#no i will not apologize for putting dan in the top tier

[nabwastaken]

Hatchetfield characters ranked on how good they can cook. Discuss.

#starkid #hatchetverse #team starkid #hatchetfield universe #nerdy prudes must die #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday musical #nightmare time #no i will not apologize for putting dan in the top tier #that man is a malewife #donna can only cook soup #thats it #yes i did get lazy with the last tier #tier list #fandom tier list #hatchetfield headcanons #becky cooks for tom <3 #feel free to rb/ask me about my decisions and ill elaborate

[cyberwolfwrites-fanfiction]

a family's bond - chapter one

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878746/chapters/73527165)

words: 6630

summary:

"I hate it here," Peter whispered.

"I know," said Harley tiredly. They were curled up on the top bunk of their bunk bed together. They craved genuine physical affection after too many months of being touch-starved or physically hurt—there was no in-between—and being on the top bunk meant that they were harder to reach.

Dan was in his bedroom down the hall snoring off the alcohol. He'd gotten rejected for the promotion he'd been working towards for the past year and he'd drowned his sorrows in a bar somewhere before coming home to take out his frustration on them. He'd been too drunk and uncoordinated to cause any lasting harm—or harm that should have obviously still been there a day later—but the encounter had shaken them, Peter especially.

He'd come from a loving home, but in the matter of minutes both of his remaining family members had bled out in front of him and he'd been tossed in the system. He wasn't used to the harsh cruelties of the world—though he'd gotten a taste of it when he was four and eight, respectively—and it had left him reeling.

"I wish we could just... leave," Peter mumbled.

"Me, too."

Peter's fingers drummed against his desk in boredom as he looked out the window. The skies were clear, as they usually were during late winter in New York, and he boredly watched as a bird jumped across a small tree branch before taking to the skies. His eyes left the bird to linger on the distant skyscrapers of Manhattan. He could just about spot Stark Tower in the distance, and even half-way blocked by other smaller buildings, it still managed to appear tall and imposing.

The Tower had gotten yet another remodel, this time as a result of the Avengers's "civil war" as the media dubbed it half a year ago (though Peter had a feeling it had to do with the incident during Homecoming and Harley agreed with him), and it was once again sporting the Stark name on it instead of the stylized Avengers "A." It now stood as Stark Industries's headquarters, and despite the events that happened the last time he'd visited a major science and tech company, Peter hoped that Mr Harrington somehow scored a field trip there for the Academic Decathlon team.

After all, Mr Harrington had somehow managed to get a field trip to Oscorp, which was only a tier or two below SI.

(If you had asked him two years ago, Peter probably would've said that Oscorp's biochemical engineering and progress on limb regeneration made them equal with Stark Industries’s green energy and neurological prosthesis engineering (though Harley would've disagreed since he was the more techy type of the two), but he kind of changed his mind after the whole got-bit-by-a-spider-and-nearly-died episode. And even though he and Harley became Spider-Man out of it, he was a little bitter. That and the whole Green Goblin fiasco a month or so ago. He and Harley both got pretty hurt in that one…)

The back of Peter's neck buzzed slightly and he caught a glimpse of Harley tossing a small crumbled ball at him. Peter looked up at his foster brother, who nodded subtly in Mrs Warren's direction. As teachers often did, she was looking around to make sure that everyone was doing their classwork. Just as Mrs Warren turned in his and Harley's direction, Peter picked up his pencil and filled in a question on his worksheet. There was a slight prickling on the back of his neck, telling him that Mrs Warren was looking at him, but it faded swiftly after she looked away.

The worksheet was on something that Peter had more than enough knowledge on—pendulums—due to his "job" as Spider-Man. He was out there six times a week (three days a week as well as three nights) and he often did pendulum swings for fun. The worksheet was boring, but Peter continued to fill it in because he knew that Mrs Warren would comment on it otherwise. He, along with Harley, had skipped more than a few classes when they first started out as Spider-Man, and not to mention simply not paying attention in class, and that had led to some trust issues and disappointment amongst their teachers.

After a few more minutes—and a completed worksheet which led to Peter staring at the skyline again—Harley nudged Peter's foot again. When he looked over, Harley tapped on his old watch and Peter glanced up at the clock, letting out a sigh of relief. There were only a few more minutes left of class.

Harley, easily spotting his relief, quirked his lips up in a slight smirk. Peter rolled his eyes. He was bored and wanted to get out of school already, so what? It wasn't as if Harley wasn't itching to get out, as well. He knew as well as anyone that his foster brother would rather be outside (even in the cold) than sitting in a classroom. It was too bad that they weren't even halfway through the school day. Peter had Spanish next class—which wouldn't be too difficult as Aunt May had taught him Italian and Spanish wasn't too far off from it—and then lunch, but there were four more classes after that before school got out for the day.

A minute before class was due to end, Mrs Warren gathered everyone's attention. "Bell's going to ring everyone so whatever you didn't finish is due on Monday," she informed them all. Peter huffed a breath of amusement as more than a few people let out relieved sighs. He knew that this was AP Physics and all, but this stuff was easy.

Though they knew it was coming, both Peter and Harley cringed when the bell rang loudly with a nasally buzzing sound. Where the bell had been an annoyance before his spider bite, it was now almost painful. Their senses were dialled up to eleven and they often got sensory overloads, which they had to work through since they couldn't miss any school, and the bell was one of the highest annoyances there were.

As he started to put away his stuff to leave, Mrs Warren called out, "Peter, Harley, can you two hang back for a few moments?"

Peter hunched in slightly on himself as Flash sniggered on his way out the door. He couldn't help the way his hands trembled slightly. Were he and Harley in trouble? The last time they skipped had been a few weeks ago, they were careful about that now, so she couldn't be worried about their attendances, could she? And they've been on top of their homework ever since they got their patrols levelled out. Where Peter patrolled during the day, Harley patrolled during the night, giving them both ample time to do their homework.

"Yeah, sure," Harley answered Mrs Warren for them both, his southern accent completely gone. Harley had been in the city since he was twelve, he was sixteen now, and he'd had enough time to completely smother any bit of southern drawl he'd had. He'd been bullied for it, Harley had told Peter when he first caught Harley slipping, and so he did his best to hide it.

Doing his best to calm his nerves, Peter shoved his Physics binder into his beaten backpack. He'd lost his older one during patrol and Ned had been kind enough to lend him an old one of his. Peter had gotten into trouble after that since all of his homework, including an English essay, had been in it. There was no reason to be nervous, Peter tried to tell himself. It was just Mrs Warren! She was a good teacher, a fun one, and she was kind enough to not call on him often, not forcing him to speak.

Peter rarely ever spoke freely much these days since his aunt and uncle's murder and the trauma he experienced in foster care, the only people he truly spoke to being Harley or Ned, and sometimes a word here or there for MJ (they were mostly apologies for stupid things). He tended to stay quiet unless he was talking to Harley alone or if he was on patrol; the rest of the time he didn't talk.

It was a common coping mechanism for him, and it wasn't new.

When his parents had died when he was four, Peter had stopped talking. It had taken some (read: a lot) coaxing from May, Ben, and his therapist, and some dance classes, to get him to start speaking again. It had happened again when he was around eight when Skip had—when he'd had Skip as a babysitter and he—well, when Skip was his babysitter. Ned, who'd he'd befriended at the time because he didn't bully him and didn't force him to talk, had been the one to get him to talk that time.

He'd slipped back into the habit when May and Ben died two years ago. His foster homes hadn't cared—in fact, they loved not having a mouthy kid—but some of his teachers hadn't been that accepting. They'd given him some leeway due to his twice-over-orphan-ness, but he'd still needed to do presentations and answer questions. He'd tried but most of the time he just couldn't force the words out. The words got stuck in his throat. It wasn't until he'd met Harley the summer before freshman year did he manage to work up the courage to speak. He still didn't talk that much in public, and he didn't speak much at home, but Harley had managed to break down his walls to the point where he could speak to teachers if needed.

(There was also Spider-Man, but when he was Spider-Man he wasn't Peter, the nerdy orphan, he was a bad-ass crime-fighting hero, and a chatterbox. Spider-Man talked where Peter didn't. That's how it worked and he was comfortable with that.)

Taking a breath to calm himself, and reminding himself that Harley wouldn't leave him, Peter stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Everyone was out of the classroom at this point beside him, Harley, and Mrs Warren, and Peter knew that it was Mrs Warren's break so no one should be coming in for anything. It both relieved him—because if he and Harley had done something wrong and were getting in trouble, then no one would be there to see the epic scolding they were about to get, Peter knew that personally—and worried him—because if they weren't in trouble, then what did Mrs Warren need to talk to them about, and in private, too?

"Are we in trouble?" Harley asked in his usual quiet voice. Mrs Warren looked up with a kind smile that had Peter relaxing marginally.

"No boys, you're not in trouble this time," she said. "I actually wanted to ask for your opinion on something." Peter's brow furrowed and he exchanged a puzzled look with Harley. Mrs Warren pulled open a drawer in her desk and she pulled out a packet of some kind, handing it to Peter who was the closest of the two. He glanced down at it with Harley peering over his shoulder—the jerk had the gall to be taller than him—and blinked stupidly at the logo on the top left of the page.

"Stark Industries?" Harley blurted as Peter stared at the packet in surprise.

Mrs Warren was beaming at them. "Yes," she said. "Stark Industries is holding a competition at their company as a sort of entrance exam for high school interns. Every STEM school in the area received five forms each to pick for a student and I was wondering if you two were interested? You're both very intelligent, and despite the troubles you've had recently," Peter was chagrined at the mention of their recent dip in attendance and their grades, especially paired with Mrs Warren's stern look, "I believe you two have the chance to win the competition together."

"Wait, two?" Harley said, "as in both of us, and together? Is that even allowed? And ma'am, there's only one packet here and you said only five students per school were chosen."

Mrs Warren's answer was to pull out another packet from her desk. "Yes, both of you, Mr Keener. Two people are allowed to team up, and despite the poor attendance and the missing assignments both of you had a few months ago, you both made up the work and you're grades and GPA are some of the highest of your year. And I know for a fact that you two are capable of the work Stark Industries is looking for. I've spoken with your STEM teachers and you two are bored in class. And Mr Hapgood went as far as to show me the projects you two are working on in shop class. Your projects are very intuitive and creative, even your potato gun, Harley."

Peter felt a blush creep up his ears at the praise, it'd been a while since anyone had genuinely complimented him, and Harley grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks, Mrs Warren," Harley said. Peter nodded to show that he felt the same and he ducked his head at Mrs Warren's amused grin.

Peter flipped through his own packet, eyes skimming the information on the contest, before he looked at the last page with the permission form on it. His lips turned down slightly at the edges. They needed a parent's or guardian's permission to enter the competition and Peter wasn't sure if their faster father, Dan, would allow them to participate. They already had to beg him to continue Academic Decathlon a few months ago, and he'd forced them to quit their other extracurriculars (band and robotics club for Peter and the soccer team and robotics for Harley) because of their absences and the steep drop in grades got him in trouble with their social workers. And even if Dan allowed them to participate, there was no way that they would be able to afford materials to even create something of their own.

Harley must've been thinking the same thing because he asked, "Do we have to buy the materials ourselves?"

Mrs Warren, who knew their home situations and that they couldn't afford brand new, expensive materials like the rest of their classmates, nodded sympathetically. "I'm afraid that the school won't be able to provide either of you with materials because then the school would have to be able to provide every student participating with materials, and the school doesn't have enough funds to cover everyone's projects and provide the materials used in our tech classes. However, students will be allowed to use the workshop's tools and anything bought in bulk—like wiring or screws, for example—and the computer labs for coding."

That was better than nothing, Peter thought. Harley's lips thinned, Peter was sure he was thinking on the glass half empty side rather than the glass half full, and he nodded.

"Now, you two don't have to say yes right away," said Mrs Warren. "Take some time, talk amongst yourselves, talk with your foster parents, figure things out. The competition is in a little more than a month—not long, I know, but a part of SI's competition is making a fully working project in a limited space of time—but knowing you two, you should have enough time to whip something up. I do need an answer by the end of next week, though, okay?" They both nodded. "Good, now let me get you two some passes so you can get to class."

Mrs Warren swiftly filled out some hall passes for them and they were on their way.

Peter and Harley walked slowly down the hall, both preoccupied with their own thoughts. Peter flipped back to the front of the packed he'd been given and he read the information a little slower. Just like Mrs Warren said, the competition was for high school students at STEM schools, and that specialists and other people at SI would more or less be grading their project—their idea, presentation, and how well executed the idea was—for a chance to become an intern at the company. There was also a bit about how SI would sponsor and-or donate to the schools where the interns were chosen from, which was intimidating to think about because that meant that Mrs Warren thought they were worth representing the whole of Midtown to Stark Industries for future interns to be chosen from. He swiftly shelved that thought and read the rest of the paper. Oh! The internship was paid, too. That was nice and would help a lot. Still, he came back to the same thought earlier.

"Do you think Dan will let us compete?" he murmured. He didn't bother speaking at a normal level; Harley had the same enhanced senses he had, which meant that he'd be able to hear him whisper from all the way across the school.

Harley frowned at his own packet. "I honestly don't know," he said. "Dan hasn't been stressed lately and we've been careful to keep our grades up so he hasn't gotten any more worrying calls from the social workers. I'm more worried about the fact that we won't be able to buy anything brand new. I know we've got some money saved up from helping around the neighbourhood and our part-time jobs, but we're saving that for stuff we need like extra food and first aid supplies."

"Dumpster diving, then?" Peter suggested quietly. "Not like we haven't done it before."

Harley snorted. Almost everything they owned (or created) was thrifted or pulled from dumpsters. Their laptops, their phones, an old tablet that they'd neglected because they've been so busy making up work and doing homework and patrolling, and even some clothes. Even their webshooters were made from stuff out of dumpsters, their wires coming from broken DVD players and various other parts coming from lighters and other trash that they'd found.

"Look at the schools competing," Harley pointed out, gesturing to a section on the form. "These are all schools, most of them being private schools, where a lot of rich kids go to. Hell, this is a school for rich kids and the only reason we got in was because of that entrance exam we took and they made a special case because we both got the highest grades and we're orphans. Everyone competing will have the money for expensive parts and we'll be entering with literal trash."

"Doesn't matter anyway," Peter muttered, shoulders slumping. "Not like Dan'll let us compete."

Harley whirled around in front of him, stopping him in place by clasping both hands on his shoulders. Instead of flinching away from the movement, Peter leaned into the steady hands of his foster brother. He and Harley had been together for a year and a half, they'd been in similar shitty situations, and they felt like they were brothers in all but name and blood.

"Chin up, Parker," Harley said reassuringly, tipping Peter's head up with a slight nudge to his chin. "We've been good little boys and Dan doesn't have to know that materials won't be provided. Quindi smettila di preoccuparti, capisci?"

Peter smiled slightly at the casual use of Italian. He'd grown up speaking it with Aunt May and it was a way to remind him of her. Harley had overheard him speaking to himself in it while doing homework not long after they met and he had all but demanded that Peter teach him it. Peter, after a little prodding, had agreed to do so. He surprisingly loved teaching Harley how to speak his aunt's native tongue; there wasn't much to do in a small apartment and pointing out the names of everyday things to Harley got his mind off of things. Harley had slowly but surely picked up the language, probably out of boredom and daily use, and he often spoke to Peter in it. He wasn't completely fluent in it yet, especially since Peter's lessons faded when their workload picked up, but he'd no doubt realized that Peter calmed when he heard the language.

"Si, I understand," Peter murmured. Harley clapped him on the shoulder before steering Peter in the direction of his next class and Peter said, "Ci vediamo a pranzo con Ned e MJ."

It only took a second or two for Harley to translate and he smiled. "Yeah, see you at lunch," he confirmed. He saluted Peter before spinning on his heel and heading back down the hall to his class.

Just as Harley rounded the corner, someone from behind him said, "Señor Parker, as much as I admire your ability to speak Italian, this is Spanish and you're late." Peter jumped slightly and spun to face his Spanish teacher.

"Lo siento, Señor," Peter apologised quietly, easily switching from Italian and English to Spanish. "I got held up in Physics."

Señor Mendez merely raised a brow, took his hall pass, and waved him to his seat. With his enhanced hearing, Peter could hear Harley snickering to himself at Señor Mendez's comment.

***

"You're so mean," Peter huffed as he plopped down next to Harley, his lunch tray clattering against the table. Harley merely smirked at him, easily knowing what he was talking about.

"What'd he do?" Ned asked.

"He got caught speaking Italian with me in the halls when he was supposed to be in Spanish," Harley told him.

"You two didn't try to skip again, did you?" MJ said from a few seats away from them, looking up from her book, which was on the Black Dahlia murder. Harley scoffed in offence.

"No," he huffed. "We got held back in Physics. Mrs Warren wanted to talk to us about something."

"What for? You guys didn't get in trouble, did you?" Ned said in worry. He didn't know that they were Spider-Man but he was aware that they got in trouble a few months ago for skipping school a lot and not turning in any assigned homework. He hadn't been able to wiggle any information out of Peter, who he'd known longer than Harley, and Harley was better at keeping secrets or lying, not that Peter wasn't getting up there in skill.

Harley fished through his backpack for the permission form, slapping it on the lunch table for Ned and MJ to read. Ned gasped. "You're getting an internship at Stark Industries!?" he squealed, causing a few heads to turn their way.

Peter shushed Ned loudly. "No! It's a competition for an internship," he said, tapping the title of the document, which read Stark Industries Internship Competition.

"Oh…"

MJ just rolled her eyes at them, refocusing on her book.

"Basically," Harley began to explain, putting his form back in his bag, "a bunch of these STEM schools were given five forms each to give to five students to compete. We each have to make a project to present to the 'esteemed heads' and specialists at Stark Industries. They'll be grading how it works and stuff and they'll decide who gets an internship."

"That's so cool! What about Peter?" Ned asked, turning to glance at Peter. "Did he get a form, too?"

"Mine's in my bag," Peter said after swallowing a bite of his food. Ned grinned widely at them.

"Out of five of the forms, both of you got one? OMG, guys, that's so cool!" Ned was loud again but Peter didn't bother shushing him this time, despite the attention on them. He was grinning at Ned, who'd been one of his best friends for years, because his friend was so excited for them. In fact, Ned was all genuine. He didn't even look remotely jealous or upset that they'd been chosen over him.

"You're not upset?" Peter asked suddenly, voice quiet. "That you didn't get one?"

"Well, I'm jealous, yeah. I mean, both of you guys are going to be interns at Stark Industries!" He ignored Harley's correction that they were going to get the chance to be interns at Stark Industries, that they weren't already interns. "Like you get to work with some of the best minds and you might even get to see Tony Stark! Iron Man! How could I not be jealous?"

"But you're not… mad?" Peter was nervous. He didn't want Ned to be mad at him for getting picked over for a chance at winning an internship at Stark Industries. Ned was super smart and he'd idolized Tony Stark just as much as he did, though Peter had to admit that Ned idolized the Avengers, the superheroes, more than Tony Stark and his company itself.

"No! You've always been better at that stuff than me, you know that. All I do is code and make robots. Stark Industries makes, like, medical equipment and stuff. And dudes, when you start your internship, tell me all about it! I want to live vicariously through you."

Harley chuckled. "Ned, we don't even have an idea yet."

"Well, what about a drone?" Ned suggested. "Even though Stark Industries doesn't sell the military weapons anymore, they still provide them and the police with other types of tech. You could make a small drone for search and rescue missions?"

"It would have to have some extra stuff on it," Harley mused. "SI is already working on drones. What about something with a thermal camera or some type of scanner? The military could use drones to search for landmines, couldn't they?"

"If I was you guys, I'd be tempted to make R2D2," said Ned.

Peter smiled slightly at the idea of making something from Star Wars. His mind whirled with different types of things they could build for the competition before an old idea flickered through his mind. He rifled through his backpack and pulled out two notebooks, a new one he'd gotten recently and one that was for ideas like his webshooters or robots rather than schoolwork. He hadn't been able to come up with any ideas during Spanish, he'd been too worried about the fact that Dan might not even let them complete, but Ned and Harley had sparked an old idea he'd had. He flipped through the pages, looking for the idea that he'd come up with a few months ago when he and Harley first became Spider-Man and one of them got really injured without the other knowing.

Ned and Harley had stopped talking when he'd pulled out his notebook and began flipping through it. Without bothering to tell his friend and foster brother what he was doing, Peter began to scribble in his notebook, occasionally glancing over his old notes to make sure he was writing down the correct information.

Harley leaned over to read the scribbles as Peter began to jot down ideas and a few chemical compounds. It didn't take Harley long to make sense of his notes.

“A pressure sensor?” he asked.

Peter nodded, and after glancing at Ned—who was watching him idly, used to his idea frenzies—and MJ who was ignoring them—said, “I came up with the idea a while ago. It's a sensor to detect injuries based on different pressure ratios. It could be used in clothes or something. Could also probably send the information remotely with a program, maybe."

Harley blinked in surprise, easily realizing that he was thinking of a Spider-Man suit that could detect what injuries they had, as well as tell the other what injuries they gained. Peter knew it was something that Harley would like, because while Harley didn't hide injuries from Peter, Peter didn’t want to worry Harley and so he hid when he was hurt. It usually backfired on him, though, since Harley could see through him easily, but Peter still tried to hide his injuries. But with a suit that could detect injuries and also transmit them remotely? Harley wouldn't even have to try and get Peter to tell him he was hurt, he would know immediately.

“I like this idea,” Harley declared, making Peter snort. Harley pulled Peter's notes over to him and read them over. “Would something like this work, though?”

"The sensors are easy to make," Peter murmured, "and we have that old tablet and free run of the computer labs. We're both pretty good at coding, so that would work."

“We can’t just show up at a competition with a multimeter if sensors are this easy to make,” said Harley with a frown. His eyes flicked over Peter's notes before lingering on a chemical compound he wrote down. "What's this?"

Peter tapped a section of notes, specifically the word Cloth??? that was circled, and made a hand motion—it was the one they used for shooting webs, though to anyone else it would look like he was signing "I love you" with his hand down. Harley's lips formed an O.

"You're going to try and make cloth out of them?" Harley asked, making Peter nod. "Make sure they don't dissolve then." Peter winced at the thought of their project dissolving mid-presentation and made a note to add a stabilizer to the mixture. He would have to end up testing various amounts of stabilizer, along with different amounts of chemicals, to make sure that the cloth would hold up.

The rest of the school day was spent with Peter and Harley swapping notes on what they wanted to do for the project in their shared classes or when they passed in the halls. Harley was already working on the coding for the app and ideas on how to fix the tablet they had. They would probably have to go dumpster diving or go to pawn shops for parts, though. Peter was scribbling down various chemical compounds as they came to mind, all of them based around his web formula. He would have to find a way to get the chemicals; half of them weren't cheap or available on their own and he didn't feel comfortable stealing that much from the school. He had a make-shift chemistry lab in an abandoned building where he and Harley had originally practised Spider-Manning (and still did, sparring was fun), but he would have to still buy various cleaners to separate some of the chemicals needed.

As it was Friday, Dan got home from work early, so Peter and Harley didn't have any time to set up their makeshift lab. They'd stashed a lot of their Spider-Man stuff there, along with a lot of the electronics and tools they had gotten from thrift stores or dumpster diving. There was no room in Dan's apartment to store anything—and the man didn't want any of their junk lying around—and they had no access to the roof unless they wanted to use their spider-powers, which they both agreed was a dumb idea to use in broad daylight. Due to Dan getting off work early, Peter and Harley also couldn't patrol during the day, so they ended up doing their homework, discussing their ideas a little, and doing chores.

Out of all of their chores, Peter disliked cooking the most. Cooking reminded him too much of May and Ben; Ben had been the chef of the house, and he'd taught Peter how to cook, and May had been a terrible cook. She'd often burn the noodles she tried to boil for her mother's Carbonara. But it had been endearing and something he loved about her. However, as Harley didn't know how to cook anything past PB&J (Peter was slowly teaching him when they had free time before Dan got home), he had to make the dinner tonight.

He didn't bemoan this chore, it beat cleaning the bathroom, and he instead made the best damn spaghetti he'd made in a while to butter Dan up. While Peter was nervous about telling Dan about the competition, Harley had argued that it was best to tell Dan about it tonight. The man should be in a decent mood—because he was never in a good mood—since he had work off tomorrow.

They were just finishing cleaning up and setting the table when they heard Dan walking down the hall. He wasn't a very quiet walker, instead his steps were loud and echoed in the apartment, and the sound of them instinctively had Peter's heart speeding up. Dan was an average man—he was five-ten, probably weighed around a hundred and sixty pounds, and he had dirty-blonde hair and boring brown eyes—and there was theoretically nothing intimidating or threatening about him.

But, there was this thing about Dan—he wasn't nice.

Oh, he could play nice for the neighbours or for their social workers, but he certainly wasn't nice to them. They'd live with Dan long enough (a year and a half), that they'd experienced almost every single emotion that the man could express. And most of that was hate or anger. And violence. Violence towards them.

Peter could remember numerous times where a beating had started with loud, thumping footsteps.

"Calmati," murmured Harley under his breath, taking the wet pot that Peter was rinsing off before he'd frozen. Peter let out a slightly shaky breath before taking in some slow calming ones. The doorknob rattled before twisting open, revealing Dan. Peter's eyes followed Dan as he moved throughout the apartment, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie, hanging up his coat on the coat rack.

Peter took his eyes off Dan and put away the pots and pans he'd used, keeping tabs on the man with his ears. Dan came out of his room after a few minutes and stood near the table.

"What's for dinner?" he said gruffly, sitting in his usual seat.

"Spaghetti and garlic bread, sir," Harley answered politely, his voice quiet. Dan liked the quiet and so dinner was the only time to talk to him. He tended to work a lot of overtime, probably in hopes of getting a promotion at work, and so he was often tired when he got home. Peter and Harley had to be quiet when moving around for school and after dinner, since that was the only time Dan got to relax; it was that or aggravate Dan, which led to getting punished. They'd only made that mistake a few times.

"Smells good," said Dan grudgingly, plating himself some.

"Thank you," Peter thanked him. Usually, he wouldn't talk at all during dinner, but he figured being polite should give him some points. Dan just grunted. When plating their own food, Peter and Harley made sure not to give themselves too much. Their metabolisms ran much higher than they'd done before, meaning that they had to eat more to stay healthy, but if they started to eat more than expected, then Dan would get suspicious and-or grouchy that they were "eating him out of his house." Both of them had lived with foster parents who didn't want to waste money feeding them much and so they took what they could get without complaining. They used their spare money to buy protein bars and those kept them full-enough.

Dinner was quiet for the most part. The only sounds were the sounds of them eating, their forks scraping across their plates, and the downstairs neighbours fighting like they usually did. They were a few floors down so Dan couldn't hear them, but Peter and Harley could. Peter couldn't tell if the relationship was abused, though, since they went from screaming at each other to acting lovey-dovey within hours.

When Dan was sharing signs of finishing his dinner, Peter and Harley shared a swift glance.

"Sir?" Harley said, setting down his fork. Peter did the same and brought his hands to his lap, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves nervously. He watched from beneath his lashes as Dan looked at Harley and grunted, which Harley took that as permission to speak. "Our Physics teacher held us back in class today and—"

"You didn't skip or anything did you?" Dan said harshly with narrowed eyes. "You remember what I said would happen if you got in trouble again, right?"

"Yes, I remember, but we didn't do anything wrong!" Harley rushed to say. "In fact, our teacher actually held us back to tell us that our grades are so good that we've got an internship opportunity."

"An internship," Dan deadpanned, setting down his fork and giving them his attention. Peter wasn't sure if having Dan's full attention on them was good or not. He hoped "good."

"Yes, sir," Harley said, bobbing his head. "The top STEM schools in New York were given permission slips for a competition at Stark Industries. The competition takes place next month and depending on what you make and what the specialists at the company say, you could end up with an internship. Sir."

"It's a competition?" Dan said with a frown. "Not an actual internship? And you two want to compete?" Peter kept his expression neutral when Dan sent a glance his way, but his fingers tightened around his sleeves.

"S-Sir," Peter jumped in to help Harley. "E-Each school was only given five forms. Since Stark Industries will sponsor the schools who they choose the interns from, the schools will pick only the, um, best students?" Peter winced slightly at his wording but continued speaking despite the slight shaking of his voice. "S-Sir, Harley and I both got forms. W-We're some of the best students in our grade, w-we wouldn't have been chosen to represent Midtown if we, uh, weren't capable?"

Dan's lips thinned as he thought. "What… is this competition, exactly?"

"Each student is supposed to create and make a prototype of working tech, sir," said Harley, taking Dan's attention of Peter. "It's the same type of thing we're doing in shop class so it wouldn't be too difficult. The school is allowing us to use their computer labs and materials after school—" There was no need to tell him what those materials were, exactly. "—and we'd still be able to do our chores and homework. We'd just have to stay at school for an extra hour or two to work on our project in order to get it done for the competition."

"When is the competition?"

"In a month, sir. Transportation to Stark Industries is provided." That was a lie but there was no reason to tell Dan that they had the extra money to pay for a sub across the city. Or the fact that their project would be small enough that they could just swing to the Tower if they needed to.

"Both of you are competing?"

"Yes, but we're allowed to work on the same project and enter it together," Harley clarified.

"And this internship, how many hours after school would you be gone? I can't have your grades dropping and making me look bad."

"Only a few hours a week, I think," Harley said. "We could probably ask, but I don't think the workload would be too much since we're only high school students and they know we go to demanding STEM schools."

Dan was silent for a few moments. Peter resisted the urge to fidget, instead choosing to dig his nails into his arm to distract him. Below him, Mr and Mrs Fights-A-Lot were getting into another row that Peter was sure would either end up in one of them storming out to the bar or in hot, passionate, cringe-inducing sex. He'd rather it be the former rather than the latter since there was only so much sex sounds that he could listen to without it making him want to curl up in a ball, vomit, or both. He just hoped that he was asleep before it happened, if it happened.

Dan let out a gusty sigh, making Peter jump. "Well?" he demanded. "Are there permission forms or something?"

"Oh, uh, I-I'll go get them, sir," Peter stammered out, stumbling to his feet. He ran into the edge of the table in his haste to get out of the room and tensed in preparation for a reprimand that never happened. Peter and Harley had put their forms on their shared desk just in case Dan allowed them to compete, so he was back in the kitchen not twenty seconds after he'd left. He also provided a pen and Dan signed off on both forms with a glance to make sure what he was signing was actually a form for an internship and not something else.

Not long after, Peter and Harley cleaned the dirty dishes before being dismissed to their room for the night.

Peter laid up in the top bunk of the bunk bed, staring up at the watermarked ceiling, his through whirling loudly through his mind. He couldn't believe that Dan was actually allowing them to compete. Now all they had to do was actually make their project and they only had a month to do it! What if it wasn't good enough? What if it wasn't original? What if someone made a better working one? What if it didn't work?

And, what if they won?

#spiderman #spider man #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #mcu fic #harley keener #irondad #spider son #harley keener is spider man #peter parker is spider man #foster care #foster au #angst #whump #skip westcott

[fuckyeahqueermusic]

FY!QM’s Favorite Releases of 2019 Part 1

I know you were all waiting with bated breath for my annual list of favorite releases from the year and I apologize for the delay. December and January were trash months at my job and I had zero energy to write, but as of today that is all over! So as a gift to myself I finally finished writing this up. Let’s pretend I just had to think really really hard about my favorites and that’s why it took so long.

Part 1 is all the releases that I really liked, but either a.) are kinda honorable mention material or b.) I couldn’t think of a ton to write about it lol. They’re in no particular order because I do not care! You should go listen to all these! The usual disclaimer applies: these are just my favorite records from this year, I am no authority on what is the best and what isn’t, I just am an expert on what I like, and it’s this shit. All album titles link to my favorite song off of each record on bandcamp because I hate Spotify a lot even though I begrudgingly use it.

Part 2 will come out tomorrow because I really want to capitalize on the Super Bowl, y’know?

The Menzingers — Hello Exile I think it is safe to say at this point that The Menzingers is one of guitar music’s most consistently good acts. They are passionate sing-a-long creating machines, and with Hello Exile they gave us a new heap of them to yell along to at their shows. And having seen them play some of these live, I can confirm they are perfect for that setting.

My only criticism of Hello Exile might be that it doesn’t go anywhere unexpected, and the band is maybe a little too comfortable in the niche they’ve found for themselves. Though I guess there is something to be said for doing what you know and doing it incredibly well. But these guys are great songwriters, and I’d love to see them push themselves a little harder to evolve.

Empath  — Active Listening: Night on Earth I saw Empath open for Touche Amore and La Dispute a few months back and had no idea what to expect, but they fucking RIPPED and were far and away the best band on that bill (no offense to LD or TA. Actually maybe to LD; one of them had a fucking himalayan salt lamp sitting on their amp).

But anyways, Empath is fucking weird and chaotic and so much fucking fun, with bizarre synth textures, harsh guitar, and absolutely frantic drumming. And this album is all over the place, holding itself together with a through line of nature samples, bringing small moments of calm and a chance to breathe before everything comes crashing down again. I’d love to see them at a headlining show full of their fans, because this is music that deserves that kind of energy.

Catbite — S/T I love ska and I will never apologize. Catbite is one of the most exciting new ska bands out there. They’ve only been around for two years, but they’ve already found their niche and solidified their identity as a heavily second wave influenced band that grew up in the third wave, who are the forefront of the fourth. They’re the future of ska and I am so pumped to see them eventually get the full recognition they deserve in this genre.

Future Teens — Heartbreak Season I truly cannot believe “Frequent Crier” bops as hard as it does. This song about all the places to cry while you lament a relationship that ended years ago will have you dancing while you weep, and that pretty much sums up Future Teens’ whole deal. This album can gut you, but you’ll be so busy bopping along you won’t even mind.

Aaron West & the Roaring Twenties — Routine Maintenance  I know it’s cheating, but you should just read what Spencer wrote about this album; he put it perfectly. While I don’t immediately love this one as much as We Don’t Have Each Other (I love a divorce album and it is a top tier divorce album), it is the better record, and I’m so glad Aaron has started to figure out his new place in the world and that Dan Campbell is telling us his story.

Aly & AJ — Sanctuary  The cover of this EP is truly one of the worst album covers I have ever seen. I like to describe it to people as “naked opera gloves milk bath. Also they are SISTERS.” Every art direction decision they have made for this EP has been truly bonkers! But despite the horrendous, horrendous cover, Aly & AJ have come through with a tremendous set of jams once again! I am not sure how it happened, but between 2017’s Ten Years and this EP, they have become one of my favorite pop acts, creating mid-tempo synthy jam after mid-tempo synthy jam. They are far from reinventing the pop wheel, but they have figured out their niche and perfected it. If you haven’t listened to Aly & AJ since “Potential Break Up Song,” it’s time to dive back in, because you’ve been missing some of the most solid pop made in the 2010’s. (Also, they believe in evolution now it’s FINE). 

Sleater-Kinney — The Center Won’t Hold Okay, so this one is a cheat, because The Center Won’t Hold is not one of my favorite albums of the year, but the more time I spend with it, the more it has become my most respected album of the year.

I don’t really like this record, but I do think it is a great album. It is ambitious and surprising, a huge departure from their previous work, which critics and fans much smarter than me have examined at length. Sleater-Kinney could’ve easily crafted another album like No Cities To Love, which itself was an evolution from the sound they departed with on 2006’s The Woods, but it was an evolution that felt natural. It was easy to see point A to point B. With The Center Won’t Hold, point C is way on the other side of the map, and there is no easily discernible direct route. And while whatever is happening on this record isn’t totally my thing, I respect that they took a big swing. It’s a huge shame that it cost them Janet Weiss, though, and I don’t know if that is a loss they’ll ever truly recover from

#fy!qm's favorite albums of 2019 #the menzingers #empath #catbite #future teens #aaron west and the roaring twenties #aly and aj #sleater-kinney

[scarredsilk]

All These Years (Chapter Four)

summary: Dan and Phil had a love that burned. They were young and stupid and careless with their flames. Years go by, and Phil is getting married. But everything is wrong. In the middle of the chaos, Phil is thrown back to all those years ago when he loved a boy who didn’t know how to love him back.

chapter word count: 1,795

tw for this chapter: none ?

CHAPTERS MASTERLIST

chapter five

Dan and Phil first met in Julia’s coffeeshop, and Phil was immediately aware of Dan as soon as he walked in the door.

It was sort of hard not to.

Dan’s presence was loud and magnetic. He drew everyone to him without meaning to.

His laugh was what made Phil look up from his laptop screen. Dan was in line with some friends, laughing at whatever joke they made.

Everything around Phil seem to fade away. The only clear image being the boy with the deep dimples and a laugh that Phil could listen to for hours.

He might have fallen in love with him right there and then.

 The next day, Dan was there again. But this time, friendless.

Phil thought about speaking to him; getting up and asking out the mysterious boy. But Phil was sort of shy and kind of awkward. Maybe in some other reality, the two would have had those extra days of knowing each other. Maybe it would have made a difference in the end. Maybe not.

  A week later, Phil was in line when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and got the wind knocked out of him.

“Sorry to bother you, but what do you usually order here? I’m sort of lost.”

The guy with the dimples was standing right in front of Phil. And speaking. Phil racked his brain for an answer. “Uhm—I like the Frappuccino’s.”

“Are they sweet?”

“Yes.” Phil desperately tried to say something that would keep the conversation going, but he came up with nothing.

“Okay, thanks.”

  They both ordered, Phil noticing the guy ordering a regular coffee. As they waited for their drinks to be ready, Phil couldn’t let that be the only conversation they had. “So, I’m guessing this is your first time here?” He asked causally, knowing it wasn’t.

Dan looked up from his phone. “What? Oh, no. I’ve been here a couple of times. I usually just go to Starbucks, but my friends told me this place is better.”

“It definitely is.” Phil nodded. He had been coming to this coffee shop, Julia’s, for a while now. He usually brought his laptop with him and spent most of his day drinking coffee and eating scones. Some of the employees knew his order by heart.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll make this my usual spot then.”

Phil didn’t know what to say to that, other than yes yes god yes. Phil’s coffee was ready before Dan’s, so he pretended to fiddle with the coffee sleeve to buy more time. “Well, it was nice meeting you, uh—?”

“Dan.” He smiled at him, dimples and all.

Phil smiled back. “—Dan. I’m Phil.”

“Nice to meet you too, Phil.”

Phil liked the way his name rolled off Dan’s tongue, and almost asked him to say it again.

 Over the course of a week, the two kept bumping into each other at Julia’s.

Sometimes, it would be awkward. Phil didn’t know how to make conversation with a practical stranger, and Dan would sometimes not even look in Phil’s direction.

But one day when Phil was typing away, someone had scooted out a chair from his table and sat down. Phil looked up, a smile immediately encompassing his face. “Hello Dan.”

“Hi. I figured since we keep running into each other, the world probably wants us to be friends.”

Phil nodded a big too eagerly. “Probably.”

They talked for a bit, exchanged numbers, and made a promise of hanging out later.

And that was that.

 ~

 Dan texted Phil his schedule the next morning. They both had a window on Thursday, so they’d meet then.

 Phil could not tell if this was a good idea or not. On one hand, it would be good to work everything out. But on the other hand, this could blow up and make everything worse.

 The whole week leading up to Thursday was a blur. Phil worked his ass off so he wouldn’t have to think about it. He talked about pointless crap to Carmen so he wouldn’t let anything slip.

He wasn’t going to lie, he felt a bit guilty about meeting up with Dan.

Nothing was going to happen, they were just meeting for coffee. But Phil still had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like he was doing something to be ashamed of.

  As Phil looked into to the coffeeshop to see Dan waiting for him, he was so struck by how nostalgic it all felt. He hadn’t been here since they ended things. Mainly because it felt more like their spot than his.

And of course he was the one to show up last. Some things never change, as Dan pointed out. An apology was on the tip of Phil’s tongue before Dan waved him off.

“It’s fine. I always use tell you to show up twenty minutes earlier than the actual time.”

“What?”

“Call it time management.”

Instead of replying, Phil got in line to order his coffee. Julia’s looked the same as ever, with these low ceilings and wooden floors that made the place feel smaller than it actually was. It also didn’t help that the owner packed in as many white tables and chairs they could fit. It was a cluttered mess but it felt a bit like home.

When it was his turn to order, Phil picked something ridiculously sweet and with a lot of whip cream. He also made a big show of grabbing his straw, slowly unwrapping it, and letting it fall into his drink. His movement’s felt a bit mechanical with Dan’s eyes on him, and he took every opportunity to draw out the inevitable.

Eventually, they sat across from another, just like old times. Accept now Phil was marrying Dan’s stepsister and everything was wrong. No, marrying Carmen wasn’t wrong. But not one ounce of this situation felt right. Phil sipped on his drink as the silence stretched between them.

Without the awful restaurant lighting and panic of the last time they saw each other, Phil got a good look at Dan.

His face looked the same. Maybe a bit older, with stronger lines and definition. Dan’s hair, that he swore he’d straighten until the day he died, was in loose fluffy curls around his head. His sweater, that was much too hot outside for someone to wear, was a bit baggy and the sleeves fell over his hands. The black colors drew out the paleness in his skin.

To Phil’s demise, Dan looked as striking as ever.

“I haven’t been here in years. I’m surprised it’s still open.” Dan fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, looking uncomfortable. Phil couldn’t tell if it was because of this whole situation or the fact that Phil had just been staring. Probably both.

“How so?”

Dan shrugged. “The coffee is not that great.”

Phil’s eyes widened a bit. “What? Are you joking? The coffee is god tier.”

“I prefer Starbucks. Even if that makes me basic.”

Phil shook his head. “No way. You used to come here all the time.”

Dan gave Phil a look that he would have been able to interpret a long time ago. Now, his Dan-lingo was a bit rusty. “Yeah, but it wasn’t for the coffee.”

Phil opened his mouth, tried, and tried again. All those years ago, Dan was just coming to Julia’s to see Phil? That was an absurd, even hilarious, thought. But here Dan was, spelling it out for Phil. Dan saved him from answering. “So, you wanted to talk?”

Phil pulled himself together quickly. He couldn’t fall apart right now. They had things to work out and problems to solve. But suddenly, he felt tired. He felt defeated from a war they both fought long ago. “I’m marrying your stepsister.” He stated simply.

Dan sat back in his chair, spreading his arm out across the top and cradling his face with one hand. “I’m aware.”

“And she doesn’t know about us.” Phil elaborated.

“Obviously.”

Phil looked at his casual stance and felt a bit agitated. A second ago, he looked uncomfortable, now he just looked bored. “Is that all you can say?”

Dan rolled his eyes the way Phil always hated. “What do you want me to say? That I promise to never tell a soul that we fucked every chance we got? Okay. You got me. I promise.”

Phil let out a breath. “No, that’s not it—”

“Then why else would you call me here? To bring up old memories? Reminisce and cry it out? Give me a break.” Dan let his hand fall from this face. “You want to make sure our dirty little secret is all packed away in a neat and tiny box.”

“It was only a secret because you made it one.” Phil shot back.

Dan faltered a bit, and Phil’s growing anger quickly subsided. How stupid could Phil be? Dan was wearing a mask and had built a wall around himself before meeting up with Phil today. This was all part of a façade. Phil cursed himself for not recognizing it sooner. Usually, Phil was always on the other side of that wall. But he must have been exiled a long time ago.

“Listen,” Phil started, his voice softer. “I called you here because I wanted to know you were okay. I wanted to talk through it. Because I know how crazy this is and I can’t even describe how I’m feeling. I just—I needed to see you.”

Dan watched him, emotions flickering too quickly across his eyes. “Yeah okay. Sure. Sounds legit.”

Phil knew he still wasn’t buying it, so he played the card he was hoping to never play. “I can tell Carmen if it helps.”

“Tell Carmen?”

“About us. Everything.” Phil sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her if it puts you at ease. I don’t care.”

Dan stayed quiet for so long that Phil thought he should just leave. Silence was as much of an answer as words. But finally, Dan shook his head. “No. Don’t tell her.”

“Are you sure?”

Dan nodded. “I’m sure. That would just make everything worse.”

“Okay.” If Phil told, it would probably relieve some pressure off their shoulders, but it would also wreck their lives to pieces. Carmen would never forgive him, and that thought was dizzying and painful.

“So what do we do?” Dan asked, his voice small and sad.

Phil’s heart pulled at the sound of it. “Act like friends. I mean—that’s what we are now, isn’t it?”

Dan shrugged.

“It will be like the old times.”

“Like the old times?” Dan leaned forward, his mouth pulling into a sly smile. “Phil, between you and me, I don’t think we were ever just friends."

#phan #phan au #phanfiction #phanfic #my writing #aty chapter four

[fullspectrum-cbd-oil]

Bloomberg’s Big Bet: Can Money Beat Biden’s Momentum?

In his brief three-month campaign for president, Michael Bloomberg poured nearly three-quarters of a billion dollars into building an advertising and data-mining juggernaut unlike anything the political world had ever seen.

But a big part of the strategy hinged on a wildcard named Joe Biden.

Bidens’s resurgence after a dominant victory on Saturday in South Carolina has upset that calculation in the critical do-or-die sprint before “Super Tuesday,” when Democrats in 14 states vote for the candidate to challenge Republican Donald Trump in November’s election.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The billionaire former New York City mayor’s strategy was partly based on expectations that Biden would falter in the first four states. Bloomberg, who skipped the early contests, would then become the moderate alternative to frontrunner Bernie Sanders, the Vermont senator and self-described democratic socialist.

Although Biden underperformed in Iowa and New Hampshire, he did better in Nevada and bounced back in South Carolina on a wave of African-American support to end Sanders’ winning streak and establish himself as the race’s top-tier moderate Democrat.

Meanwhile, Bloomberg’s once-ascendant campaign has struggled after he came under fire in debates over past comments criticized as sexist and a policing policy he employed as New York’s mayor seen as racially discriminatory. He has apologized for the policing policy and for telling “bawdy” jokes.

Advisors and people close to the Bloomberg campaign say they are still in the race and rebuff criticism that he’s splitting the moderate vote and making it easier for Sanders to win.

The campaign’s internal polling showed that Bloomberg’s supporters have both Biden and Sanders as their second choices, contrary to the perception that he was mostly peeling off Biden’s support, one campaign official said.

If Bloomberg dropped out, Sanders would be on a stronger path to victory, the official said.

Bloomberg has hovered around 15% in national polls, suggesting he will earn some delegates on Tuesday. If those polls are correct, he will likely earn fewer delegates than Sanders and Biden.

Another moderate, Pete Buttigieg, dropped out on Sunday, driven in part by a desire not to hand the nomination to Sanders, a top adviser said. “Pete was not going to play the role of spoiler.”

Bloomberg, however, has vowed to stay in the race until a candidate wins a majority of delegates needed to clinch the nomination. His campaign has spent heavily on advertising in states that vote on Tuesday, when a third of the available delegates that help select a Democratic nominee are awarded in a single day.

And it’s pinning some of its hopes on Virginia, the fourth-biggest state at stake on Tuesday and a key testing ground for Bloomberg. He made his first campaign visit here last November, and has visited another six times since. Last week, his campaign had hopes he could win or come close.

But even that plan is facing new headwinds.

After Biden’s win in South Carolina, the former vice president picked up endorsements from former Virginia Governor Terry McAuliffe and Virginia Senator Tim Kaine, the 2016 Democratic vice presidential candidate — underlining how Biden’s comeback is drawing establishment Democrats who might have otherwise backed Bloomberg.

Dan Blue, a prominent Democrat in the North Carolina State Senate who endorsed Bloomberg last week, said Biden’s strong showing in South Carolina reset the race. But he said he still believes that Bloomberg can win by playing the long game and gradually accumulating delegates.

“There’s no question in my mind that this thing is very fluid and not absolute,” he said.

‘HUGE NATURAL EXPERIMENT’

Bloomberg’s heavy advertising spending, however, makes him a uniquely powerful candidate even if he lags in opinion polls.

He has spent more than half a billion dollars on ads ahead of Tuesday, more than four times the combined ad spending of his four remaining main rivals – Sanders, Biden, Senator Elizabeth Warren and Senator Amy Klobuchar, according to data from ad tracker Advertising Analytics.

The biggest chunk was spent in Super Tuesday states, $214 million through Feb. 25, including more than $63 million in California and $50 million in Texas, where one analysis said 80 percent of the ads were Bloomberg’s.

Already, Bloomberg has spent more on television ads than Donald Trump and Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton did in their entire 2016 campaigns.

“It’s truly astonishing,” said Michael Franz at Bowdoin College in Maine, a leading researcher on political advertising. “He is giving us a huge natural experiment.”

Many of his ads feature Trump, mocking the president as a “bully.” Others introduce his life story. When he drew criticism for sexist comments and past treatment of women on the job, one ad countered with endorsements from longtime women employees.

The campaign also has pushed beyond old frontiers with digital spending. More than $106 million have been poured into Google and Facebook ads, according to disclosures by the social media giants.

Without a young network of enthusiasts on social media like the one enjoyed by Sanders, Bloomberg has tried to boost his online presence by paying for one: he has hired influential meme accounts to post messages on Instagram, and paid others $2,500 a month to share pro-Bloomberg messages on texts and social media.

Inside his campaign headquarters in New York, the staff of Hawkfish, a start-up digital analytics company, sift through huge tranches of voter data to help chart his campaign strategy.

Bloomberg decided Hawkfish was necessary because Democrats haven’t kept up with Trump’s ability to target voters and bombard them with messages, said Dan Kanninen, the campaign’s states director. “It’s a very potent, very difficult-to-overcome weapon.”

‘HOW MUCH CAN IT BUY HIM?’

His unprecedented spending has likely fueled his rise in public opinion polls from just around 5% when he entered the race on Nov. 24 to about 16% in recent polls.

“The question is, how much can it buy him, and there’s definitely a ceiling,” said Amanda Wintersieck, a political science professor at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, Virginia.

In South Carolina, where he was not on the ballot but had still spent $2.3 million on advertising through Feb. 25, two thirds of the primary voters said they viewed Bloomberg unfavorably, according to Edison Research exit polls. About 77% and 51% of these voters had favorable views of Biden and Sanders, respectively.

The spending has also provided a target for opponents who say Bloomberg is stark proof that the wealthy wield too much influence over U.S. elections.

In conversations with dozens of mostly Democratic voters across seven states last week, Reuters found that Bloomberg’s spending blitz had won him a little enthusiasm, and some respect. “He might be the one,” said Garolyn Greene, 41, as she waited at a bus stop in Houston where Bloomberg held a rally on Thursday.

Others were less forgiving. Bloomberg has apologized for overseeing an increase in the use of a police practice called “stop and frisk” in New York City that disproportionately affected black and other racial minority residents.

On Sunday, as Bloomberg started to speak about racial inequality at a chapel in Selma, Alabama — one of the 14 Super Tuesday states — about 10 people, mostly black, stood up and turned their backs. Biden was seated in a place of honor with the pastor at the same church.

“I think it’s just an insult for him to come here,” said Lisa Brown, who is black and a consultant who traveled to Selma from Los Angeles, referring to Bloomberg.

The incident underlined Bloomberg’s continued struggles to win over black voters — a core constituency for the Democratic Party.

A VIRGINIA BATTLEGROUND

Bloomberg’s supporters say they hope his spending will deliver dividends in battleground states that favor moderates like Virginia, where some polls put him ahead of Biden but at a close second behind Sanders.

Bloomberg made friends in Virginia long before his campaign, spending millions to elect Democrats to state offices and congressional seats, culminating with Democrats taking control of the state legislature last November. Last week, those legislators gave final approval to a sweeping set of gun control laws – a signature cause for Bloomberg.

“I think people are appreciative,” said Lori Haas, Virginia director of the Coalition to Stop Gun Violence and a Bloomberg supporter.

Bloomberg has opened seven field offices in the state, part of a national network of offices and paid staff that has far outpaced his rivals. The campaign had more than 2,000 paid workers and 214 offices in 43 states, not counting the several hundred in his New York headquarters, said Kanninen, the campaign’s states director.

Whatever happens on Tuesday, Bloomberg and his campaign staffers have been stressing that he will keep spending into the fall to defeat Trump, whether he’s the candidate or not.

“Someone said you shouldn’t be spending all that money,” Bloomberg said on Saturday at a get-out-the-vote rally aimed at women in McLean, Virginia. “I said, ‘Yes, well I’m spending it to remove Donald Trump,’ and he said, ‘Well, spend more.’”

(Additional reporting by Joseph Ax, Elizabeth Culliford, Tim Reid and Trevor Hunnicutt Editing by Soyoung Kim and Jason Szep)

from IJR https://ift.tt/2IbS7UK via IFTTT

#IFTTT #IJR

[thisdaynews]

Inside Beto O’Rourke’s collapse

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/inside-beto-orourkes-collapse/

Inside Beto O’Rourke’s collapse

A year ago, in the aftermath of his near-miss Senate run,O’Rourke was already viewed as a top-tier presidential contender, improbablypolling third, behind former Vice President Joe Biden and Sen. Bernie Sanders.

Former President Barack Obama was publicly drawing comparisons between the former Texas congressman and himself, while former Obama aides were privately encouraging young operatives to move to O’Rourke’s hometown, El Paso, to get in early on the campaign. The media would soon encamp on the sidewalks there.

Rival candidates feared O’Rourke would swamp them with his donor list, after raising more than $80 million in his near-miss Senate campaign against Ted Cruz.

Dan Pfeiffer, the former Obama communications director, said in an op-ed for Crooked Media at the time that he had “never seen a Senate candidate — including Obama in 2004 — inspire the sort of enthusiasm that Beto did in his race.” And when O’Rourke announced his candidacy in March, spinning through crowds in southeastern Iowa, then driving east to New Hampshire, it appeared he might in the presidential race, as well.

In the first day of his campaign, he raised a staggering $6.1 million.

Then it evaporated.

The proximate cause of O’Rourke’s fall was not in the unorthodox things he did. His meandering, solo road trip through the Southwest, the livestreaming of his dentist visit, even the infamous“born to be in it” Vanity Fair cover — which he later said he regretted — all happened before O’Rourke cratered.

Rather, it was everything hedidn’tdo — rendering himan object lesson in the familiar limits of charisma, the liability of high expectations and the importance of organization.

Or, as O’Rourke might say, of having one’s “shit” together.

For too long — and irreparably — he did not.

While other candidates were assembling campaign staffs and volunteer armies in early nominating states, O’Rourke lacked the infrastructure necessary to organize his own supporters. Lawmakers and major Democratic donors could not get calls returned. When the campaign’s skeletal staff promised to reach out, it sometimes forgot.

The signs of disorder were startling. He announced his candidacy before hiring a campaign manager. Two senior officials who had worked on O’Rourke’s Senate run and on Sanders’ 2016 presidential campaign, Becky Bond and Zack Malitz, abruptly left. On the eve of his campaign announcement, O’Rourke was forced to personally apologize to at least one prominent Iowa Democrat for his lack of organization, according to a source familiar with the conversation.

O’Rourke’s initial handling of the media was just as clumsy. He alienatedreporters by refusing to provide basic information about his schedule — including, for many outlets, the location of his campaign’s first public event. He later acknowledged he needed to do a “better job” reaching a national audience.

But at first, he believed he didn’t have to — that based on the success of his Senate campaign’s social media effort, he could largely bypass the traditional press, two people familiar with the campaign said.

It was a miscalculation, and O’Rourke was punished for it. When he hesitated or demurred — as he did frequently on policy questions early in the campaign — he was cast as a lightweight in a field populated by senators and a former vice president.

“I heard the way you ingratiate yourself to voters is to stand on things, so I found this park bench here,” Pete Buttigieg, the mayor of South Bend, Ind., joked at an event in New Hampshire this spring, referring to TV coverage of O’Rourke standing on tables and countertops while speaking at events.

That gentle ribbing gnawed at O’Rourke’s supporters. Theyoften contrastedO’Rourke’s trajectory with that of Buttigieg, another young, relatively inexperienced politician who is currentlysurging in the presidential race.

Entering the contest with less attention, Buttigieg was still introducing himself to the electorate when O’Rourke was getting knocked down. If initial expectations had not been so high for O’Rourke, he might never have become the serious contender he briefly was. But he also might not have fallen so hard.

By summer, Jen O’Malley Dillon, O’Rourke’s highly-regarded campaign manager, had built out his political and policy operation, recruiting top talent to El Paso. O’Rourke had set forth a swath of detailed plans on issues ranging from climate change to immigration and government reform. And following the shooting in El Paso in August, his controversial proposal of a mandatory buyback of assault weapons helped push the nation’s gun control debate to the left.

But it was too late. O’Rourke’s fundraising had fallen off almost immediately after he entered the race, and he never recovered. He performed poorly in the first primary debate, appearing shaken when a fellow Texan, Julián Castro, tore into him over his opposition to decriminalizing border crossings. O’Rourke disliked debates and preparing for them, and he felt after the encounter with Castro that he had been stilted and over-prepared, according to a source familiar with the campaign.

He raised just $3.6 million in the second quarter of the year, and $4.5 million in the third quarter.

By Friday, an adviser said, O’Rourke was running out of money. The campaign explored the possibility of public financing, but abandoned the idea, a campaign adviser said. Layoffs, said Aleigha Cavalier, O’Rourke’s press secretary, “were never an option” O’Rourke considered.

Instead, standing on a box in a park by the Des Moines River, O’Rourke told a small group of supporters that he could “clearly see at this point that we do not have the means to pursue this campaign successfully.”

It didn’t matter that he had a policy platform or a campaign infrastructure, or that he had largely stabilized his relationship with the press. By the time he did, O’Rourke was no longer a top-tier competitor. Democratic voters were not taking him seriously anymore.

In a sign of the campaign’s frustration, Rob Flaherty, O’Rourke’s digital director, posted a photograph on Twitter of a t-shirt he said the campaign was “going to put out but didn’t.”

It read, in all caps: “HE WASN’T STREAMING HIS DENTIST APPOINTMENT HE WAS SHARING THE HYGIENIST’S STORY.”

Before O’Rourke’s arrival at the park on Friday, his staff set out a box with the words “soap” and “Beto 2020” stamped on it in black lettering.

A woman craning for a photograph of the platform said, “Where he began is where he’s ending.”

A woman next to her, noting that O’Rourke is only 47, hinted he might run again.

O’Rourke suggested in an interview in September that he will not. “I cannot fathom a scenario where I would run for public office again if I’m not the nominee,” he said.

On Friday, speaking in a sweater, he told his supporters, “This has been the honor of my lifetime.”

Then he lingered for more than an hour, hugging supporters and staffers in the dark across the street from the convention center where the other, still-running candidates assembled for the massive state party event known as the Liberty & Justice dinner.

Embracingtearful supporters, O’Rourke described his campaign as a “transcendent” experience. “As tough as this day is,” he reassured one man, “there’s just something beautiful that’s going to stay with me, some kind of optimism I have about where the country’s going because of all the people I’ve met.”

If he couldn’t answer why that wasn’t enough, it was because what O’Rourke cherished about running for office — the crowds, the road, the exchange of ideas, even as his crowds thinned — rarely is.

After O’Rourke left,Norm Sterzenbach, the veteran strategist who marshaled O’Rourke’s operation in Iowa, stayed behind, removing campaign signs. When a staffer told him that a drill to disassemble large, wooden lettering at the edge of the park wasn’t working, Sterzenbach pulled one down with his hand.

“Gravity,” he told the staffer. “One of the most powerful forces in nature.”

Alex Thompson contributed to this report.

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#collapse #Foreign #Politics #Rourke

[thesylvalining]

Recently, an Italian friend of mine noted sharing my recent bicycle tour experience and outlook on life is one of the best things I can do to make my society better. I didn’t even consider enriching society when undertaking this cathartic journey; I did intend to try and comprehend my country — but even more so, I wanted to understand myself.

Pause: just in case any of you were asleep during the last five and a half months (four and a half of which I was dragging my crazy butt, bike and crap from Berkeley, California to St. Augustine, Florida)… well, I just laid out what you missed.

The Southern Tier route — however I started in Berkeley, California and cruised down to connect with the route in San Diego.

Turns out, I undertook a rather timely experience. During the era of “me too” I traveled across the USA as a solo female. Simultaneously, I threaded through areas of our very divided country — like the South — that many Americans view as unfriendly and unwelcoming. However, I discovered a very different America: a kind, welcoming America, across the board.

I also interacted with countless people who cling to “buts.” Not the cute, Italian variety — no, the kind that allows folks to evaluate their own lives and positions. They’d say things like “I always wanted to hike the Pacific Crest trail…but…” or “I wish I was as brave as you are… but,” with Borat-like pauses:

I connected with a whole slew of sympathetic souls — black, white, brown, yellow, conservative, liberal, female, male, somewhere in between — who seemed to be living lives differently than the ones they really wanted to live.

Waiting until dark before (spoiler alert!) I rode through the closed slide in Big Sur, California.

Simply showing up on their doorstep (in a guise not often spotted in rural America), in their section at the restaurant or their checkout isle at the grocery store, I became a mirror. I reflected back their own unfulfilled dreams, desires and fears. And occasionally, I was lucky enough to inspire. For example: meet Freda, a remarkable woman (and Warm Showers host) in Gautier, Alabama. I stayed with her over a weekend; in her listing on Warm Showers, she clearly states she doesn’t host cyclists on weekend — but it’s fine to ask anyway. I asked,  since the weather was wetter than a whale’s back and luckily, Freda didn’t want to turn me away.

But, she wanted me to “know what I was getting into.” Every Friday and Saturday, three more people turned up the chaos dial at her house and one was her friendly daughter, a recovering drug addict. Fred said I’d have to keep a very close eye on my valuables. Her daughter simply couldn’t help it; if something was in plain sight, she’d take it.

Sunset on Dauphin Island, Alabama (my next stop after staying with Freda). Incidentally, Freda was the one who took me to that nationally renowned BBQ joint I mention (The Shed).

I decided to stay. Freda’s honesty won me over — and the fact that staying in the rain would put a real damper on my weekend (pun intended). Freda’s daughter didn’t end up being around but her grand-daughters were. After a refreshing rest day with Freda and the girls (one about eight I believe and the other an early teen), I was reluctant to leave. Freda and I kept in touch and she sent me pictures and once, a video of the girls at a Mardi Gras parade. She said they’d only let her snap away because she was sending them to me — apparently I made an impression on them as a solo girl, adventuring by bike.

So among the other missions I inadvertently signed up for, I think sharing my experience in order to impress upon and inspire people to truly follow their hearts’ desires is one. I know change is difficult and not everyone has a gypsy soul like yours truly; nor is everyone able or willing to literally pick up and move out into the Great Unknown. Society and socio-economic status are powerful enough without adding in drug addictions, hurricanes or wildfires. Or being part of (as some folks I encountered) a struggling family of farmers or ranchers to whom time off is a necessary foreign concept. However, I encountered so many people with regrets and potentially conquerable fears that I can’t help but want to instigate a little change.

Enjoying the h*ll out of Mardi Gras season in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Below is a video recorded on March 7, 2018 (shortly after the butt crack of dawn) at my dad’s Rotary International meeting in St. George, Utah. Both of my parents are champions of support, not only during this powerful, wondrous chapter of my life but generally speaking. My dad gave weekly updates at his Rotary meetings while I was riding and got enough people hooked on the journey that there were 20-25 Rotarians in attendance.

I apologize as the pictures on the screen aren’t visible in the very low-tech recording I rigged up by leaning my cell phone against a half-full cup of lukewarm coffee. The pictures throughout the blog and in the slide show below the video are the same ones I employed in the presentation. Taking a gander ahead of time may help as I refer to pictures often.

Sometimes when it rains, it pours — like it did when I hid out for three deluges this day on my way to Morganza, Louisiana.

So here’s my little challenge to you: share this post and/or video with someone in your own life who is clinging to a “but.” We never know what will stick, like a patient, helpful bur and someday, cause a great, wonderful change.

This little lady has all the gear she needs for a cross-country bike trip…

On this bike! Just kidding.

My bike is in the bottom of the cart, in pieces. Above is all the crap I carried — which my dad refers to as really heavy 🙂

Awesome, self-explanatory sign south of Santa Cruz, California.

Me hanging out with (left to right) my brother Kyle, his girlfriend Kathy and Uncle Brian in Berkeley, CA.

Meeting the sisters on the ferry from Oakland to San Francisco — Colette, in the purple, offered to put me up in Pismo Beach later if the stars aligned.

A perfect example of guerrilla camping.

That ubiquitous, gorgeous bridge in Big Sur, California.

Schlepping bike and gear up the dirt trail the locals used just south of Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, California.

Riding the closed road in Big Sur with very little traffic.

Sage and Kiyan and I enjoying the festivities at the bridge reopening party just south of Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, California.

Nothing to do but ride on through…

After riding through the closed slide, a chance meeting in San Simeon with docent Alan. I stayed with him and his wife Judy for four days in total. Here we are in Morro Bay, California.

Staying with Colette in Pismo Beach, California.

Meeting fellow biker friends like Swiss Phil and Rosy and Canadian Dan (I think that was his name 🙂

Taking the left turn in eastern San Diego.

Heading into the agricultural desert in California’s Imperial Valley.

Discovering the border wall in Jacumba, California.

Making the most of a rest day in Jacumba, California.

The 2500-3000 foot descent after Jacumba, California.

A glorious new friendship with Katherine and her bike, Jonie in Glamis, California.

Meeting up with mom and dad in Phoenix, Arizona.

Salado cliff dwellings near Tonto Basin, Arizona.

Making friends with Alan and Myrna in Globe, Arizona (here we are visiting Besh Ba Gowah Native American ruins).

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona where I spent Thanksgiving.

My castle in Duncan, Arizona behind Simpson Hotel.

A big climb on the way to Duncan, Arizona.

Fred, the mastermind behind fixing my broken rack with bailing wire, screws and electric tape.

Riding up Mule Creek road after getting help from Fred, almost to…

New Mexico!!

Hanging out with Eleanor, who put me up for a few days near Cliff, New Mexico.

Hiking with Joseph in or near the Gila Wilderness.

The mother of all flats…

Gila Cliff Dwellings with Noel, Susan and company outside Silver City, New Mexico.

Entering Texas, where even the dinosaurs are bigger.

Broken pannier clips in El Paso, Texas.

The Beehive in Marathon, Texas (my home for two nights).

Navigating the Chihuahuan desert in Texas… for a long time…

Christmas in Del Rio, Texas.

Spending Christmas with Lisa and Eoin.

My drinking buddy and awesome uncle Casey.

Christmas at the Cottons, which includes hanging with Beth, who rocks.

Hydroponic lettuce farming in Rockne, Texas.

The infamous Warm Showers host, Carol in Carmine, Texas.

Baby Sylva, born in Richards, Texas.

The awesome crew at Live Oak Nudist Resort in Texas.

Welcome to Louisiana!

Getting marooned in Merryville, Louisiana.

Braving the roads after the winter storm.

Frozen swamps near

Drying everything I own at a Catholic church in Morganza, Lousiana. The secretary, Retta and her husband took me out to dinner, which was an amazing surprise.

Finally arriving in Baton Rouge, sightseeing (here, I am at the top of the Capitol building).

Meeting Mike — LSU’s mascot — with another amazing WS host, Mark.

Heading to New Orleans, sleeping in a garage (another WS accomodation) in Lutcher, Louisana.

Arriving at where I was staying: Tami’s! She’s a friend of a friend but we were instant buddies. Here, we were eating King Cake for breakfast on her sweet balcony.

There was some sightseeing, some voodoo…

And of course food! First, beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe du Monde.

Then a seafood boil while it poured outside.

Here I am at the Shed, in Gautier, Alabama.

One of many heavenly sugar sand beaches in Destin, Florida.

A cloudy day to enjoy a different kind of beach beauty in Inlet Bay, Florida (staying with yet another wonderful WS host, Martin).

And then I had to suck it up and ride inland through A LOT of rain…

Staying with John after the WS host never showed at the Pizza Hut in Blountstown, Florida.

Heading further east out of Tallahassee…

Camping behind a church in Wellborn, Florida (night of the sprinkler fight).

Helping with a couple simple farm chores with WS hosts Diane and Maria in Monticello, Florida.

Enjoying Ichatucknee Springs State Park on Priscilla’s recommendation!

And meeting the awesome guys at Amigo’s dive shop, thanks again Priscilla!

Quality time with my new friends Mildred and John in Palatka, Florida.

Celebrating with beach time in St. Augustine, Florida, my ultimate destination.

Meeting up with my bro and going to Universal Studios (thanks to Alycia for the ticket hook up!).

Relaxing by the pool at my friend Chris’ house in Apopka, Florida.

Spring training baseball game with Kyle-bro and Chris.

Still curious? Good! I have an ebook in the works regarding the whole experience, with lots more pictures. Stay tuned and sign up for the blog (if you haven’t already) to receive a notification when the ebook’s ready to download. Grazie, gracias and thanks for reading!

Presenting Roads Less Traveled Recently, an Italian friend of mine noted sharing my recent bicycle tour experience and outlook on life is one of the best things I can do to make my society better.

#Adventure #alabama #Americana #Arizona #bike blog #bike tour #bike touring #bike travel #Borat #California #change #explore #florida #Follow your dreams #inspiration #life #Louisiana #Mardi Gras #mississippi #Rotary #self-reflection #Southern Tier Bike Route #sunset #Texas #touring blog #travel #travel blog #travel writing #truth #USA