#I’m not even American but dammit y’all need help

[moonlightcycle571]

Reblog

you guys made luigi mangione trend for days and I need to see the same energy for brianna boston. she is a 43 year old mother of three who ended a phone call with blue cross blue shield (after being denied a claim) “delay deny depose, you people are next” and is now being held under a 100,000$ bond and could face FIFTEEN years of prison if charged. she has no weapons, her record is clean, and yet she is being held behind bars. they are afraid of the public and are trying to subdue. do not let them!!!! be outraged that our freedom of speech is being threatened!!!!! deny defend depose! free brianna boston!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA: 

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn. 

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

??

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

[fanfoolishness]

Mandalorian live-blogging, chapter 12, the Siege!

What did the Client really want to do with Grogu? He didn’t exactly seem to be on good terms with Gideon.

Din: “I finally know where I’m taking you — away from my life but not from my heart *cryyyyyy*” — oh wait, was that not the one?

The very practiced way Din is asking Grogu to do complicated shipboard maintenance suggests this has absolutely happened how many times before?

Din is so expressive here! All his gestures! So much nodding! His “no!” Hands! Shit, maybe my storyline about Din teaching Grogu sign is being carried on right here.

This may be the longest amount of time Din Djarin has spent continuously talking in about a year. I love how Grogu brings it out of him. He’s clearly exasperated by the shitty ship, but endlessly patient with Grogu, and I love how his voice absolutely conveys both of those emotions simultaneously

The tender way he says “no no no” to Grogu is so gentle.

I also love his contentedly narrating to Grogu as a part of their daily routine

I could easily watch 20 minutes of that type of content every episode and try to include pure adorableness like that in just about every fic I write

Oh, Cara Dune... why are you such an enjoyable character played by such an obnoxious person? I’m glad Gina Carano is taking her nonsense elsewhere, especially since it was clear she’d had multiple warnings, multiple chances to educate herself, but damn, I am gonna miss Cara on screen lugging Din around like a rag doll, or just smashing people in the face. I really appreciated seeing a woman on screen with the physique and capability to be that effortlessly kickass.

Din Djarin, wearing a jetpack: scrambles off his shitty ramp with all the grace of a flying lobster

I love the dynamic of Greef and Cara and Din. I hope we at least get to see Greef again! Maybe he’ll be like “now that the town’s cleaned up, the Marshal’s moved on.” Also, since when do we have Marshal in Star Wars? I’ve seen how many SW movies how many times, and no such thing as local law enforcement, let alone local law enforcement with a Western flair? Then all of a sudden Mando S2 shows up with Cobb Vanth and Cara Dune and I’m wondering if it’s an actual legal position in the Outer Rim and like, a cultural title of Outer Rim humans on many worlds (because it sure as shit doesn’t sound like a title you’d take in the Core Worlds).

Anyway, Greef’s actual love and adoration of Grogu is the sweetest. Maybe he and Peli can start a Grogu fan club and be the founding auntie and uncle.

Still can’t believe I missed that statue of IG-11 until I saw it pointed out here on tumblr.

Just think of how this is probably the first time Din’s been around this many children since Sorgan. And Sorgan kids had it different, they had a world that loved and protected them, and a place they could freely be above ground, and so that was fine; and Din had thought the children of his covert, the foundlings, they were fine too. But then it turns out it wasn’t true, the foundlings weren’t safe, they were slaughtered. And this is Nevarro, a township that wasn’t Home, but was nonetheless home to his people; and he remembers a little school in their hidden, simple covert for the foundlings in their training helmets; and he’s both heartened and pained that this group of children, at least, are able to be schooled in a safe place.

Din trusts these people as much as he’s trusted any non-Mandalorians, and it’s a lot! He knows he can ask them for help with the ship, he knows they saved his life and Grogu’s. And yet still see how unsure he is to leave Grogu at the school! He knows they don’t mean harm, he sees how beautiful and well-used the school is, he knows it should be safe... but he still stares after Grogu, barely looking at Cara, wanting to follow him. “Wherever I go, he goes,” says Din desperately, barely bearing to trust that anyone else could keep the kid safe like he could.

I keep thinking I need to write a fic of him flying off to go get Grogu at the end, now that I’m rewatching it, perhaps now is the time!

I’d love to have some of these kids’ Star Wars hairstyles

Hey! The Maelstrom! I know that! You know Han Solo did the Kessel Run in under 12 parsecs? And I love correcting people when they think SW didn’t know what they were talking about? Parsecs ARE a unit of distance and that’s what Han meant because of the Maelstrom! He got dang freaking close to it! Anyway I’m just very excited because y’all do realize they built the Sun Crusher in the Maelstrom? Anyone here read those books?

Grogu is such a little shit! and he really did just say “Patu,” huh

I love Greef’s beard. I love it! Are we saying it enough? It’s great!

So is Nevarro basically an asteroid? Are they seriously flying to the other side of the planet for this? Maybe it’s tiny? How can Din fly over half a planet on a jetpack? Nevarro must be a galactic pebble.

I could watch Din just get in and out of vessels all day long

Din is just so excited to use the Phoenix and I love that he’s not that good at it but loves it anyway. “Hold tight”

Lava tide? The hell is this shit planet.

Din is not impressed by stormtroopers one little bit. I love him standing there all nonchalant.

Din is just sooooo shiny in this episode.

Cast it into the fire, Isildur!

Why do these bases never have guard rails for these giant drops

The Mythrol asked the same question 1.3 seconds later

Mythrol? Cracks of doom? Mithril??? A coincidence? Surely not

Greef I love your outfit so much

Yeaaaaaaah get those Snoke-looking bitches outta here

Din with a horrible sinking feeling... “I don’t like this...”

Din is heavily regretting letting this man live rn

Din must have been seeing. FUcking. RED

You know if they stop building their hallways with fucking COVER the stormtroopers won’t keep getting killed in them by enemy assailants with better weapons and aim

Din running to get his son <3

Cara SMASH and I love it

Din, you flew away over the LAVA? That is so badass. And I love his very clumsy superhero landing. And taking a running leap off the top of the lava flat

I love that Cara doesn’t quite get the whole kid thing, but totally supports Din in his love of fatherhood

Cara would be GREAT at driving the Mako

I do love how often environmental hazards take out scouttroopers on their speeder bikes. Like, no shit! You’re a human trying to go 300 miles an hour? Since when is our reaction time capable of that???

Dammit TIE fighters! They’re much more intimidating on a planet, actually. They pack a serious punch when you aren’t shooting ship-sized lasers back at them

Yes!!! The shitty little Razor Crest that could!

And Grogu’s excitement! He trusts Din so much now that it doesn’t even enter his mind they might be in danger. He just knows Din’s here, we’re gonna have fun, I trust him.

And think how much Grogu has grown since S1. He would have been hiding in the back with all of that excitement beforehand, not excited and waving his hands and giggling

Din is just... resigned to Grogu being sick. And he could clean Grogu up and go back to see Greef, but he just wants to make sure the kid’s okay... especially after what he’s just learned about Moff Gideon.

I do miss the slower pacing of S2. I would have liked another episode in between this and The Jedi where Din just sort of processes and deals with all of this new information.

Oh hurr hurr wait I write fanfic

I like that some of these Imps don’t have the Coruscanti accent. They’re just like... y’know, American.

Gideon is so childishly pleased by his Darktroopers, like get over yourself, dingus

If Favreau took this episode I wonder if that means he wanted to make sure all the mythology and shit is going according to plan. Or maybe I’ve just been watching too much X-Files. If Chris Carter wrote an ep, it was mythology ONLY, and that was it.

The end! Maybe I’ll write tomorrow :)

[cherry3point14]

Cookies & Milk

Pairing: Dean x British!Reader Warnings: Established D/s, mind you don’t fall down the crack Word Count: 2,172. Summary: Dean buys you some cookies. You call them biscuits. Arguments ensue, lines are drawn and restraints are required. A/N: Have any of y’all met @winchesters-meaty-feast? She’s my pal and partner in crime. We have extensive conversations about many a subject but one day the most important topic arose. Biscuits. I’m a dunker, she is not. It almost tore us apart but luckily we’re stronger than that. Anyway, I drabbled this Dom/sub biscuit thing in our chat and the following CRACK is what snowballed from that. (This is meant to be dumb ok. Don’t come for me over this weirdness.) 

Ao3 if you prefer.

You should close your laptop.

In the late afternoon—underground where the time of day doesn’t matter—even then the light it’s emitting is too blue. Sure, you could turn down the brightness but it’s too little too late. Your eyes are already starting to ache from the strain.

You're not even doing anything important. You started scrolling a few hours ago; a news story that might have been something, but turned out to be nothing. Less than nothing, it was mundane. Dull as dishwater, as your mum might say. You would have closed your laptop then if it hadn’t been for that link at the bottom of the page. To another article, this time about an unexpected cold snap. This leads you to look up weather trends in Kansas, which becomes reading the articles on weather.com. Who even knew weather.com had articles? Still, they do and they’re very informative. The problem is that their data all points to it being cold as balls soon (your term, not theirs). So, now you’re shopping, with a pair of snow boots and two winter coats in your basket. And you’re debating a new scarf to put you over the free shipping threshold.

It is really time to shut your laptop before you go ahead and checkout. Dean hates having to pick up your parcels in town. Always complains that you have a problem. Pretty hypocritical considering the number of breweries he keeps in business. Besides he doesn’t even have a reason to complain, Marta loves seeing him, she lights up like a Christmas tree for him. You walk into the post office and you get a ton of side-eye, plus a ten-minute wait, but Dean? Well, he’s always at the front of her line.

You’re so engrossed in shopping that you don’t immediately look up at the sound of the bunker door. It’ll be Dean, you know that much. He’ll have a couple of brown bags from his supply run and you don't want to insult him by insinuating that he needs help.

It’s for the greater good anyway, the longer you sit here the more chance there is of you buying him snow boots too. Maybe he'll let you buy him a hat too.

Once he’s finished stomping his way down the stairs he sets the paper bags down next to you. It just so happens that's the exact moment you finally look up at him. A grateful smile on your face and over the top fluttering eyelashes—to remind him how loveable you are.

He shakes his head at how obvious you are. “I didn’t buy them for just you.” His unnecessary emphasis is all the permission you need.

“Is that smoke?” You sniff the air, one arm sliding inside the nearest bag, “must be the fire in your pants.”

He tries. Bless his heart. He tries to hold out. You can see him chewing the inside of his mouth as your arm moves about inside the bag to liberally finger his goods. The haul from the supermarket anyway. But he cannot resist your lame jokes and it ends the same as always. He cracks. A twitch of his lip, shaking his head and then an eye roll even Sam would be proud of.

“Other bag, Sherlock.”

“Ah-ha!” You grin when you switch to the other bag. Instead of fresh fruits and vegetables, you’re treated to food of the more processed variety. Plastic bags filled with crisps, a pie carton and, oh he really does love you, biscuits.

You slink back down to your screen, tearing the package open with your teeth as you do. Revitalised by the imminent influx of sugar. Dean sighs but doesn’t say another word. He picks up the rest of the groceries and carries them away. Presumably to the kitchen by the distant sounds of him putting everything away.

It’s another five minutes when he returns with a glass of milk that he puts down next to you. With a determined thump of glass on wood, as if the sound is an entire explanation.

“Thanks, but you know I don’t…”

“Take the damn milk.”

Normally you’d be irritated for being cut off mid-sentence, but it’s his exasperated tone that catches your attention. You even deign to look at him again, ignoring the popup that’s offering an extra 15% off if you enter your email. “You ok?”

He scratches at the scruff on his jaw while he tries to internally talk himself down from the ledge. “Nothing, nothing. Drink the milk, please.”

You look from him to the glass and frown at the white liquid. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. It looks like a perfectly good glass of milk, the kind you might see on a ‘got milk’ ad from the nineties. It’s not that you hate milk, you just prefer your biscuits to have a little bite. Dean should know that by now but if he’s forgotten then you are more than happy to remind him. “You eat your biscuits how you want, let me eat mine how I want.”

In your attempt to be rational you have failed to notice the desperation in his, 'please'. And now you’ve managed to tick him off.

“Cookies,” he grinds out.

“What?”

“They’re cookies. Dammit, you’ve lived here long enough to call a cookie a cookie.”

The outburst is not Dean’s fault. He’s not exactly hoarding MAGA caps and asking you to go back to England. No, this outrage is the product of a very specific joke that you might have taken too far.

Ordinarily, you switched back and forth between American and British all the time. As easy as breathing. You’d lived in the good ol’ US of A for long enough that your brain simply picked out the first word it could reach. A lot of the time it ended up being American without much intention, people understood better. 

And then a few weeks back you’d been on the way to a hunt, sprawled in the back seat. Despite the fact that you were still strategizing with Sam you were comfortable. You could have fallen asleep right there if Sam hadn't kept talking. The word had slipped out on a whim. You called Baby’s trunk a boot.

Dean—being an absolute drama queen—had slammed on the brakes and eloquently asked what the fuck you called his Baby. Apparently, it was the first time you’d said that particular British word.

If you hadn’t found his reaction utterly hilarious that would have been the end of it. Except you did find it funny. The way his face soured, that little crease in the middle of his brow, he was so offended by four little letters. It was beautiful.

Now it’s been a few weeks of very purposeful language choices. Asking to borrow his mobile to make a call, or to wear his hoodie. And you’ll admit the ‘pip pip cheerio’ as he left the bunker earlier had been excessive. That isn’t even a real thing people say.

You’ve been torturing the poor guy with British slang. And because this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a joke too far, you’d usually hold your hands up and apologise. You’re good at apologising. He likes when you have to apologise because you always make it worth his while.

The problem is, biscuit had been an honest-to-god slip of the tongue. It had been the most natural word for your brain to conjure and so his anger seems a tad unjustified. Utterly out of proportion.

“It’s a biscuit.” You repeat as you take a bite, noticing the way his left eye seems to twitch at the crunch.

“It’s a cookie. It says right there on the packet. It’s a fucking sandwich cookie.” He points at the ripped plastic on the table for emphasis.

You sigh with the kind of effort that forces all the air from your lungs. “This country can’t spell half the time, why should I trust the packet?”

“Because you’re eating from it.”

He’s got you on a technicality. And he knows it. He knows it by the telling pause before you speak and the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So?”

It’s not an argument that’s going to win world-class debates but you couldn’t go ahead and let him have the last word.

Dean's problem now is he thinks he’s got you on the ropes, so he goes and gets cocky. He puffs out his chest a little and bites back a smirk.

“So? So… cookies and milk is as American as apple pie-”

“Invented by the Dutch.”

“-whatever. It’s a thing. Which means you gotta sit down, shut up and drink your fucking milk.”

You always love it when he does that. Argues his way to a conclusion whether he’s right or not. It’s kind of ridiculously hot.

Or at least that’s how you justify putting your half-eaten biscuit down. Slowly rising from your chair and crawling onto his lap. You lean in, slow enough to tease him, letting your breath settle over his skin as you whisper in his ear. “I know a way we could settle this.”

“What’re you doing?” He manages between teeth that are grinding against each other. The muscles in his arms are tense where he’s pulling at the rope that holds him.

Any other night and you might calm him down at this point. Remind your good boy that he shouldn’t hurt himself. Or depending on the game you’d remind him who he belongs to, who he’s foolishly directing his anger towards. But there’s no soothing touches or harsh reminders bestowed upon Dean tonight. This game is different. This is a battle for dominance, unlike one you’ve played before.

For the first time, he wants to win as much as you do.

There’s no mutual satisfaction in the room because you’re both out for blood. Where blood equals being right about snack goods. And unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t figure it out before he let you tighten the ropes around his wrists.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. I wanted something sweet.”

His eyes flick between the glass of milk he’d seen you carry in and the cookies plated up beside it. Well, you’d call them biscuits but that’s not what this argument is about.

“Don’t you dare.” There’s a threat in his voice.

For a moment it surprises you and you’re quick to counter him, “I’ll do what I like.” Your tone is reminder enough for him to remember his place.

He retreats a little, gives an inch so that you can take a mile. A breath rattles through his chest doing little to calm his tightly wound body. At the very least, he switches anger for desperation. Dean knows you love it when he pleads, “please Princess. Please, I’m begging you. Dunk it.”

Your entire body glows a little when he calls you by your name. The change in his attitude only urges you onwards though, with a smirk turning up the corners of your mouth.

Your hand finds a treat, fingers picking it up with deliberate, delicate movements. His eyes are wide as he watches you hover the biscuit over the glass as if maybe you’ll appease him. The whimper he lets out when you bypass the drink is almost fulfilling enough that you’re no longer hungry. Almost.

The room takes on an eerie silence as you part your lips and take a bite. A loud, crunchy bite. Crumbs fall onto the table beneath you—probably in slow motion— and chewing only seems to increase the volume.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters as you swallow, “you’re crazy.”

You hadn’t planned on it but you walk across the room then, half a biscuit in your hand and a satisfied smile on your face. He’s slumped in his chair a little. He’s defeated since he knows he won’t defeat the knots keeping him in place.

“Come on, try it for me.”

“Go to hell.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic, you’ve been to hell. This can’t be that bad.”

As you reason with him, you slide into his lap again, which will be torture enough because he can’t touch you. Except you also hold the biscuit to his lips.

“Please. For me. Be my good boy.” You coo as if you're not toying with him.

His thighs twitch beneath you at the use of his nickname and, because he’s always your good boy, he opens his mouth.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

[vivxwrites]

Lovers Quarrel

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1625

Warning(s): None? Some injuries. Ca:cw spoilers (lol)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: hi! i sincerely apologize for the wait so here’s this! It was requested by an anon here and i hope whoever that whoever it was gets to read it! 

The scene painted out before you reminded your idle mind of those that occurred during the times of ancient history, tales recorded on wooden tablets and later translated into a world of empires and invasions. Tales of kings and commanders and armies, tales of power struggles and barbaric actions. Where city-states were just barely discovering copper and iron and steel and metal and where one-hundred-year-old super soldiers didn’t magically freeze and thaw out, only to wake up seventy something years later. Where there was no Iron Man, or Hawkeye, and where there were certainly no Black Widows. No Black Widows that slowly extended their long legs over your heart and nestled down deep, deep enough to just nearly become one with the genetic coding of the cells that made up one of the most vital organs in your body. You furtively wished that you weren’t part of the timeline filled with superhumans and ex-Russian assassins and men that flew around in suits engineered by a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

Despite your desperate wishes here you were, lined up in an airport hanger with half of the avengers that you had chosen to align yourself with. Across from you stood your friends, your family, and your- well, you weren’t quite sure what exactly Natasha was to you.

You could feel her eyes fixated on you, and whether fury or concern were being directed at you, you weren’t too sure, especially seeing as you refused to even flick your own eyes in her general direction. 

Her tiny huff of annoyance didn’t go unnoticed by you and you cursed whatever government officials deemed the Accords an appropriate measure of action. If splitting the Avengers into two was the reaction they were oh so kindly hoping to achieve, then their overpriced bottles of champagne were most certainly cork-less by now.

Your whole body ached with the primal need to see the love and adoration that you had grown used to in the now familiar jade-green eyes of one Natasha Romanoff. Your bones had long since endured the weight of sorrow and regret and by this point, the precipice of this protracted conflict, you were feeling the full weight and brunt of a word solely known as exhaustion. 

You were pulled from your period of self-awareness by the start of the fight, the war, between two forces that had been nearly unstoppable when combined. What the outcome would be, you hadn’t the slightest clue and you were whole-heartedly not looking forward to finding out.

And so you did your best to avoid the stunning red-head who made your head swim with thoughts that you were definitely not supposed to be thinking while tossing punches at some guy in a panther suit. As the battle dragged on, however, you were unpleasantly forced to find out that your attempts to avoid that certain someone were meaningless.

She looked as good as ever in her sleek combat gear and good god what you wouldn’t give to smash your body against hers in a hug tight enough to crack the pistachio nuts you had deemed ‘breakfast’ just this morning.

“(Y/N).” She spoke with a tone of indifference and you flinched at the fact that it was being directed at you. Of course you felt immense guilt for not sticking by Natasha’s side but how could you when your beliefs lay with the opposite team? How could you sit back and sign a contract that basically handed over your freedom and everything that you had worked so very hard to achieve when you were something of a Hydra experiment yourself? How could you possibly be able to sign your life away to the sleazy, wrinkly men that called themselves the American Government when you had been in Bucky’s shoes not too long ago? And if you had deserved a chance to change then god fucking dammit so did he.

Needless to say, this was the biggest lovers quarrel in history.

“Nat,” you bit down hard on your lip in an attempt to stop its trembling, “I-“

Thought you loved me, you wanted to say, thought you would understand how much this meant to me, thought you would stand up for me. Your throat bobbed up and down as you swallowed the vowels and consonants of the phrases thickly, their bitter aftertaste more unpleasant than that of the tangy salt water that she made you gargle when you got sick.

You could only stare wordlessly at Nat and she, you. The entire fucked up situation made you feel sick, a constant state of unsettlement rushing through your veins alongside the anger and hatred that you felt for the so-called ‘higher ups.’ And then finally, Clint, bless that man, intervened and off he and Nat went, twisting and turning as if they were the cats and dogs you used to mindlessly watch on television when a nightmare of yours was particularly bad.

The telltale shink of Steve’s shield meeting its target had you cringing inwardly. You heard him holler your name and off into the fray you went, ducking under a stray metal suit and jumping over the cracks in the concrete that made up the hanger. 

“Cap. You called?” You dragged your gaze from him to the hulk of a man next to him and as hard as the soldier tried to remain stoic, you saw the guilty look that hid away in the top corner of his eyes. 

“Buck and I need to get to that hanger over there, can you cover us?” When Steve spoke, your gaze remained on Bucky. You gave him a small, reassuring smile before turning back to Steve.

“It’s what I do best, Captain.” He nodded stiffly and you could tell that something was bothering him. “What? You worried about lil ‘ol me or something?”

He sighed deeply, “You know Natasha would kill me if you get hurt.” 

You felt your nostrils flare in annoyance, “Natasha’s not exactly here right now, is she?” Of course that wasn’t one hundred percent true but from what you could see of her, flashes of red and black every so often, it seemed she was quite busy with problems of her own.

“(Y/N)-“ 

“Steve please. Do you want my help getting across this airport or not?” He finally nodded again and you nodded back.

The three of you took off towards the destination and were about halfway there when the sound of thrusters drew nearer. You cursed to yourself and kept running until Tony dropped down in front of you, the face-plate on his mask retracted as if he wanted the three of you to see just how angry he really was.

“Stark,” You drawled, “how nice to see you.”

“You too sweetheart.” He growled and you sneered at him.

You waved Steve and Bucky forward, signaling that you could handle Tony. They threw you reluctant looks before finally taking off. “You don’t want to tango with me hun.”

A self-satisfied smirk crawled onto your face, “Oh but I do.”

He fired a blast at you and you dodged with a perfectly placed combat roll, positioning yourself behind some loading crates. When Tony flew closer to you, you reached up and clamped your arm onto the arm of his suit and held tight as he swore and flew about, trying to knock you off. When bucking you about like a bronco didn’t work he retracted the faceplate again and smirked at you, “Hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

Tony flew skyward and you held on with all the upper body strength you had as he reached a dangerous height, wherein if you fell you wouldn’t necessarily die, but the impact wouldn’t be the nicest experience.

Your arms burned with the exertion of holding your body weight up and you could feel your fingers beginning to slip on the cool metal of the suit.

“Rhodes, get ready to catch this lovely package.” After Tony’s statement your grip finally gave out and you went tumbling to the ground, a view of smoke and the blue cloud-ridden sky accompanying you.

Rhodey was nowhere to be seen as you fell, ten feet left, then five, until you landed on the ground with a sickening crunch and pain shot up your spine. You tried to scream in agony but the sound wouldn’t come out, as if your vocal chords themselves were feeling the vibrations of the tight, coiling pain. 

Distantly you could hear screams and yelling but you couldn’t make out whom the sounds belonged to. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body twisted and writhed every which way on the ground in an attempt to fight the pain in your system. The ground shook with the approaching footsteps of someone but then again you were too out of it to comprehend if it was instead the violent shaking of your spine beneath you that you were feeling.

“Moya lyubov,” Nat panted desperately and reached over to cup your cheeks in her warm hands, “are you okay?”

“Nat,” you cried, “M’ sorry baby.”

She shushed you and leaned down to press her forehead against yours, the first few tears rushing down her face, “Shh. No, (Y/N), honey it’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby please, stay with me. Keep your eyes open for me.” Her voice sounded distant even with her close proximity and your eyelids were just so heavy and you could feel yourself giving in, succumbing to the black just visible at the edge of your vision. You took one last peak at Natasha until you finally closed your eyes.

When you woke up you were all alone, cuffed to a hospital bed in an unfamiliar room.

A/N: Listen, I don’t know what this is or why I have inserted some weird world history shit into the fic but please just accept it for what it is. I’m satisfied as hell that I managed to throw this together and have it out to y’all by today so I beg of you to be proud of me for finally putting out some content, regardless of its questionable grammar and spelling and odd facts. Have I done good or have I done goofed, please let me know. Love always, Viv <3

Permanent Tag List: @autumnjackson4 @captainwonderwidow @5aftermidnight @blushycarol @pruemania @lesbian-x-blackwidow @taramitch96 @fansanctuary @envy-adamss

[ducklettwrites]

31 Days of Fanfic: Day 2 “You Do Not Need To Talk”

Day 2 prompt: A Rare Pair

Title: You Do Not Need To Talk

Now available on ao3

Fandom: TF2

In which sometimes it is okay to admit when you are in fact, not doing fine.

Rating: Gen. 

Characters: Bronislava (tf2) and Miss Pauling (tf2)

Pairings: Bronislava/Miss Pauling (tf2)

Author’s Notes: I will go down with this ship! My rarest rare pair. I love lesbian Pauling headcanons, and I really do not mind Zhanna/Miss Pauling so much (it’s much better than some ships with Miss Pauling *cough cough*). But y’all, Heavy has three sisters who all have strong girl vibes and Zhanna isn’t the only one who can be a good girlfriend. Also this fic takes place a few months after the end of the tf2 comics. I have my own theories about what happens, but I’ve mostly left it vague here since we still don’t really know.

“Even at night the desert is unbearable.”

Miss Pauling couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it eventually.” She said without turning around.

“That is doubtful.” Bronislava said, arms crossed and looking down. “I assume there is reason for tiny American woman to be out here alone?”

‘Tiny American woman’ was a term of endearment, she was told. Miss Pauling didn’t let that bother her too much. Not only because she was told it was how you knew Bronislava liked you, but because ‘tiny’ was not the worst thing she’d been called. Not by a longshot, not even in the last year. Heck, not even in the last month.

“Should not be too lost in thought. It’s not good for you.”

“I’m fine.” she said with a sigh. “Really, I am.” Her protests sounded almost desperate. Fine is a loose term to describe the events of the last year. Truthfully she preferred not thinking about it. About the near death experiences, about the betrayals, about...well any of it. It was easy to push down during the day, her workload had tripled coming back to the States. Being the sole manager of Mann Co. and its assists made for some challenging work. She had even less free time than she did as the Administrator’s errand girl, and it was a welcome distraction to keep her mind away from focusing on how she got there.

The bad part of her new position was, it had regular hours. Nighttime was good for paperwork, checking the books, and any other small task made difficult by daylight. However, it also gave her mind time to wander. Miss Pauling never considered herself a sentimental person, she gave that up years ago, but that didn’t soften how many times she felt the world crash down on her in those months. How many times she was humiliated, torn down. How many people, she worked with, she cared about, died in front of her. How many times success was so close, only to be swallowed by failure.

A shift in the sand around her indicated that she was no longer alone on the ground. She glanced up to see Bronislava ease herself down to her level, scanning the sand as she finally settled next to her. For a moment, nothing was said.

“Stars are pretty in America.” Bronislava’s voice was soft but firm. “Prettier than Siberia even.”

Miss Pauling looked up, the blanket of stars was clearly visible tonight. “You’d think you could get more stars in the mountain, being so far from everything.”

“That is only partially true. Some nights there was too much snow. Hard to see sky in a snowstorm.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Tiny American woman did not come out to see stars, though. Did she?”

Dammit. “No. I guess I didn’t.”

Silence.

“You do not need to talk.” Bronislava’s eventual break in silence momentarily startled her. “Sometimes talking helps, sometimes it does not. I know eyes like yours, you are troubled.”

She didn’t even want to think about the implications of the meaning behind such words. She glanced over, Bronislava wasn’t even looking at her. Instead the Siberian woman’s gaze was fixated on the universes above.

“When we first went to Siberia, after we were safe. I liked to look at stars. Clear nights were very pretty. Made it easier to think everything so small when the sky was so big.”

“I really am fine.” She could feel eyes shift onto her now. Bronislava was watching her with a strange intensity that made her only slightly disconcerted.

“It is okay to be fine, but it is also okay to not be fine.” A pause. She felt a hand on her side. “I told you, you do not need to talk. But you do not need to force yourself to be fine either. Not now. Not when you are away from everyone forcing you to be fine.”

A lump formed in her throat and she tried to swallow it down to no avail. Instead she pulled the hand closer to her, tangling the larger fingers around her own.

The gesture’s translation was not lost. She was pulled closer to her the other woman and, after obligingly moving, the hand was untangled but the arm was wrapped around her shoulders. Her form was so much smaller, she felt she was being swallowed by the embrace. Still she welcomed it.

“It’s not healthy. Forcing yourself to be fine.”

She looked up. Once again, Bronislava spoke without looking at her. “I don’t really have a choice.” she explained. “Not with a company to run, mercenaries to manage, and a CEO to train.”

“All true. But continuing to force yourself to be fine only makes it worse.”

She sighed. “Look, I really appreciate that you’re saying this. I know you’re only trying to say you care, but I can handle this. It’s nothing that I’ve not handled before.”

“Tiny American woman is not only person who looks at stars to feel better you know.”

Something clicked. “Wait, you mean to say-”

“Sometimes it’s too much.” Bronislava interrupted. “When you think about it all. When you try to reason the what and why. No matter how long ago, or how much time.”

“Is that you came out here? Not because of me, but because-”

“Truthfully did not know you would be out here. I had gotten into habit of taking late walks long time ago. When weather was not bad, I would look at stars.” Bronislava’s tone remained even despite the clear strain the words caused her. “When I did see you, it was clear you needed to be told what… what someone told me.”

Tears were now running down her cheeks, and she struggled to choke back a sob. At the same time, the embrace tightened around her.

“Do not need to talk. Do not need to explain. It is fine if you are not fine, you need not give a reason.” the soothing words gently rocked her back and forth.

She let herself be held tight in another woman’s arms. Though it was hard to admit how she felt, she could breathe a little easier. It was okay to not pretend right here, right now. And that. That made her feel fine.

[gwisingegooli]

i can’t help it like i don’t actively hate these basic ass asian kids from the 626 or the bay or wherever but it’s like HELLO?????? why is your asian-american heritage to be BLAND AS FUCK. like liking boba and kpop and going raving ARE NOT PERSONALITY TRAITS.

yknow what i dont even mind. like i also enjoy those things and i’m sure y’all have things that make you special.

not to be extra but like WHAT MAKES YOUR SOUL CRY OUT?? i know i’m just a loud bitch but how can there be nothing???????? y’all need to fucking interact w me and other loud-soul bitches or something. let me dig out what makes you special and interesting jesus christ.

yknow what i DO HAVE A PROBLEM. when you don’t got struggles in life cause you’re IGNORING THE REAL WORLD, EVERYTHING GOING ON THAT MEANS MORE THAN YOUR BUBBLE, and then these fucking things like gd boba and league of legends are the FOUNDATIONS OF YOUR PERSONALITY... y’all don’t know how to DREAM anymore!!! y’all don’t know how to be creative!!! y’all don’t know how to drive the world forward. y’all just know how to be consumers and spend your cs money and grow up in the burbs and die.

which is like! okay! fine! i can understand. it’s fun to be a peaceful sheep. it’s fine to just live a life of nothing shoujo-ass daily life of a student/office worker blandness. but if you stand for nothing then you’ll fall for anything.

y’all bland asian fucks who have nothing new to say ever. y’all are the new generation of WHITE MODERATES who are BYSTANDERS to the gd world falling apart. martin luther king warned me about y’all passive fucks, just lettin the world go by and injustice go rampant.

why r y’all my people god fucking dammit. i can’t even let y’all go and disassociate cause i love y’all, i hang out w y’all, y’all love and support me every day. but y’all definitely DON’T FUCKIN REPRESENT ME WITH ALL THE CORNY ASS SHIT Y’ALL DO ALL THE TIME

sigh. i just can’t fucking relate man. i care too much about the world and being ALIVE and actually loving things with my own individual sparkly ass brain. can’t do that shit. i wanna be the gd protagonist. i ain’t tryna blend into the background.

LOUD BITCH TILL I DIE GONNA FIGHT TILL I GET MURKED YEET YEET Y’all can think i’m fucking crazy but i aint a sheep and u know what i fucking love y’all so much so i’m gonna be a shepherd and help you guys find your way through me if you need it. and i’ll make sure y’all fed and taken care of. i’ll be there for y’all so we can all smile together and i’ll feel your support and it’ll make me stronger. there’s all different types of people in this world. as long as we feel represented and understood and taken care of. ALL of us. and when y’all actin TOO passive and its just straight up wrong we’ll let each other know wassup and get on the SAME GD PAGE.

i just care about everyone so much. everyone gets hugs. i’ll be the first in the battlefront. we’re in this together.

[roselukes]

2800 Miles - Ch 7 - l.h.

Previously

Summary: Luke knows what he wants, but he also knows he can’t have it

Tag List: @sassy-asht0n @happycrimiscalum @rosesarered516 @hoe4hemmo @heartbreakashton94 @climatehood @calumspeachy @dukehoods @holidayhood @wrappedaroundcal @mistletoemichael @plainwhiteluke @irwinkitten @hereforlukescruff @astroashtonio @catchinqcalum @irwinvalentines @hollyjollyhood @biggestslutforcalum @calumhampton @angelmikeyy @hotmessmichael @curlyhairedpopstars @meloncal @lukeschestnuts @thecashtonexpress @calsjackets @boytoynamedcalum @alyssarester @ssophisticated-simplicityy @calistajs @merryashmas

Disclaimer: plot was inspired by the app Choices’ story The Royal Romance

After lunch, everyone went to the shops along the coast while the royal family sailed their own race. They finally started arriving back at the shore long after everyone had eaten and shopped. “I’m getting hungry again.” Gwen sighed, leaning against the car.

“It’s been nearly 6 hours since we had lunch.” Michael nodded.

“You mean, it’s been too long.” Gwen huffed. “I need more meals than this.”

“You should really eat less. I think you’ve actually gained weight since you arrived here.” Alyssa smirked from where she stood with the other suitors. “A queen can’t have thighs as big as yours.”

“My thighs aren’t even big, you stuck up cunt.” Gwen snapped.

“Guinevere, a word please.” Michael said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the group. “You need to think before you speak here, okay? You can’t be saying things like that to the other suitors.”

“Michael, she called me fat. I’m clearly not fat yet.” Gwen crossed her arms.

“I know, Gwen. You’re not fat, you’re incredibly beautiful, but you can’t say things like that to her. It only fuels her to say more. If the press caught you saying that shit to her, they would drag you through the mud. You would be ruined.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with people saying things like that to me. You have no idea how much I struggled with my weight growing up. You’ll never know the things I’ve been through.”

“I know how traumatic your childhood must have been, but you need to find a way to work through it. You have to find a different outlet for your anger. You can’t take it out on her.”

“Then, I’ll take it out on you. How about that? Is that what you want, Michael?” Gwen asked, shoving him back.

“Dammit, Gwen. Why can’t you just act like you want to be here?” Michael groaned, shoving her back. Gwen glared at him.

“I want to be with Luke, not waste my time playing princess.” She shoved him again.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Michael groaned again.

“Get used to it.” Gwen crossed her arms.

“No, I’m gonna do something about it.” Michael grabbed her by the waist, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Michael! Put me down!” Gwen screamed, kicking her legs.

“No.” Michael walked to the end of the dock, ready to throw her into the water.

“Michael, don’t!” Gwen screamed, kicking her legs again. “Somebody help me!” She screamed.

“Michael Gordon Clifford, set her down nicely on the dock. Right now.” Luke spoke sternly as he stood behind them on the dock.

“No, she needs to be taught a lesson.” Michael huffed.

“She’s been in the water enough for now. Everyone wants to eat, so put her down.”

“Yeah, asswipe. Put me down.” Gwen huffed.

“Talk shit one more time and I’ll throw you in.”

“My God, you two. Just put her down, Michael.” Luke crossed his arms. “I swear, if I didn’t know you, I’d think you two actually were brother and sister.”

“Great talk, can I get down now? I’m starting to get light headed.”

“Come on, Mike. Put her down.” Luke sighed. Michael huffed and set Gwen down on the dock.

“Thank you, asshole. Now, let’s go eat.” Gwen crossed her arms and walked away from the two boys, Luke’s eyes on her ass the whole time.

“Hey, eyes off my sister, mate.” Michael chuckled, patting Luke on the shoulder.

“Wh-what? I w-wasn’t..”

“You were, but keep it PG. We don’t need another scandal in this kingdom.” Michael smiled and walked over to everyone else.

“What do we get to eat tonight?” Kira asked from her seat at her table.

“Tonight, we serve hotdogs and sloppy Joe’s.” The chef announced.

“Sloppy Joe’s?” Gwen perked up. “Y’all have sloppy Joe’s here?”

“No, we don’t.” Alyssa crossed her arms.

“Prince Luke requested we serve hotdogs and sloppy Joe’s tonight.” The chef shrugged.

“And, why would he do that? He could’ve had you make something much more sophisticated.” Alyssa rolled her eyes.

“He wanted Lady Gwen to feel more comfortable with these American style foods. It also gives the chefs a night of easier work.” Hattie explained. “I heard him talking to the chef this morning when I was at the palace for breakfast.” Alyssa groaned and sat down.

“I am not eating this. This is the food of poor people.” Alyssa crossed her arms.

“Suit yourself.” Hattie smiled and took a bite of her sloppy Joe.

“This is the one night we’re allowed to get sloppy.” Paige giggled, dousing her hotdog in ketchup and mustard.

“You people disgust me.” Alyssa shook her head.

“Have fun starving.” Luke smiled at her and ate a sloppy Joe. Gwen sat at her table with the boys, quietly enjoying her food.

“Gwen, come swim with me!” Hattie smiled at her.

“Okay, hold on.” Gwen giggled and finished her soda. The two of them ran to the water’s edge and peeled off their clothes to reveal their bikinis.

“She’s so beautiful.” Luke sighed, watching Gwen and Hattie run into the water. “I can’t imagine not having her here. She’s made this whole thing so much easier on me.”

“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” Ashton chuckled.

“I really think I am. And, it terrifies me.” Luke looked at him. “How am I supposed to go through the rest of the social season when I already know that she’s the only one I’ll ever want?”

“Well, if you really want to be able to choose her, she’s gonna need to start acting like she belongs here. She needs to fix her potty mouth.” Michael sighed.

“She called Alyssa a ‘cunt’ to her face today.” Calum laughed.

“Did she really?” Luke widened his eyes.

“Well, Alyssa did say that Gwen couldn’t be queen with thighs as big as hers.” Ashton explained.

“Alyssa called Gwen fat?” Luke nearly choked on his soda. “She’s always been a bitch, but never like that. And, especially not about people’s weight.”

“Gwen was pretty hurt by it. She mentioned something about struggling with her weight as a kid, but I didn’t get much more into it.” Michael sighed. “She told me a little about growing up in the orphanage, and, my God, it was awful.”

“I wish I could do something for her, but I never get to spend any time with her without people around.” Luke sighed, looking out at the water where Gwen splashed around happily.

“What about a sunset boat ride? The yacht’s there.” Calum wiggled his eyebrows.

“Maybe I will. Lord knows I won’t get any time with her tonight. As soon as the music starts, Alyssa’s gonna be all over me.” Luke rolled his eyes.

“Just tell Gwen to wait for you tonight, then take her out for a boat ride to get your alone time.” Ashton shrugged. “You can deal with Alyssa for a few hours if it means you get to spend more time with Gwen.”

“I will.” Luke smiled and stood up, just as the music started.

“Lukey! Come dance with me!” Alyssa giggled, running over to him before anyone else could.

“Just give me a second.” Luke nodded to her before jogging to the water. “Gwen!” Luke called out to her.

“Hold on, Hattie.” Gwen smiled and walked over to Luke. “What’s up?”

“Wait for me on the dock after the party. I want to take you somewhere.” Luke smiled and kissed her cheek before going back to Alyssa.

“What was that about?” Alyssa asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Luke shook his head. “Ready to dance?”

“Of course, I am.” Alyssa smiled and pulled him over to the section for dancing. After a long night with Alyssa, Luke was more than ready to go out with Gwen on the yacht. As everyone was leaving, Gwen went and sat on the dock with her feet in the water. After a few minutes, Luke joined her.

“Today has been one of the longest days of my life.” Luke sighed, leaning back on his hands.

“Yeah, for me, too. Especially since I hardly got to see you at all.” Gwen looked up at him.

“Come on, let’s get on the yacht.” Luke stood up and held his hand out to her.

“A yacht? Well, aren’t you fancy.” Gwen giggled and took his hand, standing up. He laughed softly and lead her to the side of the dock where the yacht was waiting. “I’ve always dreamt of getting fucked on a yacht, you know.” Gwen giggled.

“Oh really? Why’s that?” Luke chuckled, letting her board first.

“I’ve just always thought of getting a sugar daddy with a yacht.” Gwen laughed and waited for Luke to board.

“I could be a sugar daddy of sorts.” Luke smiled and closed the gate behind him. “If you need more money for gowns and shit, you just let me know. I’d be more than happy to take care of that for you.”

“Michael gave me an allowance, I should be fine.” Gwen smiled and sat down on the small couch.

“Michael gave you an allowance? He can hardly afford to buy himself dinner.” Luke furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” Gwen looked at him.

“Michael’s family is broke. They’re probably gonna lose their entire estate.”

“Is that why he’s sponsoring me? So his family won’t lose their estate?”

“That’s part of it, I guess. He needed a way to help his family and, by doing this, he’s helping me and his family. He’s all his parents have, he’s gonna do anything he can to help them.”

“Do you think he’d have still sponsored me if his parents weren’t broke?”

“I think he would, yes. He’s always wanted a sibling and he’s always been a great friend.” Luke sat next to Gwen. “I think he’s becoming really fond of you, too.”

“He’s a fun guy.” Gwen smiled, laying her head on Luke’s shoulder. “Oh, thanks for the American food today. You have no idea what that means to me.”

“I wanted you to be comfortable. Not everyone can get used to the fancy foods we eat.” Luke wrapped his arm around her.

“I’ll get used to it, but it’s nice to have a little taste of home.” Gwen smiled and looked up at him. “I don’t miss New York, per se. I just miss the weather and the atmosphere.”

“The weather?” Luke looked down at her.

“We had all four seasons there. Here, you just get heat all the time. I’m gonna miss the snow.”

“Lucky for you, next week we’re going to the Swiss Alps.”

“The Alps? Really?”

“Yeah, Alyssa’s house is hosting the court, so we’ll be at her land.”

“Oh, great.” Gwen rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Gwen, she’s not that bad.” Luke sighed.

“She is that bad! She called me fat in front of literally everyone and then I was the one that people were mad at.”

“People are just scared to stand up to her.” Luke stood up and looked at Gwen.

“I’m not scared to stand up to her, but that doesn’t make it any easier to listen to her.” Gwen crossed her arms. “She’s not the first girl to ever make fun of me.”

“I know, Gwen. But, she’s had her share of hard times too.”

“That doesn’t make it okay for her to say those things to me!” Gwen threw her hands up in exasperation.

“I never said that made it okay, I just think you should go a little easy on her. She’s not used to coming in second, and now that you’re here, she has to.” Luke sighed and cupped Gwen’s cheeks. “She’s always been the only girl that anyone thought I’d end up with. Now, you’re here. She has to actually compete against a girl I actually like. She’s not used to not being liked.”

“She’s still a fucking cunt.” Gwen pouted, looking up at Luke.

“You’re so hot when you swear.” Luke laughed softly and kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back. Luke trailed his hands down to her ass, pulling her closer. Gwen pushed Luke’s shoulders, pushing him down on the couch. She straddled him and kissed him again. “Fuck, we could get in so much trouble for this.” Luke chuckled, slipping his hands under her shirt.

“Who’s gonna catch us? The yacht driver?” Gwen giggled, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“The fish are gonna know what we did.” Luke joked, pulling his own shirt off. Gwen laughed and pulled her striped sweater off. Luke’s eyes drifted down to her breasts, the sight making his heart beat faster.

“Enjoying the view?” Gwen giggled, reaching up to untie her bikini top.

“Absolutely.” Luke chewed on his lip as her top fell to the floor. “Fuck..” Luke groaned softly, cupping her breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, watching her eyes close in pleasure. Gwen moaned out his name as he took her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently.

“Oh, fuck.” Gwen whimpered softly and gripped his hair. Luke smirked and laid her down on the couch, settling between her legs. He kissed down her stomach as he pulled her shorts off.

“You’re so beautiful.” Luke grinned and pulled her bottoms off. “So fucking beautiful.” He licked her clit, flicking it with his tongue.

“Shit, Luke.” Gwen gasped, arching her back. Luke smirked against her and sucked on her clit harshly. Gwen moaned louder and gripped his hair. His tongue wandered down to her entrance, gently dipping his tongue in. “Oh, my God.” She gasped, tugging on his hair.

“You taste so good.” Luke hummed, pulling her closer to him. Gwen moaned out his name and arched her back off the couch. He smirked and inserted two fingers. She moaned louder and tugged on his hair.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” She moaned, bucking her hips. Luke smirked and thrusted his fingers quickly, curling them. Gwen moaned loudly, clenching around his fingers. “I’m so close.” Luke pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean. “What the hell, Luke?” Gwen whined.

“Shh, I don’t want you cumming yet.” Luke chuckled, pushing his swim trunks down. Gwen huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, stop that.” Luke grabbed her arms and pulled them away. “You’re blocking my view.”

“You’re such a man.” Gwen rolled her eyes and giggled as she pulled him down to kiss him.

“I’m your man.” Luke smiled and kissed her gently. Gwen giggled softly and wrapped her legs around his waist. Luke lined himself up with her entrance and pushed in slowly. Gwen gasped and gripped Luke’s bicep.

“Holy fuck.” She whimpered softly.

“Too much?” Luke asked, stilling inside her.

“No, no, it’s perfect. Please keep going.” Gwen moaned, looking up at him. He nodded and kissed her gently as he thrusted slowly. “Faster.” Gwen moaned, bucking her hips. Luke groaned and gripped her hips, thrusting harder and faster. Gwen moaned louder as Luke pounded into her. “Fuck!” She moaned loudly, the pleasure becoming almost too intense.

“You feel so fucking good.” Luke groaned, bringing his thumb down to her clit, rubbing fast circles against it. Gwen’s thighs shook as she moaned loudly.

“Luke, oh, God. Fuck.” Gwen gasped out as she came around him. “Don’t stop.” Gwen begged, bucking her hips. Luke grabbed her hips and flipped her over before thrusting into her again. She moaned loudly and gripped the edge of the couch. Luke groaned and pounded into her harder. Luke brought his fingers back to her clit, rubbing fast circles once more. Gwen moaned loudly and clenched around him.

“Jesus, fuck.” Luke groaned and pounded harder.

“I’m close.” Gwen whimpered, resting her forehead on the arm of the couch. Luke pulled her hips closer to his and rubbed her clit faster. Gwen gasped out a moan as she came once more. Luke groaned lowly as he released inside her.

“Holy fuck.” Luke grunted, pulling out.

“Holy fuck is right.” Gwen giggled breathlessly. Luke chuckled and sat on the couch next to where she laid. “You’re pretty experienced for a prince, you know.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“Well, you’re the second girl I’ve been with. You know, Alyssa was the first.”

“Ugh, her name makes me want to vomit.” Gwen rolled her eyes and got dressed.

“I know you don’t like her, but you have to at least pretend to get along with her.” Luke sighed and put his swim trunks on.

“I’m not going to pretend to get along with her. She’s a stuck up cunt and I’m going to remind her of it every time I see her.” Gwen crossed her arms and sat down.

“She wasn’t always a bitch. Things happened and now she’s just cold.”

“Stop defending her!” Gwen yelled, turning to Luke.

“I’m not defending her! I just don’t see how you can dislike her so much over one comment.” Luke shook his head. “People aren’t always going to like you, you have to be able to deal with that.”

“I know people don’t like me. I know that Kira and Paige aren’t too find of me, but they have enough self control to keep their comments to themselves or to the times I can’t hear them. Alyssa has no reason to say things out loud and to my face.”

“That’s just how she is. No one can do anything about it.”

“You could! She clearly likes you, she’d listen to you! Is your image too fragile that you can’t stand up for someone?”

“Why do you need someone else to stand up for you? Can’t you do it yourself?!”

“I am doing it myself, Luke! But, every time I do, I get in trouble for it! This is the exact same thing that happened to me in high school.” Gwen sat down and put her face in her hands.

“What happened in high school?” Luke asked, sitting next to her.

“Why should I tell you? You’re gonna defend everyone that’s ever hurt me.”

“Gwen, you know that’s not true. Tell me what happened.”

“I tried to kill myself, Luke. The same type of girls that are here, I went to high school with. Alyssa is the typical popular girl. She thinks she’s the shit because she’s pretty and rich. She thinks that her status makes it okay for her to put down other girls. All throughout high school, I was told I was too fat or too ugly. I was 14 and I was starving myself and making myself throw up. I felt as ugly as they told me I was. I told adults at my school, I told adults at the orphanage. They all told me I couldn’t hate those who hurt me because I didn’t know their side of the story. But, I don’t need to know their side of the story to know that they ruined my life. I spent 8 months in the psychiatric ward of the hospital after trying to commit suicide.”

“Gwen, you should’ve told me sooner.” Luke whispered, holding her hand.

“No, you should’ve listened to me sooner. You shouldn’t have ever defended Alyssa. She’s a classic bully and excusing her behavior just encourages her to do it more.” Gwen shook her head. “Someone needs to put her in her place, and if I’m not allowed to stand up for myself, someone else has to.”

“I know, but that’s where things get tricky with the courts. If I speak out against her, she’ll file a complaint about the fairness of the social season. I could be abdicated, just like Jack was.”

“Has Alyssa ever acted like this to anyone else? She hasn’t been mean to anyone else, but me.”

“She’s not usually mean to people, unless she feels threatened by them.” Luke sighed. “She knows how much I like you, and she’s jealous.”

“I won’t be able to hold myself back, if she tries to talk shit again.”

“I’m sure Michael will hold you back.” Luke chuckled softly. Gwen smiled a little and rested her head on Luke’s shoulder.

“We should probably head back. It’s late.” Gwen yawned.

“I wish you and I had more time together.” Luke sighed.

“Me too, but we’ve got rules to play by here.” Luke nodded and wrapped his arms around her. The yacht slowly made its way back to the port. The two of them made their separate ways back to the palace.

“Where have you been?” Michael asked as Gwen walked into her room.

“Uh, I was with Luke?” Gwen looked at him confused.

“You need to stop being alone with him like this.” Michael shook his head and stood up. “It’s too dangerous.”

“What are you talking about? You encouraged me to spend time with him.” Gwen crossed her arms.

“That was before this was taped to your door.” Michael handed her the note. Gwen took it and read it aloud.

“‘Your arrival in the court will end in flames. Leave now to save yourself from scandal.’”

[burricane]

2018 Musical Rewind

OKAY, so I did one of these last year and a lot of you guys enjoyed it so here we go. This time, I’m taking a look at musicals (both broadway, live performances, movies, and west end) that I think really helped to change and influence musical theatre as whole this past year (end of 2017 to now)

Head Over Heels: WE DO NOT DESERVE THIS MUSICAL. A gay musical based on a book from the 1600s???!!! With music by the Go Gos???!!! And Peppermint the drag queen playing the first role originated on broadway by a transgender actor???!!! BITCH!!!! I straight up burst into tears when I found out it’s closing ajfjekgwhwjwjwjwsjjaekskwwkwk

Six: Barely ANYONE in the broadway community on Tumblr has commented on this little number but oh god does it need more love. It’s a female driven, diverse, pop music musical about Henry VIII’s six wives. I’ve been listening to the album for five days straight it’s so good sOMEONE HELP I’M THE QUEEN OF THE CASTLE GET DOWN YOU DIRTY RASCAL GET DOWN

Everyone’s Talking About Jamie: I love her???!!! This musical is about a sixteen year old British drag queen and it has diversity???!!! Bussy bops???!!! ACTUAL LGBTQAP REPRESENTATION!!!!!! This musical is dominating the West End and is already working on a movie adaption we stan a LEGEND

Moulin Rouge: I didn’t think that the musical version of Moulin Rouge would be as jaw dropping as the movie but the new Bad Romance/Toxic/Seven Nation Army mashup song left me SHAKING in awe. I’m so excited for it to open on broadway guys we’re gonna get that album!!!!!!!

Jesus Christ Superstar Live: This Live musical was SO well done that it won an Emmy???!!! BITCH!!!!!! Where am I supposed to start with the cast because everyone was AMAZING???!!! 10/10 I would let Sara Bareilles kill me with her bare hands askekwkfoekwkfnenwmmsjqjqjsxkwk

Frozen: This musical was always bound to be good music wise because George and Lauren Lopez are musical GENIUSES but the puppetry???!!! The added depth to the characters???!!! The costumes???!!! Literally everything about this musical is good (btw Timothy Hughes is still a legend tbh)

Spongebob The Musical: Y’all KNOW why this musical is amazing. Ethan Slater is a GOD and Wesley Taylor is my meme daddy. The set for this musical ALONE found new ways to innovate set design and that is so amazing and inspiring what the fuck WHAT THE FUCK

Mean Girls: Literally everything about this musical is iconic oh god. Barret Wilbert Weed is my GODDESS this musical deserved MORE from the Tony’s dammit!!!

The Donna Summer Musical: Ariana De Bose literally starting as an ensemble member in Hamilton and now starring in a musical is ICONIC and I hope that homegirl gets EVERYTHING she deserves at the 2018 Tony’s

The Greatest Showman: Hugh Jackman’s happy circus movie musical has left me sobbing on the floor literally every time I’ve watched it

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again: Do I even need to explain why this was so good???!!! 10/10 would listen to Cher serenade me with ABBA songs again

Bat Out Of Hell: A Meatloaf musical with a dystopian future theme is actually so good that its mind blowing. Paradise By The Dashboard lights is STRAIGHT UP one of the best musical theatre covers of a traditionally non-musical song that I have ever heard, and y’all KNOW how much I stan every song from the American Idiot musical. It’s extremely good oh god

The Prom: I haven’t heard the soundtrack yet but that Macy’s Parade kiss is enough to make me love this musical tbh 👌 HYPED for the soundtrack

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone -Part Fourteen

GUESS WHO HAS TWO THUMBS AND HAS VOMITED WITHIN THE PAST TWENTY-FOUR HOURS!!!

*screams into the void* MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

That was gross. Sorry.

I am sick again. This has been the theme of my summer.

But why lament the loss of our physical health when we can write fanfiction!

I know this update is astonishingly early. I’m attributing that to the fact that my latest meds make me largely nocturnal, thus allowing me to work uninterrupted.

I don’t know how many updates I’ll do this weekend. Y’all might get treated. We’ll see.

Welcome back! Last time, we celebrated Shuri’s birthday! Tears were shed over the lack of T’Chaka’s presence, and Dewani CAME THE FUCK THROUGH with an amazing birthday gift!

This week is a bit of a plot filler. It’s really obviously meant to set up other points, but I got the end and went “This feels good. I’m not going to add on to this bit. This is a good stopping point.”

So, yeah! Enjoy the early update!

Rating: T for language.

Warnings: strong language, mild verbal fighting, and mild sexual themes.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku, background Shuri x OC, and background T’Challa x Nakia.

@the-last-hair-bender

You cannot win every fight you enter.

You will lose matches. You will fail missions. You will be frustrated, and you will loathe the bitter taste of defeat.

Do not loathe yourselves, my dears. You are human. You are not required to be perfect.

It does not matter if you fall down, only if you get back up.

The Gibson Desert, Australia; 3 AM Western Australia Time

Okoye paused to wipe beads of sweat away from her brow as she crept towards a seemingly abandoned warehouse in the middle of the Gibson Desert. And M’Baku thinks Birnin Zana is unbearably hot.

Their latest lead on Klaue’s associate had lead them here --an old hideout of Klaue’s in the middle of fuck nowhere that, according to their intel, he retreated to when the CIA, FBI, Interpol, or other intelligence agencies came too close to capturing him. If they were lucky, Klaue’s associate --and the vibranium cache--would be there.

She signaled to the other Dora Milaje that had accompanied her, and they moved in together.

Okoye stopped outside the back door. She waited until her women were in position, then nodded to Djabi.

Djabi kicked the door in.

Okoye sprinted into the warehouse, bracing herself for an onslaught of resistance.

The air was stiflingly hot and still inside. The space inside was completely dark and smelled like dust.

Okoye scowled and activated the flashlight function on her kimoyo beads. Don’t tell me...

The warehouse was utterly empty, save for a decrepit looking mattress stained with Bast knows what and an unnatural abundance of cobwebs.

Okoye smacked the end of her spear against the concrete floor. “Bast dammit!”

Birnin Zana, Wakanda; 10 AM.

Okoye glared at the report of her mission to Wakanda.

Again, all of the leads and intelligence they’d collected confirmed --not indicated, confirmed--that Klaue’s associate was in the safe house in Australia. Plane tickets, emails, texts, phone calls, satellite tracking of the vibranium that had been stolen --an entire fucking paper trail!

Again, all of their satellite scans --on the best satellite Shuri could build--had indicated that at least sixteen people had been in that warehouse. Vitals, heat signatures, motion sensors, everything!

Again, there hadn’t been so much as a suggestion that the “alleged” occupants were wise to their arrival or had decided to pack up and ship out.

And, again, they’d arrived on the scene to find an abandoned location.

At least it wasn’t booby-trapped this time, Okoye thought, deeply pissed off.

It wasn’t about failing the mission...

It was a little about failing the mission.

But, more importantly, vibranium was deeply dangerous in the wrong hands.

We know Klaue was more than capable of building weapons. Okoye’s stomach lurched. His associate could sell them off to the highest builder.

Or, worse, sell it to an American intelligence agency.

The end of the fucking world as we know it.

The was a knock at the door, and it swung open before she could answer. “I was sent here with a mission.”

Okoye smiled, surprised to see M’Baku standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“The King said it was an emergency. I imagine that is mostly about the difficulties in locating the vibranium stolen by Klaue, but I suspect he wants me to calm you down as well.” He lifted two cups. “Hence, I brought bribes.”

Okoye closed the display of the mission report. “I accept your bribe. Sit.”

M’Baku handed her one of the cups and sat with a chuckle. “I take it the mission didn’t go well.”

“No. We were duped again.”

M’Baku kissed his teeth. “I’m sorry, my love. I know it’s frustrating for you.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Okoye muttered darkly as she sipped at her coffee.

“The King called an emergency council meeting for today. Apparently, the tribal leaders are a little upset over the lack of progress.”

“Well, they’re not the only ones.”

M’Baku was silent for a moment, then reached across the desk and took her hand in his. “You look tired, my love.”

“Oh, because that’s what every woman is just dying to hear.”

“I only mean that you look like you could use a vacation.”

Okoye slumped back in her chair. “For once, I’m with you. I’m exhausted.”

“In that case... may I recommend a trip to the Jabari lands? The cold is quite refreshing.”

Okoye smirked at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get me to come see you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have mandatory time off in two weeks.”

“Why the delay?”

“We’re going back to the United States. President Trump is supposed to be issuing a formal apology to me at the American/Wakandan Unity Press Conference event.”

A dark smile twisted M’Baku’s lips. “Honestly? I want to see that.”

“Ask the King. I sure won’t mind having you there.”

“I will. Believe me, I will.”

The atmosphere of the throne room was tense. Everyone’s face was equally puckered with the burdensome knowledge they all bore together:

Klaue’s associate kept evading them. As far as they knew, the associate had enough vibranium at their fingertips to annihilate half of China.

Okoye had just finished briefing the council on the latest failed mission.

The disappointed and judgmental expressions that the elders wore stung. Deeply.

T’Challa steepled his fingers together and let out a heavy sigh. “At this point, I am less and less convinced that Klaue’s associate could’ve pulled all of this off without inside help.”

Nakia frowned and placed a hand on T’Challa’s arm. “You think we have a mole among our ranks?”

“What other explanation is there? There’s no logical explanation as to how they keep evading us.”

“Well,” the Mining tribe leader said with a displeased look at the Border tribe leader. “I think we all know where to start looking.”

“How dare you insult the Border tribe! We have proved our loyalty--”

“By betraying the King even after it was evident that the challenge had not been completed--”

“Enough,” T’Challa barked. “This meeting was not arranged for the purpose of accusing the Border tribe. Anyone could have leaked our information to Klaue’s associate.”

“My King, the Border tribe ought to be suspect because of their willingness to back Killmonger --a willingness that no other tribe demonstrated,” the River tribe leader said.

T’Challa drummed his fingers against the arm of his throne. “My uncle, Prince N’Jobu, betrayed my father because he believed that the world needed vibranium. This isn’t about what wars have been fought; it’s about who believes that selling out to Klaue’s associate is worthwhile. And that belief is something that can be possessed by any person, regardless of the tribe they hail from.”

“Perhaps the process of finding the traitor should be handled by a neutral party,” M’Baku recommended.

“That... is probably our best option,” T’Challa agreed. “General Okoye, do you believe the Dora Milaje are up to the task?”

Okoye nodded. “We’ll partner with our internal intelligence team in the War Dogs program once they’re done with their own internal analysis.”

“How do we know the mole isn’t in the ranks of the Dora Milaje?” the Mining tribe leader asked.

“The longer we sit around, worrying over where the mole will be, the more opportunities the associate has to sell off the last of Klaue’s vibranium to the highest bidder,” Okoye said. “We need to start looking. Bottom line. Once we do, any mole that might be in Wakanda will run out of places to hide.” She swallowed hard as the tribal leaders started discussing the best methods for finding the mole, what timeline was most appropriate for the situation, and what punishment was suitable for betraying Wakanda.

After five failed missions, her confidence in finding the infiltrator --to say nothing of the missing vibranium--was at an all time low.

Bast, please don’t let me be wrong.

“This is nothing but discrimination!”

Okoye fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Long story short: M’Baku had taken issue with the idea of interrogating the citizens of the Jabari lands. A very, very large issue.

T’Challa, on the other hand, had no issues with pinching the bridge of his nose. He groaned. “M’Baku, it’s just a formality--”

“Your entire political system seems to be one of formalities. Why interrogate the Jabari when we have no interest in vibranium, no access to it, and no contact with the outside world?”

“If we hadn’t included the Jabari tribe in the planning, the council leaders--”

“The council leaders can shove their formalities up their pompous--”

“Whoa!” Dewani skipped up to her brother. “Save the swearing for me.”

M’Baku frowned down at his younger sister. “What are you doing here?”

“I was summoned. I was told you were throwing a temper tantrum.”

M’Baku stared down at Dewani, then narrowed his eyes at T’Challa. “My sister is not your convenient ticket to getting me to cooperate.”

“I asked her to come, M’Baku,” Okoye said, allowing some her exasperation to leak through. “I figured having her opinion on the situation was valuable --and that you might listen to her.”

M’Baku opened his mouth, closed it, crossed his arms over his chest, and opened his mouth again. “You think I’m being unreasonable.”

“Well, you are,” Dewani said. “These are special circumstances, obviously.”

“There is not a single Jabari that would deign to lower themselves by having anything to do with vibranium. Not. One.”

Okoye shot a glance at Dewani, then steeled herself for the low blow she was about to make. “M’Baku. What are your people’s laws on homosexuality?”

M’Baku frowned. “What?”

“Your people’s laws on homosexuality. Is there any formal ban on it?”

M’Baku’s jaw tensed as he put together where she was going. “No. The laws of Hanuman do not forbid homosexuality.”

“Then... how did your uncle come to the position he’s so adamant on keeping?” Okoye pressed her lips into a thin line as M’Baku looked away from her. “If your uncle can promote hatred and abuse when the law does not support him, then it’s at least possible that someone might have sold us out, even though the Jabari condemn the use of vibranium.”

M’Baku rolled his jaw, and stared pointedly at the wall behind her. “Your logic is impressive, General.”

Okoye pushed down the sting of his cold tone and held up her hands in an appeasing gesture. “I will hand pick the women who will conduct the interrogations. Your people and their property will be treated with the utmost of respect. You have my word.”

M’Baku looked at her, finally. His eyes were dark and hard. “That, I can agree to.” He shot an annoyed glance at T’Challa. “Anything else, my King?”

T’Challa shot M’Baku an equally annoyed glance back. “No, Chief M’Baku.”

“Good.” With that, he spun on his heel and strode out of the throne room.

Okoye grimaced. “That went poorly.”

“Don’t mind him,” Dewani said. “He’s being a brat.”

“Dewani!”

“You are!”

Okoye watched as Dewani chased after her brother, jabbering at him about “not being so much of a fucking asshole.” Well. This day has officially gone from bad to worse.

The door to M’Baku’s suite swung open, revealing a pajama-clad Dewani. “Hi, Okoye!” She nodded in the direction of the private patio. “He’s pouting outside.”

“I do not pout!” M’Baku shouted from where he was seated on the patio.

“Yes, you do!” Dewani leaned towards Okoye and whispered conspiratorially. “I’ve been working on him for you. I think I’ve managed to help him un-wedge his head from his ass.”

Okoye winked at Dewani. “You have my thanks, recruit.”

Dewani saluted, then turned and yelled at M’Baku. “I’m going to go see Shuri. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Behave for the Queen Mother.”

“I will!”

Okoye swallowed hard as the door closed behind Dewani and forced herself to take a deep breath. Relax. He’s not going to scream at you. She walked over to where M’Baku was sitting and smiled down at him. “Am I welcome, or do you hate me now?”

M’Baku smiled tiredly up at her. “Like I could ever hate you.”

Okoye allowed herself to be pulled down into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about the homosexuality bit earlier. I should’ve done that in private.”

“You’re fine,” M’Baku murmured as he pressed his lips against her temple. “I was being... unreasonably difficult. Besides, T’Challa probably would’ve brought it up. And if he didn’t, Dewani definitely would have.”

“Maybe so, but it’s different with me. I’m your partner; it’s not fair for me to take that kind of shot in front of everyone else.”

“Debatable. Honestly, I was more annoyed about being wrong than your pointing out my logical fallacy.”

Okoye rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “Of course.”

“The Jabari are nothing if not proud of themselves. And don’t think I didn’t notice you use the term ‘partner.’” He grinned down at her. “Are we ‘official’ now?”

“I don’t see why not. We’ve been together for a while now.”

M’Baku nodded. “A whole year just two months after Dewani’s birthday.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I talked to the King about coming with you to America. He said he was fine with it.”

“I’m going to say this right now --you cannot punch Trump. No matter how much you may want to.”

“‘Koye--”

“I’m not kidding, M’Baku. He will test your self-control that hard.”

M’Baku put his hand over his heart. “I will not start an international incident. I promise.”

“Thank you.” She kissed him gently, then moved to straddle her lap as an unexpected burst of arousal started coiling inside her.

She was on such a sensitive trigger for M’Baku in a way that she had never been for W’Kabi.

It was wonderful.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” she murmured against his lips.

“As convenience would have, Dewani is spending the night with the Princess.”

“Do you mind if I stay with you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Okoye laughed as M’Baku picked her up --hands planted firmly on her ass--and carried her to his bed. Bast, I love this man.

[agent-absinthe]

Don’t Touch Me Pt. 2

Holy shit y’all CAME FOR ME because of the last one lmao I almost feel bad for writing it!  I got a few requests for a sequel so here it is.  Just as angsty and awful as the first one! - Part 1-  I recommend Habits by Tove Lo and idfc by Blackbear 

Absinthe was bracing herself against the sink of a shitty little restroom in a seedy bar that Tequila had brought her to.  She looked up into the mirror and rubbed a hand under her eye to try and even out the smudged make up, mascara tear streaks running down her cheeks.  Fuck she couldn’t keep doing this every week, but she couldn’t stop.  It was one of the only things she could look forward to and Tequila was more than happy to have someone to have fun with, especially when she took whatever he gave her without much care for what it was.  God, what the fuck was she doing?  

“Hey!  Ya ok in there?  Come on we gotta go!“ 

“Ya, I’m fine just give me a second.“ 

Tequila opened the door anyway and pulled her out by the arm, everything was blurry and slow as he led her out the door.  The cold air hit her hard and she held onto him as they moved.

“Wanna head home or brave another bar?“  

“Bar, club, anything.  Just not home yet.“  Her tongue felt too heavy as she spoke.

“Mmm, ya ok?  Hey, look at me-“ Tequila stopped and grabbed her chin, shaking her a bit.

“No, yer goin’ home.  What the fuck did you take?“

“I dont know.  Whatever, you gave me-“

“I didnt give you anything!“  Why did he sound so mad?  Chill out.

Oh ya, it hadn’t been Tequila, it had been that stripper that looked a little like him.  Fuck, what was his name again?  

“Whoa, whoa you need to stay with me, Elise.  Come on, girl don’t fucking pass out on me.”

His voice was getting so distant now, the sound of her labored breathing the only thing her ears seemed to register, like she was under water.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

~

The taste in her mouth was the first thing Elise noticed when she woke up, eyes crusty with day old eyeliner and mascara, a painful pimple already developing from the left on foundation.  Wait.  This wasn’t her bed.  And who’s fucking shirt did she have on?

“Thank fucking god yer awake!” 

“Where am I?  What happened?“  

Tequila looked like he was about to cry before getting furious.

“Ya fuckin’ took some shit from a stripper and ran off!  Yer lucky I found ya in the bathroom when i did because you passed out on me.  Fuckin’ had to get Ginger to come over and pump your stomach so we wouldn’t have to take you in.“

“Oh my god.“  Elise covered her face and fell back to the bed.

“Ya, Elise look I ain’t got no business tellin’ you what to do but you gotta get yer shit together.  I know you’re still hurtin’ but fuck darlin’ it’s been a few months and honestly ya starting to look like shit.“

She started to laugh at that because it was true and it hurt to admit that she hadn’t been taking care of herself.  It was hard right now to do anything except drown out her feelings in whatever she could find.

“Come on, get up.  We gotta a plane to catch.“  He tossed her a button down and her skinny jeans from last night.

It felt good to get all of the crusted make up off, Tequila’s face wash was actually decent and luckily he had an extra toothbrush lying around, god she would have to cook for him soon as thanks for all this.  She still looked like shit but at least her breath didn’t smell like it.  When Champ told Absinthe he was promoting her to head of the Psych department she didn’t know what to say, she was 25 and getting a promotion like that was unheard of.  Until he added that it would be at the Kingsman location and that their Psych Department consisted of 5 other agents.  

“So...you gonna be ok?”  Tequila asked quietly as they took off.

“I guess.  Champ said if I didn’t clean up my act I’d be put on leave until further notice.  I just- I don’t want to see him.  I still feel like shit-.”

“Hey, hey sweetpea no, that ain’t your fault, ok?  That shit is on him, we all know that if ya had known it wouldnta happened.”  He wrapped his arm around her, prepared for the tears.

~

“Mhmm, oh yes.  Of course I’ll show you where all the good cafes are!  I made sure to get you assigned to a good room, much better than the one you had a Statesman.“  

Merlin walked into the meeting room and was surprised to see Harry on his personal phone as the other agents waited impatiently.

“I’ve taken it upon myself to have a gift basket made as well.  And I’ve already gotten your schedule cleared up for when we go see Elton.  Just a moment dear someone’s glaring at me-”  Harry covered the phone, “it’s Elise, they landed a few moments ago.”

“Yes, yes Eggsy and Roxy are very excited to see you.  No, no you aren’t interrupting anything.“

Merlin’s heart sank at her name.  The guilt that had subsided over the past few months now opened up like a fresh wound.  They hadn’t spoken since she told him to get out; their departments were on opposite sides of the distillery so they would have limited contact, if any.  Still, just knowing she would be this close to him resurfaced everything he had felt in Kentucky and those feelings also brought nauseating shame.  His marriage with Sophia had flourished since he got back, now that their HQ was in Scotland he got to spend much more time at home.

“I’m on my way to the landing strip now.“

“Arthur, sir, we need to do a debrief.“ 

“Do it without me, Merlin.  I’m sure it’ll be fine.“

Merlin almost screamed...

~

Absinthe was fucking FLOURISHING; the others in the department respected her, she hadn’t gone out and gotten drunk in weeks, and knowing Merlin was in the same building barely even crossed her mind anymore.  The smile on her face seemed permanent as she made her way through the distillery, god they had to make this place so confusing didn’t they?

“Pardon me, dear!”  A light,Scottish voice called from behind her.

A tall, redhead holding a clipboard and a lunch bag was jogging up to her with a bashful smile.  She was older, maybe mid 40′s but holy shit was she gorgeous, even in jeans and a simple jumper the woman looked STUN-NING.  

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the front desk, seemed to have gotten turned about.”  

“I’m heading that way actually!  And this place is like a maze, still haven’t gotten used to it.  What brings you to the distillery?”

“My husband, lord help me, forgot his clipboard and lunch at home.  Made me come all the way up here for a clipboard.“ 

“They’re hopeless aren’t they?“  She tsked.  

The women shared an understanding laugh together and continued down the hall making small talk and giggling comfortably. 

“You’re American, right?”

“I’m from the U.S sister location.  I actually just got transferred here a month or so ago.”

The woman smiled at her, “And what bring’s ya to Scotland, love?  How do you like it so far?”

“God, it’s gorgeous and I was appointed to head of... H.R.”

“What?  Good lord, ya cannot be older than what, 26?”

“25.”

“You’re just a babe still, a child really.  So young, my goodness it must be exciting!”

“Oh, come on you’re what, 32?”

She tossed her head with a deep laugh, ”Aw, you’re so cheeky.  Child, I’m 46.”

“Well, you look great.”  Was Elise flirting?  Probably not? 

The redhead slapped her shoulder playfully as they finally arrived at the front desk.  The poor worker looked so relieved to finally see other human beings.

“Sorry, love I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Elise, so good to meet you!”  She held out her hand.

“Sophia.  I’m sure I’ll see y’again, ya know we should do lunch sometime!  I can introduce ye to some locals, I know a bar back at the village spot  that would love to make yer acquaintance.”  

More warm laughter.  

“I would actually really like that.”  Elise felt her heart get even lighter knowing she had just made a friend.

“Fantastic.  Let me get your number-”  Sophia handed off the clipboard and bag to the front desk assistant.

“Oh thank goodness you brought this.  He’s been calling down every five minutes seeing if it’s been dropped off.”  The assistant mumbled punching in the tech department’s extension.

“Fantastic, I’ll shoot ya a text later this week!  Oh, I better stay and say hi to him I guess, men can be so sensitive can’t they?”

“I know right.  Oh, who’s your husband?  I don’t think I asked.”

“Hamish.  He works in the tech department.”

No.  Oh no.  Oh god, no.  

“You alright, darlin’?”  The poor kid suddenly looked mortified.

“Um, ya.  It was so great to meet you but I just remembered I have a meeting to get to.  Have a good day!” 

Elise was able to make it back down the hall and into a bathroom stall before the first sob broke through her mouth.  She bit down on her fist to keep the cries from echoing in the empty room and pressed herself against the stall.  Why?  Why had this happened?  Everything was going so well, she was doing so well.  As the secondhand guilt came back tenfold another thought manifested itself screaming, 'there's no way he could have cared for you if he has her!  God, he must have really lowered those standards for you!’  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.“  She chanted elbowing the stall until she bled..

As her breakdown slowly subsided her phone began to ring, Tequila, probably wondering where she was.

“Hey.“

“Where the hell are ya?  We need- wait, are ya ok?  Yer voice sounds thick.“

A sniff, “Ya, ya I’m fine.  Hey, can we go out tonight?”

“Darlin’ it’s Wednesday.“

“So?  Come on we haven’t done anything crazy since we left the states.“

There was a short silence before he laughed, “dammit girl, alright.  You better hurry that ass up though cause I cain’t keep this meeting stalled for long.”

Elise now braced herself against the sink, staring into the mirror and trying to salvage any makeup that was able to stay on her skin.  The promise of a drunk, destructive night soothing her nerves for now.

Looks like it was back to square one.  

~

Roxy and several other younger agents had tagged along, the London club scene apparently hot and heavy even during the middle of the week.  Tequila was being a butthead and refusing to let Absinthe out of his sight, this was so stupid.  He kept handing her drinks though, so that made up for it, for now.  

She was on the dance floor?  When had she gotten here?  Where was Roxy, she was just dancing with her.  A couple pulled her into their circle.  They were warm so she stayed.

It was cold outside, snow crunching underneath her shoes.  Trying to read her phone while her fingers trembled.  She sent Roxy and Tequila a text to stop their obnoxious and worried calls.  “I’m fine.  See u in the morning.”  She spilled into a cab along with the couple from the night club.  

It was still dark out when Elise opened her eyes.  The alarm clock on the nightstand she didn’t recognize let her know that it was 5 a.m and the two bodies tangled on either side of her were still breathing deeply.  With as much grace as she could muster half drunk Absinthe slipped off the bed, thankful that all her clothes were in a pile at the foot of the bed and her phone was dead but still in her coat pocket.  The morning was cold and snowy, cheeks burning from the frost as she waited for a Kingsman cab, it wouldn’t take her long to get back to the distillery after she made it to the hyper express at the shop.  

 At 6 Absinthe was in the break room making coffee to help sober her up when the door opened and Merlin walked in.  He paused, unsure if he should just leave or alert her to his presence.

“Elise...How, are you?“  

Her body went taut at his voice, but she didn’t turn around, determined to finish making herself a cup before she darted out of the room.

“I’m doing great.  How are you?“

“It’s good to see you.“  He said softly, walking closer to her

She didn’t respond to that and continued to stir in her sugar.  Elise could feel him just standing there behind her, staring at her.  Nerves on end she turned to go keeping her head down to avoid his gaze because she had gone this long without seeing him and dammit she wasn’t gonna ruin her streak now.

“Wait.“  He stepped in front of her, “look at me, please.  I jus’ want to make sure we’re on good terms.  Please, Elise.“

That was a mistake because she looked awful.  The hollowness in her eyes let him know that whatever was going on with her most likely had something to do with him.  

“Sure, Hamish.  We’re on ok terms.“

He frowned at that and raised a hand towards her face as if to cup it, his thumb brushing against a bit of old mascara on her cheek before pulling back.  The silence was heavy and he opted for a hand on her shoulder instead, he just needed to touch her.

“Can I go now?”  It wasn’t a sharp question like it should have been.  It was small and weak.

“Ya, ya sorry.“  

The door clicked shut behind her and Merlin looked down at his hand, wondering why he couldn’t just leave her alone. 

[wishiwasmorticia]

Let’s settle this for once and for all: your moralizing about Spike being a rapist is bullshit because...(a rant)

I’ve seen too many rants about this lately to keep quiet for much longer, so here we go.  ** DISCLAIMER: I do not hate Angel or Bangel. I prefer Spike and Spuffy, but this does not mean I hate Bangel or Bangel fans. I have lots of nice things to say about Angel; I just like him better on his own show, and I prefer him with Cordelia. But I appreciate that you love Angel/Bangel so much. Rock on. Love them as hard as you can. What I DO hate are double standards, uninformed opinions, and such deep emotional investment in a character or a ship that one blindly puts it on a pedestal and deliberately ignores its flaws, while vilifying a rival character or ship for being “problematic,” and while also projecting that onto fans of the rival character/ship, saying THEY’RE blindly putting their fave on a pedestal and rationalizing. If you are an Angel/Bangel fan and you’re happy to live and let live where Spike/Spuffy fans are concerned, you’re cool - this isn’t about you. **

Claiming that Spike is irredeemable because he attempted to rape Buffy is complete bullshit - projection and rationalization rooted in nothing more than the fact that you like Angel better and wanted him to end up with Buffy. A bold claim? How about we deconstruct the anti-Spike/Spuffy rhetoric for a moment...

Let’s begin with the idea that sexual offenders can’t be rehabilitated. I minored in psychology as an undergrad. In 2013, I took Psychology of Atypical Sexuality. The class dealt with things like fetishes and paraphilia, and went all the way through sex offenders. The first week, we had a guest lecturer from New Zealand, a colleague my professor met when she was on sabbatical. They have a completely different way of handling sex offenders there, and have significantly reduced recidivism rates. What are they doing that we’re not in the US? Mostly, it’s the fact that they actually TRY to rehabilitate offenders, and offer them community support and the tools to change, rather than focusing on retribution and humiliation. Only the highest-risk offenders go on registries, and that didn’t even go into effect until last year. This does not mean that the rest get off scott free, but what it does mean is that they accept that there is such a thing as paying one’s debt to society and once they’ve served their sentence, the goal is to help integrate them back into the community and be productive members of society who don’t sexually offend. It’s hard. It takes a lot of therapy. It takes a lot of community support. But it’s doable...if you actually DO it. Americans don’t like to hear that, though. Even though studies show that our current methods of dealing with sex offenders do NOTHING to prevent recidivism and often actually increase it, but we LIKE the sex offender lists and the laws that keep them away from children, because dammit, somebody did something to keep us safe and it satisfies our need for retribution! So if this is the kind of mindset you’re coming from when writing Spike off as nothing but a rapist, I can’t change your mind...but you’re still wrong.  Also, let’s remember that Spike DID NOT have a soul when that happened. You claim that it does not matter - I’m going to debunk that one next - but if we follow the metaphor of New Zealand and community support, that’s pretty much how Spike getting a soul and becoming an integral part of the Scoobies afterward functioned. If you listen closely to his Crazy in the Basement™ ramblings, he knows what he did was wrong and why it was wrong. He learned. He’s capable of change. He can’t operate in the human world the same way he did in the vampire world. The rules are different.  Yes, Spike assaulted Buffy in her bathroom. We (Spike/Spuffy fans) know it. We’re confronted with that every time that episode comes on - and every time some of you have to make yourselves feel better by telling us how sick we make you. About that... Now let’s unpack this idea that Angel is somehow morally better than Spike, and let’s talk about souls. And let’s start with who they were before they became vampires. William Pratt moved in high society circles, was not respected by his peers, and wrote bad poetry for a woman who would never love him back. He was a mama’s boy. He may have tried too hard in some ways, but that’s really the worst we can say about him. Liam, on the other hand, was a pretty shitty person. VERY handsy with the women (hmmmm, sounds strikingly similar to certain complaints I hear about Spike), and was otherwise a lazy, entitled drunk. Yeah, Angel’s doing GREAT in our comparison so far.  As soulless vampires, Spike had a reputation that ALMOST rivaled Angelus’s in terms of torture, etc., but we know for a fact that Angelus is worse. For one thing, we can tell that Angelus was not capable of love and he enjoyed torture. And you are naïve and deluded if you believe that didn’t include rape at some point in his career as the baddest vampire ever. Furthermore, Angelus never would have chosen to change. He LIKED the hedonism and depravity of the vampire life. The soul was the result of a CURSE, meant to make him suffer.  Spike, on the other hand, IS capable of love without a soul. We see that in his devotion to Dru. He also loves Buffy. Yes, it’s a selfish love - BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKING VAMPIRE WITHOUT A SOUL. Duh. But he’s not nearly as sadistic as Angel. He clearly displays empathy from time to time. Even pre-chip (again, I refer you to his relationship with Dru).  So let’s talk about ensouled vampires. Angel says he loved Buffy the moment he first saw her. We know that’s when she was a FRESHMAN IN HIGH SCHOOL in Los Angeles. I don’t think it says specifically when in the school year that flashback took place, but Buffy could have been as young as FOURTEEN. Ew, much? ENSOULED ANGEL HAS ROMANTIC FEELINGS FOR AN ADOLESCENT CHILD. That’s called an ephebophile since y’all are insisting on sex offender rhetoric. And we’re going to pretend that that’s so much better than what Spike did WITHOUT a soul? Yeah, right. Let’s remember that Buffy was a grown woman of 20 when Spike developed feelings for her, and 21 when they’d began their sexual relationship. Granted, Buffy made some bad choices due to being in a bad place from having been DEAD and all, but somehow we forget to talk about the guy who entered into a relationship with an inexperienced teenager. Or maybe you all do talk about that - but somehow that never comes up when some of you go on the attack against Spike and Spuffy fans. Even if we believe that Spike assumed getting his soul would be a quid pro quo deal in terms of winning Buffy’s affections afterward, the bottom line is, something inside told him that he’d never achieve the impulse control he needed without one, and that there’d be no way he’d be WORTHY of Buffy’s love without one. That to me sounds more like Buffy’s standards being the yardstick for what a good man is than it does a trade for her love, but as I mentioned above even if he did go in assuming the soul would make her love him, he understood the reality of the situation afterward, and his actions were more in line with giving her what she needed instead of taking what he wanted.  But! But! But! Spike is back to his old tricks in ATS with Harmony!!! So, what you’re saying is, you’ve never known anyone who’s gone to rehab, who’s had good days and bad days, and maybe has fallen off the wagon, especially after suffering a trauma....maybe like DEATH? And then being recorporialized? No? Well, me either, at least the death and recorporialization part - but if we think about anyone in ANY behavior modification situation, yes, relapse is common. ESPECIALLY when you’re cut off from your support system and surrounded by people who treat you like shit. Just saying. As already stated in the thing about how New Zealand has programs that handle sex offenders differently, community support is crucial to the success of reducing recidivism. Spike didn’t have that in Season 5 of ATS. If we keep up with the rehabilitation metaphor, Season 5 Spike is comparable to what happens to sex offenders who can’t get jobs because of their records and end up homeless because the registries don’t leave them anywhere to live. These stressors often lead to reoffending. But you’re right - they DESERVE all of that. So what if that makes them continue to be dangerous even though there are alternatives that are more effective? So what stopped Angel from reoffending when he had a soul? BECAUSE IT WAS PART OF THE FUCKING CURSE THAT HE WOULD FEEL HIS VICTIMS’ SUFFERING!!!! Spike is under the constraints of no such curse, though he does admit to feeling remorse. Angel’s gypsy curse is the ensouled equivalent of having a chip in his head like Spike did when he was a vampire. Think about it. Too bad it wasn’t enough to stop him from macking on little girls, huh?  Double Standards: They’re Not Just for Breakfast Angel Anymore. In the final analysis, Angel isn’t REALLY any better than Spike in a side-by-side comparison. But if we take shipability with Buffy out of the equation, let’s expose some more hypocricy where the rhetoric against Spike is concerned: WILLOW: Gets addicted to magic, gets Dawn hurt in a car wreck, turns evil and MURDERS WARREN BY SKINNING HIM ALIVE. Maybe he had it coming, but if rape is rape, then murder is murder, AMIRITE? Status: FORGIVEN BY THE FANDOM. ANDREW: Member of the misogynistic Trio who went so far as to turn Warren’s ex girlfriend INTO A SEX SLAVE ZOMBIE. Did all kinds of shit to Buffy. MURDERS HIS PARTNER IN CRIME, JONATHAN. Switches sides after becoming their hostage, and lookie there, he’s a fucking JUNIOR WATCHER after helping to close the Hellmouth. Status: FORGIVEN BY THE FANDOM.

FAITH: Murder and mayhem everywhere she went! Literally had no conscience until she checked into Angel’s One-Man Rehab™ and then turned herself in to pay her debt to society in prison. FORCED  HERSELF ON ANGEL in order to try to turn him into Angelus. USED BUFFY’S BODY TO RAPE RILEY! Not to worry: she turns a new leaf and helps to save the world. Status: FORGIVEN BY THE FANDOM. (Wait, what? I thought rapists couldn’t be forgiven? Oh, wait - that’s only if you’re a man and don’t happen to be the one you ship with the Slayer.) I could go on, but hopefully you’re getting the picture. If you’ve forgiven/accepted these characters in the face of what they’ve done, your feelings against Spike have NOTHING to do with attempted sexual assault or any other crime he’s committed. It’s time to come clean about that. Really. Those characters have atoned. So has he. Let it go. On the other hand, if you hate all these characters for the unforgivable shit they’ve done, then good for you for being consistent - but your rhetoric had better match your moral compass.  The TL/DR version: It’s okay to love something that’s problematic - but ENGAGE WITH THAT! Don’t put it on a perfect pedestal while vilifying a rival character or ship, or the people who love it. Check your own biases. Spike and Spuffy fans know full well what Spike did and have grappled with it, and we still came out on #TeamSpike and #TeamSpuffy. You don’t have to agree. You don’t have to switch sides. You don’t even have to like Spike. Just...STOP IT WITH YOUR MORALIZING AND YOUR DOUBLE STANDARDS, and be honest about the fact that it’s because you think Angel is hotter or you’d rather see him and Buffy together because of the tinglys they give you, or whatever the real reason is. Quit pretending it’s about rape or misogyny.  Also, if anyone is going to be a coward and send me anon hate over this, don’t waste your time, because any anon hate is going to be summarily deleted without acknowledgement. 

[backroombuzz]

Liberals Accuse Sessions of Racism for Referring to ‘Anglo-American Heritage’

Liberals Accuse Sessions of Racism for Referring to ‘Anglo-American Heritage’

Earlier we wrote about Andrea Mitchell going 'Full Retard' for acting all ignorant about Jeff Sessions "Anglo-American Heritage" comment. Seems like other joined in but they weren't acting. Follow Up To Our Story MSNBC Andrea Mitchell Grow Up And Act Your Face Instead of searching for free porn, maybe they can try using Google to maybe educate themselves.  Speaking of which, judging by who the Twits were behind the Tweets, our education system is in huge trouble. Ivy league schools should hang their heads in shame. As we predicted earlier the twitter trolls, without even knowing what "Anglo-American Heritage" actually means, just said "Since I'll be tweeting to other ignorant liberal retards... my "Jeff Sessions is a racist, white supremest and a Nazi" comment will make me look friggin brilliant" Liberal Logic at it's finest. One More Try Ian Prior, a spokesperson for the DOJ, tried to explain it to the morons before they went full retard. As most law students learn in the first week of their first year, Anglo-American law -- also known as the common law -- is a shared legal heritage between England and America. The sheriff is unique to that shared legal heritage. Before reporters sloppily imply nefarious meaning behind the term, we would suggest that they read any number of the Supreme Court opinions that use the term.  But it mattered little, the "Jeff Sessions is a Racist" tweetstorm was on. But the most amazing part was the education level of these liberals. Who the hell gave these people a diploma? “the Anglo-American heritage of law enforcement” I’m not sure how much more proof y’all need to show what these folks are about. https://t.co/7daP4s1gOf — Clint Smith (@ClintSmithIII) February 12, 2018 Clint is a Writer. Teacher. PhD Candidate @Harvard Well we don't need any more proof that Y'all have some work to do improving the Harvard educational system Hoods off. All in. https://t.co/CD9reyQviB — Dave Zirin (@EdgeofSports) February 12, 2018 Dave is Sports editor @thenation. Host of the Edge of Sports Podcast. http://bit.ly/1WCZylM Co-host of WPFW's The Collision w/Etan Thomas. Last name rhymes with Siren... What are you talking about? In no way does MORON rhyme with Siren? Let me Guess Big Patriot Fan? When the Attorney General of the United States praises our "Anglo-American heritage of law enforcement," we know that white supremacy is so deeply entrenched in our justice system. This is why we take the knee. To fight white supremacy. — Eugene Gu, MD (@eugenegu) February 12, 2018 Eugene claims he is a Surgeon-scientist hoping to cure heart and kidney diseases in babies.  A Doctor? God help his patients. Maybe he couldn't Google what "Anglo-American Heritage" actually means, because God Damn WebMD was playing havoc with his RAM. The AG legit just said in a written statement that "the office of Sheriff is a critical part of the Anglo-American heritage of law enforcement." Not American Anglo-American, ie White heritage This isn’t dog whistle. This is loud white supremacy rhetoricpic.twitter.com/DLFdCwQLwa — Qasim Rashid, Esq. (@MuslimIQ) February 12, 2018 Quisam wrote he is an American Muslim • Islamic Educator • Women's Rights Defender • Black Lives Matter • Truman Fellow • Dad-joke Extraordinaire... Well at least he got the "He's a JOKE" part right. Holy sh-- not even bothering to hide it any longer. https://t.co/i93fJIdmjU — mike freeman (@mikefreemanNFL) February 12, 2018 Mike is an NFL Columnist, B/R. Author. Goucher MFA. Trekker. Spock would be ashamed of your stupidity  ethnonationalism watch https://t.co/qIulQyfuRr — Brendan Nyhan (@BrendanNyhan) February 12, 2018 A Dartmouth political science professor? Dartmouth hangs its head in shame. Dammit you Googled "What does ethnonationalism mean" You couldn't  just Google what "Anglo-American Heritage" meant as well? Take another adderall  A giant burning cross would have been more subtle https://t.co/S32FFaG7gk — Amanda Deibert 🏳️‍🌈 (@amandadeibert) February 12, 2018 TV WRITER: SyFy, Oprah Winfrey Network, Vice President Al Gore's 24 Hours of Reality, PIVOT, HULU. COMIC BOOK WRITER: DC Comics, IDW, Storm King Comics Pretty much No need for me to add anything, your profile pretty much answers "How can she be so ignorant?" Isn't the point of a dog whistle that only dogs can hear it? https://t.co/lDxe2irlTM — Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) February 12, 2018 Quinn profile states she "Wrote three books, have three pets." And you have three brain cells... Damn a Perfect Trifecta. Luckily you Trump is the loudest and stupidest; but Sessions is the quietest and most dangerous. He's working his post like a baller with a few seconds left on the clock to win. Dangerous. — Chris Lebron (@lebron_chris) February 12, 2018 Chris's profile states Alum of John Hopkins Political philosopher, social theorist, and author (PhD, MIT). Speaking of Ballin... 3 seconds left and everyone watches the ball slowly roll out of bounds after you dribbled the rock off you foot. Game Over... YOU LOSE.   This Is a Follow Up To Our Story: MSNBC Andrea Mitchell Grow Up And Act Your Face Read the full article