as it turns out, this UTTP Bendy hate group actually seems to be delusional
they keep talking to bloggers and referring to them as “Bendy,” so I checked ‘em out on YouTube – there are several videos by different users talking about how “Bendy the Dancing Demon is real” and he “lives in New Jersey or New York” and “must be found”
Your sidebar says that you're taking prompts!!! I'm so excited!! Can you write a Tony Stark after Civil War story? He's got no one now (except for Rhodey, god bless him), and he has to face the Rouge Avengers for some reason (maybe a pardon for them?), and they are incredibly mean to him. They snap at him, yell at him, treat him like shit. All of them. Rhodey puts an end to it when Tony can't handle it anymore and REALLY starts crying.
So far, the entire meeting has been a mess of Tony white-knuckling it through to the end and wishing for a drink he won’t have.
It’s the first time he’s had to talk to them personally, face-to-face. They’ve been in contact through intermediaries for six months now, but as the de-facto head of the Avengers, Tony has to be there for kicking off this process of re-instating them. No one asked his opinion on that, which is probably a good thing.
He’s held his tongue and kept the meeting going. Professional, calm. Cool. Concerned about the fate of the world.
Tony can take a few hits where they matter.
But it’s not easy. Maybe it’s being a year out of practice of taking said hits. Going soft, his new team around him. Maybe it’s the stress.
“Alright, but signing is a non-negotiable part of this deal,” Tony points out. “We can talk more amendments if that’s on your mind, but the fact of the matter is that the UN doesn’t trust your team without a signature saying you’ll play by the rules. It’s non-optional.”
“Because Stark always gets his way, right? Even if he has to break up a team, chase people out of their goddamn home, threaten to lock them up, and brow-beat them into it first.”
Tony blinks, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and continues. “You can take that up with the UN, I suppose. As far as your equipment–”
“That you stole–”
That I built, Tony wants to scream, hundreds of hours of sweat and tears and sometimes literal blood going into equipment they misused, didn’t appreciate. Certainly didn’t appreciate the creator.
The next breath is shakier. “They’re prepared to offer you loans of it once your name hits the page, and–”
“That belongs to us.”
“It doesn’t,” Rhodey says, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. He pushes himself to stand, a slow, laborious process. “It belongs to its creator, who lost sleep over it, gave up his own time and money to build it. Who you’ve disrespected again and again, and if it were up to me, I’m letting you know we wouldn’t be having these talks now. Unfortunately I don’t control the universe and have to contend with what’s coming. Now. We’re calling a break. See you tomorrow.”
Rhodey strong-arms Tony out of the room, no small feat considering he insisted on wearing his braces despite the fact that they still need a lot of work. Still, Tony goes willingly enough, more out of shock than anything else. Numbness.
“You okay, Tones?”
“No,” Tony says honestly. His therapist would be proud to hear the honesty, but if there’s anyone who will allow it, it’s Rhodey. Always, Rhodey.
“Yeah, no shit. Dumb question. What can I do?”
“Just…wait it out with me.”
Someone pulls a car around for them and Rhodey puts up the privacy partition right away, then opens his arms. “C'mere.”
Tony’s breath is shallow and broken, shuddering. “Christ,” he mumbles.
Tony wants to laugh but it sounds too wet, too broken. Rhodey squeezes him.
“I can go back and yell at them.”
“The universe doesn’t bow to our whims.”
“That mean no yelling?”
“Unfortunately.” Tony holds for a moment. “At least not until this is done.”
I love reading the stories on this web page, make me smile every time! :) Now its time for a story of mine. Since a couple months i have been busy wasting and trolling scammers time so they get to steal less money from people. These people cold-call everyone claiming to be Microsoft, the IRS, that you won a free cruise, or that you won a free gift card. They also use fake pop-ups in web browsers that tell victims their computer is infected by a virus, that your personal information is “being hacked”, your computer has been blocked or that your Microsoft/Apple license key has expired.
These scammers steal alot of money this way from mostly elderly people and people that don’t have much computer knowledge. The problem is getting bigger and bigger, and these people are great to troll. I have been doing this for a while now and we are finding a lot of new ways to piss these criminals off. We utilize call flooders to disable their phone lines. We pretend to be victim and use fake virtual computers to connect them in to waste hours and hours of their time. This act of pretending to be the victim is scam baiting. We also find out information on them to report to authorities (although they don’t do much sadly) We have made alot of scammers change their phone number, or shut them down completely by our continuous actions.
Now for my revenge story..
I was dialing a scammer pretending that my computer had the fake pop-up alert with their number on it. I followed the steps he told me to make him enter my Virtual Computer. (a safe environment that if they damage i can just restore easily with 1 button) He was showing me all the fake lies like running the command box -tree command to index all your files and then while its indexing type a message in there that my PC was infected.
He next run NETSTAT in the command prompt and told me the foreign addresses where hackers that have established a connection on my machine. At this point he opened a window called MSINFO32 to look at my system specs. As my virtual machine wasn’t made stealthy i thought he would find out that I am a “pranker” as they usually call us. To my surprise this scammer was a rookie that didn’t even notice at all that it showed VIRTUAL BOX in the system model line.
I love having rookie scammers on the line, as they are easy to get information on them from… and i had a feeling this call would get something interesting going! A minute later my feeling became real as he opened his payment account on my virtual machine. As he logged in i distracted him and clicked on “store passwords” which was displayed in my native language so he didn’t notice he did. Next i played along his dumb scam a little longer, filled in all the information in the payment form. And while doing so i disconnected him and pretended my internet went.
I quickly went into his account settings and changed the password and hung up the phone call. At first i thought there wasn’t any transactions made but shortly i found out there was A LOT of stolen money made by him.
I decided to call them back later, and they didn’t even understand what happened. They said they had a connection problem for transactions. And told me i could pay with iTunes gift cards instead. Sadly they could still scam people this way, but its a lot less likely a victim would fall for the iTunes gift card payment thing. All in all this was a nice setback for them and a good revenge from my side :)
A couple days later i can still login to their account, they apparently didn’t set up any recovery settings. I coulnd’t refund the victim but the information was passed on to authorities.
*His pupils roll across his skull as his tolerance began to run short. Joey closes his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose to remove some of the tension* Bendy. *He firmly spoke, one of his eyes opening to stare down at the clearly pissed off demon* In through one ear and out the other as usual, repeating yourself to expect results. This is all typical behavior from you.
You know, I was thinking about Tony Stark and therapy this morning, and under what conditions he would consent to go.
And it’s entirely possible he went to therapy after Ultron and before Civil War, I could see that, but I could also totally not see that.
So I could see the first time Tony seriously tries therapy being after Civil War, because he has so many feelings, the world fell apart and his mom was murdered and he was lied to and, not the least of them by any means, his best friend can’t walk and he probably blames himself.
But he can’t burden Rhodey with that. Not like he feels like he can’t, but he literally can’t, because it’s kind of a dick move to take up Rhodey’s space to process and grieve his own legs and life with Tony’s own thoughts.
This is what they mean when they say never rely on just one person to keep you going, Tony realizes. Pepper’s gone, and she’d listen but it’s awkward and it wouldn’t help either of them. Happy works for Pepper now. None of them team is an option, if they ever were. JARVIS is gone and neither Vision nor FRIDAY are adequate replacements, relationship-wise. Parker’s a kid, a good kid, but a kid nonetheless, and he idolizes Tony a bit, clearly he’s not good material for confiding things in.
So Tony gets a therapist, because he has to let these emotions out somehow, so he can be there for Rhodey without burdening Rhodey with his own problems until/unless Rhodey’s ready for that.
And consequently, when the team meets up again in Infinity Wars, Tony Stark is probably the most emotionally healthy he’s ever been in his whole life, he has coping strategies and belief in his self worth, they try to tell him that it’s his fault things went the way they did and he won’t have it because he does not have to take that.
Tony unintentionally becoming emotionally healthy while trying to be a good person and treat his friend right, not for himself, seems like the most Tony thing I could possibly think of.
For the prompt thing, pretty please 10 or 29 or both in one 🙏🏻🙏🏻
This is kind of the opposite of what I wrote yesterday. So here be fluff and nothing but fluff. It’s a sequel to this (sappy) prompt. But you can read it on its own as well. Thank you for the prompt!
10. “I can never
unsee that.” + 29. “Y-you love me?”
When Mulder finds
himself in the car en route to Mrs. Scully’s house, he is not sure when it
But here he is, in the
passenger seat, forced to listen to classical music that’s supposed to be
calming. That’s what Scully told him 20 minutes ago, anyway. She’s quiet, tapping
along on the steering wheel while Mulder keeps trying to come up with something
clever to say. Or really anything. He has questions, plenty of them, but he
doesn’t ask any of them. Why am I here, Scully? He would like to know. Why do I
have to see your brother twice in one day? Mulder grows agitated just thinking
Why did you kiss me
earlier, Scully? That’s the one he really wants to know about.
In good old Mulder and
Scully fashion, they haven’t talked about it. The kiss. It’s been hours and
Scully hasn’t mentioned it once. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it never
happened. Just a figment of his vast imagination. He’s imagined kissing Scully
a million times over the years. But no; it definitely happened. Her hands were
on his thighs, he can almost feel them still, and her lips grazed his oh so
softly. Oh yeah. It happened.
quiet.” Scully says in between songs. As if the music should not be
“I thought you
wanted me to shut up.”
earlier.” Mulder thinks he sees her blush.
“Yeah well, I
didn’t know when you wanted me to stop.” Mulder cracks open a sunflower
seed, realizing how hungry he is. With her kissing him and then convincing him
to go with her to her mother’s made him forget everything else. Like having
“About the time I
– never mind.” The kiss, he thinks, suppressing a smile. She certainly
shut him up with that.
“You mean the…
you know.” Here he is complaining that Scully doesn’t mention their foray
into new, more intimate territory and he finds himself shying away as well.
“It wasn’t fun,
Scully, I didn't… you started it. I just – then why did you ask me to come with
you to your mother’s? If I’m no fun.” Mulder sounds bitter; he tries not
to, but what can he do? He’s been wanting to kiss Scully for ages and when they
finally do, she hates it.
why,” she tells him, her voice even, her eyes on the road, “You made
fun of me. You know I thought you had something important to tell me and you
let me believe it, Mulder.” Oh, again. She wasn’t talking about the kiss
sorry. Your brother unnerves me,” he sees her nod in agreement, “He
said all these things and then when you finally showed up at the office I felt
like… I just wanted you to know there was something to come back to. As stupid
as it was.”
machine in accounting.”
“I realize it
wasn’t my brightest moment, Scully, but I had to say something.”
“But do you realize
that I hurried through lunch with my brother because I thought something
important was going on?”
Scully. What else can I say?”
“Next time your
exciting news turn out to be about kitchen appliances, tell me right away and
don’t make it a secret.”
defense,” Scully shoots him a look and Mulder ignores it, “I never
said it was exciting. I didn’t keep it a secret either. So that’s why I’m here?
“What’s the other
like to know.” Scully chuckles and Mulder adds it to his long, long list
of things they, apparently, don’t talk about.
Mulder doesn’t know
what he expected, but it’s not this. This is not, as Scully assured him earlier,
a small family gathering. This is dozens of people running around Mrs. Scully’s
“Oh Dana, you
made it!” A woman, who is almost as tall as Mulder, hugs Scully tightly.
“Mom made me
promise.” She replies with a soft smile. If only she would smile like this
“And who is this
nice young man, Dana?”
“This is Fox
Mulder. My partner,” she startles, “my friend,” Scully turns to
him, searching for the right word, “my work…” She trails off with a
confused hand gesture.
the large woman shakes his hand heartily, a huge grin on her face, “Maggie
told us so much about you. She didn’t say you were coming today!”
“Ah yes, I
cleared my schedule for this,” Mulder puts on what he hopes is a charming
smile, and judging from the woman’s face it works well enough, and sighs,
“I wanted to be here.”
lovely, Fox. I’m Dana’s aunt, Millicent.” She’s still holding his hand, he
realizes. “Now, go say hello to everyone else. I hope I’ll see you around,
Fox.” Aunt Millicent winks at him and Mulder blushes. When she’s out of
sight, Scully sighs audibly.
“So I’m your
work, huh?” Mulder bumps her shoulder playfully.
“Oh shut up,
Mulder. You know what I meant.” Scully doesn’t look at him, instead she
seems to look for someone else among all these small and not so small heads.
There’s a whirlwind of noises and voices surrounding them.
“Do I?” Scully
glances up at him, brows furrowed. Her mouth opens to say something when a loud,
distinctively male voice chimes:
Dana?” In a quick movement, Scully grabs Mulder’s coat sleeve and drags
him with her right into a room he’s never seen before. It’s dark, it’s small
and for the moment, surprisingly quiet. It could be a coat closet, he thinks, as
a soft fabric brushes against him.
what-” She puts her finger on his lips to quiet him. Not as effective as
her earlier mode of shutting him up, but it works. He’s not going to complain
that she’s touching him. Her finger is warm, it’s soft, and he just can’t help
himself; he kisses it. Scully’s eyes open wide, but she doesn’t take her finger
away, and so he kisses it again.
“Oh for fuck’s
sake, Mulder.” Her angry whisper shocks him, but even if he knew what to
say, he couldn’t. Scully’s lips find his again and this time he makes sure
she’s not cutting their kiss short. His arms tighten around her and hold her
close. She moans into his open mouth as one of his hands wanders up her spine.
“Why would they –
Dana! And Fox!” The door opens and their mouths separate with a loud
smack. Their arms still around each other they stare into the faces of Scully’s
mother, her brother and man Mulder doesn’t know. Oh well.
“I can never
unsee that.” Bill Scully mumbles shaking his head in disbelief.
“Why are you
hiding in here?” Maggie Scully, a laugh in her voice, opens the door wider
so they can step out. Mulder tries to secretly wipe at his mouth, but the nameless
guy watches him intently. As does Bill.
“Bill wanted to
introduce you to his Navy friend.” Now it’s Mulder who eyes the other man
warily. This is the guy Bill Scully told him about earlier in his office. On
his turf. This, he figures, is neutral ground. Not to mention that he just
kissed Scully for the second time in one day. That should count for something.
“This is Frank,”
the blond stranger waves awkwardly, uncertain if he should shake Scully’s hand,
“My friend I told you about earlier.” Bill finishes, his eyes full
engaged in a glaring match with his sister. For once Mulder is glad to not be
at the receiving end of that death stare.
“And what did I
tell you?” Her voice sounds like pure ice.
“I’m just asking
you to meet him. You don’t have to marry him.” Bill glances at Mulder, who
briefly considers hiding behind Scully or even her mother.
interested,” she tells him, “Sorry, Frank.” The man blushes
“It’s because of
him, isn’t it? I mean what you just did…”
mother’s voice warns him.
“That’s none of
“He has nothing
to offer you, Dana!”
“Bill, leave your
sister and Fox alone. Now come on, all of you. We’ve got a house full of
people. Behave yourselves.” Mulder watches as Scully raises her eyebrow as
if challenging her brother and of course, he bites.
“What is it about
him, Dana? He doesn’t love you.”
the last straw and Mulder can no longer keep quiet, “I do love your
sister. I love her more than I could ever put into words.”
me?” Out of the corner of his eye Mulder sees Mrs. Scully lead her son and
the ominous Frank away. Not that Mulder still cares. His eyes are on Scully,
and hers are on him. Right now, in a house full of people, they’re the only two
“Scully, I am not
drunk,” he begins, his voice slightly wavering, “I am not drugged
either. I am just me and I am in full capacity of my sanity,” Scully’s
eyebrow rises, “as much as is left of it anyway. So let me tell you that yes,
I love you. I am in love with you.”
nice,” Scully tells him and it’s only now that he notices how close they
are once again; like magnets drawn to each, he figures, “Because you know
“I love you,
No more words are
needed and so he kisses her again and again and again.
It was always about the money. The reason we never saw the tax returns was because of what they would show about the money. The reason we can’t get a straight answer about the family’s dealings with the Russians is the money. Preet Bharara got fired because of the money and how the money had been allegedly laundered. James Comey got fired because of the money. Without the money, specifically the money from Russia, the Trump empire likely would have collapsed under a hail of writs and the paterfamilias would have been rendered invisible, even in the mirrors of Mar-a-Lago.
It always was about the money. The meeting on June 6, 2016 ultimately was about the money, as we learned today from CNN. The network reported that it had identified the eighth participant in that now-famous Trump Tower confab. Contrary to the previous load of hooey dispensed by Junior and the first family, this dude was not a translator.
Ike Kaveladze’s identity was confirmed by his attorney, Scott Balber. Kaveladze is a senior vice president at Crocus Group, the real estate development company run by Azerbaijani-Russian oligarch Aras Agalarov, according to Kaveladze’s LinkedIn. His personal website says he “holds responsibility for multiple elements of the company’s Russian development project.”
I am sure that, like most wealthy Russians in the Putin era, old Ike there is on the up and up. Let’s go to the phones. Here’s Ray from The New York Times:
In a nine-month inquiry that subpoenaed bank records, the investigators found that an unknown number of Russians and other East Europeans moved more than $1.4 billion through accounts at Citibank of New York and the Commercial Bank of San Francisco. The accounts had been opened by Irakly Kaveladze, who immigrated to the United States from Russia in 1991, according to Citibank and Mr. Kaveladze. He set up more than 2,000 corporations in Delaware for Russian brokers and then opened the bank accounts for them, without knowing who owned the corporations, according to the report by the General Accounting Office, which has not been made public. The report said the banks had failed to conduct any “due diligence” into identifying the owners of the accounts…The G.A.O. report said nothing about the sources of the money. In view of past investigations into laundering, this wave was highly likely to have arisen from Russian executives who were seeking to avoid taxes, although some money could be from organized crime. More than $800 million was wired from abroad to 136 accounts that Mr. Kaveladze opened at Citibank for Russian clients, and most of that was then sent to overseas accounts, said the report, which was provided to The New York Times by government officials who want to see its findings receive maximum exposure. The report is to be released on Thursday. About $600 million moved through the Commercial Bank, the investigation found.
It’s hard to believe that Junior wanted this guy’s name kept out of the stories, especially now that, as the guy’s attorney says, Robert Mueller has come knock, knock, knocking at the door.
(Sarah Kendizor, whose electric Twitter machine account is an essential follow on this stuff, has even more about Ike, including Ike’s complaint that the money-laundering probe was a “witch hunt.” These guys need new material.)
The fact is that the president* was never as rich as he said he was, a circumstance that was of outsized importance to nobody except his own narcissistic self. (I don’t think it would have changed a single vote if it had been revealed that he wasn’t as rich as he was saying he was.) He did, however, always have an outsized sense of himself in the world. He had to keep acquiring to stay true to his self-image. I believe the collision between these two factors left him with no options to obtain loans except overseas, and the Russian money was easy money. Then he got elected president and it all unraveled.
Future historians are going to read this stuff and get out of the business.
Prompt: Rhodey finds out exactly what happened to Tony in Siberia. Maybe gets to punch Steve in the face over it. Lots of Tony/Rhodey cuddling.
(No face punching happens, because I couldn’t work Steve into the fic. It’s just Tony and Rhodey. Also rather Rhodey/Tony leaning, although you could read it as gen if you wanted to).
Tony comes to visit him and he looks broken.
Not just his bruises and cuts, because Rhodey’s seen his best friend banged up before. No, it’s the look in his eyes. Flat. Destroyed.
He’d worn that look when he and Rhodey got the news from the doctor. It had then morphed into exhaustion, and then pure, simple determination that so often colors Tony’s features.
But now he’s back to this. Broken.
“What happened?” he demands. He hates the angle, hates lying on his back only slightly propped up by the hospital bed. Hates how he can’t feel his legs, hates how trapped he feels, here, when Tony is there, broken.
Tony tells him everything. His voice is flat, monotone, listless, and only breaks when he describes in careful detail the sight of Barnes murdering his mother.
Rhodey never got to meet Maria Stark. She never came to MIT and he never went to New York to visit the family. Any idiot could have seen how much she meant to Tony, though.
And then there’s Roger’s lies, which probably hurt Tony worse than anything, as hard as he tries not to show it. And the fight, and then they just left him there. Like yesterday’s news. Like garbage.
Really, they are damned lucky Vision was able to get to Tony to bring him back. He could very well have died out there, forgotten and alone in a frozen Soviet bunker.
The thought turns Rhdoey’s blood to ice. He throws his sheets back, opening up space in the bed. “C'mere,” he demands.
Tony starts. “I…I…”
“Get your ass in this bed,” Rhodey says.
“Rhodey, I…” He gestures to his whole self, still a little bloody, definitely bruised.
“Hospital sheets are designed to take it.”
“Not big enough for two,” Tony says. “I might…”
“Hurt me?” Rhodey asks sardonically. “Tones, I can’t even feel it. You can’t.”
That’s not true, and they both know it. They know that a concern regarding spinal damage and loss of feeling is that Rhodey will suffer further damage and not even know it, unaware as he’s unable to feel it. Tony doesn’t call him on it, though. Instead, he shucks his shoes and coat, and climbs into bed.
“I hate them,” he whispers.
“I know,” Rhodey soothes. “Me too, a little.” He pauses. “A lot, right now.”
“I’m gonna build you legs,” Tony declares, apparently done talking about Siberia.
Rhodey sighs. “Tony…”
“No. I am,” Tony says stubbornly. “I’m…I’m Tony fucking Stark, I can build Iron Man with a box of scraps. I can build my best friend legs.”
Rhodey can’t help but smile as he repositions them, holding Tony close. Tony’s always little spoon, always fits so neatly against him. It’s a little harder, right then, without feeling or moving his legs, but he gets them there.
“How ‘bout we sleep for now?” Rhodey asks. He’s technically been sleeping recently. More like unconscious, he thinks. Still, before that, the Accords and the clusterfuck caused by Rogers meant he missed a lot of sleep. He wonders how long Tony’s gone without.
“Okay,” Tony agrees, yawning, exhausted. He curls closer to Rhodey, puts his hand on Rhodey’s arm, gripping lightly, and then lets his eyes close.
Rhodey frowns, rubs his face against Tony’s hair once–and it could really use a wash, he thinks–then lets his own eyes drift closed.
Things look like shit right now. They’ll look like shit in the morning too, Rhodey thinks. But at least they’ll wake up together. That always makes things just that little bit brighter.
Tin Machine was announced to the press in May 1989, released their debut album, and went on a brief promotional tour in the US and Europe. It’s a shame that said tour was so brief, as it was the band at the peak of its promise–playing small clubs, burning through (and to be fair, greatly elongating) songs, with Bowie in strong voice and delighted about the racket he was making.
Setlists were the entire Tin Machine album (barring “Video Crime,” for whatever reason), the occasional cover (”Maggie’s Farm,” “Shakin’ All Over”) and new compositions (Hunt Sales’ “Sorry” and “Now,” which became ”Outside” years later). Not a single “David Bowie” song was played. Openers varied, but the closer was always “Under the God.” And no encores.
There was a sense of spontaneity about the tour—tickets often weren’t announced until the day of the show and the band would pile into a single car to be taken to gigs.
Bowie, 5 July 1989: “We still regard ourselves first and foremost as a live band. The songs are almost secondary…a vehicle to work on, to improvise on.” Here’s a document of much of it.
(Most clips are courtesy of the invaluable “David Bowie Tin Machine” YouTube account.)
Astrologers are quick to point out that their field of study is, in fact, firmly based in science: the planets really do have a gravitational effect on Earth. Jupiter, for instance, exerts a gravitational pull on your body roughly equivalent to that of your neighbor’s washing machine. This is why all the best astrologers are sure to account for local washing machine deliveries when writing up their weekly horoscopes, and why you will routinely hear them saying things like “There’s a Maytag in the twelfth house,” or “He’s a Pisces with a Kenmore ascendant.” You’ve been assembling your own horoscopes lately, since you like to make major decisions only when the omens are favorable, and you’re trying to do it right. There’s this cute guy who works down at the coffee shop who you’ve been wanting to ask out for ages. If only your neighbors would hurry up and replace their damn washing machine, everything would be perfect.