#never ever ever be surprised at the lengths racists will go to harm black people

[odinsblog]

Federal investigators have learned that white supremacists discussed plans to use the coronavirus as a bioweapon, Yahoo News reported, citing a weekly intelligence brief from a division of the Department of Homeland Security.

"White Racially Motivated Violent Extremists have recently commented on the coronavirus stating that it is an 'OBLIGATION' to spread it should any of them contract the virus," the document said.

White supremacists suggested targeting law enforcement and "nonwhite" people in particular.

They floated options like leaving "saliva on door handles" at local FBI offices, spitting on elevator buttons, spreading the virus in "nonwhite neighborhoods," and being in public with their perceived enemies.

The brief covered the week of February 17-24 and was written by the Federal Protective Service.

It said violent extremists "continue to make bioterrorism a popular topic among themselves," adding: "White Racially Motivated Violent Extremists have recently commented on the coronavirus stating that it is an 'OBLIGATION' to spread it should any of them contract the virus."

The World Health Organization designated the novel coronavirus, which causes the disease COVID-19, a pandemic on March 11. To date, the disease has infected 311,989 people worldwide and killed 13,407. In the US there are 26,747 confirmed cases and 340 people have died.

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#never ever ever be surprised at the lengths racists will go to harm black people #kkklandemic #white supremacy #coronavirus #racism #bio weapons

[virginiacreepervine]

A body washed up on Bell Isle this morning. Average height, average build. White guy with pierced ears, a few tattoos, shoulder length hair. Wouldn’t stand out in a Richmond crowd. Calloused hands and the slight beer gut suggest a blue collar job...in fact, he was a plumber. He was my brother. In a sense. People always looked at us funny when I told them; there’s no resemblance whatsoever, and we’re clearly pretty close in age. When you’ve been close with someone for twenty years, I figure you’re either family, or lovers, and our parents being married would’ve made the latter more than a little awkward. People hate it when I make that joke, makes ‘em real uncomfortable, but hey, that just makes it funnier for me.  The cops are ruling it a suicide on account of him being full of liquor, with no other wounds to speak of, and my idiot mother admitted he had a history of self harm. Now I know the guy had some troubles earlier in life, but getting drunk, driving to a bridge and throwing himself off? Not his style. Dude was impatient, and I’ve had to take guns from him before. Drowning is too slow, especially in that part of the river this time of year. Dude could have stood up and stumbled to drunken safety, right next to the moonshine distillery. Shouldn’t he have broken something in a fall like that? People tell me denial is just part of the grieving process, but I know bullshit when I smell it. My grandpa has a farm.  Steph is just beside herself. Literally. Ever since that accident with truck filled with ooze of dubious origin she’s had a double inches from her at all times. It doesn’t speak and it isn’t fully corporeal, but its there, standing, mimicking Steph’s expressions and movements. She’s real easy to see driving down the street too, but people learned to deal with it. Anyway, she’s (they’re?) in my bar, saying she believes me. I tell her what everyone tells me, its the grief, but she says that he hadn’t drank anything that night. More importantly, he fell asleep on top of her and she would’ve noticed if he moved. That’s not what I’ve heard, but I didn’t say that out loud. What kind of guy would tell a grieving widow her deceased husband was hung like a field mouse? Don’t answer that, I know. He was my brother though, so I couldn’t bring myself to shit on him, lest his angry ghost fuck up my bar. “So,” I muttered, “what do you want me to do about it? The fuzz had their say, case closed. This ain’t a mystery I can solve. What do I look like, Scooby Doo? Don’t answer that.”  “No, asshole, you don’t look like a fucking cartoon dog. But I know when weird shit happens, you’re the guy to talk to.” She starts crying something fierce before continuing. “That’s what Mike always said at least” “Alright, fuck you. First of all, Scoobert Doobert is a legend, beloved by all, and I will not have you reducing his existence to ‘cartoon dog’ in my establishment. Second, how DARE you come at me while I grieve, trying to use my dead brother’s name to guilt trip me into something.” We stared at each other a long while. She’s crying, I’m crying, it’s a mess. I don’t know if it was the grief or the extreme need to get this crying woman (women?) out of my bar before the usual drunks start wandering in, but I caved. “Fine. Fuck it, fine. Let me make sure I have the facts straight; Y’all do the deed, he passes out on top of you. Next, he gets up and has a little drink, drives down Belvedere and parks by the memorial center, and jumps off a bridge.” “Yeah, but we know that last part didn’t happen, I would’ve noticed him move.” “Okay, fine, but that just makes it sound like you did it. How long until you woke up and noticed he wasn’t there?” She doesn’t look happy at that one. I’m a real charmer, I know. She goes on. “Around 11 A.M., when I got the call about...” she drifts off, starts crying again. Either a great actress killed my brother, or she’s trying really hard to keep it together. Her double hovers by, a mourning mirror making me feel even worse about not trying harder sooner. I interrupt, eager to get this over with. “And what time did you fall asleep?” A solid minute later, she wipes away the snot and tears. How come its always snot? Really makes a person feel worse about themselves when a booger is sliding down their face with the tears. “Oh, about ten p.m.” “You laid there for thirteen hours and still think you would’ve noticed? I’ll level with you, this whole thing seems fishier by the minute. You’re wrong, or lying, but I’m gonna be a fool and believe you for his sake. Go home and get some rest, I’m gonna head out and ask a few questions.” She thanks me and heads out, leaving a trail of tears and snot in her wake. I call my staff, tell them not to come in tonight. After the final “Fuck you, I need my hours!”, I head into the storage closet where I keep my “Closed on account of Some Bullshit” sign, grab it and walk towards the door to hang it up. Only I don’t. There’s someone behind the bar, and they’re naked. “Not again,” I think, before  getting a closer look at the creep. There he is, tiny pecker and all. My brother.

“Man if you’re gonna haunt me could you at least haunt me with some clothes on? I don’t need ghost pubes around the joint if a health inspector shows up. Don’t you dead assholes usually have, like, some rags or a sheet or something?” Much to my annoyance, he responds. “Nah, the sheets look too much like the KKK getup. Makes people uncomfortable.” A startling realization. Old timey ghosts are super racist. Also, he’s very clearly alive. Ghosts ain’t got much of a sense of humor. “You asshole, you’re fucking alive?! Tell ya what, after I whip your naked ass, you’re gonna call everyone and apologize. This is ridiculous.” The supposedly dead streaker backs into the shelf behind the bar, hands up. In a shaky, scared voice he says “N-no, you can’t. No one can know I’m alive! I got people after me, Conner, I had to fake my death.” I pinch the bridge of my nose so hard that I’m sure I’ve left a bruise. “Fuckin’ okay, what the hell was the body they found?” “I had that hoodoo woman that was always screaming at people on Broad Street hook me up with a little something. You don’t know what its made of, but the people at the morgue are gonna be in for a surprise tomorrow.” I don’t ask any questions about that part, everyone knows that old bat had some weird shit going on. “Sure, but whoever is after you is gonna find out too. Now to the important question, why in the fuck are you naked in my bar?” “I put my clothes on the thing so it’d look authentic, then I creeped in here through that back window you always forget to lock.” “So,” I start, pinching the bridge of my nose again. “You managed to creep two and a half miles in the dead of night, through downtown Richmond? And no one saw you?”  “Oh some people saw me. I’m just too fast, the cops could never catch me.” As he explains, I hang the sign up. Can’t have some poor customer catch me arguing with a naked ghost, would really hurt the business. Then, I lay into him for a good twenty minutes about what a moron he is, as this plan is garbage from start to finish, almost like some hack writer couldn’t think of anything better. I also hand him some clothes I keep in storage in a bin labeled “lost and found”, as if anyone ever comes looking for the stuff. You’d be amazed at the shit people leave lying around here and never come looking for. Clothes, wallets, a weird book with a lock on it that I haven’t had the balls to crack open yet. Sometimes guns, sometimes pictures of people I’ve never seen. All doomed to life in a closet. He tells me the people after him are part of the same gang I ran with as a teenager, the Pale Horse Motorcycle Club. That makes things less complicated. I’d talk to John, the boss of the gang, and get it all sorted out. That asshole owes me a few times over anyway. I let the dead prick use a few padded bras from the lost and found (seriously, who in the fuck leaves those on the ground and how didn’t I notice?) for a pillow and let him rest. My apartment is only a few blocks down the street, so I walk on home. I open the door and notice something feels off. The place is smoky, which isn’t super out of the ordinary, but the smell is way worse than normal. I take a deep breath and place the heavy, cloying scent as cigar smoke. “Look,” I say to the black abyss that is my home this time of night, “if you’re that guy from the other night, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. You just seemed like you’re into freakier shit than I can deal with.” The person in my armchair strikes a match. I catch a few features; Bushy black beard, oily tan skin, glasses. “Hey John, thought you’d be stopping by. Didn’t have to-” “I did have to. You know we’re all about imagery. Now sit down, lets talk.” Instead of humoring him, I pull a knife on him. This isn’t some Hollywood picture, can’t take any chances. Mistake on my end though, as the last thing I remember of that night is getting hit in the head, hard, and feeling my carpet rush up to meet me.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Women’s March

Summary: Steve watches over the safety of the Women’s March... but he didn’t realize the threat was Y/N. 

I wrote this through my frustration and anger at our country’s current political situation. It was somewhat cathartic...

Pairing: Steve x Fem!Reader [Platonic Bucky]

Word Count: 1,472

Steve was in full Captain America gear: mask strapped on tight and shield securely on his back. He paced the length of the roof he was observing from. Every so often, he’d glanced down at the marchers below. Seeing a wave of pink brought a small, content smirk to his lips.

Someone’s feet landed behind him. Steve remained calm. He’d know those footsteps anywhere.

“It’s sort of amazing, isn’t it?” Bucky said as he walked up behind Steve. He too was watching the women below.

“Sort of?” Steve scoffed at the use of vocabulary.

“You’re right… it’s more than amazing. A racist, misogynist gets elected president of the United States and 2 million people march against it.” Bucky said in awe.  

Steve had rallied some of the team to stand guard at the marches across the country. He said these women should feel safe while they fought for their rights. Vision was the one to state the low statistics of any harm coming to the marchers, but Steve didn’t care. Bucky was the first to volunteer. Natasha, Wanda, and Y/N had already planned on joining the march incognito.

“What do you reckon Peggy would’ve said if she could see this?” Bucky asked.

Steve finally glanced up from the crowd and met Bucky’s gaze. “I think she’d be ashamed that they’re still protesting these things.”

Bucky chuckled at that, realizing now that his question was stupid.

Steve sighed, looking around at all of DC’s buildings. Their view was amazing. “I gotta be honest, Buck. Sometimes I wonder… if we woke up another 100 years later, would we still be fighting these battles?”

Bucky nodded. “I know what you mean, Steve. But you have to admit, things have still improved since our day.”

“Things are looking good in Chicago. How’re you in DC?” Sam’s voice spoke into both of their earpieces.

Steve’s finger went to his ear. “So far, so good.”

Then he turned his attention back to his friend. “Did you see Y/N leave before you did your rounds around the capital?”

Bucky looked confused. “She wasn’t with Nat or Wanda when they left.”

Steve instantly had a bad feeling. His finger when back to his ear piece, “Romanoff, is Y/N with you?”

Static came back to him before she responded, “She said she wasn’t feeling well when we tried to get her to come with us.”

Steve was with her this morning. She looked completely fine and never mentioned anything about feeling sick to Steve. But she had also been uncommonly quiet. Steve knew something was off, but Y/N had been angry and dejected ever since Trump was elected.

Then Steve realized what was happening. “Shit!” He snapped before sprinting toward the door that would lead him to the ground level.

Bucky was running after him. “What the hell is going on?” He yelled behind.

“Y/N…” was all Steve managed to sputter out before he was fighting his way through the crowds of people.

“What about-” Bucky stopped mid-sentence, having put it together. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered to himself. Then he put his finger to his earpiece. “All DC divisions, I need all eyes on the lookout for Y/N.”

“Well that might be a little difficult, seeing as she’s a damn shape shifter.” Nat was the first to respond.

“Just do it!” Steve yelled back. He was working his way in the direction of The White House. Him and Bucky stuck out like a sore thumb. Even if they were out of uniform, their height and bulk contrasted against all the women.

“I…I can sense her.” Wanda chimed in.

“Wanda, I’m going to need you to try a little harder than that.” Bucky clarified as he tried not to pummel everyone keeping up with Steve.

“She’s…she’s at 10th and New York Ave.” Wanda cheered in excitement. Then her voice changed. “Oh, god. Steve, you have to hurry!” She had seen enough of Y/N’s energy and mind to realize what was going on.

“I’m trying…” Steve muttered back.

The crowd was thinner the further away from the stage they got. Steve was in a full on sprint as soon as the space allowed it.

“Wanda, can you tell what form she’s taken?” Steve huffed in between breaths.

Bucky could see The White House in the distance. They were getting close.

Wanda started rattling off description of the form Y/N had taken as best she could. Bucky and Steve’s eyes raced around the streets. They were further away from the march, especially now that the rally had started a while ago.

“I think I see her!” Steve yelled out to Bucky. He didn’t run this time. In a calm, forceful walk, he made his way to the person as their back was turned to them.

Steve grabbed them by the jacket and planned on dragging them behind a building that was in shadow. To his surprise, they flipped around in his grip landed a punch to his face immediately followed by an elbow jab.

“Yep…that would be Y/N.” Bucky said in a sardonic tone.

As soon as she was shocked by Steve’s appearance, her body morphed back to its true form. “Steve!? What the fuck are you doing here?” She yelled.

Steve touched his lip to find it bleeding from both of her hits. “Where exactly were you headed, Y/N?” His held absolutely no humor and his gaze darkened.

“I was scoping out the area.” She replied confidently. Y/N was an amazing liar. She came from the same Black Widow program as Natasha, only she had been cunning enough to escape. While Natasha needed to be saved, Y/N was dangerous enough to fight her way out.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” Steve’s tone sounded hurt.

Y/N’s eyes blackened. She knew he figured it out. “It needs to be done.” She started walking away but Bucky blocked her path. “Move Barnes. You know you can’t stop me.”

“We can’t let you do this, Y/N.” Bucky felt torn. He didn’t want to fight her.

“Y/N,” Steve called behind her. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing. But you can’t. You’ll be betraying yourself more than anything. You won’t be able to live with it.”

Y/N whipped around to face him now. “Look what he’s done already! Doesn’t this look familiar to either of you?” Her voice was desperate, yet utterly frustrated. “He’s going to hurt people…you don’t understand what he’s capable of!”

“This isn’t you, Y/N.” Steve whispered.

“I was a killer before, I can do it again.”

“You’ve changed. You’re better than that now.” Bucky added.

“Y/N… I-I can’t protect you if you kill him.” Steve sounded destroyed.

“Back then... you’re saying you wouldn’t have tried to kill Hitler? If you knew you could do it, if a chance was given to you… you wouldn’t have taken it?” Y/N hissed at Steve.  

His head bowed, knowing she was right. “Times were different then. We were at war.”

“Don’t you see it, Steve?” Y/N whispered. “History is repeating itself.”

“You’ll go from being an Avenger to being an assassin, Y/N. We can’t let you do that.” Bucky tried to reason with her, seeing Steve fading.

Y/N slowly turned to face Bucky. “If I have to give that up to save people, I’ll do it.”

“What about me? Will you give me up?” Steve murmured brokenly.  

It made Y/N’s heart stop for a moment. Then tears started to sting her eyes. “I-I don’t know what else to do, Steve. I’m scared. I’ve never been scared in my whole goddamn life…and now I’m terrified. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Next thing she knew, Steve had his arms around her. She started crying into his chest. His warmth, his smell, just his mere touch broke her down.

“I feel helpless. I don’t know how to fight this type of battle.” She sighed as she rubbed her back soothingly.

Bucky looked at the two with empathy. Steve and Y/N would do anything to help those in need. The scary part about Y/N though was that she didn’t know where to draw the line. At some point, the KGB had broken her moral compass. That’s why they needed one another, Bucky thought to himself. Y/N needed Steve to stop her from destroying herself in her efforts to protect. And Steve needed Y/N to force him to take risks in his personal life, not just in saving the world.

Steve now barely pulled away, but kept Y/N close with his hands tightly gripping her shoulders. “I know things are going to be hard. But we won’t let history repeat itself. I will fight with you through all of this. But we’re going to do it the right way.” He kissed her forehead. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not just our country that needs us, Steve. It’s the world.”

#marvel #marvel fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fic #captain america one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers one shot #bucky barnes #steve rogers womens march #womens march