#and a big ass fuck you for running a smear campaign against your own fucking community

[helenasurvives]

queer is literally a slur. like you’ve never been called that in a derogatory context like most lgbt people? you think your experiences escaping homophobia make it okay to justify the use of a homophobic slur?

queer is an identity.

it has also been used as a slur. there is no denying that. but using a word as a slur does not make it a slur. because before queer is a slur it is an identity. before it is derogatory it is a label. the use of queer as an identity is infinitely more important than the use of queer as a slur because the people who identify as queer are infinitely more important than the people who use queer as a slur.

say a lot of people decided they hated me. despised me. were disgusted by me to the point where my own name became a slur. would you tell me not to say it? would you tell me i could no longer be helena, and instead must come up with a euphemism for the name that belonged to me decades before it belonged in the mouths of bigots?

because that would make you an enabler.

you would tell me i can’t say my name anymore because some lowlife decided he could use it to insult me?

you would tell a gay man that he can’t be gay anymore because some teens in the early 2000’s started calling everything they didn’t like “gay”, and now he has to say “same sex oriented male identifying individual”?

does that enrage you? because it should. that’s exactly how you sound.

you are telling me i cannot use my label. you are telling me that when my great-uncle shouted until his face was red and he spat tobacco and the word queer at my feet, he was right. he was right to insult me, and i was wrong to say my name.

you are shitting on every single one of our predecessors. you are slandering every person who fought for their rights to exist and and be tolerated and be celebrated in their countries, every person who was lost to the aids epidemic, every person whose country criminalizes love and gender expression, every child whose parents abandoned them for straying from the norm, every person who was born and will die in the closet longing to be themselves. the queer umbrella is a safety net, a security blanket, the comfort of being known without being pressured to tell. it is near and dear and important as fuck to every member of the lgbt+ community and you are a blight upon the earth you walk.

how dare you speak upon my experiences with homophobia. how dare you disguise your own homophobia as activism. and how fucking dare you have the audacity to come to my blog and hide behind an anonymous ask and preach to me about how i’m oppressing myself. go look at the fucking wikipedia page for queer and read about how 1980s lgbt+ activists, especially lgbt+ people of color, fought to call themselves queer in a world that still hates peculiar things. and here you are forty years later spitting queer back at their feet.

i don’t give a fuck if people start using my name as a slur. my name is still helena. i will not change it. i chose it, i like it, and it belongs to me. it does not belong to bigots no matter how badly they want it. your discomfort with my identity is not my fucking problem.

i am helena. i am queer. die mad & go fuck yourself

#queer is not a slur #anon ur homophobic whether u think so or not #fuck you and fuck all your little friends too #and a big ass fuck you for running a smear campaign against your own fucking community #queer pride #aww did that make you angry? too bad so sad #queer love #gender queer #queer representation #oops i did it again #and i’m gonna keep fucking doing it #queer stuff #queer history #queer is beautiful #and anon you can go cry about it you uneducated fucking imbecile #policing your own community instead of the shitbags who hate them is HOMOPHOBIC you asswipe!!! #queer feminism #queer family #queer as hell #queer and proud #i hope you’re reading these fucking tags anon #queer and here #queer culture #queer community #queer experience #queer identity #queer joy #queer liberation #queer positivity #queer reclaimed

[sanjuno]

how do you reckon things would change if Obito and Kakashi remembered their past lives as Izuna and Kanna? (And have you given a past incarnation of Rin in the Warring Era?)

… @deverickracoma you mean, like in canon? Huhhhh…

Well first off before Rin was Nohara Rin she was Senju Touka. Which makes this situation super fun because both Izuna and Kanna died before Hashirama strong armed Konoha into existence and Touka only went along with it because Her Stupid Little Cousins Need Some Common Sense. XP

In her lives as both as Touka and as Rin she holds the single (1) braincell for this Disaster Trio.

So Izuna dies via Tobirama’s sword. And then Kanna kinda… revenge rampages with Madara until the critical angst threshold is reached as Kanna just… explodes both theirself and the battlefield. 

There’s a whole lot of background stuff behind the suicide run such as Kanna’s Hatake side suffering from mate-loss depression and their Uchiha side suffering from Makengyou Madness and also Really Bad post-partum depression compounding it and yeah. Unfortunately Madara is just as wrecked from Izuna’s death so he can’t really support Kanna and it all goes to shit because we all know canon is a shitshow.

But anyway Touka is there to see Izuna die and she is well aware that Tobirama has just made a horrible decision driven by unacknowledged jealously and overzealous paranoia. Then Touka barely manages to save Tobirama’s pasty ass from the screaming revenge demon that she later learns was Izuna’s wife. And then Touka stands witness as Hashirama forces peace at sword point.

So Touka is just there like, “Oh for fucks sake we’re all going to die horribly.”

And, of course, Touka was right everything is horrible and everything hurts. 

Only now it’s plot-twist time and Touka, who was investigating certain questionable sources about the ongoing breakdown of social order in Konoha gets killed by Zetsu in order to cause even more tension against the Uchiha in Konoha and hey guess what? Yeah, that’s right Rin remembers the creepy plant-demon thing gloating about stealing Uchiha Madara (aka the only one vaguely strong enough to combat Kaguya at that time given he had naturally manifested the Rinnegan) for his own use before Zetsu killed her in a suspiciously ambiguous manner.

Shit.

Fuck.

Four year old Nohara Rin has a vendetta and the ability to kill a grown man. 

So obviously given that the Plant Demon is trying to kill off the Uchiha using shadowy assassinations and rumour mongering the Plant Demon is afraid of the Uchiha. Ergo the Uchiha are a threat to the Plant Demon otherwise it would confront the Uchiha more openly.

So.

Rin therefore needs to make super-duper ride-or-die best friends forever with at least one (1) Uchiha. And then, on the first day at the Academy, Rin runs into an absolute dork wearing Madara’s face.

Ah. Says Rin, channelling canon!Madara. That One. That’s The One I Need For My Plan To Succeed.

Cue the Rin and Obito Bonding Moment ™ that will repeat as a flashback every time their history is at any point mentioned in the narrative.

As for Obito, well… when he was Izuna he loved his Clan but then when he was reborn he read the Clan Histories from after his death and the public history of Konoha and Obito knows his Clan are a bunch of fucking traitors who stabbed his big brother in the back and that’s why Obito is both disgusted by the Uchiha and overprotective of the Clan’s reputation because Madara still loved their Clan even after they turned on him.

I may include Obito unearthing Madara’s private journals from a hidden cubby in the Naka Shrine that only Izuna would have known to look for. Just for the sake of an extra knife and also so that Obito can find proof of Zetsu’s sabotaging his brother’s mental health. 

Obito is more than a little weepy and sentimental over the fact that Madara honoured Izuna’s last request to the point Madara destroyed himself and his connection to the Clan. Obito can’t blame Madara for giving in when Hashirama forced peace to try and protect the few loyal Clan members who remained. Obito decides to protect Konoha and the Uchiha because he won’t let Madara’s last wish go unfulfilled but he’s going to become the fucking Hokage and tear out all the Senju-inflicted rot infecting his Big Brother’s Dream.

Obito is openly disdainful of the Clan Elders and the only people he even vaguely respects is the Head Family. Mostly because Mikoto is descended from Izuna’s daughter and even though Izayoi married “Tobirama’s student Kagami” she was still his baby girl and Mikoto is his great-grand daughter and he loves her because she’s his family.

Mikoto, Obito, and Shisui are all descendants of Kagami and Izayoi’s kids so they’re second-third cousins. Obito spends a lot of time pondering the overlap of self-care and I-love-my-grandbabies. It’s a fun little exercise in existentialism.

In the meantime Kakashi is still a little shit-disturber of the highest order. Kanna was taught all the fun Uchiha Clan Skills as Izuna’s wife and now Kakashi has learned all the fun Hatake Clan Skills from Sakumo and the little bastard is even more terrifying than canon. Kakashi is more gender-fluid than agender the way Kanna was though which is a fun new flavour of dysphoria-through-reincarnation that I’ll probably enjoy exploring.

Now, this does mean that Kakashi starts wearing his mask before Sakumo gets scapegoated which is a minor yet still significant change from Kakashi’s canon characterization-and-motivations.

So Kakashi blitzes their way through the Academy in like, 6 months because Kakashi has negative chill and an understandably paranoid focus on keeping their dad alive this time around. The only people Kakashi respects are the Military Police and their Dad everyone else can perish. Minato is A Constant Despair because he cannot control this sassy hell child Sakumo-sempai pls tell your son to l i s t e n t o m e.

Sakumo-sempai goes “LOL nope” because Sakumo is also a troll but is better at hiding it than Kakashi is.

So Rin and Obito are BFFs then Kakashi rips through their class like ground lightning and the sparring scene happens but the kickback of Uchiha-memories manifesting as body action means the spar is a familiar dance and so Obito is like “OMG K a n n a” and cue Obito stalking Kakashi like a schoolgirl with an obsessive crush and no concept of personal boundaries.

Enough shenanigans occur to 1. make Team Minato a cohesive and functional thing instead of a train wreck, and 2. keep Sakumo alive because Kakashi recognizes their Dad’s suicidal tendencies for what they are and so they set their ninken up as watchdogs to make sure Sakumo doesn’t do anything stupid. Because Kakashi’s biggest regret is leaving Madara and Izayoi to suffer grief without them and they refuse to let that sort of despair take away anyone they care about again.

So now Team Minato is bonding, and they are friends, and they are all slowly coming to the realization that they all remember their previous lives. So they start to share information and gradually piece together where Zetsu’s influence has been applied as they try to figure out what the Plant Demon’s endgame is.

Which means that Team Minato is 100% more paranoid about mission intelligence than they were in canon and also Rin more than ready to gut the Iwa-nin who tries to kidnap her during the Kannabi Bridge Mission so that’s fun. Team Minato has also made a point system for rooting out moles, spies, and traitors to hand over to T&I. 

Sarutobi had a lovely headache when the knowledge that Sakumo’s mission had been sabotaged “accidentally” got leaked. (Kakashi had given the old man more than enough time to fix the rumour mill so it’s on Sarutobi’s own head that he didn’t take action before Kakashi did.)

Also Team Chaos Gremlins Minato manages to charm Orochimaru over to their camp via one of Obito’s rage fuelled rants about dismantling the hypocritical indoctrination of the institutionalized status quo. Specifically, the fact that the Hokage is supposed to be a public service position voted on by the people who only really has complete executive power during war time. Instead of a unilateral dictator chosen by the previous Hokage’s undisguised bias and favouritism.

Also because they’re all proof of the reincarnation cycle existing. Orochimaru is living his best life especially when Team Minato trash talks the other two Sannin. 

Rin is the Most Offended by Tsunade fucking off and abandoning her responsibilities. Tsunade basically inherited all of Hashirama’s worst traits without any obvious redeeming qualities to balance it out. Because, let’s be honest, the only reason Hashirama got any level of respect is because he was Over Powered to the point of ridiculousness and because Tobirama plus Mito were in charge of his public image.

Kakashi and Obito are both hyper-loyal so having Jiraiya decide to just not come back during wartime and for Tsunade to abandon her responsibilities as a healer and Clan Head has destroyed any possible respect they might have had.

Obviously Orochimaru is the best Sannin so he’s the one they’re going to make friends with. Also they drag Orochimaru back to the Hatake Clan House to commiserate with Sakumo about being the target of a Village wide smear campaign. Which strengthens both Orochimaru and Sakumo’s spirits enough to resist their Bad Endings from canon.

All of this basically allows Team Minato to have the leverage to track down Zetsu’s creeper cave and they find Madara trapped and blinded and leashed to the Gedo Mezo, and Obito nearly has a world-destroying breakdown. Rin stands guard while Obito and Kakashi have a tearful reunion with Madara and there’s a lot of dramatic apologizing and sobbing.

They all know that they can’t leave Madara here with Zetsu, but detaching him means he’s going to die. Eventually Madara makes the decision himself to break the connection because he refuses to be used as a hostage against his little brother. So Madara tells Obito where his eyes are (which means that the Ame trio are going to get kidnapped by Team Minato eventually) plus a run-down of all the subversive plots Zetsu has had a hand in, and then Madara outright smashes the statue.

Normally nothing would be able to destroy the Gedo Mezo given that it’s basically the fossilized corpse of a god but Madara is currently part of it which means that the statue’s defences don’t realize Madara is a threat. So, statue goes boom, the cave starts to collapse, and Team Minato runs away with Madara’s body so they can give him a respectful burial.

Zetsu has approximately ten thousand aneurysms in the space of one (1) second.

From here the kickback really starts to pile up because Obito now makes a habit of dropping in on newborn Uchiha to check and see if Madara’s been reborn yet. Which means that Sasuke has a really invested older cousin hanging around to take Itachi’s place when Itachi make dumb decisions.

Rin is grumpy because basically every Clan who joined Konoha had a bunch of Senju marry into their Clan so finding Hashirama’s reincarnation is basically impossible. (And then, of course, Naruto is born and Rin faceplams 1000 times because of fucking course.)

Kakashi is laughing at both of them. Right up until they take command of Team 7 and notice a hated familiar chakra under the skin of a pink haired little girl. (All three members of Team Minato nearly die laughing because Tobirama is a pink haired little girly girl heeeeee~)

Anyway aside from all the family drama Team Minato also manages to dispose of Danzo and exposes his “plot against the Hokage”, boosting Sakumo’s public image to the point he gets named as the Fourth, fixing the stigma Orochimaru faced despite being the only loyal member of the Sannin, and basically terrorizing Konoha with Political Activism.

Zetsu probably goes a bit around the bend thanks the Team Minato destroying all his hopes and dreams plans. Also they keep putting the pressure on and exposing Zetsu’s schemes and eventually that gains enough momentum that the other Villages are taking a good hard look at shit that’s going down and hey wait w h a t t h e f u c k …

Obito eventually takes over as the Fifth Hokage and tears apart the corrupt government systems like a Tasmanian Devil going through a rotting carcass because Big Brother’s Dream Will Become A Reality B E L I E V E I T !

The End. XP

#Sanjuno talks back #the memory remains #Sanjuno metafic #reincarnation AUs

[let-it-raines]

Ok you probably saw this coming but now I need to see Emma and Killian working together - how it works, what they do, people’s reactions, everything pretty please!? 😊 (Assuming that is what you were alluding to? 😉)

I am...behind in Catch Me If You Can extras. I had about a million and two in my head since I love this universe most of all, and then life happened and I took some time off from writing. But nevertheless, here I am with a short little extra of the two of them being commentators together! I think they’ll probably have some pretty good on-camera chemistry, don’t you? 

ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2026

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?”

“What?” Emma yells.

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?” Killian repeats, trying his hardest not to yell since Emma is one room over.

He hears Emma before he sees her, and she pops her head into the closet with her brows furrowed together and her head cocked to the side. She’s got her hair in curlers, only one eye has mascara, and her portable breast pump is attached to her. She’s a sight for sore eyes, and he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman if he tried.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, and she obviously did not find his joke funny.

Killian shrugs. “Why would I be kidding? Look at this section of the closet. It’s all my uniforms and t-shirts and joggers. I have more Yankees-branded clothes than regular clothes, and I feel like it would be fitting to wear something that paid homage to my time as a player.”

Emma’s head recoils and she shakes her head, little lines popping up on her forehead. “You’re wearing the fitted navy suit, white shirt, matching navy tie, and you have a Yankees pin to put on your lapel. Didn’t the network go over this with you?”

“No, not at all.”

Her eyes narrow, like little slits of impending death, and if she could cross her arms over her chest, she would. He knows it. “You’re fucking with me, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Come on. I know you do, love.”

“I don’t.”

Killian sighs and walks over to her, tilting his head and curling the corners of his lips. He blinks, slowly, and stares at Emma as he waits for her to smile. When she doesn’t, he places his hands on her hips and traces his lips across her neck, gently enough to not leave a mark or any trace of his stubble. If he messes up her makeup, she likely will murder him and get away with it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma.”

“Killian.”

He presses a long kiss against the lobe of her ear and runs his hand down her back. “If you don’t want to have this argument on television, I feel like now might be the time we need to have it.”

“That seems like, ah – emotional blackmail.”

Killian nips down at her ear before pulling back, dipping his head so they’re eye level as he tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “You okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I’m a little worried that my boobs are going to start leaking on TV and that we’re going to have no chemistry together and also that we’re going to have to stop the broadcast because MJ is having a meltdown and Jace is having a meltdown because his sister is having a meltdown. And honestly, I feel like life was a lot simpler when you were lying to me about having a shoulder injury and my ex-boyfriend and your father were creating a smear campaign against us that made national headlines and nearly ruined our lives.”

Killian chuckles. He can’t help it, and he knows his wife wants to knee him in the balls for it, but he really cannot help himself. She’s stressed, and she shouldn’t be. If anything, he should be the one shitting himself because he’s the one doing something new today. But he knows better than to say that when he’s not the one who feels like he has to balance ten different jobs at once.

Emma keeps putting everything on her shoulders, like she’s the only one who can carry the stress, but he wants to carry the burdens as well. That is how their marriage works.

“You know, when you put it like that, it makes me realize our lives have never been boring. And life was probably simpler then, but none of what you’re fearing now is going to happen.”

“Really? You can guarantee that my boobs aren’t going to leak and that our children aren’t going to have meltdowns? Margot is three months old. All she does is have meltdowns and all my boobs do is leak when I get off this stupid feeding schedule because my body is only a feeding machine right now.”

Killian tilts his head and smiles. “I can guarantee we’re going to have chemistry working together.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re happy to have a job again.”

Killian shrugs and kisses Emma’s cheek. “Well, I need something to do until Jace and MJ are old enough for me to coach all of their teams.”

“Killian Jones, former three-time World Series Champion, spends his days getting yelled at by overinvolved parents of seven-year-olds at baseball and ballet and fly fishing.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from my playing days. Also, fly fishing?”

“I didn’t want to limit them. We don’t know what their hobbies are going to be.”

“Too true, love. I have a feeling they’ll be trying everything they can get their hands on.”

Emma huffs and taps her knuckles over Killian’s chest. The smile she’s been hiding starts poking out. “Tonight, do you think we can get Mary Margaret and David to watch the kids, and you and I go on a date? Like, a real one where we get dressed up and go out and have full intentions to have sex afterward but really, we go to bed early and wake up feeling like humans again.”

“You are speaking my language.” Killian’s hand falls to Emma’s waist and inches back to give her ass a quick squeeze. “Go finish getting ready. You’re going to make me late to my first day on the job.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I might later.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Jace wanders into the closet as Killian is buttoning his shirt – the white button down and not his jersey – and he starts a long, very detailed conversation about the pros and cons of peanut butter with peanuts and without, and Killian does his best to pay attention to him and keep him occupied as Emma gets ready. That mostly means Jace tries climbing up on the shelves and grabbing Emma’s things, and after Killian is dressed and his hair is tamed enough, he picks Jace up and takes him to get dressed. The lucky kid doesn’t have to wear a suit. He gets to wear a Yankees sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and his hair, curly mess that it is, will never be tamed. The baby monitor on Killian’s phone goes off, telling him Margot is up from her nap, and he takes Jace with him to MJ’s nursery to get her ready as well. Ariel is watching the two of them up in the suite today, bless her, and she’ll likely watch them for every game. They wanted to hire a nanny, but Ariel insisted that there were enough people to watch all the kids during the games. That’s a lie considering they’re all old and most of them have procreated now, so the kids far outnumber the adults.

It’s like a madhouse in their suite, and Killian could barely handle it when he only had Jace.

“Hello, little love,” Killian tells MJ as he changes her out of her pajamas and into the outfit Emma laid out. “Are you ready for your first baseball game? You don’t even know how much you’re about to have to watch this game. It’s going to be your entire life, whether you like it or not.”

“Where’s Will?” Jace asks.

“Big Will or little Will?”

“Little.”

“Where’d you leave him?” Killian asks as he pulls MJ’s pants up. “You had him while eating breakfast, so he might be in the kitchen.”

“Can I go check?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Too long.”

Killian chuckles and tries hurrying to dress Margot as she squirms and moves as much as anyone as small as her can, and he keeps his eye on Jace as he goes through the books in Margot’s room. She’s got a wall of them, something Emma saw on Pinterest and wanted to do, and while they’re supposed to be displayed nicely, Jace always has other ideas.

Thankfully, Emma’s heels start clicking down the hall, and she appears in the room, a vision in a cream dress that hugs her curves and heels that will definitely distract him for the rest of the day. Killian lets out a low whistle, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re a vision, darling.”

“Pretty, Mama,” Jace agrees.

“Thank you, baby.” Emma pulls her hand out from behind her back and Will the stuffed red lobster appears. She is magical, Killian swears. “I hear you’re looking for Will.”

“Thank you,” he squeals, moving from the books and toward Emma to get the lobster.

“You guys ready to go?” Emma asks. “You look nice, babe.”

“Better than I do in my uniform?”

Emma laughs. “Well, I like your ass in both.”

“Ass,” Jace squeals, and Emma covers her mouth, eyes wide.

“We’re ruining them,” she whispers behind her hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Killian chuckles and picks MJ up, holding her in the crook of his arm. “Blame it on Will if Jace says it in public.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m not the one who is teaching our son curse words while talking about how attracted I am to my husband’s behind.”

“Let’s just go,” Emma laughs, taking MJ from him and fussing with her hair. “We’re going to be late.”

They’re not late.

They’re not even close to late. They get to the stadium ahead of time, drop the kids off with Ariel, and they have time to sneak into the clubhouse and say hello to Will, Eric, Rob, and the rest of the guys. They’re in the middle of doing press and warm-ups, and Killian has to dodge questions of his own. His time as a baseball player is over, and two years later, that’s still hard for him to accept. It’s reality, however, and he ignores the ache in his chest and threads his fingers together with Emma as they leave the clubhouse and move to the production booth to do all of their pre-game tests. Emma is a natural, and he has to remind himself this is what she’s done for years. It’s her job, and she’s damn good at it. It’s his job now, too, but this isn’t what he was meant to do. He was meant to be out on the field, not behind the glass.

That’s the past. This isn’t. It’s the here and now.

And he’s thankful to still be involved in the game that has shaped his life.

“You’re going to be great,” Emma promises, reaching over and pressing her hand over his. “We’ve done practice runs. You’ve done this before. All you have to do is talk to me and talk about baseball. That’s literally what you already do every single day.”

“Hey now, I do have things in my life I love besides you and baseball. I also enjoy my kids and baking and complaining about different aches after I’ve exercised.”

“Well, you can talk about those things too.”

“Even the time I think I pulled a muscle in my ass?”

Emma rolls her eyes and adjusts her microphone. “I know I made you feel all good about it earlier, but stop talking about your ass.”

“Actually,” Ruby says from her spot behind the camera, “I feel like that would make our ratings go up.”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles, rolling in his chair and straightening his back as Emma does the same, adjusting her dress and not-so-slightly checking to see if she’s started leaking. Just another day in the life for them. Ruby holds up her fingers, counting down to the camera starting to roll, and Killian looks at Emma, waiting for her to begin.

“Hi, my name is Emma Jones, and I’m here with a familiar face to most of you. I’m thrilled to welcome former Yankees starting pitcher, three-time World Series Champion, two-time Cy Young Award winner, an eight-time All Star, and most impressively, the father of my children and my husband, Killian Jones. He’ll be working with me all season long, and I promise you he got the job all on his own merit. It has nothing to do with any strings I’ve pulled.”

“Well, that sounds a little suspicious, love.”

“Only if you point it out.”

Killian laughs and turns away from Emma to look at the camera. “I’m thrilled to be working with Emma and the rest of the crew this season, as well as getting to mercilessly critique my former teammates. Scarlet, I’m looking at you.”

“Welcome to Opening Day,” Emma chuckles, squeezing his hand under the desk, and his racing heart settles, the beat staying in the settled place where it always is with Emma by his side. No matter how much he wants to be out on the field and no matter how much he still misses it, he cannot imagine a place where he’d rather be right now. “Let’s look at this highlight reel of last season, and then we’ll talk about all the roster changes for this season. I think it’s going to be a good one.”

-/-

-/-

CMIYC tag list: @mrtinski @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @sherifemma @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy @captainkillianswanjones @captain-emmajones

#catch me if you can #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #ouatxxxxx

[beca-mitchell]

Swiped Right (Hey, We Got a Good Thing) (1/1)

Summary: There has to be a rule about mixing Tinder with business. Rated M/E for sex.

A/N: For a donor to my birthday fundraiser. You didn’t send a prompt, but there wasn’t any way I was going to let you off the hook for this. There were rules! I know how much you love your AUs! Sooo, here’s a 3.1k smutty mess of coworkers and Tinder.

Thank you to my beta @cptkrieger.

The title (and maybe a bit of the premise) is inspired by "Digital Love" by Digital Farm Animals, feat. Hailee Steinfeld.

Word count: 3,159

Read on AO3 or below.

– – – – –

Beca wakes up in her bed, cold and alone. It was extremely tempting to take Chloe up on her offer – a very generous offer – to stay over again. She had promised that Beca wouldn’t be late for her first day of work, but Beca had thought of how beautiful Chloe’s apartment had been, compared to the clanging pipes and shoddy handiwork of her own charming little apartment. Nothing like the clean white walls and glass windows of Chloe’s high-rise in midtown.

She never did figure out what Chloe did for a job. There was not really a lot of room for talking. Thank you, Tinder, Beca thinks.

In any case, if she took Chloe up on her offer, it was likely that Beca would have been very late to work, to say the least. So she settled on declining, but promising to call Chloe again – probably over the weekend – so they could schedule another date. Hopefully with more eating food and getting to know each other and less–

Well. It wasn’t like she didn’t get to know Chloe. She vividly recalls the way Chloe’s skin felt beneath her hands, as inch-by-inch, Chloe slowly revealed more and more skin, right down to the gorgeous and likely expensive black lace lingerie set. Beca had fun peeling that off Chloe’s body. She had even more fun figuring out what sounds Chloe could make with Beca’s tongue buried as far as it could go in Chloe’s wet cunt.

Fuck.

Beca jolts, not realizing she had nodded off. She attempts to rid herself of the last vestiges of Chloe’s moans from her brain and fumbles for her phone on the bedside table. Peering at the time, she is relieved to see that she is still “early” by her standards and there is more than enough time to make herself presentable.

Upon catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she is horrified to see the fading hickey on her neck like a reminder of two nights ago. She had hoped it would fade in time, but as persistently as Chloe had been in bringing Beca to orgasm not once, not twice, but three times in one go, her hickeys appear to be equally persistent.

“Damn it,” Beca mutters. She prods at the bruised skin, relieved to note it isn’t particularly tender. She would prefer not to have to waste time on extra make-up, but she figures it wouldn’t be professional if her new boss had to stare at the evidence of Beca’s fun weekend all day. Beca doesn’t really know who her boss is as of yet, just that she is a woman who apparently would prefer if Beca referred to her as “Miss Beale” on the job. The other assistant and HR manager who interviewed Beca all those weeks ago had seemed fairly terrified yet completely in awe of their tyrant boss. Beca enjoys imagining what this woman will be like. On some days, she has slicked back hair and black suits for days. On others, she’s elderly and stern, with glasses persistently perched on the bridge of her nose. Most other days, she’s faceless and Beca resigns herself to her own curiosity. 

This is a job, like any other. Enough to placate her father while she works on her music. The extra money will help even if Beca thinks her YouTube money is more than enough for the moment. Alas, New York is expensive.

Holding up her concealer, she sighs and begins to get ready for her first day of work.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 Chloe Beale is having a Bad Monday Morning. Typically her New York mornings are far from pleasant, especially considering she works in midtown. The short walk from her apartment to the office means that she has to interact with at least ten people. ‘Interact’ is a little loose. Depending on the day, she passes at least four catcallers, at least two people trying to sell her on some cause or another, and at least twenty tourists. For whatever reason, today is even worse.

It likely might be that she had to get herself off the previous night because she had sorely missed her last bedmate. She is not typically one to resign herself to lusting over bed-warmers and Tinder dates, but Beca had been something different. Somebody special, she’s sure of it. Even while she had been steadily fucking Beca from behind, firmly rocking her fingers deeper through Beca’s folds and Beca had been an incoherent sobbing mess, Chloe had somehow wanted nothing more than to curl up with this woman and learn more about her life. Beca had been remarkably interesting over drinks – bright eyed and passionate in a way that sparked something new and something old in Chloe.

She missed passion.

It also didn’t help that Beca had been amenable to sleepy morning sex the next day. As the sunlight peeked through Chloe’s automatic curtains and she had tangled her fingers into Beca’s hair, it had felt like the most stability in a long time. Like warmth that had nothing to do with the way the sunlight began to stream in.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Chloe had asked, trying not to sound desperate. “I...had fun, honestly.”

Beca had softened and pulled her scarf around herself – a beautiful vintage scarf, passed down from her mother – before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Tonight?” Chloe had tried hopefully. “We can...we can get dinner this time,” she said. She had blushed a little at the way Beca’s eyes track down her barely clothed body. She had tossed on an old t-shirt and tiny shorts to whip up a quick mug of coffee for Beca before she left. “You can uh,” she cleared her throat. “Totally stay over again, if that’s what you want.”

Beca’s face had fallen. “Maybe not tonight. I have work tomorrow.” She wrinkled her nose. “I heard you should be...early for your first day of work at a new job. Something like that anyway.”

Chloe sighs at the memory and tries not to think about the slow heat building in her chest and between her legs. Beca had kissed her goodbye – one of the sweetest and most tender kisses Chloe had ever experienced in her life.

“Good morning to you too,” Aubrey greets when Chloe brushes past her on the way out of the elevator. “We have that big quarterly report due at the end of this week. Don’t forget, Chloe.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Chloe calls back. She makes a beeline for her office, hoping against hope that Gabrielle has remembered to at least get her coffee early today. 

“Here you go, Ms. Beale,” Gabrielle chimes in from her left suddenly, nearly making Chloe drop her handbag. “Soy latte?”

“Thank you,” Chloe murmurs gratefully. She accepts the cup, pleased by the warmth in her hand. “Agenda?”

“Nothing too heavy until around eleven. Harris wants to see you about the campaign we’re going to start up soon for the Superbowl. Oh, and your new assistant starts today.”

Chloe blinks. “Aren’t you my new assistant?”

“Well...another new assistant?” Gabrielle tries. “We need more talented hands on board, I guess.”

Talented hands.

Chloe is thrown into another memory, unbidden. She sighs heavily and settles into her chair. “Okay, just...give me a moment. Can you print out copies of the contract?”

“Sure thing.”

On that ridiculously-chipper-for-a-Monday note, Chloe rests her chin on her palm and slips into her memory more fully, wondering if this is bordering on desperation. Or if she is so past the desperate line that it doesn’t really even matter.

 – – – – – – – – – –

  Beca's hands are everywhere. “Talented hands,” Chloe had joked earlier in the evening over drinks, when Beca had explained that she was a musician and struggling producer.

She is decidedly not laughing now as Beca’s hands slide down her shoulder blades, like determined little caresses. Hands on her hips, her ass, grabbing her thighs. Everywhere all at once, like Beca can’t quite decide which part of Chloe she wants to hold on to, so she pays every inch of skin equal attention.

The sensation makes Chloe’s head spin. She has to gasp for air and pull away from their kiss so she can just take a moment to take in Beca. Beca, lying beneath her, chest heaving. Chloe bites her lip, sitting up more fully astride Beca’s narrow hips. Boldly, she rests her palms on Beca’s nipples, shivering a little when they press back insistently against her hand. Beca whimpers, the sound escaping past kiss-swollen lips.

“Touch me,” Beca rasps. “Please.”

Chloe pouts. “I want you to touch me.”

There is something in the way Beca succumbs to obedience. The way she draws her lower lip between her teeth and runs her hands up Chloe’s thighs in a faux-soothing manner. Her thumbs begin to dip further down, nearing the place where Chloe aches for her. Where she is wet and smearing traces of her own arousal across Beca’s lower belly.

And all because Beca touched her when asked.

Talented hands, indeed. 

– – – – – – – – – –

“Your new assistant is here.”

“Send them in,” Chloe says distractedly. She sighs when the door creaks open again and stands from her desk. Gabrielle moves to sit in the corner of her office while–

Beca ?

Chloe barely stops herself from saying Beca’s name aloud.

Because she’s there. She is literally standing there, wearing a cute scarf and jacket. Her hair is up, which is different, but not unpleasant.

Oh crap, Chloe thinks, as her Monday spirals to new depths.

“Hi,” Beca says, more timid than Chloe remembers her.

(It has nothing to do with how Beca had rigorously chanted her name, back arched and head tilted back.)

“Who are you?” Chloe blurts before her brain can really reconnect with her mouth.

A million images must pass through both their minds. She can see it on Beca’s face.

Beca glances quickly at Gabrielle. “I’m your...new assistant.” She blinks. “Beca. Beca Mitchell.”

Each step Chloe takes towards Beca is another step closer to the person who has been on her mind for the last forty-eight hours at least. Though the blazer isn’t quite the leather jacket Beca had sported over her pretty red dress, this look is equally appealing.

“Nice to meet you, Beca,” Chloe says as steadily as she can. Beca reaches out to shake her hand, her eyes darting around Chloe’s face with a kind of nervous energy. “I can tell we’re going to work so well together.”

 – – – – – – – – – –

 “So,” Chloe says once she has collected herself. She moves to stand by Beca at the counter in the thankfully empty kitchenette area. She watches Beca fumble with the Keurig cup she had been holding and gives her a moment to compose herself. When Beca turns to face her, Chloe is struck by how beautifully blue Beca’s eyes are. “Am I going to see you again?”

“I’ll text you,” Beca replies, but it is light and playful. “Uh, why didn’t you tell me you worked here? I could have asked for a transfer or something if we had, I don’t know. Figured this out earlier.” Her eyes flit everywhere across Chloe’s face, lingering on her eyes, then her lips.

Chloe’s heart races. “Is there a reason why...you would need to transfer?”

Beca’s brow furrows like she is attempting to figure Chloe out. “Uh, because...isn’t this a conflict of interest? Or like. Is there a rule about having fucked your boss?”

“Who was doing the fucking?” Chloe asks before she can help herself.

Beca’s eyes widen almost comically, then she seems to relax. The tiniest of smirks spreads across her lips. “I think it was pretty even.”

Beca looks so smug. Chloe kind of just wants to kiss that smug expression right off her face.

Beca takes her staring as something else. “Oh shit,” she says quickly. “Am I going to be fired? Like, actually fired?”

Chloe shakes her head quickly. “No, just. We’ll figure something out.” She glances down at Beca’s hand and reaches out to graze the back of her hand with her fingers. “I...do want to see you again. And we probably shouldn’t be working so closely together. But I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Beca relaxes at that. Her entire body softens and sags. It is completely adorable. She adjusts her scarf nervously – the same one she wore on their date, Chloe notes with delight – and nods. “Okay, I trust you. And I do want to have another date. WIth more talking and stuff. But I wouldn’t be opposed to...staying over again,” she mumbles. “If that’s appropriate for me to say, Ms. Beale.”

Chloe’s eyes flash. “Meet me at the bathroom on the fifteenth floor. The one at the end of the West hallway.” She checks her watch. “At around two-thirty.” 

Beca swallows. “Uh, sure.” She tries not to nod too eagerly. “Sure, two-thirty. You got it, boss.”

Chloe straightens and part of her professional mask slips back across her face. “Meanwhile, I’ve got some work for you to do.”

 – – – – – – – – – –

 It ends up being very difficult for Beca to focus on anything, really. Not while Chloe leans over her shoulder. Despite the appropriate distance, Beca still catches a whiff of Chloe’s perfume. She can still feel her body heat radiating against her shoulder.

Chloe’s slender fingers pointing out specific folders and charts on the company server.

A quick glance at the way Chloe’s lips twitch into somewhat of a smirk – an impressive smirk, Beca would know – and Beca knows Chloe is playing with her.

 – – – – – – – – – –

  Beca thinks that Chloe’s laugh – her giggle – is the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. She watches in awe as Chloe slumps against her pillows. Absentmindedly, Beca swipes at the trace of wetness along her chin and climbs up Chloe’s body slowly and surely so that they are pressed together intimately once more.

“Aren’t you tired?” Chloe asks softly. Her fingers run through Beca’s hair. She doesn’t stop smiling.

Beca steals a quick kiss from Chloe’s lips. Quick so she can retreat and look at Chloe’s smile again.

God, she’s cheesy. It’s weird though, Beca doesn’t feel any urge to retreat or run away. She just wants more of it.

She wants to know if it is normal to feel such an intense connection to somebody, despite their seemingly limited communication. The whole premise of matching with each other just to hook up. The whole idea of never seeing Chloe again.

The idea of that makes her heart pound uncomfortably, so she kisses Chloe again, well into the night.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 The good news is, Aubrey finally agrees to take Beca off her hands after an inquisition that lasted at least twenty-five minutes. Maybe thirty.

The bad news is, that means Beca will be working exactly one floor above Chloe and she won’t get to see her often.

The fantastic news is, Chloe won’t feel so guilty about wanting to date Beca because she’s no longer Chloe’s subordinate. And they’re barely considered co-workers – at least not so strictly – because Aubrey runs her team like a tight ship.

There might be additional bad news in that Beca has no idea what’s in for her, when she starts working for Aubrey.

But Aubrey promised a mild pay increase.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 Two-thirty can’t come fast enough. But when it does–

“Fuck,” Beca rasps. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s neck, stilling her hand. “You have?” she asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. She had shared the Great News with Beca earlier, though Beca had been confused as to why Gabrielle and another intern had given her sympathetic looks.

But that’s all for another day (tomorrow).

Now, Beca looks like she might start to cry. “Y-yeah. Yeah,” she grits out. Her hips shift restlessly with some difficulty with how Chloe has her pinned against the wall. “God, don’t stop, Beale.”

Beca hadn’t known her last name before – two nights ago. She hadn’t known anything except “Chloe” or “Chlo” or various, stuttered iterations of Chloe’s name.

So it sends a bolt of arousal straight to Chloe’s core when Beca moans her last name like it’s the last thing she will ever do.

Chloe curls her fingers in a beckoning motion. Beca’s head thumps back against the wall, exposing her neck for Chloe to nibble at playfully. 

“Harder?” she asks innocently, like she’s asking Beca whether she finished her photocopying task. Not like she’s asking if Beca needs her to fuck her into oblivion in the middle of the day in a private bathroom.

“God yes,” Beca moans out. It echoes nicely around the room. Chloe is so grateful that past two-thirty, this floor is basically empty.

“Tell me how much harder,” Chloe orders.

“Chloe,” Beca whimpers.

“Beca,” she responds, leaning in to brush her nose against Beca’s jaw. “Tell me.” A muffled scream sounds from Beca’s throat. Slowly pushing Beca back against the ledge so she is more firmly stabilized, Chloe lifts her now-free hand to Beca’s mouth without really pressing down on her lips. “I want to hear you,” she murmurs.

Instead of responding again, Beca takes her fingers into her mouth and sucks. It makes Chloe jolt hard against Beca’s body and she becomes more cognizant of her growing need between her legs – how her clit seems to ache and pulse with each shift of her fingers inside Beca. Beca, for her part, finally releases Chloe’s fingers from her mouth and gasps out a series of short, steady breaths.

Chloe twists her wrist and thrusts hard, once more. 

Beca falls apart in her arms breathlessly. 

Chloe trails kisses up and down Beca’s neck and jaw. She had been amused to see Beca examining her hickey in the mirror earlier. She doesn’t intend to leave another one, but the fact that she left one at all (“Oops, I really didn’t mean to,” she had said apologetically without any real apology in her voice.) had sent the hottest streak of possession through her body. Now, she just wants to coax Beca down from her orgasm and linger in the moment as long as possible.

“Was that congrats-on-getting-the-job sex?” is the first thing Beca asks when she catches her breath.

“I mean, who’s to say?” Chloe says, backing away so Beca can push herself from the counter ledge. “There should probably be some thank-you-for-getting-me-the-job sex. Maybe.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting to see what Beca will do or say.

Beca raises an eyebrow back – Chloe was always going to lose this battle – and slowly sinks to her knees.

“You know,” Chloe says in a matter-of-fact tone. “This is the cleanest bathroom in our company. Maybe the building.” Words keep spilling out of her as Beca’s hands begin pulling her underwear down. “Don’t ask me why. It just–” her breath hitches. “It just is,” she whispers, the moment Beca’s lips start trailing up her thigh.

Beca, as it turns out, is very grateful for the job.

fin.

#bechloe #gif #manip #mine #au #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pp for pp #fanfiction #my fanfic #mine:au

[whitehotharlots]

Elizabeth Warren is a weak candidate

It’s hard to believe it’s already been a year.

Last October, prospective presidential candidate Liz Warren stopped by the ur-#Resistance podcast Pod Save America, a program in which several former Obama staffers named John talk about which Gryffindor house Trump administration members belong to, and helpfully explain why Andrew Cuomo is actually way more progressive than Cynthia Nixon. They talked about how Trump had taunted Senator Warren by referring to her as Pocahontas, a cruel play on her claim to Native American heritage. Why, they asked, don’t you try and shut that bully up? Why not take this test from our eugenicist friends at 23 and Me? 

“By golly,” said Liz. “That sounds like a real dandy of an idea!”

Now… this is actually stupider than the mainstream narrative suggests. Because even though it turned out Liz had a smaller percentage of Native American DNA than basically every other American white person, simply taking the test reified an offensive precedent of blood quantum, which is more or less universally rejected among actual Native Americans. Even if it turned out she was 50% Cherokee and had little feathers floating in her piss, the entire spectacle still would have made a mockery of the intense, material struggles faced by Native Americans to this day. 

Now, normally on this blog, I’d go on for several paragraphs about how I don’t actually care about Warren’s heritage (I don’t), how it’s more important to note that she and the rest of the Democratic establishment only care about Native issues to the extent to which they can exploit them, how her refusal to take a stand against DAPL was not just concerning but disgusting, how she can write as many “Pow Wow” recipes as she pleases but at the end of the day she’ll just be another shitty Democrat who expresses solidarity with oppressed people but does nothing to prevent their water being poisoned or their land befouled. But that’s jumping the gun. We’ll only have to worry about being gravely disappointed by Warren if she manages to beat Trump in general election. And I’m sorry to tell you, but she doesn’t have what it takes to get that done.

Warren is a goon. I’m sorry, but she is. She can’t answer softball questions about her recent political history without coming across like a teen who was just caught shoplifting and has been asked why there’s Playstation-sized bulge beneath his shirt. (“D-did I support gay marriage? Well, umm, jeeze louise who can remember something like that? Uhhh. There might be notes? Maybe? But there isn’t. So, I… I guess, well, who can say, really?”)

Warren isn’t nearly as a self-certain as Hillary was, and that’s a problem. It wouldn't be a problem if she actually were a leftist and actually did plan on proffering material solutions to the material problems facing nearly every American. But she’s not. Policy-wise, she is somewhat better than Hillary or Biden. That’s fine. But that’s not enough. She’s already spent too much time courting the Democratic establishment and their corporate base. She knows, therefore, that when a dying cancer patient asks her if she supports Medicare For All, that she has no choice but to lie to his face, that she’s prioritizing corporate cash over helping suffering people, but she lacks Hillary’s soulless cruelty and so she can’t simply laugh away the man’s concerns as naive bro stuff. This causes her to stutter and panic, which makes her (rightfully) appear disingenuous. 

Warren’s plans are likewise a degree or two more progressive than what was being offered by Hillary in 2016. But they’re not straightforward. They are cloaked in the maddening layers of equivocations, loopholes, and means testing that have infected every Democratic proposal since the early 90’s. This is the unavoidable consequence of party seeking to appease two diametrically opposed interests. You can’t satisfy the profligacy of capital while helping everyday people. It cannot be done. And so Democrats rely on Rube Goldberg-style labyrinth policies to obscure this fact, to make it look like they’re trying to help when actually they’re not, they are at best attempting to add a little sugar to the arsenic so that we won’t fight back so much when they pour it down our throats.

Obama could pull this off. We all knew Obama was lying in 2012, but he was appealing enough to make us rationalize away his lies. Same thing with Bill Clinton. If you’re not old enough to remember, check out this debate clip. The man looked like he was going to crawl through your TV and fuck you, and most of us were cool with that. Hillary lacked this appeal. Warren lacks it even moreso. And, yes, I guess this is essentially affective and subjective--just my opinion and whatfor. But any soberheaded person should be troubled by the fact that Warren’s campaign as already absorbed the most viscerally annoying people from the Hillary campaign, and is already aping HRC’s most repulsive and alienating tactics.  

These are people like Sady Doyle and Amanda Marcotte: neurotic, celibate scolds who engage with politics primarily as a way to actualize their petty grievances and insecurities. These people are incredibly unappealing to everyone who isn’t immediately inclined to like them, which is about 90% of the American electorate. And this unappealingness has nothing to do with their gender or their physical appearance. It’s because they are liars who are running a manifestly cynical grift, and they don’t have enough charm or intelligence to trick voters into thinking they’re doing something else.  They are electoral poison, and their outsize presence with the Democrat establishment is a big reason why the Democrats get their asses beat so consistently even though they are supported unanimously by the American media and cultural classes. 

Their grossness was encapsulated very succinctly yesterday, in the misadventures of Ms. Ashlee Preston. Preston is a large black trans woman who works as an official Warren campaign surrogate. She took to twitter to do what these people do: lie about Bernie Sanders and his supporters. They need to lie, because they are working for a candidate who is manifestly more regressive and less electable than him, but they still want to position themselves as the most radical in the field. So she lied. She said that Sanders hadn’t done anything to support gay rights since the 70’s, and that therefore it was actually good that Warren voted for Reagan twice during the AIDS crisis, because that means she grew into her present woke state.

This was all par for the course. Liars lie. Preston is paid to lie. So she lied. 

Also par for the course: Bernie supporters asking her what on earth she was talking about, and doing so politely. And then, once again par for the course, the liar claiming to have been viciously harassed by Bernie Bros, which is meant to validate the lies that warranted the response--which actually wasn’t a lie since it was just, like, sarcasm that y’all folx was too hateful to understand. 

This process has been going on pretty much non-stop since the middle of 2015. Anyone who pays cursory attention to it knows what’s happening, but the weird rules of political decorum make it so we all have to pretend to take it seriously. But yesterday there was a twist. Preston, apparently, had a bunch of semi-coherent tweets in which she said all kinds of neat stuff about Mexicans and Asians. These got posted. She reacted by saying she was kinda sorry but also still right and that it was harassment to bring up that stuff. And… that was it. Cancel Culture’s denizens applauded her apology (a courtesy often provided to those who are willing to lie about leftists). She is still employed by the Warren campaign. The incident wasn’t discussed in any mainstream news sources. The outrage over her old tweets was actually co-opted to smear those who unearthed them. 

The simple observation here was made by hundreds of people online: if this were a Sanders surrogate, they would have been fired immediately, the affair would have been discussed on cable news, and it would have been held up as proof that Sanders should drop out immediately. And when I say hundreds of people posted something along these lines, I might be understating this. The duplicity on display here is manifest to everyone who isn’t on the take. Everyone can see how rotten this is. There’s no question about it. No argument to be had. I’m sorry to say, but this kind of brazen cynicism does not go over well with most voters. It is, in fact, incredibly alienating. The people who claim universal healthcare is inherently racist and attempt to ruin people’s lives for using imprecise language can’t just turn around and demand immediate ablution for their own hateful acts. Or… I guess they can, since that’s what just happened. But they shouldn’t be able to. And the fact that she was able to, so completely and so easily, proves just how much of a shitty fucking grift this whole thing is. You don’t need to be a genius to realize that. You don’t even need to be well-read. You just need to pay a little attention and possess a little bit of self-respect. And that’s why Warren is going to lose.

[kirabook]

I know it’s not my responsibility to educate people who happen to be my race, but sometimes I just want to slap the shit out of some people!

“Bernie isn’t progressive because he doesn’t talk about race enough and only focuses on the economics of the working class! WAH! WAH!!”

YOU IDIOT.

BLACK PEOPLE ARE PART OF THE WORKING CLASS. WE PROBABLY TAKE UP A LARGE PORTION OF THE WORKING CLASS. WE ARE THE POOR AND THE WORKING CLASS.

IF THE ECONOMY IMPROVES FOR THE WORKING CLASSSSS, THAT MEANSSSSS, IT IMPROVESSSS FOR US! HOLY HELL

You know why he isn’t focusing on race??? It’s not because he’s freaking racist. It’s because unfortunately in this country, you can’t just point to a minority group and run an entire campaign only on them. You have to speak to the american people. Black people make up the working class. White people make up the working class. Latinos, Asians, all kinds of people make up the working class! He’s talking to all of us! His message is one of unity! 

And what do you want to do? You say him participating and protesting in favor of civil rights back in the day is not enough. What about his desire to end the private prison industry? What about his policy against the war on drugs? What about his free college tuition plan??? Do these issues not affect us??? WE DON’T NEED THIS STUF??!?!?!?! Of course we do! They affect us more than any other demographic in this country!

If you’re too fucking stupid to look at Bernie’s message and not see or understand how much his politics improves our lives, then no one can help you.

Please remove your head from so far up Hillary Clinton’s ass and stop being her little dutiful workers to smear Bernie’s message. You already know what I want to call you. 

I can’t believe more than a year has gone by and you guys still can’t take your heads out of her ass to learn and grow or adopt new policies. 

Bernie isn’t chasing the racists who would probably be racist against him anyway because he’s Jewish. He’s chasing those people who voted for Obama TWICE and were convinced that Trump’s lies about being anti-establishment and bringing back their jobs would help them.

I’m not saying pity those people. They were dumb to fall for such a message because Trump has always been a known con artist. Even I knew that and I barely knew anything about him other than his celebrity. But you know what isn’t helping us?

Saying that the most progressive politician we have isn’t a real progressive because he doesn’t start every sentence with “BLACK PEOPLE” as if we’re the only ones that matter.

If we want to get our agenda through, if we want our kids to stop dying, if we want to get a better education, if we want better jobs and opportunities, we need to help the rest of America realize that WE ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES. When WE grow, THEY grow too. We want these policies because they help us, but they help YOU TOO. 

Generations and generations of black people before us wanted nothing more than to become a normal part of society and be treated fairly like everyone else, but as soon as a politician stands up with more integrity than the rest, it’s suddenly not enough that his policies will especially help us. He has to draw big red circle around “BLACK PEOPLE TOO” for black people to understand??? 

We are smarter than that and it just fucking irks me that other black people want to speak for me and what I think of Bernie and his policies.

I think Bernie is amazing. I think it’s unfair that he was cheated out of a primary. I don’t agree with everything Bernie says and I think his opinions on foreign policy is weak. But one thing I know for certain is that his domestic policy is nearly unbreakable. I know his policies will help me, my family, and all of my friends. If you can’t, that’s your own goddamn fault and I wish you would crawl into the hole you came out of and shut the fuck up.

The end. 

#don't read because politics #bernie sanders

[taylorscottbarnett]

Nah, just don't buy it. Sorry if I don't particularly believe a woman who just came forward after Biden as all but clinched the Democratic nomination.

Especially given the two decades of defense from his own assistants.

[In addition to Bedingfield’s statement, the Biden campaign also released a statement from Marianne Baker, an executive assistant to Biden from 1982 to 2000. “In all my years working for Senator Biden, I never once witnessed, or heard of, or received, any reports of inappropriate conduct, period — not from Ms. Reade, not from anyone,” Baker said. “These clearly false allegations are in complete contradiction to both the inner workings of our Senate office and to the man I know and worked so closely with for almost two decades.”]

I also don't buy it given that Obama vetted his VP in 2008 more than any president in recent history given the historic stakes of the 2008 election, and even before that the long odds Obama faced in going up against (briefly) Biden, and Clinton in the democratic nomination fight, this never came up. Both would have happily flung those grenades at Biden to knock him out of the race early.

Sorry.  Bernie isn't winning this race. He'll never win a Democratic nomination fight -- because he's just a bad candidate. A good guy, a bad progressive candidate to be a front runner in the most diverse party in American politics. That “Big-tent” diversity is the party’s greatest strength, and Bernie’s biggest weakness. And don’t try to come at me with BS about “yeah diversity includes sexual assault” bullshit.

Trying to smear Biden as a last ditch effort to raise Sanders' prospects is a desperate and pathetic move from his supporters -- they should try having him win on his merits.

Wait they did.

Twice.

He lost.

Twice.

Look, my best friend was assaulted, raped, and controlled by an abusive guy for months. That same fucking asshole is praised by an untold amount of cultists who worship him as a hero for outing someone else who raped another woman. Guess what, I went to school with both of them. He was a fucking asshole then and he’s an asshole now. Do I think for a second he took advantage, manipulated, abused and raped my friend? Absolutely. Immediately. The second I found out.

I’ve known her for over a decade. She’s one of my closest friends. She was one of the first people to push me to run for office. When I first came to her and mentioned it off hand, she immediately backed and encouraged me. It was just a crazy idea. But she believed in me. She’s utterly brilliant, and will be one of the first people I reach out to work on my campaign, she’s on a very short list for campaign manager. I will fight anyone who comes at her over her choices.

Do you know what he did the second she came out publicly against him? He outed her for being a cam-model. As if taking off your clothing for money meant he of course couldn't rape her. He even fucking tried to get her child taken away from her because she “couldn’t do that” and be a fit mother. He posted her HOME ADDRESS for EVERYONE to see. DO you know how fucking dangerous that is for a sex worker?

Guess what, that shady-ass tactic didn’t quite work so well.

And yes I am a staunch supporter of sex-workers as well. I have a number of friends in the community, and I fully support the right of a person to make money of their body -- - If you think sex workers "sell their bodies," but coal miners and construction workers, do not, your view of labor is clouded by your moralistic view of sexuality and you can fuck right off with that shit.

I say this to make it REAL clear I support the #timesup Movement. I am an unapologetic feminist -- and I still don’t believe this bottomoftheninth bullshit.

So, Bernie-bros, let me be real clear, you can fuck right off with that shit, and I find it really interesting you’ll try this mudslinging to raise Bernie up as a last ditch effort to get him into office while you ignored the reports of harassment of women on his campaign.