#like yeah go working class people punch nazis of course

[huggingtentacles]

I wish I had an older socialist lady who knows everything about politics who I could ask questions about stuff. I don't post about politics much despite there being a fucking war in my country. That's because I feel really lost and inadequate when it comes to expressing my worldview.

I have my general principles but it's hard to apply them in writing.

[arcticfox007]

The Only One That Matters

Destiel December 2020 Challenge

Heads up, this ended up being long! Continuation of Days 2-6, the Master List is pinned to my profile :)

Day 7: Peppermint (on AO3)

*Charlie never died in my headspace, so, yeah. She threw her laptop into that Nazi’s face, kicked him in the groin, and got away – because that’s what should have happened.*

*** 

               With only 4 days left until Christmas, Dean had decided that going Christmas shopping was another holiday tradition that Cas had yet to experience. Sam had his doubts about this one, he was fairly certain that Dean hadn’t actually been near a mall or shopping plaza this close to the holidays, and possibly didn’t know what he was getting into. In an attempt to avoid disaster, Sam found himself calling Charlie for back-up. If anyone would help him with Operation Angel-Impala (which was the name Charlie quickly gave Sam’s not-really-a-plan), it was the Winchester’s adopted sister.

               “Yeah, shopping at a mall right now will probably not encourage warm fuzzy feelings. I’d be shocked if they even made it home without Dean punching someone in the face. I’m really surprised he even suggested it.”

               “Charlie, he’s thrown himself into giving Cas the whole Christmas experience. While sickeningly adorable, it’s not like Dean and I even know what that is. I’m pretty sure I was still an infant the last time we had a real tree.” Charlie let out a long-suffering sigh.

               “Okay, okay. Give me a minute.” Sam tried to be patient as he heard soft tapping noises, likely from Charlie’s keyboard. “Here’s something. It’s maybe ninety minutes or so away from you guys, but it’s not far from where I am. There’s this historic riverside city that has something called Midnight Madness where all the stores are open late into the night. They have a bunch of sales and decorations, but from the event listing it looks like mostly locals show up, and it’s semi-remote. Ooo, didn’t you say they’d been baking together?”

               “Yeah. I’d say that I’ve never seen so much pie in my life, but I live with Dean.” Charlie snickered.

               “Well, they have a chocolate making event that people can sign up for. Here. This thing runs every night up until Christmas Eve.” Sam’s phone pinged and he saw Charlie had sent him the link to the Midnight Madness event. He clicked on the chocolate making link and grinned.

               “This is perfect Charlie! Now I just need to convince them this is better than the mall.”

               “Oh, I have got you covered.” Sam didn’t have the chance to even ask before Dean walked in waving his phone in the air.

               “Hey, Charlie just texted me asking if we wanted to go to some Christmas shopping thing with her tonight. I thought this would be a good chance for Cas to get in some more holiday experience.” Sam just laughed and told Dean that they should get ready if he wanted to go and his brother rushed off to tell Cas.

               “You’re my favorite sibling Charlie.”

               “Well, you got to pick me. You were just stuck with Dean,” Charlie teased. “Anyway, I’m getting us all tickets to the chocolate making thing. Dean can’t say no if it’s a Christmas gift from me and I kind of want to see this new Christmasy Dean for myself. There’s a restaurant and bar called The Phoenix Emporium; we can meet there.” Sam wrote down the bar’s name and address looking forward to having someone to plot against Cas and Dean with (for their own good, of course).

               “Thanks again Charlie, we’ll see you later tonight.”

***

               Cas had already gotten gifts in preparation for Christmas, so he wasn’t sure why going out Christmas shopping mattered. Even so, he didn’t argue when Dean said they were going out. Dean had been in such a good mood recently that Cas was more than happy to do whatever was asked of him.

Castiel did wonder why Dean was in such a good mood. He’d like to know what it took to get Dean into this type of mindset, for future reference. Maybe it was just celebrating Christmas, but Cas had known Dean for a long time and he’d never seen a holiday make him so happy. Perhaps… well, maybe there was something to what Sam had told him yesterday. Sam had said Dean was better when Cas was around which wasn’t something the angel had ever thought about before. Cas knew that Dean had made him better, and he preferred it when he was with Dean. It had taken him years to work out that he was actually in love with Dean, but he’d been satisfied to just watch over him until Metranon stole his grace and Castiel had become human.

When Cas had woken up after being stabbed by a reaper to find Dean’s concerned and pain-stricken face in front of him – felt Dean’s warm calloused hands cradling his face, well, he hadn’t been able to control his emotions as easily. It didn’t help that Dean had left him on his own only to show up again still acting like he cared. Regaining his grace had did nothing to get his desire for more with Dean under control, despite knowing how unlikely it was that Dean felt the same way. So, why was he even allowing himself to consider the possibility? Cas sighed deeply.

“Cas? Everything okay?” Cas looked up to see Dean’s hypnotizing green eyes glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Cas had conceded ‘shotgun’ to Sam because his legs were so much longer. Sam had his headphones on listening to a podcast and Cas must have stayed quiet for too long after Dean had been talking to him.

“Yes Dean. I apologize, you were saying something about your mother?” Dean’s  eyes were back on the road as he responded.

“Uh, yeah. I was just saying that she said she’d stop by the bunker in about a week. I’d hoped she would come for Christmas but she can’t make it.” Cas reached his hand out to gently touch Dean’s shoulder for just a moment, wishing he had a reason to keep his hand there longer.

“I’m sorry she couldn’t be there for Christmas,” Cas said softly. Surprisingly, Dean reached back to stop Castiel’s fingers from moving away. Cas froze, not daring to move a muscle.

“Thanks Cas. I – I just wanted to say that I’m happy you came back home when she left.” Dean briefly squeezed Cas’ fingers before returning his hand to the steering wheel. Castiel slowly pulled his hand back into his lap breathing out a quiet ‘you’re welcome’ in response to Dean’s words. The way Dean had been acting recently, this was why Castiel had started to hope. The car fell silent as he stared at the hand on which the angel could still feel a ghost of Dean’s touch.

***

               Dean couldn’t really say no to participating in the chocolate making event when Charlie gave them tickets to attend as a Christmas present. He didn’t even grumble much about it; he didn’t want to make her unhappy and for whatever reason Charlie and Sam were unusually excited about making chocolate. Dean could hear them animatedly debating the merits of milk versus dark chocolate as they walked ahead of him and Cas.

So, Dean had sucked it up and let her lead the way through the Christmas lit streets of the historic town. He had to admit that the town was a great location for Christmas events. The old stone buildings were dripping with colorful lights and there were lit candles in most of the windows. He was happy to see how Cas was looking around with a small smile on his face as he watched a family take their children to different stores looking at the windows and checking something off of a list. Dean looked around and noticed there were a lot of people carrying around the same list. They must have some sort of scavenger hunt going on. He caught Charlie’s sleeve to get her attention.

               “Charlie,” Dean whispered. “Do you know what’s up the scavenger hunt?” Charlie gave Dean a confused look.

               “Really? You want to know about… alright, hold on.” Bemused, Charlie pulled out a booklet and flipped through. “Here.”

               Dean took the paper from her as they continued walking. It was listed as an all-ages window and store hunt with different prizes every night and Dean laughed as he saw what they were supposed to be looking for.

               “Cas!” Castiel caught up to Dean a few moments later. “We should do this.” Dean pointed to the event page. Cas gave Dean an all to rare laugh when he saw what Dean was showing him.

               “Angel scavenger hunt. You’ve already found plenty of angels, Dean.” Dean playfully bumped Cas’ shoulder.

               “Yeah, well, you’re the only one that matters.” Crap, did Dean just say that out loud? “Uh, I mean, c’mon, don’t you want to participate in Christmas traditions? You did ask me for help with that, right?” Cas was staring at him, as if trying to solve a puzzle but Dean just nervously pushed the event booklet into the angel’s hands. “Er, if you don’t want to look for ‘angels’ you can see if there’s something else you’d like to do.” Cas gave Dean a quiet smile and put the booklet in his pocket.

               “We should go to Charlie’s chocolate class first, then we can look for other traditions to try.” Dean readily agreed and they hurried to catch up with the others.

***

               Sam was impressed with Charlie’s devious but brilliant maneuvering. The chocolate making event was almost entirely couples, and there was only room for two people at most stations. She had managed to get Cas and Dean set up at one table and then set herself and Sam up at a table about two rows back. Charlie had informed Sam that they needed a good vantage point to better access what they were up against for Operation Angel-Impala. Sam could tell that she was entertained by the entire situation, but also honestly invested in Dean’s happiness.

               “Y’know Sam, I’m not sure we have to do all that much here. Dean asked me to find out what the scavenger hunt thing going on was, and then I heard him asking Cas if he wanted to do it.” Sam’s jaw dropped.

               “Huh, maybe you’re right. I mean, I figured a lot of Dean’s recent effort was because he felt guilty about something Cas told Mom, but volunteering for a cutesy Christmas event seems bit above and beyond if that were the case.” Charlie nodded eagerly.

               “And look how they’re all in each other’s space. Anyone else here would assume they are already dating.”

               “Yeah, but they’re always like that. Staring at one another for long stretches of time, finding excuses to touch each other… recently Dean is being a lot nicer to Cas though.” Charlie smiled brightly.

               “Sam, maybe you should let Dean know you’d be happy for him. If he was with Cas I mean.” Sam looked puzzled.

               “Charlie, Dean doesn’t want to talk to me about his feelings. He doesn’t even want to admit he has feeling outside of a love for pie and Baby.”

               “Uh-huh. Not to state the obvious but Cas has a dude’s vessel. Have you ever seen Dean hook up with another guy?” Sam’s eyebrows raised and then dropped to a deep furrow.

               “Um, no? I don’t care about that though. I mean, maybe that’s part of Dean’s hang-up, but I just want him to have someone in his life that makes him better, happier, more willing to live. Cas does that.”  Charlie let out an exasperated sigh.

               “Sam Winchester, you need to tell him that! If you’ve never known Dean to have even considered hooking up with a guy, it will help him to know you support him. I’m sure part of him understands you wouldn’t be bothered, but it helps to hear it.” Sam nodded solemnly still looking at his brother who was busy flipping through the chocolate making menu and laughing at something Cas had said.

               “Alright Charlie. I can do that. I think I have an idea but we may have to explore some of the art tents later.”

               “Deal. Now, to the chocolate, Sam!”

***

               Cas didn’t actually care what they were making. Dean had seemed shocked when Cas said he wasn’t familiar with peppermint, so they began working through the instructions on how to make something called peppermint bark. All Cas cared about was how easily Dean was laughing. How often Dean put himself into Cas’ space when it used to be Dean who would lecture the angel about personal space. What Cas really couldn’t stop thinking about was how Dean had told him that he’d found the only angel that mattered when looking at Cas. Cas couldn’t be completely sure what Dean meant by saying that, but he did know that the words had swept through him in a rush of warmth and joy.

Glancing behind Dean, Cas noticed his right wing had wrapped itself around Dean without the angel having been really aware of it. Ever since his wings started to heal Cas found himself wrapping them around Dean more and more. Castiel was still hesitant to share with Dean that he was in love with him, but he was starting to learn new ways to show it. He saw the way Dean relaxed when his wing curled around him. Even though he couldn’t quite feel it, he was somehow sensing their presence.

Cas smiled as Dean wiped chocolate on Cas’ nose. Then he smugly retaliated by sticking a chocolate covered finger into Dean’s ear.

***

               “Eugh! No fair Cas!” As gross as the feeling of melted chocolate in his ear was, Dean couldn’t help laughing. Their peppermint bark was in a freezer to help it set faster, although they had been told by one of the volunteers running the event that two bars takes a lot less time than a whole pan. When he looked up at Cas’ self-satisfied grin and chocolate smeared nose Dean dissolved into laughter all over again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.

               “I can’t help that I have had billions of years to develop my tactical expertise. I’m very good at picking the most advantageous targets for attack.” Cas raised a single eyebrow, the haughty look only ruined by the smile Cas was fighting to hold back. Well, that and the chocolate still on his nose.

               “Yeah, yeah. C’mon, let’s get this cleaned up before they bring back our candy bars.” Dean took one of the wipes the volunteers had place around the room and before he could think about it too much, he raised the cloth towards Cas’ face. Dean gently wiped the smudge from Cas’ nose as the angel stared at Dean with a soft look in his blue eyes that Dean couldn’t quite identify.

“There ya go, Cas. Nose smudge eliminated.” Dean winked at Castiel. He wasn’t even that surprised when the angel returned the favor, softly wiping the chocolate from Dean’s ear. Cas kept staring at Dean the whole time. Dean gave the angel another quick smile and finished cleaning up their station, wondering for just a moment what was going on between him and his best friend. Dean decided that he was just going to go along with it for now, he’d try to actually figure it out later. Or possibly never. Either way, he wasn’t going to screw up the awesome night they were having so far.

“What is Charlie doing?” Dean glanced behind him at Sam and Charlie’s table. By the time he looked Charlie seemed to have quickly put away her phone. Dean shrugged.

“I dunno, maybe she’s looking at the other stuff to do here since her booklet is in your pocket.” Cas looked unconvinced but turned back towards Dean anyway.

“Do you really want to participate in this Angel Scavenger Hunt?” Cas asked Dean skeptically.

“Yeah, if you think it might be fun. We are good at hunting things after all. Also, I’d like to go into a few of the stores anyway. I want to get Charlie something for Christmas since she put this all together for us.” Cas thought for a moment and then looked back at Dean.

“Alright. If nothing else I agree we should find a gift for Charlie.” Dean grinned and bumped his shoulder on Cas.

“You asked me to help you with Christmas traditions, Cas. I just want to do a good job.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied seriously. Then Cas turned to see one of the volunteers bringing back their peppermint bark experiment. Dean reached out to take the wrapped bars while Cas thanked the volunteer for helping with the event.

“We should try some before Charlie tries to steal it.” Dean broke off a piece and handed it to Castiel.

“Sam won’t steal it?”

“Nah, he hates white chocolate. Something about pretending to be chocolate and it being a lie. I dunno, he’s dramatic.” Cas tipped his head to the side examining the colorful candy. After another moment he took a small bite. Dean knew he couldn’t really taste much human food, but he also knew peppermint had a strong flavor. Cas chewed slowly. And then took another small bite.

“I can taste some of it, I think. It reminds me of toothpaste.” Cas half smiled as he ate more.

“I’m glad we found something else you can kind of enjoy. We can also get coffee while we’re walking around.” Dean just kept feeling like he had to smile tonight.

“You should try as well, Dean.” Dean took another chunk from one of the bars and was pleasantly surprised by the burst of flavor on his tongue.

“Hey, we did a good job on this stuff!” Cas looked at Dean fondly just before they were interrupted by an energetic redhead grabbing a piece of the bar still in Dean’s grasp.

“Peppermint bark, excellent. Wow, this is good guys, you have hidden talents!”

“Hey, hands off! Where’s yours and Sam’s? We can trade.” Dean was tall enough that he easily held the candy out of Charlie’s reach.

“Sorry Dean, that’s long gone!” Charlie snickered as Sam joined them.

“She’s telling the truth Dean; I barely had any myself.” Charlie snorted in response to Sam’s accusation.

“Don’t listen to him, he had half a bar. So, what do you guys want to do now?”

“Charlie,” began Castiel sincerely, “I want to say thank you for the Christmas gift.” Charlie practically beamed at Cas.

“You are very welcome, Castiel. I’m happy you guys had fun!” Sam and Dean also thanked Charlie.

“Oh, hey. We should get a picture. Go stand in front of that Christmas tree over there. Dean, hold up your bar with Cas.” Charlie took longer than Dean though was needed to make sure he and Cas were posing the way she wanted, but he wasn’t going to complain seeing how the whole night had been her idea. Some passerby even took a picture of all four of them together.

“Hey guys, you mind if we split up for a while?” Sam asked. “I sort of want to check out the crafts tents and Charlie said she’d go with me. I know it’s not really your thing, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure. Cas and I were going to go check out the stores up on the main street. You guys want to meet back at that bar where we started, in maybe two hours? We can get dinner.” Everyone agreed easily and Dean led Cas over to the volunteer station to get the Angel checklist. Dean was really looking forward to finding more ways to make sure Cas knew he belonged.

***

@jellydeans, @galaxycastiel, @my-favourite-hellatus, @nguyenxtrang

[patrocool]

i.

It was early morning in Financial District. Commuters bustled around the siblings as they exited the subway station onto William Street. The pair stopped abruptly in front of the shop just outside of the station, much to the dismay of a woman behind them, who nearly ran into them with a curse.

Sarah Jacobs had worked hard to get to this point. And damn it, she was proud of herself. Sure, it didnt look like a lot right now- a tiny little hole in the wall right next to the entrance to the A and C train that was probably about the size of her bedroom in her tiny Manhattan apartment- but it was hers and she was proud to own the place.

Davey held up the key with a soft smile. "Planning on going in any time soon?" He asked lightly. She grinned as she took the key from his fingers and unlocked the door, stepping in. It was musty, dusty, dirty, and a bit stuffy, but none of that mattered. What mattered was what it was going to look tomorrow, and then the next day, and the day after that.

She clapped her hands together and set down her bag of cleaning supplies. "We've got a lot of work to do, Davey!"

ii.

Davey carefully placed the finishing touches on the flowers in stock, making them look nice in their holders. He stepped back, hands on his hips, and smiled. He turned to watch his sister as she carefully wrote the last few things on her chalkboard behind the counter.

The store looked perfect. Picturesque, to the point where Davey wouldnt be surprised if photographers came in looking for the perfect picture. Sarah set down her chalk and brushed her fingers off on her apron. She turned, nervously brushing stray hairs behind her ears, and straightening her light blue blouse. "Hows it look, David?"

He gave her two thumbs up. "It looks like a hipster's wet dream," he promised her teasingly.

She laughed and threw a rag at him. "You're such an ass, get out of my store with your gross face! You're gonna be late for class."

He snickered and leaned over the counter to grab his bag. "I'll turn on the open sign and unlock the door on my way out. If I dont, you probably never will."

As he left, he saw a young woman hesitating outside, looking curious. He held the door open. "Going in?" He asked.

She shook her head and hurried away down the street. He shrugged and headed to class. Sarah would have customers soon enough.

iii.

After the fourth day of trying to peek in the flower shop to and from class, Katherine Plumber finally gave in and slipped inside. A soft ring of the bell alerted the quiet shop, and she looked around in awe. Exposed brick on one wall, plants in baskets hung from the ceiling, fairy lights strung across the walls. Beautiful displays of potted plants and cut flowers alike. A chalkboard hung behind the counter listed prices and deals and specials, and then the most beautiful woman Katherine had ever laid eyes on came out of the back room, smiling brightly at the sight of a customer.

Dark hair in loose curls that reached her ribs, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the light, circle frame glasses perched on her nose. She wore a yellow turtleneck and high waisted mom jeans with scuffed converse, and a well worn apron. On her apron, someone stitched in the name "Sarah" with blue thread.

"Can I help you with anything?" The shopkeeper asked her cheerfully, and Katherine never felt more out of place.

"Just- just looking," she stammered awkwardly. She tugged at the sleeves of her leather jacket, glancing down at the pins and patches adorning it and hoping there wasnt anything that the sweet shopkeeper would take the wrong way. Usually, she didnt care if other people didnt like her opinions, but damn it, the girl was pretty as all get out, and her big ass "punch nazis in the face" patch on her back didnt really fit with the whole soft flower shop vibe.

She bit her lip, looking at the plants and trying not to stare at the girl. She focused on the many different colors of roses instead.

"'Fuck Cops'- now that's a sentiment I can get behind," the girl said, but she was so much closer this time, and Katherine jumped at the sudden noise.

Katherine blinked slowly. "Oh, uh. Yeah," she said, and laughed a little, internally cringing. God, she sounded like an idiot.

She giggled. "Sorry, I'm just excited to see a customer. I havent had a lot so far, I just opened a couple days ago."

"I know," Katherine said quickly, and quickly winced when the girl cocked a brow. "Sorry, no, I meant, I know you opened a couple days ago, I take the A train to school every day, so."

She snorted and nodded. "I see, a bit less creepy when you put it like that," she said teasingly. She held out a hand to shake. "I'm Sarah. Welcome to Newspaper Row Flowers."

"Katherine," she replied, shaking her hand. She smiled a bit. "You know Newspaper Row was actually over on Park Row, right? Next to City Hall?"

Sarah laughed, cheeks pink. "Oh, I know. It's because my great grandmother used to own a flower shop over next to the old Tribune building on Park Row, and that's what she called it. She lost her shop in the Depression though, and died when I was young, and it was my mom's dream to open a flower shop in her honor. She never managed to, and uh. Well, she died too, a couple years ago, so I did it."

Katherine's heart felt like it was melting in her chest. God, how could she already have so much affection for this girl she only just met? "I'm sorry for your loss. But you've really created something wonderful here, and I'm sure they would both be proud."

Sarah beamed, and Katherine would do anything to make her smile like that again.

iv.

"And so Davey's like 'what the fuck', and Les is like 'who is this guy' and Jack is straddling the windowsill, looking at us like he expects my dad to get a gun, and finally, Dad is like 'hes not Catholic, is he?' And poor Davey is like 'no, pa', and for some godforsaken reason, Mom assumes that means hes Jewish. And knowing he doesnt have a family, immediately invites- and by invites, I mean loosely intimidated- Jack to come celebrate all holidays with us. And so now, instead of breaking it to Mom that Jack isnt religious, Davey just let's them believe it. Cause I mean, they're pretty fine with the whole gay thing, but god forbid we be romantically involved with someone who isnt Jewish." Sarah finished explaining with a laugh and roll of her eyes. "So yeah, that's why Jack is here fucking around with a dreidel even though Hanukkah has passed. Hes convinced that theres a secret trick to it that he has to master by next year."

Jack looked up and pouted sourly in her direction. "We all know Davey cant be that good based on luck alone!" He said for the thousandth time.

Katherine laughed, elbows on the counter. Her red curls were pulled back in a ponytail and she had her signature leather jacket on. "Sounds like your family is a real fun bunch. Ironically, my dad is the exact opposite, he doesn't care if I dont marry into a Jewish family, but he very much cares if I marry a girl."

Sarah made a face. "Gross. He sounds like such an ass whenever you talk about him."

Katherine nodded. "Probably because he is," she said very seriously. And then the two erupted into giggles.

"Ew, go get a room," Jack complained.

"You're in my shop, Kelly!"

V.

"Sarah, I need your help with something." Katherine came in looking nervous, an expression Sarah rarely saw on her friend.

"Of course, anything, what do you need?" Sarah said immediately, abandoning the flowers she was making out of newspapers.

Katherine swallowed, pausing. Her fingers fidgeted with the necklace around her neck. "Um. Well. There's uh... there's this girl I really like. And she... she's just amazing, and I want to tell her that I really like her. And she loves flowers, so..."

Sarah smiled and cooed, even though her chest hurt an awful lot. "That's so-" heartbreaking? Disappointing? Sad? "-cute! Flowers are such a good way to express feelings. Do you want to do it through flower language or do you have specific flowers you want to do it with?"

Katherine bit her lip. "Well, I was hoping a bit of both, but I'm not sure what kind of flowers she likes, so I was hoping you'd help with that."

Sarah nodded. "Of course! Let's get to work, hm?"

In the end, the bouquet consisted of red carnations (admiration), gardenias ("you're lovely"), mistletoe ("kiss me"), and white violets ("let's take a chance on happiness"). Sarah very gently wrapped the stems in newspaper and tied it with some twine while Katherine wrote something on a card.

Katherine paid and took the bouquet from Sarah, carefully fixing the card in it. She stayed after the transaction, simply standing there and staring at the flowers in her arms.

"What are you waiting for? Go get your girl!" Sarah chastized with a laugh. She needed Katherine to leave so she could take an early lunch and cry a little.

"You're right," Katherine said. She took in a big breath and let it out slowly before jutting her arms out, offering the bouquet. "Here."

"What?" Sarah asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Did you change your mind or-"

"They're for you," Katherine said, staring at the wall. "Just- read the card?"

Sarah blinked slowly and took the bouquet carefully, and opened the card.

In it was written simply:

"I like you, Sarah. Have since I first came into your shop. And I'd like you even more if you went to dinner with me?"

Sarah very gently put the bouquet down on the counter. And then she kissed Katherine.

+1

A year and a half later, Sarah come home to find a bundle of myrtle at her place on the table. Instead of a string, there was a ring. Myrtle, the Hebrew emblem of marriage.

Katherine cleared her throat, smiling softly. "Your parents will have at least one kid who marries into a Jewish family. If-if you say yes, that is."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "How could I not?"

[science-fiction-is-real]

In which i talk about joseph stalin for a long time and also about intersectionality

You know who i’ve been reading a lot about recently?

Joseph Stalin.

And I’ve been reading, and while i’m at work all day, working mostly alone, no music or distractions, i’ve been thinking about everything i’ve been reading.

and this fucker who died before my parents were even born has been on my mind, because i just don’t fucking get it.

This idiot was a revolutionary.  a god damn REVOLUTIONARY.  Did hard time in siberia as a political prisoner.  (I mean, probably also a prisoner for all the organized crime he was doing---to fund the REVOLUTION)  That’s not the sort of thing a grifter, who is only interested in power, gets into.  It’s an absolutely terrible grift.  It’s a lot of risk to take if you aren’t a true believer.

And in between all the bank robberies and what not, he edited a newspaper and did a lot of writing.  There’s a database online where you can read pretty much everything Stalin ever wrote (Along with pretty much every thing pretty much every other famous Marxist ever wrote).  I can’t really bring myself to read too much of his stuff.  Eww.  Why would I want to.  Gross.  But also I feel like i should in the name of fact checking, and understanding what I’m talking about before I talk about it.

But the stuff i did read, was...... not terrible....? Some of it was replying to other socialist writing (because what do lefties enjoy more than arguing with other lefties, amiright???), a lot of it was old fashioned marxist stuff talking about working class vs capitalists, and a lot of it was describing legitimate complaints about the Czarist government.  Expressing anger at the pogroms and the suppression of ethnic minorities and hunger and poverty.  Sounds like a good reason to have a revolution to me.

Of course, those were all the same sorts of atrocities he himself would go on to do.  again.  eww.

But, after all of this, it’s pretty clear to me that pre-revolutionary Stalin was a true fuckin believer.

And that kept me up at night.  Because how come that would change when he himself came into power?

Is it because once you’re handed power, the temptation to abuse it is just far too great?  Is it because when the revolution is over, and the complexities of the ‘’Real World,’’ are obvious, and it’s all to easy to abandon idealism in order to get things done?  Are all post-revolutionary periods destined to be violent and oppressive, because the new government wants to assert its power?  How much blame does he get personally, and how much goes to the other founders of the revolutionary movement--Lenin and Trotsky and the like-- who laid the groundwork for how things would function?  IS socialism itself just cursed to fail like my republican grandma told me?

Or is this just a classical example of the other thing our republican grandmas warned us about, radical idealists turning cranky and cruel and conservative in old age just like they did? I mean what sort of things did stalin do while in power?  A lot of pretty republican things.  LMAO.  Banning the gays and abortion, enforcing strict gender norms, getting TOUGH ON CRIME!  Beefing up the military on money that should be used to provide for people’s basic needs....

If the right gets to try and pass off Hitler as a socialist, the left gets to say that Stalin was a moderate republican.  (Not full republican.  I mean, he did actually react appropriately when he found out there were Nazis in his country.  Just moderate republican.)  LMAO!

But then i thought about it a little more.

No.  He was not a right winger.  No one who spends the first half of his adult life trying to overthrow a government that had been ruling for 300 years is a god damn fucking right winger.  He was left wing.  But.....  Old timy left wing.

Because he did make good on a lot of the socialist ideas while in office.  I’m pretty sure he set up a fairly solid welfare state, free housing and education and healthcare and whatnot.  That was pretty new and revolutionary for the time.

But... Old timy left wing.

and if you think about old timy left-wingers.  most of them are only left wing in SOME areas.  The right absolutely LOVES to point this out.  ‘’Sure Margaret Sanger was a radical feminist, but she was also a racist!’’  ‘’This person was a racist, this person was homophobic!  All your icons are fake frauds!’’  I mean, they probably were all racist and homophobic and whatnot, but that doesn’t actually deminish the radicality of the stuff they were ‘’woke’’ on.

And that’s true for the pre-marxist left too.  We can hate on Thomas Jefferson all day long for being a creepy rapy slave owner and rich asshole who should have been tarred and feathered and  (sorry, i brought up thomas jefferson, i have to go take 5 and cool down before i punch something)  But he still was..... left.  To say ‘’all men are created equal,’’ even if you just mean straight white men, was still kind of radical in the 18th century, when the world was still divided up between the gentry and the common men, and people were presumed to have class status that was bred into them and was part of their very inner nature.  The idea that you could just throw out the idea of a nobility ruling class, or the monarchy, and initiate some sort of meritocracy based system, was out of this fucking world at that point.

And you can say the say the same thing about the russian revolutionaries.  You can criticize them up and down and left and right for being undemocratic, but the idea that wealth should be something everyone has guaranteed access to, that no one should hold economic power over you, that working people deserve some sort of dignified recognition for what they do, that was--AND STILL IS--radical.

Lenin, who lived in monarchical empire, saw the western countries move away from monarchies and embrace our versions of Western Capitalist Democracy (TM).  He decided his revolution would go in a different direction, one of economic instead of political democracy.  The western style of revolution had been tried, and now it was time to try out an eastern style of revolution.

I think he would have said something like ‘’look, ya’ll in france and england can vote, and i’ve been to france and england.  Those places suck ass.  You’re poor and hungry and miserable and working 10 hours a day for shit pay and going home to your crammed tenement apartments before dying of cholera at the age of 12.  Hell of a lot a good DeMoCrAcY does.  We need ECONOMIC democracy instead.’’  

I do remember a quote from lenin, that said something along the lines of ‘’Yes, my system isn’t ‘democratic’ but if you think about it, it’s a hell of a lot more democratic than anything they’re doing in capitalist countries.’’

Of course, we modern folk who fancy ourselves so enlightened by hindsight will point out that you need BOTH economic and political democracy.  A democratic government being run alongside an undemocratic economy is oppression. Anyone who lives in the United States and has read more than three books in their life can see this.  It SUCKS.  Likewise.  An egalitarian economy being run by an undemocratic government is also oppression, because the government can do whatever it wants to the economy, like, say.... sell all the country’s food on the international market to fund various different 5-year-plan projects.  Had Stalin been subjected to democratic processes, he never would have been allowed to do that.

In the early 20th century, there wasn’t really much of a concept of INTERSECTIONALITY.  in the modern left, we pretty much agree that if you want to have freedom and equality in one sphere of life, you also need to pursue freedom and equality in other spheres.  Oppression is contagious.  If you allow discrimination against Gays for example, this leads to discrimination against the sexes because people are going to be forced into stricter and stricter gender norms.  And of course, if you want political equality under the law, you also need racial equality so that one group of people isn’t disenfranchised from voting or fair treatment by the courts.

Just like how political democracy has to happen alongside economic democracy.

So yeah, I guess after the end of all this long ranting and shit.  I think it makes sense why a serious revolutionary true believer like Stalin can grow into a tyrant.  Because Old timy left-wing politics was underdeveloped and had lots of blind spots.  People didn’t realize that it was important for movements to be led by people who were seriously committed to intersectional emancipation.  Young Stalin when he would go hang out with all of his socialist dude-bro friends, planning their bank heists, wearing their newsboys hats, trying not to die of cholera,  he probably wasn’t being called out on sexism or racism.  They were just an economic-left movement that didn’t care much about the other stuff.

But there isn’t really a whole lot to gain by doing a character analysis on some ass wipe who kicked the bucket before color television was even invented.  All the terrible things he did and all the good intentions, sincere or not, that he had, that is between him and whatever God is governing this bitch of a universe. We on the left know better than to look at individuals to answer important questions, we know to look at systems.  And gather lessons so that we can build better movements in the future.

Yeah, whatever, intersectionality.

Sorry this was so long and poorly written.  I shall cite no sources and do no editing.  Fuck you.  Thanks for reading.

[ununniliad]

Return of Just Another Multi-Writer Cascade That Will Probably Never Have an Ending.GEKIJOBAN: "Friendgame"

The cover is a lovingly hand-painted portrait of Net.Access punching LAN.os right in the face.

----

A universe, not of hard and unyielding matter and energy, but of connection, affinity, the fundamental forces that bind people together - the Friend Zone!

And within that universe - the planet known as Rostir, home of the ghosts of millions of never-realized characters! And home to something else! Home of one of Looniverse-20's most powerful artifacts - an Absurdity Stone! In specific, guarded here is the soul of the Absurdity Stones, the mytheopeic center of everything that is the superhero genre - the Characterization Stone!

And upon that planet's misty magenta fields, beneath its violet sky with its soft robin's-egg clouds, lands the ship of - LAN.os!

The insipid purple man, fedora on his head, wearing a tailored business suit with the Crossover Queen's insignia on the lapel, walked down the ramp, followed by an average-looking, slightly slouchy black guy in a Moon Girl T-shirt, looking around and taking pictures with his phone.

"Haha!" shouted LAN.os, raising his chin, looking over the mist-covered landscape, soft like the dreams of a Lisa Frank unicorn. "Guardian! I summon you from your slumber. Awaken for LAN.os, son of the greatest warrior in the cosmos!"

The mists drew together before LAN.os, and out of them arose the shuffling, shadowy ghost of a character who never was - Ultra-Nazi-Squared, a concept for a net.villain who was dropped when the cultural view of Nazis as an easy default bad guy suddenly stopped being a Thing.

"lan.os of inferior," murmured the phantom. "you seek the stone... as have so many others... fools, all... once, i held the stone..."

"Skip the backstory, pathetic wretch, and take me to the site of my greatest victory!" LAN.os raised his fist in the air and shook it mightily.

The average-looking guy took a picture of the phantom. "This is going straight up on the Discord."

The villain-who-never-was lead them to the shore of a great lavender ocean, lapping at a beach of multicolored sugar sand. LAN.os grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Finally, my day of triumph and power approaches! Finally, the day the scales will be balanced - in favor of me!"

"Fat chance!" There was a THOOM! and water and sand sprayed up in the air as a figure landed on the beach. 

The wave crashed back down on LAN.os, who sputtered and flailed, suit and hat completely soaked. "Pff! Pfahfh! What!? Who! Who dares challenge LAN.os, second to the Crossover Queen!?"

"Who do you think, buster!?" There in the breaking tide stood a figure. She was dressed in a black catsuit with a red, blue and gold starburst on the chest and a stylish brown leather jacket with cybernetic wings on the back. On her head was a red fedora that worked a thousand times better on her, and on her hands were high-tech blue-and-silver gauntlets. She was the Keymaster of the Omnilooniverse. She was Net.Access.

"YOU!" LAN.os shook his fist at her. "Of course... I should have known you would come to oppose me!"

Net.Access shook her head dismissively. "Sorry, but I have bigger things going on. How'd you get back in the Friend Zone, tho? I figured I'd never see your weird chin here ever again."

LAN.os laughed. "Fool, I am stronger than you knew me! I have made... EXACTLY ONE FRIEND!" He grabbed the average-looking guy and squeezed him against his side. "DOUG, from the comic book store!!"

"Uh, hey." Doug wriggled in LAN.os's grip and waved to Net.Access. "Sorry about this."

She acknowledged him with a nod. "Pardon me if I don't applaud."

"Your praise is meaningless to me, so there! But I have entered the Friend Zone, and located the Characterization Stone, as part of the Crossover Queen's plan! Soon, we shall enter a great crossover, where I take my time obtaining all the Absurdity Stones, one by one, each one that I obtain bringing in at least half a billion dollars in the US, and even more worldwide! And when they are brought together, I-- I mean, she-- shall rule triumphant!" LAN.os looked around shiftily. "I'm definitely not planning to betray her. Just ask Doug!"

Doug nodded. "Yeah, totally. He comes to game nights and talks about how he's not planning to betray the Crossover Queen all the time."

"And now..." LAN.os turned toward the ocean. A great whirlpool formed on its surface, a swirling nexus ready to pull anything down into the briny depths. "The Characterization Stone requires a sacrifice! And I--" He lifted Doug up over his head, in both hands. "I shall sacrifice my exactly one friend!"

"Hey, wait wait what!" Doug squirmed around, dropping his phone in the sand. "LAN.os. Dude. We talked about this."

"Yes, Doug! I remember our great debates on the trolley problem, and my promise that I would not sacrifice any of the gamers with which we play! But you see, Doug!" LAN.os roared in triumph. "I HAD MY FINGERS CROSSED!"

Net.Access rolled her eyes, sliding her hand down her face. "Okay. Enough. Let him go."

LAN.os cackled in maniacal glee. "Now, we shall have the ultimate climactic bat--!"

Net.Access snapped her fingers and the beach underneath LAN.os turned into a quicksand trap from a 1950s adventure movie. He yelped as he was pulled down to chest level immediately. Net.Access tossed a vine to Doug and he climbed out gratefully.

"Like I said. I didn't come here to fight you." From the pocket of her jacket, Net.Access pulled a cube - or, rather, a Kube; one of the Kubrik's Kubes, once-mighty cosmic artifacts, now powerless pieces of multicolored plastic. "I came here to fix a mistake."

"Insolent woman!" LAN.os charged up his prodigious cosmic strength-- but by the laws of '50s adventure movies, flailing around only caused him to sink faster, and by the time he stopped, the quicksand was up to his shoulders. "As soon as my army--"

"You can't take an army into the Friend Zone, LAN.os, I know it's just you and Doug on an automated ship." Net.Access tossed the Kube up in the air, caught it, looking off in the distance, memories playing across the back of her eyes. "Do you remember, when we fought before?" She shook her head, laughed. "No, you wouldn't. It's not the kind of thing you pay attention to. But..."

She sighed, smiled wistfully at a happy moment. "After Victoria and I saved each other... we were talking to everybody, and I was like... well, I hope this teaches the Writers to finish what they start. And everybody agreed. But..." She shook her head. "But we were wrong. I was wrong."

"It wasn't..." Net.Access turned to look at the place the technicolor sky met the pastel sea. "It wasn't the unfinished stories that caused the rifts and put the Looniverses in danger. I thought that that's what it was, when I saw the great pattern at the heart of the cosmos, and the missing pieces that were breaking it apart. But..." She looked around, turned to Doug, just so she could have an audience who might listen. "But it wasn't the stories that hadn't been written. It was the stories that wouldn't be written. It wasn't just that the Writers weren't writing endings, they weren't writing anything. Because of guilt. Guilt over having left things half-done."

Doug nodded, eyes wide, not understanding a word, as a tide of mist rolled in from the fields and covered the beach in a whispering haze. LAN.os, nose-deep in the mist, sneezed.

"The impossible standards, the need to catch up, to..." Net.Access waved her hands in the air. "To climb a mountain when you've already fallen and hit every rock on the way down! Before you can do anything new." She sighed, taking off her hat and running her hand thru her hair. "That's how I failed Intro to Hamburgerology. Got caught on an unfinished assignment, never turned it in, stopped going to class... to be honest, I'm still not sure why they put sesame seeds on the buns."

"Uh, are you getting distracted?" asked Doug.

"My victory speech would have been a lot better," grumbled LAN.os. "It would have had lots of references to famous European philosophers. Sounded really smart."

"Right. Anyway, what I'm saying is, me and the whole narrative around the rift crisis might've made things worse." The wings on Net.Access's back started fluttering, and she rose up in the air. "So I decided to do what I could to fix things. To be honest, I was already in the Friend Zone before I sensed you coming. You're not what I came here for at all."

LAN.os snorted, turning his head away. "Humph! Women and their easy excuses..."

Doug sighed. "Did you even read the 'feminism 101' articles I kept linking you?"

"I... I skimmed them, I swear!"

Net.Access rose up over the whirlpool. "To summon the Characterization Stone..." She held out the Kube in front of her. "I summon our future." She closed her eyes. "The future where all those long-forgotten stories would be finally finished. Where everything that we hoped to see flashed before our eyes in a perfect moment. Where we could resolve everything, once and for all, and seal it with a perfect 'The End'."

The Kube began to glow, softly at first, then coruscating with silvery color, filling with the energies of dream and desire. "Once, I sacrificed a perfect, finished past for an unbounded future, bright with possibility. Now, I sacrifice a perfect, finished future, so that that unbounded possibility may be accessible to all, each day free of the guilt of ages, each day open and new!"

Net.Access lifted the Kube over her head, and the mist rose up from the beach, up from the magenta fields, up towards her. As the mist rose, it spiraled around itself, became a solid shape, like a tornado in reverse.

The tip of the tornado slammed into the Kube. It shook, and Net.Access held on with both hands, brows knitting as a torrent of unrealized possibility streamed recklessly in, the silver light brighter and brighter with each moment until it was eye-searing.

Net.Access lowered the Kube, holding it out before her, directly over the maw of the whirlpool. "I release the Writers! I release the plots! I release the guilt! I..." Her hand opened. "Release!" 

The Kube fell, tumbling end-over-end until it disappeared into the churning sea.

The whirlpool collapsed in on itself, and a column of light burst from the water. In the middle of that column was a fist-sized hunk of ruby, unfinished but scintillating with crimson light.

Net.Access reached out. Lighting crackled from the surface of the ruby into her outstretched hand, and she flinched, and turned her head away, eyes closed. But when she looked back, her eyes were glowing red, and her hand closed around the Characterization Stone.

"NO!" yelled LAN.os. "That was a meaningless sacrifice! Something you valued for the wrong reasons - something you had to let go of for your own good!"

Net.Access smirked, fedora perfectly perched on her head, eyes bright with the light of the Stone. "That's the most meaningful sacrifice you can make." She held the Stone in the air, pointing into the sky. "Let the wheels of characterization, stopped so long ago, grind into action once more! CHARACTEEEEEER... GRAND GROWTH!!"

Crimson lightning crackled around the Stone, around her body, and shot into the sky-- slamming against it like it was an invisible dome, and causing the dome to crack wide open, a gash that caused the alien light of a yellow sun to stream thru.

And thru that gap zoomed an enormous fishing hook, glinting golden, arcing thru the air and slamming into the sand. The hook was attached to a line, and the line pulled taut, pointing off thru the crack; and pulled thru by the line came a young man and an armored being. 

The man wore a white trenchcoat with shimmery silver trim over a white spandex bodysuit with silver boots, a silver belt with a gold buckle, and a gold, shield-shaped chest emblem with a silver fishing hook on it. The being's armor was composed of smooth plates, gunmetal gray for most of it, blue on the gloves and boots, with a shining white breastplate, a blue circle on the left panel, a blue square on the right, and a blank blue faceplate. Doug watched them fly down, mouth in an O of amazement, and snapped several pictures.

They landed with a thump! on the beach. "Net.Access, are you okay?" said the man. "I sensed an enormous plot hook right before that-- I mean, that rift opened." He looked concerned, youthful brow furrowed.

"I'm sensing intense cosmic energies from the object she's holding," said a deep, smoky voice from the armor. "It may be some form of cosmic plot device, tho from the spectral analysis, I can tell it is not the Cosmic Plot Device."

The Characterization Stone pulsed in Net.Access's hand, and a burst of crimson energy pulsed from her eyes. "Nnnn... okay, that's enough of that... Plot Hook Lad... Betamax... can you give me some kind of containment unit?"

"One moment." Betamax pulled seemingly random panels off her armor; beneath each was an identical panel, which rose into place. She brought them together, assembling a sleek gray-and-blue sphere with an iris on it, which she threw up to Net.Access; Net.Access dropped the Stone into it and sighed. "Whew."

"So do we-- WHOA is that LAN.os!" Plot Hook Lad took a step back.

"Hah, yes!" crowed the cosmic villain, raising his fist. "And now that you have secured the Characterization Stone for me, I will-- whoop, sinking, sinking..."

"Yeah," said Net.Access. landing on the beach. "Long story."

"He desired that object, and you stopped him," said Betamax.

"Okay, short story." Net.Access adjusted the iris on the containment sphere, and a trickle of crimson energy streamed out like mist. "But that's not important, the important thing is, talking about what's been going on in your lives lately."

"...you know, I know you've been spending a lot of time with your girlfriend lately, but you could have, like, sent a text or something," said Plot Hook Lad. "No need to unearth interdimensional artifacts."

"I believe it is for the artifact," said Betamax, whose voice was near-monotone yet excellent at conveying a subtle amusement.

"Right," smiled Net.Access, the drama of the previous scene slowly dissolving, the guilt that had been released easing away.

"Oh, well." Plot Hook Lad laughed, a bit of his old awkwardness showing up. "Why don't you go first, Betamax, and I hook in?"

"All right," she said. "As you both know, I was originally known to the LNH as Irony Man II, showing up after the original Irony Man retired, on a secret quest to find the Messiah of Sincerity so that we could recruit the cosmic being known as the Laziness to stop the cosmic beings known as the Serious Business."

"Right," said Net.Access. "I wasn't around for that whole thing; how did it go?"

"Well."

"...well?"

"Yes." Betamax's featureless head gave a simple nod. "We accomplished our goals."

"Ah." Net.Access scratched her head. "...okay, well, what's been happening with you lately?"

"Well, I decided to stay in the present, for now, as a member of the Legion. I took on the new moniker of Betamax, to signify an embrace not of technology as a simple arc of ever-increasing progression, but as a branching infinity of possible futures, and a reminder that simply because one is more 'advanced', one is not necessarily better."

"Wow," said Net.Access. "That is simultaneously really deep and excessively convoluted."

Betamax gave a small bow. "Thank you."

"Yeah, once that whole thing was resolved, I came back to the LNH too," said Plot Hook Lad. "They helped me get my life back in place, it was... really hard dealing with all the emotional stuff, but, like, better than the alternative, right?" He gave a chuckle and pushed his hair back. "My family's great... everything's okay now."

Net.Access took a step towards Plot Hook Lad and pulled him into a tight hug. He made a little noise of surprise, then returned it; after a moment, they separated. "So," said Net.Access, "how'd you come back to life, anyway?"

He grinned. "Oh, Masterplan Lad brought me back to life."

"Masterplan Lad!?" Net.Access blinked in surprise. "He never said anything about that!"

"Well, he hasn't done it yet, of course." Plot Hook Lad's grin widened, and he crossed his arms.

"...uuuuuh-huh." Net.Access found herself smiling despite herself. "And you're not gonna follow up on that, are you."

"Nope!" Plot Hook Lad bounced in place impishly.

"Okay, okay," said Net.Access, shaking her head cheerfully. "Well, get some cosmic-y types over here to contain LAN.os. Maybe stick him in the Ultimate Black Hole if that's still around? And if it's not, y'know, evil. ...it's probably evil tho"

"I shall contact my sources," said Betamax, walking over to the quicksand.

"Ha-HA!" cackled LAN.os, exulting. "LAN.os never loses! Now, Doug!"

"...now what?" said Doug.

"Activate the device I gave you, of course!"

Doug rummaged in his pocket. "You mean this weird silver thing with the red button that you said not to push?"

"Yes! Push it, Doug!!"

Doug sighed and handed the device to Betamax. "Dude, you literally tried to kill me."

"...for friendship, Doug! Or, well, causally linked to friendship, at least!" LAN.os attempted the puppy dog eyes, and Net.Access had to look away.

She looked toward Doug. "Are you okay? Physically, but also, uh, emotionally."

"Physically, yeah." Doug rubbed his thighs. "Emotionally... this has been a weird day."

"Yeah, it really--" The containment unit pulsed in her hand. "Hhh. Uhh, lemme just take care of this..."

Her outfit dissolved, reforming into a sepiatone version of Babe Ruth's uniform. She took a step back, winding up...

"Wait! No!" LAN.os shouted. "Fool! I'll have to find another-- I mean, make more-- I mean..."

Net.Access launched the containment unit over the ocean. It flew, arcing high into the air... and at the very top of the arc, burst apart, the Characterization Stone trailing crimson fire until it splashed into the sea and was gone.

She dusted off her hands. "Leave that for Earth-20 to deal with." She turned back to Doug, ignoring LAN.os's shouts. "I think it's gonna take a while for them to deal with this guy. Want a ride back?"

"Sure," said Doug, "but can't you only leave with a friend?"

Net.Access took his hand.  "When you go thru big weird cosmic stuff together, you're friends. That's a net.hero rule."

"Oh, well..." He rubbed the back of his head with his other hand, a bit shyly. "That sounds good. Thank you."

Net.Access lead him off the beach, down across the magenta fields. "I'm sorry if this is blunt, but... how'd you become friends with that guy, anyway?"

"Heh. No, I guess there's no good way to ask." Doug shrugged. "Honestly, he showed up at game night one week and just... really seemed like he needed something normal in his life. So we let him play. And like... honestly, for a while, it seemed like he was just... having fun just enjoying himself. But then... I don't know what changed."

Net.Access nodded in commiseration. "I think... some people can't let go of what they've convinced themselves they have to do. Even if it's not nearly as healthy for them as letting go and just having a good time."

"Yeah. You think I should, like..." Doug looked over his shoulder. "Cut him off?"

"That's up to you. But I would establish some boundaries, at the very least." 

"Yeah..."

They came to a tall, spreading tree with bark of rose gold and leaves of, surprisingly, emerald green. Beneath sat a well-composed, human-looking being, deep in a book, his umbrella leaning against a tree.

"Masterplan Lad!" Net.Access waved, and Masterplan Lad looked up. 

He waved and stood, putting away his book and taking up his umbrella as they walked over. "I see you met a new friend," he said.

Doug scratched the back of his neck, smiling. Net.Access chuckled. "Yeah, this place does that to you."

"Did you get done what you needed to?" said Masterplan Lad, adjusting his bowtie.

"For now." Net.Access looked off into the sky. "They'll probably need reminding."

Masterplan Lad nodded, a small, rueful, hopeful smile on his face. "They always do."

Masterplan Lad took Doug's hand, and together, the three of them walked forward; and as they walked, they shimmered into soft, multicolored light, and they faded from the Friend Zone. But they could return anytime they felt like it, without grief or pain. And, reader, so can you.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Train Wreck

N/A: That fic was bold to assume Kurt D on assuming he wouldn´t murder ultimate and Nazi!Kurt. Kurts listed here: 616! Kurt, AoA!Kurt, movie!Kurt, Evo!Kurt, Nightcreeper and Cadbury.

@djinmer4

In a transparent rectangle, there´s are 6 people stuck in this transparent rectangle and both of them are an exact carbon copy of the other, however, their personalities are so contrasting that this little fact is almost lost to them.

The sixth person has no problem in retailing his tale to his exact copy; for the hundred times.

"And then I was minding my business and then Forge come to me and say, hey, I built a new machine, want to help me and boom, I´m here. Isn´t that strange?" Evo! Kurt said amazed by his own tale and Nightcreeper seems to be the only one paying attention to such a tale.

"We know Evo, you told this story more than once"616! Kurt with his open shirt declared polite.

"Ah, don´t listen to the German version of Fabio, it is an odd adventure that I like to hear," Nightcreeper said messing with his boa giggling madly, Evo Kurt is grateful for someone not thinking he is annoying.

"Speaking of odd, what are those piles of trench coat doing there over there?" Evo asked and the two older Kurt just mention it was was to dispose of the pieces of clothier("yeah, what German Fabio said","stop calling me that", "stop to act like one")"but...there´s a sword on top of that pile"

"So what? Is a nice way to make sure your clothes won´t run away, that happens with me more than once" Nightcreeper declared.

Cadbury is massing his temples remembering all the regulations and laws to help in this situation. Movie! Kurt is too quiet and AoA! Kurt is humming and scratching his beard.

"But...that sword is the twin sister of his sword"Evo replied and AoA! Kurt stopping humming and turn to see the boy.

"Is because I really dislike clothes throw around thinking shit, in fact, I hate shit, the sword is just a reminder of that" AoA! Kurt said with all the intensity "in my universe, we have a war and trash is always the first to go"

Evo didn´t say anything wondering if this is a guy who takes his chores that seriously or if he is not getting the joke.

"My god, you are so emo" Cadbury replied"my universe was bad, well, my universe we have to deal with the demon itself, and she is a cruel little girl, your universe is being rebuilt, you guys are improving...can´t you just say something not gloomy for once?"

"Sure, you look ridiculous in that outfit" AoA! Kurt stated.

"You two are sure the soul of the party" 616! Kurt can´t help to add. Movie! Kurt finally stops his musings.

"Don´t you all find strange that in this transparent rectangle we can breathe normally?" he said in a cool tone." and why are we all in the same rectangle? what is the purpose of this? I think...we are dealing with some form of witchcraft and/or some insane enough to trap us here until we all die" movie! Kurt stated in reasoning. "Is just an idea, because, this is not the pocket dimension we see, so, this is not the work of ...our father, then...must be someone with magical power and be crazy and evil enough to do this"

All eyes, minus the Evo, land on 616! Kurt and AoA!Kurt shakes his head in total disappointment, for his part 616! Kurt pretends it is not him being stared. Evo is still not getting the idea.

"Anyway, we are completely dependent on someone outside of saving us" Movie! Kurt stated "or maybe this is like the hunger game" his face frown at the sight of the clothiers with AoA´s twin sword on there. "I hope we won´t go there"

AoA just nods. Cadbury does not like to feel useless, Nightcreeper is trying to punch the transparent walls again and with no use, 616! Kurt is now completely shirtless and Evo! Kurt is clueless.

"Then what we do to pass time?" Cadbury asked not liking to be useless, he was at the top of his class, the man survives the wrath of Darkchylde, Cadbury should be better.

"We can do one thing" Movie! Kurt and AoA!Kurt is paying attention, the past half hour is possible to say AoA! Kurt and Movie! Kurt is getting along marvellous." we can pray"

"Fuck off" AoA! Kurt said and maybe movie! Kurt and AoA!Kurt isn´t best pals yet.

"I can pray, I saw the devil and is a little girl with a pink sweater, I can totally believe in God," Cadbury said and the two Kurts are praying.

Evo! Kurt is now paying attention to the image in front of him.

"Now that I noticed, him" Evo pointed to the Cadbury " makes me think of Scott" now his golden eyes go to AoA "you look like a really, really grumpy Logan" his eyes now are on the Nightcreeper "and you make me think of Deadpool"

"Same old Wade, is a crazy bastard not matter the universe" AoA and 616! said in unison without malice. There´s a comfort in knowing that no matter what Wade is still Wade.

And Evo is not questioning the piece of clothiers with the twin sword, much to AoA and Nightcreepr´s relief.

Suddenly, a crash is heard and a huge circle appear in the midair. Kurt Waggoner is there with a pistol and a shy smile.

"There are you are guys," A boy in the same size and age of Evo open a portal for each Kurt. " I´m here to help you guys"

Kurt Waggoner wave at AoA and 616! Kurt saw the man had a soft expression, although, no sweet words were exchanged. Evo and Kurt Waggoner are awed at each other.

"Did you get here because you were helping Forge and something odd happened?" Evo asked.

"Uhm, isn´t Forge an older man?"

"No...wait, Is complicated"

Later each Kurt was sent home safely and Waggoner and Evo have no idea that Nazi! Kurt and homophobic! Kurt was there as well under the clothiers, but of course, Kurt Darkholme did take his sword and Movie! Kurt as well the other is ok with forgetting their clothes there.

[littlereyofsunlight]

Fic preview: In the Heat of Battle

For Day 7: Free for all, the final day of Steggy Week, a preview of my multi-chapter WIP. 

April 1944, Italy

Another bullet whistled by Peggy's head as she and Steve crouched for cover behind his shield in a rather inadequate copse of scrawny trees. 

"Do you think Sergeant Barnes might do us the favor of taking out that blasted Jerry any time soon?" Peggy asked through grit teeth, pressing closer against Steve's side. His arms were wrapped around her and braced on the shield in front of both of them. She'd tucked her head snugly into his chest. Their legs were hopelessly tangled, but somehow they kept themselves upright. The brush provided adequate coverage at their feet, but left the top of the shield partially exposed.

Steve peeked over the edge of the shield and another shot whizzed past. Peggy's nails dug into his forearm and she hissed out a tense breath.

"He must've gotten caught up helping the rest of the team." Barnes and the rest of the Commandos had gone around the back of the manor the Nazis were using as a base to take the troops by surprise while Peggy and Steve had volunteered to create a diversion at the front of the long drive, where a guard tower had been erected. Peggy had shot the two men on the ground, but she and Steve had been surprised by a small team arriving back at post before they could take out the sniper in the tower. Now he was the last obstacle keeping them from providing reinforcements. "Sorry, Agent Carter. We might be stuck like this for a little bit."

Peggy huffed and shifted her torso, quite aware of how they were pressed together. "Lucky for us it's just the one sniper, I suppose."

Steve's mouth quirked into a smile as he looked down at her, "I could think of worse ways to spend my day."

She'd slap him for his impertinence if he wasn't blushing so prettily just from saying it. That and she'd rather not get shot in the hand if she could help it.

"Yes, well, lucky for you you're not stuck here with Corporal Dugan," Peggy snipped back. 

"You're a better conversationalist than Dum Dum," Steve agreed, ignoring the ice in her voice. They were in the field, in the middle of a mission, they were under fire, he should know better than to flirt with her. Still, she supposed no one else was around to hear it, and they had to pass the time somehow…

"I smell quite a lot better, too." Peggy bit her lip as Steve laughed and shook them both. "Steve, don't, you'll make me lose my balance." Her thighs were beginning to burn from the crouch they were in as it was. She leaned further into him. 

He tightened his grip on her, shifting the shield so he could wrap an arm firmly around her waist and hold her in place. "Beg pardon, but you do smell good. How do you smell this good after a week out here?"

Peggy shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "A lady never tells." 

"Shame. Could teach us all a thing or two. I'm sorry you're stuck with me. I'm afraid I'm not much better than Dugan right now."

The sniper, apparently bored with their lack of movement, fired at the center of the shield. Both Steve and Peggy tensed as it pinged harmlessly off the vibranium.

He didn't actually smell unpleasant, to her surprise. Layered over the sharp, wholesomely male tang of his sweat were notes of gunpowder, engine grease, leather and mint. She looked up into his eyes. "I don't mind so much." He blushed again and looked away. "You know," she continued, "we're lucky indeed it's just us two here."

Steve looked down at her, surprise evident in his face. "Oh?" His voice cracked endearingly on the question and she worked very hard to suppress a smile and the urge to knock him over and kiss him. Adorable as he was, they were still in danger. And on a mission. And expecting backup at any moment, God willing. Best not to press their luck.

"Quite. No one else could fit behind the shield with you."

Instead of simply blushing as she might have expected, Steve tilted his head and raked his eyes over her in a clear assessment, the smile back on his face. "I dunno, you may be dainty but Morita's pretty compact. He might fit."

Peggy snorted inelegantly at the thought. She'd surpassed 'dainty' back in her teens, bless him. Now she was sturdy, and it allowed her to be the capable agent she was today. "I'll buy the team a round the next time we're in London if you can convince him to test that theory when we return to camp."

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "Shouldn't be a problem." He jostled the shield with the gesture and their German friend took the opportunity to squeeze off another round at them. It glanced harmlessly off the shield.

Peggy tensed again and her leg was suddenly seized by a muscle cramp. She cried out but cut herself off, stuffing her free hand into her mouth.

"Peg? Did you catch some frag off that last shot?" Steve's eyes roamed wildly over what little of her he could see from his current angle. She shook her head, removed her fist and blew out a breath.

"My bloody leg's cramped up. I have to move it, Steve."

He nodded tightly and looked around. "Right." He inclined his head to the left. "There's a boulder just a few yards over. I'm going to pick you up and run like hell." 

"That's your plan?" Peggy grunted.

"Yeah," Steve said breathlessly, shifting the shield for better cover, fitting his shoulder just under her ribs at the same time.

"Good plan." She covered her head with both arms. "Let's go."

He was up and running flat-out before she'd finished, with her rucked up in a half-fireman's carry, the shield blocking all of her but leaving Steve's head and legs exposed as he zig-zagged his way over to their new shelter. Shots bit into the ground, narrowly missing them. Peggy could see them impacting the mossy terrain, throwing up little flumes of dirt at Steve's heels. The sniper was fast and accurate, but Captain America was faster.

He leapt over the rock with catlike grace and settled Peggy gently on the ground, where she immediately stretched out her leg, digging into the stiff muscle with her thumbs. Steve crouched above her, shielding her body with his own.

“You okay, Agent?” He checked sightlines around the rock. Luckily, there was a shallow depression in the ground on this side, providing more than adequate cover for the two of them. The sniper fired one more shot, but it only hit the boulder with a dull sound. Steve moved from over Peggy onto the ground beside her, but kept his ear cocked, listening for any advancing footsteps.

“Oooh,” Peggy groaned, working the unforgiving knot in her leg. “I’ll be fine. Wish I could walk it off, but this is much better than the alternative.”

Steve stretched out a gloved hand, “May I?”

Peggy nodded, grinding her molars together. It had been a grueling week. She and the Commandos had been away for over a fortnight, tracking a band of Hydra soldiers through the Italian Alps, hoping to capture at least one alive before he could bite down on his bloody cyanide pill and escape interrogation. This base could very well be their last chance before they had to turn tail and rendezvous with Colonel Phillips back at the main camp: their supplies were running low and they kept skirting dangerous territory, engaging in more and more skirmishes with Axis troops while they pursued their quarry.

She was, to be quite frank, exhausted and ready for just a few hours off duty, to properly clean herself and grab a quick nap on a real cot, instead of a patch of rocky terrain. The boys had all been extremely conscientious of the woman agent in their midst, so she’d always had enough to eat and first choice when it came to sleeping arrangements around the fire, but the field was still the field. Peggy could keep up with the best of soldiers, to be sure, but she was first and foremost an intelligence agent. To say this was not her preferred milieu would be an understatement.

Steve’s hands were warm and his touch firm as he inspected the spasming muscle in her thigh. She hissed as he dug in with his fingertips, but it was a good pain. He stroked in circular motions and little by little the cramp eased.

“You are quite good at that,” she remarked.

Steve flushed. “I wasn’t often good for much, before the serum, but my hands were pretty steady. Bucky worked plenty of odd jobs in the neighborhood that left him sore and hurting. It was one of the few ways I could reliably contribute, once we got our own place.”

Peggy eyed him. “You two are very close, aren’t you?”

Steve gave her thigh a final, lingering rub and hunkered back against the boulder. “Sure. Buck’s been there for me almost from the very beginning. He’s practically family. I was sick a lot, growing up. And when I wasn’t sick, I was mouthing off to all the wrong people. He stuck by me, propped me up, took a lotta punches meant for me. And then, when Ma passed…” He trailed off, looking at his hands in his lap, “well, even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“You do seem to inspire a rather rabid strain of loyalty. Any one of the Commandos would follow you blind into hell. Erskine fought tooth and nail to get you into his program. Even Howard bloody Stark is gaga over you, spends far too much time perfecting weapons for your whole team.” Steve turned wide, guileless eyes to her face. “According to Colonel Phillips, of course.”

“And what about you, Agent Carter?” His gaze was forthright, assessing. The very air around them seemed to change. 

It was Peggy’s turn to look away, as she couldn’t help the answer that came tumbling out of her mouth. “I’m afraid I’m not immune to it, either. The row Phillips and I got into when Stark returned me to camp that night in Azzano…” She smiled a little. “He threatened to pack me up and send me back to Bletchley, you know. I think he truly meant it.” Philips often groused about sending her back to Bletchley, but as it was he who’d handpicked her from among her entire class of SOE trainees, it was typically benign.

“What made him change his mind?”

“Oh,” she said airily, “my rather impassioned defense of your abilities. The good Colonel may have a bit of a soft spot when it comes to me yelling. I don’t do it all that often, and he knows well enough to heed when I’m in a pique.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Mmmm,” Peggy hummed an affirmative, tentatively stretching and flexing her leg, finally chasing away the ghost of his hands on her body.

“Bletchley, huh?”

Before she could answer, they both heard a twig snap some yards beyond their hiding spot, back in the direction they’d come from.

“Now who do you think’s come to call?” Peggy murmured, locking eyes with Steve. He put a finger to his lips, then gestured vaguely to the left with his sidearm while jutting his chin in her direction. Hopefully he would draw focus and she could get off a shot if it was, in fact, an unfriendly out there.

Steve tucked and rolled out from behind the rock, then sprang up into a crouch facing the interloper. As Peggy boosted herself over the top of their shelter, Steve called out, “Don’t shoot!”

It was Jones, eyes wild, hands out in front of him. “Cap, Carter, thank God. Come quick.” And he turned and ran.

They were all already tearing back towards the manor house before Peggy had the presence of mind to ask, “Who is it?” From the look on Gabe’s face, though, she thought she already knew.

Before Jones could answer, Steve had outstripped the both of them, his legs a blur of motion.

“Barnes.” Peggy said.

Jones panted alongside her. “Got surprised by that sniper at the end of the lane.”

“Blast,” Peggy cursed, knowing how this would play out if, God forbid, Barnes had more than a scratch on him. Steve already held himself accountable for Erskine’s death, and the soldiers who didn’t make it out of the Hydra factory he’d single-handedly stormed.

Barnes was already being thoroughly checked over by Steve when Peggy and Gabe caught up.

“Aw, Steve, come on. It’s just a graze. Coulda been a lot worse, but the bastard had shit aim.” Bucky was propped up against a few sacks of flour, scowling at the indignity of his CO and best friend examining him for anything Morita might have missed.

Satisfied, Steve sat back on his heels. “Let me guess, Buck, if it had been you in the tower and him on the ground, he wouldn’t have seen it coming, right?”

Bucky coughed wetly and grimaced as the movement pulled at the wound in his side. “Don’t sass me. He’s still dead and I’m just fine. It all worked out. 

As Steve ducked to give Bucky a sip of water, Morita caught Peggy’s eye over their heads and nodded towards the door. She gave a curt nod in return.

“We’re so very glad you’re all right, Sergeant Barnes. If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to radio in to HQ.” Excuse made, she walked brusquely out of the room, Morita trailing after. Once they were a fair distance down the hallway, near the kitchen, she rounded on Jim. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “Far as I know, it went down like he said. But it wasn’t a graze, that wound was through-and-through when I looked at it outside. I applied pressure, we carried him in here and by the time I look again,” Jim paused, casting a glance around before he continued, “he’d already begun to heal. I wouldn’t have known what I was looking at, except…” He shrugged again.

She caught his meaning, all right. “Except you’ve seen in before.” A nod. “With Steve.” Another. “Well, that’s something.”

Morita blew out a sigh and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “What do you want to do about it?”

Peggy shook her head. “I don’t know if there’s anything to do but be thankful this worked out in our favor. I imagine, if I were to report the incident you describe to the higher-ups, taking into consideration the Sergeant’s ordeal in the Hydra camp some months back, they would recall him immediately for further testing.” She bit her lip, considering the ramifications. “That would drive Steve crazy, and break up the best special operations team the Allied Forces have. Best to report the story Bucky’s telling, and keep a careful eye on him.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders. “I really must report in, Morita. Would you kindly set up the comm unit?”

[swlbarnes]

On The Run - Bucky Barnes x Reader

I’m debating whether I should start posting more of my works from Wattpad on here or not, but since I don’t have anything else written atm, I’ll just leave this here. ;)

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It all started with a knock on your front door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" You shouted in annoyance as you jogged to the front door, the person on the other side still rapping their knuckles against the wood repeatedly. You blew a piece of hair out of your face and yanked the door open, greeting them with a loud and angry, "What?"

Instead of being met by some door-to-door salesman that you could brush away and slam the door on, your eyes landed on a battered and bruised man, covered head to toe in black clothing. He carried a backpack on his back. The backpack was unzipped to reveal a plethora of notebooks ranging from torn and tattered to brand new and orderly. Your eyes widened as you gazed upon his hardened expression. His arms were spread out so he was grabbing onto either side of the doorframe, putting his fully metal arm front and center.

You moved quickly as you tried to slam the door and turn to run, but he was faster and much stronger. He slammed his metal hand against the door, pushing it back open. "Wait!" He cried desperately. You stopped as you heard the despair in his voice. Your eyebrows furrowed and you turned on your heels to face him again. Every muscle in your body tensed, ready for his attack.

"What do you want?" You asked coldly. His expression had fallen into one of exhaustion and his shoulders slumped, but you weren't falling for it. From the looks of it, he could snap you in two without breaking a sweat.

His intense blue gaze shifted upwards to look at you. He leaned completely against the doorframe, no doubt dripping blood onto the paint. You huffed at the thought. "I need your help. Please, they're after me," He responded weakly. You could tell that it pained him to say such a thing as, "I need help," and that was enough to make you roll your eyes.

"Who is after you?" You asked him, not daring to take a step forward. You were surprised that he hadn't forced his way in yet, but you guessed that he was trying to gain your trust first. He peered behind him quickly before turning back around and looking at you pleadingly.

"Please, just let me in. I'll explain everything once we're inside, but no out here. It's too dangerous," he begged. You narrowed your eyes at him, contemplating his request.

"Fine," you gave in, "but sit on the old brown couch and don't get blood on my carpet." He huffed in amusement and made his way inside. You took a couple strides to the door and peeked your head outside for a moment as you cleaned the blood off of your door frame with your shirt sleeve. You quickly withdrew into your house as you saw a few people rounding the corner onto your street. You closed the door and locked it, tugging the table next to your door in front of it as a barricade. Happy with this arrangement, you walked towards the living area where the mystery man was hopefully sitting. You passed through the kitchen on your way, snatching up a first aid kit and a knife, just in case.

You entered the room to see the man on the couch you directed him to, one hand clutching his bleeding side and the other fiddling with a picture of you and your family. "Hey, bionic boy, I believe you were going to tell me a story," you recalled quietly. He looked up in surprise and nodded. He patted the spot next to him after placing the picture frame back in its original location. You sat down in the spot he indicated and opened the first aid kit.

"Well, first of all, you won't be needing to use that knife on me," he began, eyeing the boot where you stashed your kitchen knife. You furrowed your eyebrows, reaching up under your pant leg and brushing your fingers over the handle of the knife.

"How'd you know about that?" You asked in a low tone.

"You have a lot of questions," he mused. You scoffed.

"A man with a metal arm just showed up on my doorstep covered in blood and told me that someone was after him. I have a right to ask questions about a situation like that," you snapped back, opening the first aid kit and nodding your head towards his body armor-like top. He sighed and carefully took off his top, revealing a six-pack and what looked like a bullet hole. You took a closer look and confirmed that it was in fact a bullet hole. You sighed and started working to get the bullet out.

"My name is Bucky, but the rest I can't tell you here. I actually would rather us not be talking at the moment-"

You scoffed, cutting him off mid sentence. He looked up at you in confusion. "I'm basically saving your life and you're telling me to shut up?" You asked in disbelief, your hands working carefully at his wounds. He sighed.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that they're searching the neighborhood right now, and if they hear us, you'll be dead in seconds. So keep your voice down," he replied quietly. He didn't even flinch as you dug to get the bullet out of his side, which concerned you slightly. You sighed as well.

"Well, you're telling me later, alright? That's our trade. Medical help for information. Deal?" You reasoned with him. His eyes flickered over to look at you and he nodded slowly. "Good."

You finished patching him up to the best of your ability. You ended up covering one of your couch cushions in blood, much to your dismay. Bucky didn't seem quite as concerned, as all he did in response was a simple shrug and a, "whoops."

He got back into his battle gear as you liked to call it, guns and all. You stood up from the couch to put away the first aid kit when Bucky suddenly shot up with you, wrapping his arms around your waist and ducking behind the television set. Just as you reached the cover, a shower of bullets crashed through your window. They hit the wall and the couch in the exact spot that you had been sitting.

Your hands were shaking at this point, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before Bucky could see them.

"Compromised," he muttered in an annoyed tone. "We need to go."

"What?!" You shouted in disbelief. His eyes widened and he quickly placed his gloved hand over your mouth. You ripped his hand away and glared at him. "This is my home, and I'm not leaving it behind! If you expect me to leave my friends and family behind because some pathetic thugs found you here, then you are highly mistaken!" You argued. Bucky ran a hand down his face in exasperation, his eyes flickering all over the room before looking back at you. He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you a bit closer to him.

"These aren't just some gang members out for some drug money. These are highly trained secret Nazi agents out to destroy this entire world. This is HYDRA, okay? You remember that from history class? Yeah, they're here, now, and they won't leave you alone until you're dead. If you don't come with me, you'll be dead before I get down the street." His voice was rough and serious, and you could see the steely edge in his gaze that told you that you didn't want to argue with him. You gulped.

"Why do they want me?"

"You helped me instead of turning me in. That's a death sentence to them. Now, are you with me?" Bucky held his hand out to you, and you slowly took it.

"I'm with you. What do we do?" You replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You swore you could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips before he snatched a combat knife from his belt.

"You know how to use a gun?" He asked, staring past you and out the window. His words were rushed, and you knew that they were coming.

"What? No!" You denied with a huff. He rolled his eyes and passed you a pistol.

"Well it's either time to learn or time for you to use that knife you were hiding earlier. I would feel much better if you didn't get close enough to use the knife, though," he suggested in a half joking tone, but you knew he was serious about it as well. You agreed with a nod. "You ready?"

You shook your head. "Not at all."

"Thanks for your honesty. 3, 2, 1..." As he finished his countdown, he jumped out and grabbed another gun off of his back and began to shoot at each man that he saw. Your breathing picked up again and you fumbled with the gun in your hand. You looked over it and tried to figure out how to work it. Did you just pull the trigger? You raised the gun over your head and over the TV set, being sure not to point it at Bucky. Your finger swiftly pulled the trigger and...

Nothing. You pulled your hand back and looked at the gun in confusion. Bullets were flying, people were falling to the ground. You took a quick look back to see that Bucky was still standing strong. Every once in a while he would look back at you, but he never seemed to be annoyed that you weren't out helping him. He was handling himself.

You kept messing with the gun (carefully, of course) as Bucky kept fighting on behind you. When the bullets stopped, that's when you got concerned. All you could hear were grunts and punches being thrown. You peered out once more. Bucky was fighting hand-to-hand with one of the agents, and though he seemed to be winning, he obviously didn't notice the other agent sneaking up behind him.

Your eyes widened and you grabbed the gun again. What was it? What were you doing wrong?

That's when it hit you. The safety. You found the switch and flipped it off. You popped out from behind the TV and held up the gun in shaky hands. You pointed it towards the new agent as best you could, and just as Bucky took out the one he was fighting, you pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked back at you with more force than you were expecting, causing you to let out a surprised yelp. You froze in place, watching at the man fell to the ground. You hit him directly in the chest. You could feel your entire body shaking with adrenaline and shock. You had just killed someone. You were a murderer.

Bucky had frozen too, but it didn't take long for his gaze to shift over to you. When he realized the state you were in, he rushed over to you and grabbed the gun from you, putting it on the coffee table and letting you collapse into his chest. You let out a sob that you had been suppressing since the attack started, and he just held you close.

When you finally composed yourself, you pulled away and wiped your tears away with your sleeve. "I killed someone..." You muttered sadly. Bucky gave you a sympathetic smile.

"But you saved me. Those men and women destroyed thousands, even millions of lives. They were terrible people. If you hadn't killed that man, then he would have killed both of us and dozens of other people as well. Now come on, we need to get going. I'm sure they called for backup." His tone was surprisingly soft and soothing, and he collected his weapons before leading you out the back door of your house.

~

"James Buchanan Barnes, you did NOT go out for supplies without me!" You shouted, placing your hands on your hips and fixated your pointed gaze on the blue eyed man that had just arrived with a paper bag of supplies. He looked at you with wide eyes and opened his mouth to reply.

"Pft, of course not," he replied hesitantly, placing the bag down carefully. He began taking out the food and various items and placing them in their designated spots in your dingy tiny apartment. You huffed and walked over to him, leaning against the counter next to him.

"You know that I like going on supply runs with you in case they find us!" You argued in annoyance.

"But you sleep too late!" He whined, snatching a plum from the bag and taking a bite. You rolled your eyes.

"Then wake me up, idiot. Don't just leave me high and dry in the apartment. I thought you were kidnapped!"

He just grinned closemouthed, as he had a mouthful of plum at the moment. He quickly swallowed to speak. "Aw, you were worried about me," he teased. You just groaned and walked away, plopping down on your mattress on the floor.

"Whatever. So next time you get ambushed and I'm not there to help, just remember this conversation and remember that it's on you," you gave in passively. You picked up today's newspaper and began flipping through the pages. Looks like Sokovia wasn't doing too well. Or, really, it wasn't there anymore. That's pretty weird.

Bucky sighed and walked back over to you. He sat down next to you and took off his cap, fiddling with it in his hands before speaking. "Listen, I'm sorry I went without you again. I just know that you haven't been sleeping well lately and I didn't want to wake you up. You were finally asleep and you seemed like you were sleeping pretty well. I didn't want to mess that up," he apologized, his voice soft and sincere. You sighed, putting the paper down and placing your head in your hands. He wasn't wrong. You had been on the run with him for a year now, and you were missing home. You had been declared legally dead recently, and it took a toll on you. You even attended your own funeral. It was heartbreaking to see all of your friends and family so distraught and not be able to console them.

Things had been rough with you and Bucky at the start. You honestly hated his guts for ruining your life. He ripped you away from everything you knew and loved. He was the one that destroyed you. He would train you how to fight and how to be ruthless with your enemies. It was terrifying. You hated it, and you felt like he was turning you into a monster. The only reason you stayed was because he was the one keeping you alive. Without him, HYDRA surely would have killed you by now.

But it was his fault that they were after you in the first place.

At this thought, you quickly stood up and walked to the other side of the room, trying to keep your distance as usual. You wrung your hands as your thoughts raced with what all you had been through together, but you still couldn't let him in. It was his fault you had gone through those things. He was the one that ruined you.

You could hear his sad sigh from behind you as well as the squeaks of the bed springs as his weight was lifted off of them. "Why don't you trust me, (Y/N)?" He asked softly,his footsteps slow on the hardwood floors. You placed your hands on the counter, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head.

"I just... I just can't..." You admitted, taking deep breaths. After all this time and all that you had done, of course this was what would make you cry. "My family... My friends... They all think I'm dead...Everyone thinks I'm dead. I watched my own funeral, Bucky. I watched everyone that I love talking about me as if I was dead, and I was right there! They were distraught and there was nothing I could do to help!" Your voice slowly got higher in volume as you spoke, and just as you were about to break down, Bucky was by your side. He placed his metal hand on your left shoulder and stood on your right side, his other hand was placed lightly on your right arm. You took careful breaths to steady yourself, and you couldn't even bring yourself to pull away from him. You needed comfort right now, no matter who it came from.

"I know it's hard to watch the people you love think that you're dead. I know what it's like to lose everything. I'm so sorry I made you go through that too, but the best thing you can do for those people is stay away from them. If they find out you're alive and HYDRA realizes that they mean something to you, they'll be dead in a heartbeat. By staying away you're keeping them safe, alright?"

You sighed and nodded slowly. You knew he was right, of course he was. You had been travelling with him long enough to realize how smart he really was, but you still couldn't help but feel awful still. Sensing this, he patted your back comfortingly and turned you towards him. His arms snaked around your waist and you looked up at him in confusion.

"Bucky? What are you doing?" You asked. He tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his face.

"Not quite sure. Probably something pretty stupid," he replied, before pressing his lips to yours. You gasped and began to pull away before stopping. Why did it feel... nice? You were supposed to hate this man, you weren't supposed to enjoy this.

You pushed those thoughts away and put your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back. You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled away reluctantly. His nose brushed against yours as he gazed down at you.

"Do you trust me now?" He asked cheekily. You smirked.

"Hmm, I'm not quite sure yet. Why don't you try it again and we'll see?"

[thisiswhatwereupagainst]

X-Men First Class Hellfire Club Re-Design

I was going through some old stuff of mine and found ideas for a version of the Hellfire Club in First Class that would be more comics-accurate and enjoyable for me. I think I might have posted it before, but in case I didn’t, here it is! In this version, the Hellfire Club has the same history and origins as its comicverse counterpart: Founded in the 18th century as a society for the most wealthy and elite, and is so to this today. However, while most of its members see it simply as a social club for them to enjoy mingling with fellow people of their status, it has a secret Inner Circle made up of some of the most powerful and influential people on the planet, who seek to dominate the world economically, politically, and socially through wealth. And now, that Inner Circle is made up of mutants. Their goal is the one that Sebastian Shaw originally espoused in their early appearance in the comics, but never quite seemed to get around to: Owning the mutant genome. Mutants are emerging, and the Hellfire Club sees in them the potential for profit if they can get there first. They want to get their hands on every mutant they can and use them for the development of bio-weapons, medicines, anything and everything that could be done using the literally endless potential abilities of mutantkind. They don't care about mutant rights or human acceptance or any of that---they care about profit, and they will happily put other mutants on the dissection table for it. They're also equally happy to profit from human bigotry, which they are already preparing for, developing and testing anti-mutant weapons so that when humankind becomes aware of mutants and panics, they'll already be ready to sell them the goods before anyone else. As with the original move Club, they're also doing the whole "trying to start the next world war" thing, justthey're instigating it for profit rather than propagating the mutant species. Unlike their comic book counterparts, their image should not evoke the 1700s/1800s or BDSM themes. Instead, they should be dressed in chic corporate business-wear most of the time; in combat, however, they switch to one-piece battle uniforms like the X-Men have. However, their uniforms should have a sleeker, more regal look, and admittedly a little on the sexier side too. They should just look 'cooler' than the X-Men, somehow; it fits with their 'better than you' attitude. Also unlike the comics, the Inner Circle are not named after chess pieces, but their comic book codenames are alluded to by being given these names (Black King, White Queen, etc.) in something like a government file, or over a secret radio transmission, something like that, either by themselves or by the government or by the X-men (ex: “White Queen incoming, over” or the like)

Hellfire Club Members:

Sebastian Shaw - Definitely not Kevin Bacon, definitely never a Nazi. Sebastian Shaw has the same background as his comicverse counterpart---born a poor steel worker, became a billionaire industrialist--and has the whole "tall muscular guy with sideburns and a ponytail" thing going on, as he should. He also is going to rip his shirt off at least once. Shaw should basically epitomize the "all business, nothing personal" approach. Profit and power are his first/only concerns, and he openly sneers at Erik's beliefs as much as he does at Charles'. Like Bacon!Shaw, he initially offers the X-Men the option to join him, but unlike Bacon!Shaw he makes no pretenses about being unwilling to "harm another mutant" if they don't. He should be a brilliant strategist, and incredible in physical combat (and not just because of his mutant abilities either) as well as classy as fuck (although there should a scene where he loses it and his poor Pennsylvania miner accent slips out and he looks mortified because he worked so hard to lose it) His big weakness, and the weakness of the Hellfire Club on the whole, is an inability to understand or trust people; he has recruited others based only on their powers and use to him, but he doesn't trust them or vice versa. Any of them would sell any of the others out in a second, in contrast to the solidarity between both the X-Men and, eventually, the Brotherhood. As with Bacon!Shaw, he has the prototype anti-telepathy helmet, invented by his labs and Dr. Essex, which both he and Dr. Essex wear (and which Magneto will take from Dr. Essex like he did with Bacon!Shaw, see Essex's section below) Emma Frost - Unlike Shaw, Emma doesn't come from a working class background, but was instead born into upper-crust society. However, she didn't coast by on her family's cash, but instead chose to build a fortune of her own as a businesswoman. While her mutant abilities are what made Shaw recruit her, it's this work ethic that gained his respect. Like Shaw, she's incredibly classy and intelligent, but she understands people much better he does because of her telepathy, and this makes her far better at manipulation. He makes battle strategies, she makes people strategies. While she lacks the physical combat skills of Shaw, her diamond form helps her make up for it, making her pack a hell of a punch and be immune to almost all physical assaults. She speaks with either a British accent or a posh WASP-type one, and she is very clearly equal to Shaw, not subordinate to him (in other words, no, she does not get him fucking ice for his drink, and if he dared ask, the movie would end a lot sooner BECAUSE SHE’D KILL HIM) Tessa/Sage - Their living version of Cerebro, the movie-verse Sage's abilities are limited to being able to detect other mutants. However, she also displays incredible combat abilities, which could either be the result of a super-human physique or simply of very dedicated training. Like the comicverse Tessa, she's the usually-silent assistant/secretary of Sebastian Shaw in both business and super-villainy (which, for him, are the same thing), rarely speaking or displaying personality, virtually a flesh and blood robot. She's practical to the point of ruthless, but also lacks any cruelty or sadism. Cold, detached, polite, but never mean, and even attempts to warn the X-Men away from messing with the Hellfire Club for their own sake. Selene Gallio - An eccentric heiress from Rome, she possesses telekinesis and pyrokinesis. She's secretly scheming to eliminate Shaw and Emma so as to put herself in the most powerful Inner Circle position, and uses the conflict with the X-Men to do so. Shaw and Emma, meanwhile, are also secretly trying to bump her off too! Again, this ends up being a big part of the reason that they're defeated by the X-Men, who use the backstabbing and manipulative nature of the Hellfire Club to play them off each other. Shaw also personally dislikes her for having only inherited her money, never worked for it, while she looks down on him for the reverse reason. While Shaw and Emma seem to see things as a business venture, she views it more as a game, and is less concerned with profit, more concerned with fun. Her opinion of mutantkind is that they have evolved to be predator upon humans, since humans have not had any natural predators for too long a time and nature abhors a vacuum; she is quick to note, however, that she herself is equal-opportunity in her selection of prey and thus happy to kill mutants as well, just like the rest of the Club.

Additional Hellfire characters:

Dr. Nathaniel Essex - Obviously, Magneto's story was the most powerful one in the First Class movie, so I of course want to keep it. But how, since this Sebastian Shaw won't have had anything to do with his past or Nazis? Well, Dr. Essex will take his place! Many fans have noted that movie!Shaw is much more like Mr. Sinister (Dr. Essex)--fascinated with mutants from a scientific POV, amoral, heartless, all about experiments and outcome, and worked as a Nazi scientist in the concentration camps (young Magneto even met him!) And since he also was affiliated with the Hellfire Club in the comics too, yeah, it fits perfectly. Just take the plot with movie!Shaw and Erik and stick in Essex in movie!Shaw's place. Movie-version Dr. Essex is originally from England but joined the Nazis in order to enjoy more "scientific freedom" regarding the experiments he was allowed to perform. He agreed with the idea of a master race, just one other than Aryans: Mutants, who he had become aware of through his work in England. At an unknown point after this, he is hired by the Hellfire Club to work in their labs. He himself is human when he works in the camps and puts young Erik through the torments that awaken his powers, but by the time Erik encounters him as an adult, he has used science to alter himself with mutant DNA, equipping himself with a regenerative healing factor, metahuman strength, endurance, reflexes, and resistance to injury. He lacks the strange appearance of Mr. Sinister, and is never referred to by that name, just as Dr. Essex. Donald Pierce - A human who was deposed from his spot in the Inner Circle by Shaw due to not being a mutant...and lost all his limbs in the process to Sebastian Shaw, nearly dying (he now relies on prosthetics) He is a prominent industrialist as well as very good with machinery/robotics, and he lends both his company and his own hands to the government in addressing the problem of the Hellfire Club. He's supposed to work together with the X-Men, but the moment the Hellfire Club is defeated, he turns on them, claiming that what the Hellfire Club did to him is what all mutants are going to do the moment they get the chance and "I won't give you that chance." Magneto kills him with his own machinery/weapons/prosthetics, but in the end credits, his severed head is seen in the labs of his company, attached to wires and cords, and the eyes open. Jetstream - A young mutant taken in by the Hellfire Club, he fights Banshee and Angel in aerial combat. Like his comic-book counterpart, his powers destroyed his lower body, and so he uses prosthetics built for him by Pierce prior to Pierce being ejected from (and nearly killed by) the Hellfire Club Catseye - Another young mutant basically adopted by with the Hellfire Club, she's a felid shapeshifter. Her comic book counterpart took the form of an enormous purple cat, but since that's a little goofy for the big screen, this version instead becomes a sort of human/black panther hybrid, and functions as a counterpart to Mystique and Beast, both of whom she fights Roulette- A young mutant with luck powers who works for the Hellfire Club. She is shown briefly during a montage that shows how the Club is using various mutants for their own profitable purposes; in Roulette's case, she uses her luck powers to manipulate the stock marker in favor of the Inner Circle. Benazir Kaur- A mutant who works for the Hellfire Club, shown in the same montage as Roulette. She can causes sickness and disease in people, and is used in the medical labs. A few other mutants will be shown in the montage too, I just haven't picked which. I'd ideally like for them to have been associated with the comicverse Hellfire Club instead of just random people like Riptide, though. I'd especially like to get in a cameo of Harry Leland. I don't see him as needed for the plot, but since the other members of the original comics Inner Circle---Shaw, Frost, Pierce, Tessa---are included, it seems unfair to leave him out entirely. We could also keep Riptide and Azazel too, if you want. I'm neutral on them. A teleporter is useful, but the comics canon Hellfire Club has two we could pick from (Lourdes Chantal and Trevor Fitzroy) and while I'd prefer Lourdes, I guess Azazel keeps the whole nod to Nightcrawler's parentage. Of course, I don't really care about that either, so whatever.

Story differences:

So, FC ends with Erik embracing the ideals of Shaw and the Hellfire Club, and taking over the latter to make it his Brotherhood of Mutants. Obviously, in this version, that won't happen because the ideals of Shaw and the Hellfire Club aren't what Magneto believes in at all. Instead, what happens is that the Hellfire Club and their exploitation of mutants shows Magneto the danger that mutants are in, and he agrees with the Hellfire Club that when humans realize mutants exist, they are indeed going to react with panic and want to wipe them out (which he points to Donald Pierce as evidence of). And like the Hellfire Club being prepared to sell anti-mutant weapons to the masses, Magneto wants to be prepared too. The Hellfire Club also shows him the danger of what will happen if mutantkind isn't united, if they don't come together---it will become mutant on mutant, selling each other out to the humans just to save their own skins. That's why it's so imperative to him that Xavier and every other mutant agree with him, because there can be no room for division in their ranks or else this will happen again. So he still walks off and takes Angel and Mystique with him, as well as possibly some Hellfire-affiliated mutants that like his ideals better than being exploited for profit by the Inner Circle (which could include Riptide and Azazel, and/or some of the ones from the brief montage). He kills Essex just like he did originally with Shaw, complete with helmet and Charles screaming and mind-linking and all...obviously Essex doesn't have Shaw's abilities so he wouldn't have the "absorbed nuclear bomb level power" situation but I'm sure there could be something else set up. As for the Hellfire Club themselves...they're a worldwide organization, they can't be eliminated. It's more like they just get defeated in whatever they were trying to do, but they still succeed to some degree too through cleverness and backup plans, and it's very clear they're still around and going to come back again. This still has a lot of the flaws of the original (namely, that Magneto hating humans doesn't make as much sense when the first danger to mutants he runs into is OTHER MUTANTS, but at least it fixes the fact a mutant killed his mother in FC, which is really stupid story-wise/for his character, imo) but it has a Hellfire Club that I would have much preferred to see onscreen. If the canon FC version of the Hellfire Club worked for you, hey, great, I'm glad, this is just for me and what I would have liked.

[terminalpolitics]

Violence, Neo-Nazis, and You

I have seen a great deal of discussion on my dash about the use of violence against neo-Nazis. Most of it is, unsurprisingly, supportive of violence against Nazis.

The thing is, use of political violence is a deep issue and most of what I have read on Tumblr regarding it has been juvenile bullshit. Tumblr has been narrowly focused on the “morality” of violence against Nazis but honestly, that’s just a red herring. Let’s take a look...

WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO PUNCH A NAZI?

There are two classes of white dudes that our society/media/culture allows you to use violence against: pedophiles and neo-Nazis.

If someone made a commercial with Bettie White punching a Nazi or Pedo, America would cheer. Every tough guy TV show, when it needs to boost the everyman hero’s street cred, will either have him beat up a child molestor, neo-Nazi biker, or a young black man in a hoodie.

When racist asshole Richard Spencer got done in the nut the other day, the media covered it but cable spent more time covering the fact that the doors to Starbucks and Bank of America had been broken around the same time. You see, corporations and banks are sympathetic, neo-Nazis are not.

When Americans think of punching Nazis, they think of Indiana Jones or The Blues Brothers and not Saving Private Ryan. Nazi-punching has entered into our national lore of American heroism.

There are few things as wholesome and American as punching a Nazi, so why is there a “debate” on the subject?

Well, there isn’t really. What we have is a good excuse for people on Tumblr to signal how willing they would be to punch a Nazi. And while that’s cool and all, Donald Trump is now president of the most powerful Human Rights-abusing government in the world. We don’t have the time to go sorting through your self-insert OC fanfic about how you would totally kick the ass of and suck the eyes from the skull of a Nazi... should one walk into your living room and pass out.

HOW MUCH DOES IT COST TO PUNCH A NAZI?

Let’s be real for a second: violence has consequences. And I don’t feel like trying to wedge the consequences of violence on activism in here, so I’ll stick to it’s consequences for you.

If you assault someone you will likely be arrested -- yes, even during a mass march. That’s because the thing you are really attacking, albeit indirectly, is our beloved law and order. The law does not like it when you attack white men.

Beyond going to jail/prison, it helps to remember that many real neo-Nazis are members of violent criminal gangs or domestic terrorist organizations and unlike the Nazis you see talking into a CNN mic or half a dozen of them marching around in their little Hitlerjugend-cosplay lederhosen, there is a good chance that a member of an actual neo-Nazi group (like the Aryan Brotherhood) is armed and will attempt to kill you for punching him.

That moves us into reality where, if you want to engage in violence against neo-Nazis, you must be prepared to kill or die. The allies did not win WW2 by running up and sucker-punching Hitler. Many, many, many, many people died but it was worth it.

But you need to recognize before becoming a Nazi-fighting vigilante, that you will probably do some time in prison (where neo-Nazis are best organized and responsible for 30% of all inmate murders) or be severely injured or killed on the street.

Now, I don’t want to dissuade you from punching a Nazi, but you need to recognize that the price of admission will likely be: your freedom, health, or life.

ALWAYS PUNCH UP

Okay, so we’ve decided that punching or killing a Nazi is worth possibly dying over. I commend your bravery but I question your sacrifice.

Let’s rewind the tape for a second and go back to the bit about how punching Nazis is fairly socially-acceptable. Why is that? Well, it’s because Nazi-killing is harmless fun, and by harmless, I mean it doesn’t hurt the system that actually produces white supremacy in America.

Neo-Nazis are nobodies.

Let’s talk about hate groups for a second. SPLC counted 892 hate groups in 2016 including KKK chapters which doubled in number from 2014 and reached 190 last year. For comparison, 2016 also saw an expansion of antisemitic black separatist groups of which we now have 180. Really, none of us thinks that there are many militant black separatists out there, and we should keep in mind that there are barely more Klan members [x].

Indeed, there are roughly 5,000-8,000 Klan members alive today. The largest and best organized white supremacist group is the Aryan Brotherhood which has maybe 10,000 members nationally. The largest white supremacist website, Stormfront, has (including counter-trolls and international members) 300,000 registered users.

Wow, that’s a lot of neo-Nazis and sympathizers out there! But by comparison there are 308,000 Amish folks in the US. That’s right, the Amish are a bigger voting bloc than all American white supremacists, neo-Nazis and Klan-freaks.

“But Trump has emboldened them! The alt-right!”

It is true that Trump has given white supremacists in America a champion of their fucked up and disgusting causes. However, neo-Nazis have not become significantly more numerous or more powerful in the last few months (”But but Bannon of Breitbart!” look, we are going to keep this limited to actual self-identified neo-Nazis because you can make a strong case that everyone in our government, including Barack Obama, was a defacto white supremacist).

The alt-right is mostly a media construct that has been given outsized attention and that includes the “Pepe the frog is a Nazi meme” hoax.

So, what purpose does this new “emboldened” neo-Nazi and alt-right threat serve in our media narrative?

Let me tell you...

When you get sick and you can’t afford healthcare, that’s not the work of Stormfront and those scumbags. When your minimum wage job makes sure you don’t get enough hours to qualify for insurance, or when Planned Parenthood clinics get shutdown, or when EPA regulations get dismantled... that’s not the work of the KKK.

Actual neo-Nazis have very little voice in our government. You have very little voice in our government.

Money has a voice.

This white supremacist nightmare you live in was created by and preserved by technocrats for the pleasure of oligarchs. Mass incarceration, redlining, the destruction of our environment, and the poisoning of our children is the work of bland, faceless “policy wonks.”

Remember when Trump was outrageous because he said he would bring back torture and create a Muslim registry? That was all from the Bush administration and it was protected by Obama [x][x].

It wasn’t neo-Nazis who illegally bombed 7 Muslim-majority countries over the last 8 years. That was your exceptionally woke neoliberal president.

The real white supremacist power in this country -- the power that dictates the course of your life and death -- wears a suit, not a sheet. And that’s why fuckwads like Spencer and co. are trying to look so dapper these days instead of militant. They are emulating their breifcase carrying masters.

Neo-Nazis are a useful distraction from the heart of American white supremacist power. Don’t believe me? Try to punch a megarich oligarch, or the head of a multinational corporation, or the CEO of a big bank, or a congressman and see how far you get.

The powerful are protected, right down to their property. Remember that #sad! broken Starbucks door at the inauguration? Remember all the people saying “What did Starbucks ever do to you?” and that attacks on property like that just hurt the humble workers? Yeah, we hear the same thing whenever the property of corporations get destroyed though the property of the poor getting destroyed barely gets coverage.

Our entire media dialogue revolves around protecting these corporate interests, because Starbucks has money. That Starbucks door has a bigger say in politics than you or the entire Klan. When Starbucks’s door gets broken, you are gonna hear about it.

So, to recap, you are now risking life, limb and liberty to kill a vile neo-Nazi nobody while ignoring the actual power structures of white supremacy in this country.

The reason the media focuses on stupid, cowardly and ultimately powerless neo-Nazis is because it distracts you -- the largely powerless nonracist -- from directing your violence and outrage against those with power.

IN CONCLUSION...

I know that for most of you this “I’d kill Nazis” kick is just a pose, but you are bringing down and embarassing people that are actually interested in violence as a political tool and the armed struggle.

Furthermore, these same Nazis have been around since WW2 and yet you have only just noticed them, just started posting about how you will suck their brains out with a straw, and ram your foot far enough up their asses that it will tip their little SS cap. It’s an interesting coincidence that you decide to direct your anger in that direction right when the media tells you to... while ignoring the white supremacists who dictate American policy.

Finally, a few of you fuckers voted for Hillary Clinton and I gotta say that you cats have absolutely no right to complain about the Klan or neo-Nazis when you were happy to vote for Trump-lite. Let’s not forget that the Clintons made their political careers with the suppert of the KKK. I don’t want to hear from Clinton voters at fucking all until they get their own shit together and stop voting for the very same white supremacist bullshit that they claim to oppose.

So, do whatever, but please don’t act like this is some kind of moral stand. This is just venting and I get that. Everyone can sympathize with wanting to punch a Nazi. However, if that is as far as you ever direct your anger, you are just posing for the likes.

You can kill every single neo-Nazi in this country and absolutely nothing will change. That’s why we guard banks and not Nazis.

Also, having read the post going around that says “If you punch a white guy with a shitty haircut who turns out NOT to be a neo-Nazi then run away” -- I’ve got to say 1) that’s fucking cowardly and you should take responsibility for attacking an innocent person and 2) most of you are too fucking stupid to tell the difference between a neo-Nazi and an anti-racist skinhead and you shouldn’t be allowed to use anything beyond safety scissors let alone trust your own judgment when it comes to killing people.

[bruciewayne]

tell me about the stars [6/20]

masterpost

[ao3]

Thursday, 20th December

In the morning, even though they were both running on way too little sleep, they couldn’t think of any regrets. Especially with a tupperware full of gingerbread on the counter.

He woke up, washed up, stumbled to the kitchen and was greeted with a perfect, hot Steve Rogers cup of coffee, given to him by an incredibly awake Steve Rogers, was he magic? Probably.

Bucky grinned at him, too tired to school his face into something slightly less lovesick, fuck Bucky was adorable in the mornings, and accepted the coffee, warm, calloused fingers brushing against long, pale ones, maybe lingering too long.

Steve cleared his throat, “Uh, the uh, NyQuil helped, last night, thanks,” he turned around, pretending to be busy with his cereal, for fuck's sake, get it together Rogers.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replied, not taking his eyes off the back of his head, “you gotta take better care of yourself, y’know.”

Steve turned around, mostly composed, and smiled back at him, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both shovelling cereal into their mouths, with definitely NOT PRETTY lips, nope, flicking through their phones and showing each other memes they found. It was nice.

Stop thinking about morning kisses, Rogers, never gonna happen, nope.

You’ll never wake up to him in your bed, Barnes, c’mon, get a grip.

But despite the relative ease of Bucky’s morning, probably as a direct result of Steve Rogers the rest of his day didn’t follow in suit. At all.

He stepped in gum on his way to the university, getting it stuck on the bottom of his shoe and in his laces, when he got to his class, thirty minutes late because he’d forgotten his ID, there was a notice blu-tacked to the door saying that it had been cancelled because his professor was ill, which, on any other day, any other day, would be great, fucking fantastic, even, but he desperately needed help on his assignment because he’d missed the last class and he had no idea what to do.

So he decided to go across campus to the labs to get in some hours, only to find that there was some sort of gas leak, goddamn biologists, and that they were closed until who-knows-when because most people were off for the holidays come Friday.

Which reminded him of the twelve-hour road trip he was gonna take with Steve. Twelve hours in a four by four rental with a ridiculously beautiful man he may or may not have a crush on. Who’d he’d asked to be his fake boyfriend. Because he couldn’t think fast on his feet. What an idiot.

And to top it off, it had started pouring it down pretty much the second he left his apartment and hadn’t stopped all day.

By the time he got home, laden with bags full of Christmas presents (and tape and wrapping paper, he highly doubted they had some) he wasn’t a happy bunny, as his mom was fond of saying, his shoes, somehow, got even more sticky and tacky and disgusting. That’s what he got for taking the subway, great! His hair was soaking wet, rainwater dripping into his eyes and down his neck, soaking his shirt, fantastic! And he forgot to take his keys, wonderful!

He rung all the bells at the apartment block door until someone opened it up and made it up to the top floor, by the stairs because of course the elevator was broken, and of course they lived up five stories (although, admittedly, it was probably worse for Steve).

Reaching their door, he kicked up the doormat, hoping the spare key was there. Nope. Giving up, he sighed and sat down, leaning against the door, stretching his legs out in front of him. He rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out sweet wrappers from… Halloween? an empty gum wrapper and his phone, maybe to call Steve, if he wasn’t busy, or if he was to play some mindless games Steve had got him addicted to, he didn’t want to handle any socials right now.

Dead. Why not, of course it was. Terrific!

He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes, letting his mind run through everything he had to do, FUCK, he still had to pack for tomorrow and rent a car and wrap presents and double check his fake-relationship malarkey with Steve, god he couldn’t imagine the mortification if he’d fucked it up and they were caught out in a lie, or even worse, made his feelings obvious to Steve and fuck up their friendship.

At least he stil- nope, he refused to jinx the one good thing about his day. He wasn’t a superstitious guy, generally, but he wasn’t risking it today. No siree.

He didn’t know how long he’d stayed like that, but his hair had gone from soaking to slightly damp when Steve, light of his fucking life, showed up, lucky dry-haired fucker. The rain must have stopped.

“Hey, Buck, you ok?” he dropped his bag and went to sit cross-legged in front of him, reaching out, against his better judgement, to cup his face in his hands. Without opening his eyes or moving his head, he replied, sarcasm cutting through tiredness, “Fucking peachy.” He could tell Steve rolled his eyes, call it his sixth sense; his Steve-sense.

Steve probably had a complimentary Bucky-sense, because he could tell that he was feeling sorry for himself, stressed and tired, not mad. He thought he knew him pretty well in that sense because he was right.

“Ok, time to get up,” Steve said, getting up himself then tugging at Bucky’s arms in an attempt to pull him up, he knew how to do this.

It took them a good minute to get everything into their apartment but they managed, and Steve set out to make Bucky feel better. They flopped on the couch, and he asked Bucky what he needed to do, and he rattled off the list, working himself up, then calming down when Steve ran his fingers through his hair, a repetitive, soothing motion, grounding him.

“Ok,” Steve started, calmly, after Bucky finished, “you go have a shower while I’ll sort out the rental, then pack and then we’ll watch a movie and wrap presents, sound good?”

Bucky nodded, staying on the couch, Steve’s fingers running through his hair, for a minute. He took a breath and got up, “Yeah, yeah, ok, I’ll go do that, thanks.”

Steve smiled up at him, “Anytime.”

Fuck he was hot, Steve stuttered through the last lines of his call, thoroughly distracted by the masterpiece in front of him, dressed in sweatpants and only sweatpants, his slightly wet torso exposed to Steve the elements and his hair a tangled wet mess.

Shut up, stop thinking about him in a shower, for fuck’s sake Rogers.

“Hey,” he said, once he trusted himself to talk without his voice cracking, he waved his phone at Bucky, “I sorted out the rental and,” he pushed a cup of hot cocoa towards him, “cocoa.”

Bucky grinned at him, cradling the mug in his hands, against his naked chest, “You’re the best.”

Steve grinned back, “I know, anyway, presents and The Martian-”

Bucky froze on his way to the living room, and spluttered, “The Martian’s not a Christmas film, Stevie, put on Home Alone-”

Steve huffed, “Yeah but we already watched Home Alone this year.”

Bucky, knowing that Steve could probably argue his way out of a Nazi base (probably after trying to punch himself out) decided to end it there and then, “John Mulaney.”

Five minutes later, they were sitting on the floor, surrounded by wrapping paper, bows, labels, Christmas cards and popcorn with The Comeback Kid playing on the TV.

Steve was wrapping presents and sticking bows on them, and Bucky was writing out cards, their unwrapped gifts and blank cards pile was growing steadily smaller and smaller, inversely proportional to their ‘done’ pile.

By the end of the special they were done, Kid Gorgeous had started and Bucky had dragged a blanket off the couch and wrapped both of them in it, Steve leaned against him, thigh to thigh and shoulder to well, about mid-bicep, and Bucky slid an arm around his shoulders, his insides melting apart when Steve leaned further into him.

Steve tried to calm his racing heart because Bucky was shirtless and he could feel everything under his hands, his abs tensing when he laughed and fuck he was beautiful when he laughed, joy radiating from his face.

Yeah, Bucky’s day had gone pretty shit, but he’d started and ended it fairly good, most definitely as a direct result of Steve Rogers.

[clubofinfo]

Expert: If you’re a critic of global capitalism (sometimes referred to as “globalism”), I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is, you’re not a “peddler of Russian propaganda” anymore. The bad news is, you’re an anti-Semite. You’re probably also a domestic terrorist, or an “emboldener” of domestic terrorism, or at least some sort of terrorism-apologist. And not good old-fashioned Islamic terrorism like we used to get during the War on Terror, because that ended in the Summer of 2016, right around the time Trump won the nomination. No, the brand of terrorism you are probably emboldening by criticizing global capitalism is anti-Semitic, fascist terrorism … the most terroristic form of terrorism there is! Up until recently, you might have just been going about your normal business, criticizing global capitalism, completely unaware of your anti-Semitic, white supremacist terrorist activities, but from now on there will be no denying them. Your hate thoughts are right there for everyone to read. Go back and check your Facebook posts and your Twitter feed. You’ll see what I mean. All those times when you impulsively lashed out against the global capitalist ruling classes, or globalism, or Obama, or Clinton, or the Wall Street banks, or, God help you, George Soros … well, you might as well have been tweeting blinking neon GIFs of dancing Swastikas or posting Adolf Hitler’s speeches with little throbbing hearts and smiley-face emoticons. See, according to the “Anti-Fascist Resistance” (i.e, the the Democratic Party, the “intelligence community,” the corporate media, those Wall Street banks, the military industrial complex, and other components of the global capitalist empire that doesn’t actually exist, except as a Nazi “conspiracy theory”), any references you might have made to “globalists,” or “globalism,” or the “corporate media,” or “banks,” or “Hollywood,” or the “1 percent,” or any other “elites,” didn’t really refer to what they referred to, but, in fact, were anti-Semitic “dog whistles.” If you went so far as to literally mention or include an unflattering photo of Soros in any of your posts or tweets, then you weren’t just “whistling” to your fascist dog friends, you were openly calling for a second Holocaust, or “inspiring” some anti-Semitic psycho to senselessly murder a bunch of people, as recently happened at that synagogue in Pittsburgh. This newly rebranded “Anti-Fascist Resistance” (formerly known as the “Anti-Putin Resistance,” that is, until pre-election polling convinced them that most Americans were not responding to their “Russiagate” propaganda) has been working more or less around the clock to badger the public into believing that this psycho was an official “lone wolf terrorist” (i.e., a “terrorist” who has no affiliation with any actual terrorist organization), and that “America is on the brink of fascism,” and that Trump is “deploying the fascist playbook,” and that attacking the media is “the first step toward fascism,” and that Trump is a fascist because he isn’t a fascist (or something … I couldn’t quite make sense of that one), and, basically, that everyone should be afraid of fascism! Like that scene in Orwell’s 1984 when the Party abruptly switches official enemies in the middle of the Hate Week rally, the “Resistance” is counting on its loyal members to instantly forget the Russia hysteria they have been mindlessly parroting for almost two years, and start mindlessly parroting Fascism hysteria (as they mindlessly parroted the Terrorism hysteria throughout the Global War on Terror, until they switched to parroting the Russia hysteria after Trump got elected in 2016). This recent rebranding of the neoliberal Resistance was a brilliant move, and is going quite well. It couldn’t have come at a better time, what with the midterm elections about to take place. While liberals were ready to swallow any anti-Trump narrative the corporate media rammed down their throats from the moment Clinton lost, much of the slightly-more-left-leaning Left never bought the Russiagate story. So it’s been tough for slimy beltway operatives like David Brock and other propagandists to unite “the Left” behind the Democratic Party, so they can put down this annoying “populist” insurgency, reinstall some Obama-like puppet, and get back to the business of globalism … no, not worldwide Jewish domination, you Jew-obsessed, neo-Nazi freaks, but, rather, the consolidation of corporate control over what remains of society, the abrogation of national sovereignty, and the establishment of a smiley, happy, multicultural, over-medicated, neo-feudal global capitalist marketplace. This Fascism hysteria is doing the trick! This is the beauty of the “Putin-Nazi” narrative, which was designed to be a one-two punch. First, they hit us with the “Russiagate” hysteria, which worked like a charm on the kind of liberals who have no qualms about destroying whole countries, murdering hundreds of thousands of people in faraway lands that pose zero threat to us, and debt-enslaving millions of Americans to enrich the global investor classes, as long as someone like Obama is doing it. Then, once all the NPR liberals had been whipped into a hysterical frenzy over “Russian propaganda,” “collusion,” and so on, they hit us with the Fascism hysteria, which is working like a charm on the rest of the Left. (I haven’t seen any official polling, but when the official narrative is being mindlessly parroted, not only by the liberal corporate media, but also by “grassroots” left-wing outlets like Truthout, Democracy Now, and CounterPunch, you know their propaganda is working.) Not that there aren’t a bunch of racists, anti-Semites, and other bigots out there. Of course, there are. There always have been, just as there have always been terrorists out there (or non-state militants, depending on your perspective). Some of these racists and anti-Semites are obviously homicidal lunatics. This is not a new phenomenon. The American white supremacist fringe (and, sorry, but it is still a fringe) has been shooting and bombing innocent people, and otherwise doing their utmost to get their ridiculous “Racial Holy War” going since at least the early 1970s, and arguably since end of the Civil War. They have been doing this without any “emboldenment” from billionaire jackasses like Donald Trump, and they will continue to do this once Trump is gone and this Fascism hysteria has outlived its usefulness … like the War on Terror hysteria did. If you’re in the mood to live a bit dangerously and want a little preview of what that will be like, switch off your smartphone for a minute, turn off the television, shut down the notebook, and walk out into the city, suburb, town, or gated community you live in. Does it look like the Nazis have taken over? OK, want to live even a little more dangerously? And I’m talking about flirting with serious thought crime. Ask yourself, how many actual terrorists did you encounter during the War on Terror (that is, assuming you didn’t invade their country and start, you know, bombing and shooting at them)? Can you even remember as far back as July, when Oceania was at war with Russia, and Trump (temporarily) wasn’t Hitler, but was a treasonous “Russian intelligence asset,” who was almost certainly going to disband NATO, and a “crippling Russian cyber attack” on vital American infrastructure was imminent? I doubt it, because that never happened. Oceania has never been at war with Russia. Oceania is at war with Fascism. Oceania has always been at war with Fascism. Donald Trump has always been Hitler. He has never been a Russian intelligence asset. Obama never put children in cages, or assassinated entire families at weddings. Trump’s nativism leads to anti-Semitism. America is not a safe place for Jews. The invasion of Iraq was just a tragic mistake, which will never, ever, happen again. There are no global capitalist elites, and anybody who says there are is an anti-Semite, and a fascistic thought criminal, and an emboldener of domestic terrorism, which is “a plague America can no longer ignore.” Oh, yeah, and I almost forgot, the Ministry of Plenty has just announced that there will be no reduction of the chocolate ration. The chocolate ration will be increased! So don’t forget to vote blue tomorrow and help the Party defeat the fascists! Or, if you’re one of the fascists, don’t forget to vote red tomorrow and help the Party save America from that Jewish Mexican zombie horde that is coming to steal your fruit-picking job! And whatever you do, stay tuned to the telescreen, and do not start thinking about global capitalism, or the manufacture of mass hysteria, or put anything into any kind of broader historical or geopolitical context. That kind of thinking leads straight to thought crime … and we all know where thought crime leads. http://clubof.info/

[e3khatena]

Someone subjected me to it, so I'll return the favor. Do them all, yes?

*horrible but joyous raptor noise*

200: My crush’s name is: The pineapple one.199: I was born in: 1997198: I am really: Confused about things and such.197: My cellphone company is: AT&T and they kind of suck but not too much.196: My eye color is: Usually a bluish-gray, more gray in the winter and more greenish in the spring. Not vividly, still mostly gray.195: My shoe size is: 12.194: My ring size is: I think I have an Ace Ring in 13? So that, I guess.193: My height is: 6′0″-ish.192: I am allergic to: A hecking lot of types of medication.191: My 1st car was: A Hyundai that had it brakes rot out, the lower control arms snapped, and now it doesn’t have power steering. I just got my second car 2 months ago.190: My 1st job was: Alright.189: Last book you read: Legends of Localization: MOTHER 2. Super awesome.188: My bed is: A bed!187: My pet: Icha, a retired police dog. 186: My best friend: Dan. I have not talked to so many of my other friends in so long, I need to get better at that.185: My favorite shampoo is: I dunno, the stuff I use? I don’t study the bottle.184: Xbox or ps3: Wii U, to be completely honest. Hopefully the Switch is awesome.183: Piggy banks are: A typo based on a type of coin bank made of a certain type of clay.182: In my pockets: Actually nothing right now.181: On my calendar: I have class in Chicago tomorrow. :\180: Marriage is: Not something I plan to do.179: Spongebob can: Please get canned already? Fairly Oddparents, too. Actually, that one first.178: My mom: Is a mom.177: The last three songs I bought were? Two songs from the Diablo Swing Orchestra (probably the coolest hecking band ever) preceeded by Ballroom Blitz.176: Last YouTube video watched: A bunch of trash TF2 joke weapon demonstrations.175: How many cousins do you have? I dunno, like three or four immediate cousins?174: Do you have any siblings? An older and a younger brother.173: Are your parents divorced? No.172: Are you taller than your mom? Yes.171: Do you play an instrument? Nope.170: What did you do yesterday? My best.[ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: Nope.168: Luck: I got all the bad stuff.167: Fate: If y’had a chance t���chainge yer faet, wood yeh?166: Yourself: What a funny story, Mark!165: Aliens: I mean, somewhere out there. They’re probably, like, bacteria, but I mean whatever.164: Heaven: I like to imagine the afterlife is one giant void where you just wait to come back and you get to see all your past and future lives but forget everything immediately upon being resurrected as a new human.163: Hell: See immediately above.162: God: If you do, that’s cool. 161: Horoscopes: Read six of them. Chances are, more than one fits you well.160: Soul mates: Nope.159: Ghosts: Nope.158: Gay Marriage: I mean, do whatever. If its not immoral and illegal and everyone involved is okay with it, then cool.157: War: It never changes, but I kinda wish it would. Why is it this hard for people to support each other. 156: Orbs: They don’t exist because nobody has ever seen a perfect sphere in real life before.155: Magic: There are people who claim this is real?[ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: I dunno?153: Drunk or High: Having a height advantage to your opponents makes it that much harder for them to seek adequate cover and that much easier to defeat them.152: Phone or Online: I hate the call quality in the US.151: Red heads or Black haired: You don’t see that many actual natural gingers out there.150: Blondes or Brunettes: I mean, I’m blond, so there’s some bias.149: Hot or cold: The cold. LA would kill me.148: Summer or winter: Specifically the first month of the winter. Past that its gray and sludgy and horrible.147: Autumn or Spring: Spring.146: Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate.145: Night or Day: The nighttime makes everything feel forbidden. I shouldn’t be out this late, I shouldn’t be doing this this late, etc.144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges. Citrus is awesome.143: Curly or Straight hair: I dunno.142: McDonalds or Burger King: Burger King has the better chicken nuggets, but both aren’t that great. In this town, its Culvers, Portillo’s, or you eat the DIRT you find in the GROUND.141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Like a 60% dark chocolate. 70% tastes great at first but the aftertaste is horrible, afraid to go darker than that. Heard 100% is the worst.140: Mac or PC: PC, since I make games using software that runs on 139: Flip flops or high heals: Mages with a high heal yield are always welcome in the party.138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: I’ve kind of had it with the rich at this point.137: Coke or Pepsi: Regular coke but Cherry Pepsi. Crystal Pepsi is also back but my life was ruined when I found out its just regular Pepsi with no coloring.136: Hillary or Obama: I would gladly take either of them right now. Barack seems like he’d be a dad friend.135: Burried or cremated: I want to be burned to ashes and thrown from the mountains.134: Singing or Dancing: I dunno.133: Coach or Chanel: Coach was a playable character in L4D2 and thus is infinitely more useful.132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: Who the frack are these people.131: Small town or Big city: I’ve kind of had it with the city.130: Wal-Mart or Target: Target. Or, for white people with minimal senses of humor, Targét (Tar-zhey).129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Stiller is meh but never reaches Sandler levels of awful.128: Manicure or Pedicure: [SOUNDS OF LITTLE INTEREST]127: East Coast or West Coast: The East Coast has HP Lovecraft’s home.126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Both seem to end in familial drama.125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate is dang wonderful. Can’t take a handful, eat the tulips. Y’just cahn’t do theat.124: Disney or Six Flags: Six whole flags. Great America has the Viper and its the closest you will ever get to a life-changing moment. 123: Yankees or Red Sox: I am indifferent towards New York or Boston, doubly so concerning Baseball.[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: Like, really guys, talk out your differences and treat people with respect. Its not that hard.121: George Bush: He would have made a brilliant painter or a decent comedian, but for some reason he ended up as president. But now he’s paining portraits of veterans wounded in the wars he started, so there’s that.120: Gay Marriage: Of course.119: The presidential election: 2016 was a terrible year, can we just fast forward to an election where two decent, respectable human beings are being voted for on election day.118: Abortion: Every woman has their reason, and its not the right of men to get to decide what happens.117: MySpace: ‘sead.116: Reality TV: Ech.115: Parents: Its a toxic environment.114: Back stabbers: I get you want that double critical hit, but please don’t stab me. I just want to grab the papers. End TF2 joke.113: Ebay: I dunno?112: Facebook: I had a video of a chick being forced down a grinder suddenly load and go full screen the last time I used the app. Yeah no.111: Work: Cash money.110: My Neighbors: My next door neighbors are absolutely wonderful people. The people past there are pretty bleh.109: Gas Prices:  They’ve been higher, they’ve been lower.108: Designer Clothes: Heck.107: College: I have the presidential scholarship and have taken the maximum out on all possible loans and I cannot afford to live on-campus.106: Sports: Nah.105: My family: I am always feeling much better and more comfortable when spending time at a friend’s house than my own house.104: The future: Kinda losing hope, kinda just wish I had the skills to make great games quick and then just live in peace somewhere nice, kinda want to get struck with construction equipment, etc.[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: I couldn’t tell you, its been, I dunno, a decade or so?102: Last time you ate: 11:something today.101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: Spent some time at a friend’s place Friday. Haven’t gotten to speak with them in such a long time, felt nice.100: Cried in front of someone: I dunno?99: Went to a movie theater: The last film I saw in theaters was Godzilla and I lost interest when Walter White died.98: Took a vacation: Absolutely never! I was in Florida for a few weeks a few years ago (2013, I think?), but it barely counts because half of it was rainy days, Minecraft, and Nostalgia Critic.97: Swam in a pool: Couple years ago?96: Changed a diaper: If this answer becomes anything but never I will have seen too much.95: Got my nails done: Never.94: Went to a wedding: Never.93: Broke a bone: Pretty sure never?92: Got a peircing: Never.91: Broke the law: I once forgot to stop at a stop sign nobody else was at. Take me away, coppers, throw me in the slammer.90: Texted: I think Friday night?[ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: Dan.88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: Not having anywhere to be. 87: The last movie I saw: I watched The Adventures of Tintin for like the 9th time. I wonder how that film stands up in black/white. I heard really good stuff about Mad Max: Fury Road in B/W.86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Switch Switch Switch SwiTCH SWITCH SW85: The thing im not looking forward to: The hatred spiraling around the 45th President. Actual Nazis spoke of their goals and were praised on national TV. One of them got punched and is afraid he will become a meme. What the heck is going on. How much Nyquil did I accidentally drink. Is this a dying dream. Please let it be.84: People call me: Really needy and obnoxious. Or that might just be me.83: The most difficult thing to do is: Have one good day. Friday was the first one since probably October.82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: Nope, but I did get one because my brakes went out and I hit the bumper of the car in front of me. 81: My zodiac sign is: Gemini, but it really doesn’t make a difference.80: The first person i talked to today was: Dan.79: First time you had a crush: Quite a while ago. It was the orange one and it was alright. Pineapple is the better flavor though.78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: Dan.77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: I dunno.76: Right now I am talking to: A Tumblr text post.75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Design dem vidya gaems. 74: I have/will get a job: I have a job? Its my second one, been there 3 months.73: Tomorrow: I’LL72: Today: Is almost over.71: Next Summer: I’ll be out of school until September again?70: Next Weekend: Will be practically the end of the month? What am I supposed to put do--69: I have these pets: I have one (1) dog.68: The worst sound in the world: I have been woken at 2 in the morning by someone loudly blaring “Now look at this NET!” at me as a joke. 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: I dunno, Speilberg? Because he won’t make thAT TINTIN SEQUEL--66: People that make you happy: Dan and the other ragtag band of friends I have.65: Last time I cried: Like ~a week ago?64: My friends are: @eishkrooked​ @virtifrication-order​ @ahogehope​ and my non-Tungle friends Steve, Byron, Haley and Sam.63: My computer is: More expensive than my first car.62: My School: Costs far too much.61: My Car: Is alright.60: I lose all respect for people who: Justify killing or dehumanizing a lot of people quickly.59: The movie I cried at was: Wreck-It Ralph. Because I am a loser.58: Your hair color is: Blond.57: TV shows you watch: Actually between stuff because everything is over or on hiatus.56: Favorite web site: Steam, I guess?55: Your dream vacation: As many of my friends as possible and we all go to somewhere rad, I dunno where though.54: The worst pain I was ever in was: I once had a coughing fit at 1AM that caused me to spit up some blood and it hurt so bad I collapsed on the floor and cried myself back to sleep. But Death’s gonna have to bare-knuckle box me for my life, he tried to kill me with life-threatening pneumonia twice and that did bugger all. Come at me scrublord, I’m ripped.53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium-well.52: My room is: Barely my room.51: My favorite celebrity is: JK Simmons.50: Where would you like to be: Somewhere nice.49: Do you want children: Not really, no. Maybe adopt some? I dunno.48: Ever been in love: Nope.47: Who’s your best friend: This is like the third time this question has appeared.46: More guy friends or girl friends: More good friends.45: One thing that makes you feel great is: Ever get to steal, like, all the stars in a Chance Time? That power changes you.44: One person that you wish you could see right now: I want to know how Haley is doing. She moved off to Minnesota after graduating high school and has not been online in like have a year. 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: I barely have a five-day plan.42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: I could die at any minute, lists just leave “I could have___”s everywhere.41: Have you pre-named your children: Nope.40: Last person I got mad at: It took Arin 4 hours to make it to the end of Paper Mario: Thousand Year Door’s first major boss. FOUR HOURS.39: I would like to move to: A nice flat somewhere just outside Chicago.38: I wish I was a professional: Game dev because then, again, good things made quick.[ My Favorites ]37: Candy: York Peppermint Patties, also a fan of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.36: Vehicle: Can Tesla just do a cheap electric car already? 35: President: Obama is definitely top of the list. Amazing public speaker, total dad.34: State visited: Illinois.33: Cellphone provider: If only Metronet could do phones.32: Athlete: JK Simmons got ripped, I can include him.31: Actor: See above!30: Actress: Ashly Burch (Ms. Pauling in TF2). 29: Singer: Lynda Carter became a freaking phenominal jazz singer between the 70s and Fallout 4. Probably the best part about that game.28: Band: Diablo Swing Orchestra, hands down.27: Clothing store: The cheapest one I can get good-quality stuff at.26: Grocery store: Jewel? I dunno, don’t hassle me.25: TV show: Gravity Falls deserves all the awards.24: Movie: This might come as a surprise, but the Adventu23: Website: Steam? I dunno.22: Animal: Samoyeds and Malamutes. Japanese Akitas come in third.21: Theme park: Six Flags is pretty rad. 20: Holiday: According to the store I work at, Italian Market is a holiday and now its my favorite holiday.19: Sport to watch: Not a sportwatcher.18: Sport to play: Used to spar. That was rad.17: Magazine: Rest in peace, Nintendo Power.16: Book: Journal 3 is such a fabulous blend of so many good things.15: Day of the week: Monday, actually. I don’t need to commute, my brothers are out of the house, I can record or work on personal projects, etc.14: Beach: Not a fan of beaches.13: Concert attended: Have not attended any live whatsits.12: Thing to cook: Pasta. And then I have it all. Because its pasta.11: Food: Read above.10: Restaurant: It depends. Subway is cheap, Corner Bakery Cafe is right inside Union Station and their Mac and Chee is awesome, but if money is no object, then I’d go for Olive Garden because “endless pasta” are two words that get slung around in there.9: Radio station: I hate the FM radio.8: Yankee candle scent: Fresh-cut lawn.7: Perfume: Nah.6: Flower: I don’t have an answer.5: Color: One of those deep, vivid blues. Something like Tumblr’s but with some more saturation.4: Talk show host: Nah.3: Comedian: SungWon Cho or Barry Kramer.2: Dog breed: 22 has all the answers you need.1: Did you answer all these truthfully?  I could be a jerk and say I answered one of these incorrectly, but nah, they’re legit. Or are they? They are. Or are they?

Thanks!