is fertile ground for cults of personality which blossom into whole ass dictatorships. These motherf*ckers are in they’re feelings and will burn this country to the ground if it means they will stop getting their way. Brie Larson calls out the ridiculousness of the race bias in Hollywood? They attack. Arizona flips Blue because Indigenous people and Black folks come out to vote in droves? Voter fraud and four recounts, one months after the election has been called and Biden has already taken office. Jordan Peele says, out loud, to the entire country, that he’s not interested in telling stories with White people in the lead? Shadow banned from Hollywood. Dude was the toast of Hollywood after Get Out and Us. He said what he said and cat's been trapped behind the camera as a Producer ever since. It’s nuts because these people complaining about how hard it is to be and how unfair the current social climate is to Straight White Males, have called Twatter NPCs whiny, SJW, children, for years. Bro,you’re the same, just racist! You are the Trump to their Obama. You are the thermodynamic reaction to their Civil action. You assholes are arguing the same merit, just on the opposite ends of the spectrum so, if they’re whiny assholes, wouldn’t you have to be, too? The only difference is that the Twatter assholes have a zeal for inclusion while you Rogen Bros have a penchant for White Supremacy and, given the choice, I'd have to agree with the Blue Checkmarks in this regard.

Straight White Males have had the run of this country since before it was a country and look what they’ve done with it. Look where we are, right now, in the year of our lord, 2021. This is as far as we have come under their stewardship. It’s time for a new captain, i think. Sorry if that hard truth hurts your feelings. Now please steer us away from those very obvious rocks. I’d rather not violently crash into that reef and sink into a watery grave before we can get our hands on the wheel to right this ship, all because you assholes are in your feelings, thank you.

[keplercryptids]

nonfiction LGBTQ+ books i read this year

i read a lot this year, and a good chunk of it was LGBTQ+ nonfiction. so i thought it might be nice to list what i read. as a note, many of these books deal with LGBTQ history in the United States. too often, mainstream US-centric LGBTQ texts focus on white middle-class cisgender folks, though I’ve done my best to balance that as much as possible with other perspectives. (that being said, if you got ‘em, i would LOVE book recommendations that tackle worldwide/non-white LGBTQ issues!)

Accessibility notes: Given the nature of the genre, there’s a lot of intense discussion re: homophobia and transphobia. Basically every book listed covers those things to some extent, and I’ve specified where there’s additional potentially triggering content. (If you have specific questions about triggers, please let me know!) also, some of these books are on the academic side. I’ve done my best to note when a book was very academic or when I found it to be more readable. (full disclosure on that note: I’m a college grad and voracious reader without any reading-specific learning disabilities, so my opinion may be different than yours!) as a final note, I was able to access most of these as e-books/audiobooks through my local library. I live in a major metropolitan area, if that gives you any idea of how easy it’ll be for you to find these books. I’ve noted when a book was more difficult to get my hands on.

History

Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World 1890-1940 by George Chauncey. As the title suggests, this book focuses on gay male communities in NYC pre-World War 2. Even with that limited scope, this is an important read to better understand gay male history in the early 20th century. Gay communities thrived in the early 1900s and this snapshot of that is really wonderful. This is definitely more of an academic read, but I highly recommend it. while it definitely focuses on white middle-class gay men, there was more discussion of poor and/or gay men of color than i had actually expected, so that’s nice. (CW for rape and sexual assault, homophobic violence and medicalization of homosexuality.)

Queering the Color Line: Race and the Invention of Homosexuality in American Culture by Siobhan B. Somerville. Finally, a book about queer history that actually talks about black people! I was expecting more of a history book, whereas this was more of a critique of specific novels, plays and movies of the early 1900s and was way more focused than i was expecting. don’t get me wrong, I majored in English lit so i’m super into that kind of analysis as well, it just wasn’t as far-reaching as I would have liked. Also, it’s very academic. (Only the print version was available at my library.) (CW for racism, mentions of slavery.)

Transgender History by Susan Striker. This book describes itself as an “approachable introductory text” to transgender history in the US, which I agree with. It’s a pretty short read given the enormity of the topic, so it doesn’t go into much detail about specific groups or events, but imo it’s a good introduction. Especially interesting to me was the information about where and when TERF ideology began. Academic but on the easier-to-read side. (CW for transphobia, gross TERF rhetoric, brief mentions of the AIDS crisis, police violence.)

Gay Revolution by Lillian Faderman. okay so, I gave this 1 star. it’s probably a good book if you know absolutely nothing about US LGBTQ history and want an intro, but a review on goodreads said that it should be called Gay Assimilation instead and i completely agree. Faderman focuses on white middle-to-upper class gay and lesbian assimilationists, often at the expense of radical queer and trans people of color. The latter is hardly mentioned at all, which is ridiculous given trans folks’ contributions to the LGBTQ movement. When radical people ARE mentioned, it’s often in a disparaging way, or in a way that positions the radicals as too extreme. Faderman constantly repeats the refrain that the fight for LGBT rights was “just like what black people did for their rights” without any addendum about why that is...not a good take. There’s no meaningful discussion of race, class or intersectionality. She lauds Obama as a hero for the gays and there’s a ton (I mean a TON) of content about how military acceptance + gay marriage = we won, or whatever. anyway, i wasn’t a fan, although many of the events and organizations discussed in this book are important to know just from a factual basis. (CW for all the stuff I mentioned, plus police violence, medicalization of homosexuality. it’s also fucking LONG so i recommend the audiobook, lol.)

Queer (In)Justice: The Criminalization of LGBT People in the United States by Joey L. Mogul,  Andrea J. Ritchie, and Kay Whitlock. This is “a searing examination of queer experiences--as ‘suspects,’ defendants, prisoners, and survivors of crime.” A frequently upsetting but super important read about how LGBTQ identities have been policed in the past, and currently are policed today. i wish there was more focus on trans folks, but other than that it’s a solid read. (CW for all the things you’d expect a book about policing and imprisoning LGBTQ folks to include: police and institutionalized violence, sexual assault, transphobia, homophobia.)

Stonewall by Martin Duberman. This book follows the lives and activism of six LGBTQ folks before, during and after the Stonewall riots. Note: Stonewall itself is only discussed in one chapter about 2/3 of the way through, the rest of the book dedicated to the six individuals’ lives and activism up to and after that point. It’s a history book with a strong narrative focus that I found to be a fairly accessible read. (CW for minors engaging in sex work and sexual predation by adults, sexual and domestic violence, police violence, drug and alcohol abuse, mentions of suicide.)

And the Band Played On: Politics, People, and the AIDS Epidemic by Randy Shilts. This is a HEAVY but really important read about the AIDS epidemic in the US, tracking the disease and the political/cultural response from about 1980-1985. It’s journalistic nonfiction, so although it’s a very long book I found it easier to read than more academic-y books. the only thing i really disliked was how the book demonized “Patient Zero” in quite unfair ways, but it was originally published in ‘87 so that explains part of it. I want to stress again that it’s heavy, as you’d expect a book about thousands of deaths to be. (CW: oh boy where to start. Graphic descriptions of disease/death, graphic descriptions of sex, medical neglect, republican nonsense.)

Memoirs, essays, etc

Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme edited by Ivan E. Coyote. i felt mixed about this one! i appreciated the different perspectives regarding gender and desire, especially since this anthology contains a lot of essays by people who came of age in the 60s-80s (so there’s a historical bent too). but some of the essays feel dated, at best, and offensive at worst. there was more than one instance of TERF-y ideology thrown in. probably 1/4 of the essays were really really great, and i’d still recommend reading it in order to form your own opinions--also, imo it’s useful to see where TERF ideology comes from. this book was harder to find, and i had to order a print version through interlibrary loan. (CW for a few TERFy essays. i read this earlier in the year so it’s possible i’m forgetting some other triggers, sorry!)

Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation by (editors) Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman. Serving as a follow-up of sorts to Bornstein’s Gender Outlaw, this is a collection of narratives by transgender and gender-nonconforming folks. While not “history” in a technical sense, many of the writers are 30+ and give a wide array of LGBTQ+ experiences, past and present, that are important. I didn’t agree with every single viewpoint, of course, duh! But some of the essays were really powerful and overall it’s a good read. (CW for one essay about eating disorders, some outdated language/reclaimed slurs as to be expected--language is one of the main themes of the collection actually so the “outdatedness” is important.)

S/He by Minnie Bruce Pratt. A memoir published in 1995, focusing on Minnie’s life, marriage, gender identity, eventual coming out and relationship with Leslie Feinberg. i really enjoyed this one. it was beautifully written. there are many erotic elements to this memoir so keep that in mind. also was a little harder to get, and i had to order a print version via interlibrary loan. (i read this awhile ago and can’t remember specific triggers, sorry! if anyone knows of some, please let me know.)

I’m Afraid of Men by Vivek Shraya. A memoir by a trans woman ruminating on masculinity. it’s beautiful and very short (truly more of a longform essay), so it’s a good one if you don’t have the attention span/time for longer books. (CW for sexism, harassment, transphobia.)

Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde. god, this memoir is gorgeous and is one of my favorite books of the year. it chronicles Audre’s childhood in Harlem and her coming-of-age in the 1950s as a lesbian. ultimately, this is a book about love and that resonates throughout every page. idk can you tell i loved this book so much??? (CW for child abuse, sexual assault, a friend’s suicide, racism.)

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir by Samra Habib. suuuuch a good book! Samra writes about her life as she and her family arrive in Canada as refugees from Pakistan in her early childhood, onto her life today as a queer Muslim woman of color, photographer and activist. beautifully written and just such an important perspective. Only the print version was available at my library. (CW for child sexual assault, a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation, non-graphic mentions of domestic violence, racism and sexism.)

Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kababe. this is a beautifully illustrated graphic novel memoir about the author’s journey of discovering eir identity as queer. i related to a lot of it, which was great on a personal level, but i also think it could be a great educational tool for those wanting to know more about gender queerness (especially for those who prefer graphic novels!) (CW for gender dysphoria, descriptions of gynecological exams, imagery of blood and a couple pages depicting being impaled, some nudity, vomit.)

[arcticdementor]

Recently, a lot of you who told me I was insane when I said that Winnie the flu was all theater and though it existed and was a flu and would probably take “severe flu, no vaccine numbers” it was and is stupid to lock the sick and the healthy in, destroy the economy and make everyone wear a mask, have come back and ask how I knew. And apologized.

Well, attention in the isles, my friends on the right: you are falling for the same king of bullshit diversion. You are being spun like a top. And you’re falling for it and falling in line.

I blame you and I don’t. You didn’t grow up with the constant-pretend-reality of communist psi-ops, and you haven’t learned to smell it.

Over and over again, you condemn Trump and the “rioters.”

NO ONE RIOTED. Not compared to this summer. THERE WERE NO RIOTS. And the protesters were treated with an iron fist and live ammo, btw.

There are videos. I don’t know which ones are still live. They keep removing them. There was no riot. There was a protest. You know, those things that are vital for public health?

Did they go into the Capitol? Yes they did. You know what? It’s a public building. WE PAY FOR THE F*CKING CAPITOL’S UPKEEP.

But, but but…. the congress critters ran. They were scared!

Were they now? WHY? No, seriously, why were they scared, if the people they work for want to watch the deliberations. They’re in our presence all the time. You know the worst thing we do — or used to do — we called them traitors. That was it.

But they vandalized Nancy Pelosi’s office! Oh, my stars and garters? Evil people. Was that before or after she vandalized our constitution and sank a knife in the heart of the republic? Is the evil bitch dangling from a lamppost this morning? No? They were civilized beyond all hope.

But Sarah, you’ll say, this will give them the excuse to avenge themselves on us.

Dear idiots, you’re like the wife with her arm in a sling and both eyes blackened telling her husband “Please don’t say anything to Joe. He’ll be mad.”

In other words, are you out of your ever loving little minds? These people STOLE two elections — it’s now absolutely obvious the nominal right is fine with this. They hope for crumbs from their masters’ tables. The left is more likely to kill them, but never mind — in a row, in full view, and refused to let us have our day in court to show the evidence. Because the American people are now peons with NO STANDING and can be disenfranchised with no punishment. But you’re afraid that largely (truly) peaceful protesters “made them mad?”

Withdrawing the objection to the fraudulent votes due to the riot? That only makes sense in the mind of an abuser. “I stole your thing, and I was going to maybe give it back, but you cried, so now you don’t get it back.” Are you all actually out of your ever loving minds to blame the protesters and Trump for this?

These people are saying “You peasants dared to show up in our presence. We’re now going to take away even the illusion of franchise.” And…. you’re cool with this? It’s the protesters fault?

Get up off the floor. Wipe the blood from your lip. KNOW WHO YOUR ABUSER IS.

And BTW it’s not Trump. Trump thought maybe if congress saw how ad people were, they would play straight. I said before that’s all the protest was about, and that’s all it was. He told people to go home when it was obvious it had failed.

And I hope to G-d someone with access to him reads this and tells him it’s time. Take the family NOW and go to an undisclosed location. As much as it hurts me to say this, because I want him to continue harassing the left, he has to realize this is no longer the sweet land of liberty. This is now a tyrannical third world shithole. Or will be within months from the way our occupiers are behaving. They will find a way to kill him and his whole family, or kill him and turn his family against him. Go Mr. President. G-d bless. You’ve done all that you could. If the so called right in this country will pearl clutch and blame even people who engage in a very mild protest, they deserve what’s to come.

He now promises an orderly transition. I will tell all of you that DEAD is the most orderly of all states. And right now the Republic is effectively dead. There might be a hope for CPR, but I’m not sure there’s the will to apply it. Pence has joined the rats fleeing to the lefty rotten ship. because he hopes that will save his life. Spoiler, it won’t. The left will kill all the right who turns their coat. Because they can’t trust them. Good. They deserve it. I shall eat popcorn.

Do we ever get the republic back? I don’t know. I think the most likely thing is that we fall apart into separate states while around us the world falls into chaos, famine and misery. We’ve been feeding the world for a century. The world had better look to itself now.

What do those of us who’ve sworn an oath to the constitution do? I don’t know. Most are still busily doing a Peter in Pontius Pilates Yard “I was never with him.”

Oh, and there’s talks of rounding up Trump supporters. Of denying them flights and hotels and the ability to engage in commerce.

I suppose that’s the “protesters” fault too? Except that that, like the paper to withdraw objections because of the “protest” were already written. They would have found an excuse.

I don’t want war. But I liked having a homeland. To everyone who, like me, came here as the last place of refuge: I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to tell you. We need to fight this, but even if we do, unless the natural-born citizens see what they’re losing, it’s unlikely we’ll ever get our country back.

This morning, in DC, the police are beating down what remains of protesters. A young woman was murdered in cold blood yesterday.

And our side is pearl clutching and tut tuting, and hoping the abuser won’t get mad. Oh, and talking about 2022, because seeing two elections frauded RIGHT BEFORE THEIR EYES and courts refusing to let anyone see evidence of it is not enough. They need to be stomped on some more before they believe they’ve lost the franchise.

Me? I’ve seen what happens when your votes don’t matter. Elections will continue as a form, possibly for fifty years, if we let this bullshit go on that long. Your next president after Commie laWhorish is Michelle Obama, because the ignorant bitch hasn’t shit on us enough. She felt stupid and inferior at Harvard, and by gum, she’s going to make you grovel to pay for your sins.

But your real masters are now Winnie the Pooh and his merry band of fascists. And we know what they do and how.

I can’t get the order, but we’re about to see: social credit; the banning of conservatives from the internet; branding us as terrorists, just as they’re doing to innocent protesters; show trials; people disappearing; our money confiscated; our houses confiscated; more lock downs, to prevent revolt; more masks to promote alienation; more lies.

When people die in the famine to come, it will be Covid-19 and Trump’s fault and you’ll be required to repeat it publicly.

It wont’ last. These commies are industrial-level STUPID. It won’t last. I give them ten years, maybe, before most of the country is starving, and they have no clue what to do about it. And then it all falls apart, because unlike Venezuelans, we have no one to help and no place to run to.

Or, you know, we can stop pearl clutching and say “Hell no.” and “Molon labe” and stop repeating the lies the left wants written into history.

To lefty idiots: yes, the election was stolen. Because if it had NOT been, the left would have joined the right in demanding the courts take the case, and that it be shown to all as an honest election. Also, to lefty idiots, what the protesters — and all of us at home — want? ANOTHER ELECTION with minimum accountability. I mean, we can’t even clean the roles. There wouldn’t be enough time. We just wanted to make sure each person voted only once, and the votes were counted with full supervision.

Instead, you’re handing off the country to China, via their bought and paid for man, Biden. Yes, I know you heard good things about China. You’ll find out, along with the craven right that the leftist press makes Pravda seem honest. Enjoy the ride.

As for you and me, my friends. We’re going to eat the bread that the devil baked. Save what you can from the ruin. It won’t be much. And don’t let them into your head. NEVER let them into your head. They’re invaders. They’re oppressors. They’re thieves. Treat them as what they are. Do not comply unless you have to, and then engage in malicious compliance.

Keep the republic in your heart. Maybe there are enough of us left that it will rise again. But in the meantime, this is going to hurt and hurt badly. And the longer the restoration of law takes, the higher the butcher’s bill.

Most of you have no idea how bad it will get. Imagine your worst nightmares. Then double them. Prepare for that as best you can. You won’t be able to do much. If you’re lucky they’ll leave you your conscience.

Your country was invaded (even if the invaders were born here, their masters aren’t) and is about to be raped. The least you can do is not cooperate.

[go-redgirl]

FNC’s Carlson: What Was It About Joe Biden’s Shaky Monotone That Inspired CNN’s Talking Heads?

Friday, FNC’s Tucker Carlson reacted to President Joe Biden’s address to the nation a night earlier, which according to Carlson left much to be desired.

After comparing Biden’s address to former Soviet Union dictator Leonid Brezhnev, the Fox News host questioned the fawning approval from CNN hosts and talking heads.

Transcript as follows:

CARLSON: Tons going on, as always. So, there are a lot of stories we could have opened with tonight and we talked about it. But in the end, we couldn’t get our minds off of Joe Biden’s COVID speech.

Did you see that last night? The one where he seems so sad about the lockdowns that have crushed businesses and kept kids out of school, an entire generation, he said, had driven so many to suicide, yet never once mentioned or even hinted that he and his party were the very forces behind those lockdowns.

I’m really sorry about your black eye, he says, as he punches you in the face.

It was bizarre. The whole speech was like that. It had a hallucinogenic quality like it wasn’t quite real.

But then Joe Biden himself isn’t quite real. Maybe that’s the reason he talks that way. Biden has been living in utter seclusion for more than a year. He hasn’t spoken to anyone but his own lackeys.

He hasn’t driven a car or sat on the grass and looked up at the sky or been anywhere or done anything except in the most controlled possible environment. What an incredibly weird life that is.

Joe Biden must imagine that everyone in America is as terrified of corona as he is and is living in the same kind of bunker. Joe Biden is totally cut off.

Alex Berenson described last night speech as late Soviet. The more we thought about it, the more perfect that seemed.

Here’s a clip of Russia’s own Joe Biden, the late Leonid Brezhnev. Like Biden, Brezhnev was very clearly fading in his later years after a series of health problems. Also, like Biden despite his frailty and confusion, Brezhnev never lost his enthusiasm for pointless wars.

He is the one who ordered the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. In late December of that year, Brezhnev addressed the Soviet youth in a televised speech. As you watch this, see if you can spot the similarities to what you saw last night, and keep in mind when this was shot, Brezhnev was a full five years younger than Joe Biden is today.

[VIDEO CLIP PLAYS]

CARLSON: Now, they are trying to tell him how the teleprompter works. He harrumphs a bit and looks vacant, he doesn’t quite get it.

Brezhnev didn’t actually lead Russia by this point, and you can see why. He remained the country’s figurehead, but it was the ideologues behind the scenes who ran the show.

Brezhnev had his own Susan Rice and Barack Obama to make the real decisions. The similarities, as we said, are pretty amazing.

Over at CNN, however, they didn’t see it, or maybe they did see it and they didn’t care. CNN always did love Brezhnev.

In any case, the usual chorus of toadies strained for a high note last night. Watch them tell you how wonderful the speech was, as if you didn’t have a TV and didn’t see it for yourself.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

DON LEMON, CNN ANCHOR: How refreshing. How human. How compassionate. How American.

CHRIS CUOMO, CNN ANCHOR: Biden tried to lift our spirits with a medicinal message about recovering our sense of collective cause. Certainly, it was healing.

VAN JONES, CNN POLITICAL COMMENTATOR: He didn’t say, you need me. He said, I need you. I need you. I mean, my God that is — isn’t that it?

UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE: People always talk about the feeling of the relief hey have hearing Biden, but what he’s doing now soars above that.

LEMON: What the President is saying his help is on the way. We’re all in this together. I need your help. We’re all Americans. Whoo. Hallelujah.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Hallelujah, says Don Lemon. Can I get an amen? Clear the aisles. It’s time for an altar call. Brother Biden is preaching the word. Preach, Brother Biden, preach. Speak. What are these people talking about?

What was it about Joe Biden’s shaky monotone last night that inspired them exactly? Most people found it depressing. Maybe we’re being too literal here.

It probably doesn’t matter what Joe Biden actually said. He could have called for the bombing of Toronto and CNN’s panel of trained seals would still enthusiastically applaud it. It’s their job to enthusiastically applaud what Joe Biden says.

Our job is to try and figure out what Biden’s speech meant for the country. So let’s look at it for a minute.

The lockdowns have been tough, Biden conceded at the outset, God knows how we got them, but we did. Those restrictions will be lifted as soon as we can lift them, and we will return to some version of the country now only dimly remember, we’d really love to do that. We mean it, we’d love it.

But in order to go forward and take the boot off your neck, we’re going to need every American to listen very carefully and to obey our orders. Do what we tell you to do.

Now, that won’t be easy. But if you do it, there is a payoff for good behavior. If you’re obedient, there’s a chance not a guarantee, of course, but a distinct possibility, God-willing, that you may be able to see some of the people you love around July 4th, that could actually happen, ladies and gentlemen. Listen to this.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: If we do our part, if we do this together, by July the Fourth, there’s a good chance you, your families and friends will be able to get together in your backyard or in your neighborhood and have a cookout and a barbecue and celebrate Independence Day.

That doesn’t mean large events with lots of people together, but it does mean small groups will be able to get together.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Did you hear that America, there is a good chance, again, not a sure thing. But what is a sure thing these days? But a good chance that you might be allowed to have a modest cookout four months from now. That is as long as you obey regulations weather permitting, and assuming that current Federal projections unfold according to plan. That’s your prize.

This offer by the way does not apply to full-time employees, the radio station or their families.

But with luck, this could be your reward after a year and a half of lockdowns, a Fourth of July cookout in your very own backyard assuming you have one.

Don’t ever tell us that Joe Biden isn’t a compassionate generous man. Here he is offering you with some medically necessary caveats outlined by Dr. Anthony Fauci, the right to cook your own hotdogs. With the provision, obviously, that you do it in a small masked group seated far apart at a prescribed distance from one another.

Don’t get crazy and hug or celebrate or talk too loud or anything like that. Moderation is the key here. But still a socially distanced barbecue. What other wonders does President Biden have in store for us?

Well, you’re going to have to get vaccinated to find out. Sorry, that’s the other requirement. I should have mentioned it. Everybody needs the shot. Period. That’s what Biden said. And that’s a lot of shots.

The good news: now that we’re on what Joe Biden describes as a, quote, “war footing” with this virus, vaccinating people against it is a counterterrorism operation.

What we did to ISIS, we’re going to do to COVID. Biden didn’t mention drones, but we will need soldiers and that’s why Joe Biden is building a Vaccination Corps that will include active-duty members of the military, an army of vaccinators. Watch.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: Two months ago, the country — this country didn’t have nearly enough vaccine supply to vaccinate all or ever near all of the American public. But soon we will.

Now because of all the work we’ve done, we’ll have enough vaccine supply for all adults in America by the end of May. That’s months ahead of schedule. And we’re mobilizing thousands of vaccinators to put the vaccine in one’s arm.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Thousands of vaccinators to vaccinate everyone. That sounds amazing, but it does raise at least one vexing question: what if you don’t want to get vaccinated? Not everyone does. Some people have religious objections, other have concerns about this specific medicines. Others simply don’t want it.

Do you need a reason to turn down the vaccine? And what happens if you do turn it down? Will we be allowed to fly on airplanes? Or go to work? Or enter the front doors of Madison Square Garden?

Joe Biden didn’t specify, but it’s pretty hard to believe he would support any kind of vaccine coercion as he has told you so often over so many years, if it’s your body, it’s your choice.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: I support a woman’s right to choose under that constitutional guarantee provision. And quite frankly, I always will.

Folks, you know, and I am going to fight to protect a woman’s right to make her own personal decisions when it gets to your healthcare.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Quite frankly, you’ve got the absolute right to make your own personal decisions about your own personal healthcare. Period. That’s in the Constitution. Joe Biden would never violate that, right. He’s been defending that right since before you were born.

It’s your body. It’s your choice. Period.

Of course, as with everything, there are caveats. If you don’t take the shot that Joe Biden wants you to take, if you persist in making your own personal healthcare, then Joe Biden is going to have to shut the country down again, no socially distanced barbecues for you, buddy. You’re going to have to eat your hotdogs alone inside.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: If we don’t stay vigilant, and the conditions change, and we may have to reinstate restrictions to get back on track.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: To which CNN might say, “Hallelujah,” but we’re not CNN. Instead, we’re left wondering, could there be any civil liberties implications to any of this? We don’t know the answer.

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