#also if I see ANY Federation sympathizers in my inbox or replies - you will be receiving absolutely ZERO kind treatment

[gremlins-hotel]

Yeah okay, so to anyone that might be freaking out about the Su-27/MQ 9 collision and if it might lead to a US-Russian conflict, honestly it’s really blasé compared to what it could be. If anything it’s funny.

The MQ 9 Reaper is an unmanned drone (UAV = unmanned aerial vehicle). Key word: unmanned. This would be a different story if this were an incident between two pilots. However, it’s not. It’s an incident between one pilot in a $30 million aircraft and a $32 million remote-controlled/autonomous-capable drone.

At most this footage displays the historic unprofessionalism and poor training of most Russian pilots. The pilot dumps fuel on the drone for whatever reason. That plume you see? Fuel dumping. And then the pilot attempts to physically hit the drone - which costs more than his own aircraft in conversion - in the propellor. The Reaper is basically a fly. The Russian pilot just attempted to spray it with Raid and then gave up on that and used themselves as the world’s most costly flyswatter. Make no mistake that the damage they could’ve inflicted on themselves is a real and dangerous possibility. If the pilot were smart (or perhaps better trained) they should’ve just used the Su-27’s GSh-30-1 30 mm autocannon platform. What a far more intelligent (and safer) idea.

See, in bird culture, this shit would be a dick move. Like what the fuck dude! I’m flying here! I don’t even have food! Pilot doesn’t even have the mind to use disrespect chaff or flares for style points. I know the Flanker has them. Big Сука Sukhoi playing stupid fuck fuck games at the wheel of whack-fuck. This is going in the United States’ cringe compilation.

[saventhhaven]

Unfinished Business

This was a request from alexwinchester23!

Pairing: None

Tags: British Men of Letters, British!Reader

Word Count: 1,611

(Gif not mine)

The world dragged by outside the window slowly as your brother drove at a leisurely pace down the back road.

"Remind me why we're trying to team up with these damned American hunters?"  Arthur sighed impatiently next to you as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Because we're trying to eliminate every vampire, werewolf, ghoul-"

"Get on with it," you interrupted, brushing dust particles from your black pants. You didn't miss the way your brother glared over at you as he continued towards your destination.

"We're taking our... exterminating skills to the international level." You gave another sigh.

"I still don't see why we have to work with the Americans to do it. Can't we just take over their land for ourselves and force them to work for us instead of trying to work with them?" Arthur's glare was gone now, his face switching back to its normal state, void of emotion.

"My dear, sweet sister, I believe King George III would have thoroughly enjoyed your input during the revolution." Your brother did always have a sort of knack for his quick-witted snark.

"Well," you began again. "I won't ignore direct orders from the elders, but I refuse to like this mission." You paused before continuing. "And I don't like when you call me 'sweet.'" Arthur let out a small bark of laughter, which was unusual for him.

"Of course, you don't," he agreed. "We were trained specifically not to be sweet. Kindness can bring weakness with it." Your classmates had called the initiation process brutal, but you disagreed. The way you saw it, the world was brutal. So, why should life be any different? Soon enough, the car approached a black Impala on the side of the road with another car in front of it.

"We have company," you noted. Arthur nodded his agreement.

"As expected," he replied. "Hand me the grenade launcher if you please." You reached over into the back seat and, hefting the heavy weapon into your hands, handed it to your brother. "Ready?" The jazz music he had playing began to swell loudly.

"Of course," you answered with a simple head bob, readying your handgun. The car slowly came to a stop in front of the Winchesters, their angel, and... well, whoever was attempting to confront them. They looked like federal agents. At this point, everyone was watching you and your twin. You both stepped out of the car at the same time with unrehearsed grace. Arthur lifted the grenade launcher over his shoulder, aiming at the other car, and everyone dove out of the way. The grenade shattered the rear window of the car before exploding into flames. As glass tinkled back to the ground, you and your brother made your way over to the Winchesters and their pet. Arthur kicked a gun out of the way as you kicked one of the agents in the face, effectively causing him to lose consciousness. Fortunately for yourself, the rest of them were already knocked out.

"You. Angel. Wipe their memories," your brother commanded. When the trenchcoat-clad man only tilted his head in confusion, you sighed tiredly.

"We don't have time for this." You clicked a bullet into place and aimed your gun at the closest agent.

"Hey!" Before you could pull the trigger, though, one of the Winchesters had knocked your gun out of your hand and had your hands held firmly behind your back. By reflex, you kicked your foot upwards into the tall man's groin behind you. With a groan of pain, he released your arms, allowing you to pick up your gun once more.

"Sam!" the other Winchester yelled, rushing over to his brother. You resumed your place next to Arthur, straightening your crisp blouse with distaste.

"Now now," your brother said. "Play nicely with the American hunters." You glared at him, involuntarily clenching your teeth.

"You try my patience." You bobbed your head toward the still-flaming car as you evaluated the plates. "U.S. government plates," you informed the Winchesters and their angel. “Elite dogcatcher level." Arthur made a small noise of acknowledgment.

"Someone special wants you," he mused, walking casually towards the group of three men. "Whose hydrant have you lads been tinkling on?" One of the Winchesters stood up from his crouched position. Since he had only moments ago called the other one Sam, that meant this could only be Dean.

"I'm sorry, who the hell are you?" he asked, his tone gruff.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Arthur said. "Arthur Ketch. British Men of Letters." He held out a hand to Sam, who paused for a moment, but then took it. "I do apologize for my sister Y/N's manners. She doesn't play well with others." Sam gave you wary once-over, his expression sour.

"Clearly."

"Wait, wait," Dean cut in, holding up a hand as he stepped forward. "British Men of Letters? Then what are you doing here?"

"It's all very simple, really," your brother said. "Mick Davies asked you to join our effort, which we're taking internationally. My instructions are to strongly encourage a 'yes.'"

"What, and team up with you and G.I. Jane over there?" Dean snarked, bobbing his head in your direction. You took a step forward, your lip curled backward in a snarl.

"Believe me, I don't take any more pleasure in it than you do." Arthur gave you a chastising look, and you took a deep breath to compose yourself. "But," you continued. "I suppose if this is in the best interests of our goal to eliminate all monsters, I can... play nicely." You almost choked on the words as you spoke them.

"So what," the angel cut in. "You've just been following us?"

"Not at all. We're good dogs. We only come when called." You had to hold back a smirk at Arthur's sarcasm. When Dean and the angel looked between the two of you with confusion, you gave another tired sigh, giving Sam a slight nod.

"And he called." The effect of your words was almost instantaneous, causing both the angel and Dean to look at the youngest Winchester with shock.

"You what?" Dean asked, his tone now slightly angrier than before. Sam shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"I-I didn't, uh..." he stuttered. "I hung up."

"Yes, you did," Arthur said. Dean was still looking at his brother with a look you could have sworn had a bit of betrayal laced in. "Which made Mr. Davies think that you were in trouble."

"Which you were," you pointed out. 

"So he rings me," your brother continued. "Bing bang boom. Meet Bob. He's your uncle."

"Oh, and you're welcome. Hmm?" you said. Dean narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils before he replied.

"And why should we believe anything you have to say?" You let out a dry chuckle, turning your attention to the angel.

"You, Halo," you sighed. "Do you sense we're lying?" The angel squinted his piercing blue eyes.

"My name is Castiel," he replied.

"I don't care. Do you?" Castiel gave both you and your brother a look before he sighed.

"No. But the truth can be situational." Your brother let out a small laugh next to you.

"Oh, I do enjoy an angel. But I understand your hesitation. You haven't exactly seen us at our best. Lady Bevell is a bit... excitable."

"She tried to kill us," Dean said a bit louder than necessary.

"Like I said," your brother shot back, his tone growing more impatient now. "Excitable." Sam, now standing, drifted closer to his brother.

"And you're better?" He gave you a pointed gaze. "She knocked me on my ass when I tried to stop her from killing an innocent man!" Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I'm with Sam. I'm sensing a pattern here."

"What my brother is trying to say here," you proceeded, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Is that we're eager to collaborate. The British Men of Letters is centuries old. We can offer expertise, weaponry, skills..." Sam pointed over his shoulder at the car, the flames starting to ease a bit.

"Like that?" Your lips quirked upward slightly.

"Among other things."

"Was that a grenade launcher?" Dean asked, obviously trying to hide his interest.

"Quite," Arthur replied, popping the trunk to your car. "The toys are the fun part. For example, we don't always decapitate vampires."

"Insufficient, really," you put in. Your brother lifted a tool you knew well and had used many times before from the trunk.

"We irradiate them. Reorder their DNA. Their own blood becomes lethal to them." The Winchesters and Castiel gathered around the trunk, where you and Arthur had migrated over to.

"Cool," Sam said, now also intrigued. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, who gave a slight nod.

"We'll talk about it," he stated. "Sam and I need to figure out a few things first, and like you said, trust is an issue here." Arthur snapped the case shut, closing the trunk as well.

"I quite understand," he sympathized. You took a business card from your pocket, handing it to Sam, who still looked wary at being in such close contact with you.

"Call when you've come to a decision." Without another word, you and Arthur climbed back into the car, driving down the road in the same direction you came. After a few moments, your brother looked at you.

"Really, Y/N, couldn't we have done without all the theatrics? What if this affects their decision?" You glanced in the rearview mirror, where the three men were still watching your car drive away.

"Trust me," you replied wryly. "We'll be hearing from the Winchesters very soon."

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Like always, the links to my inbox, masterlist, and taglist are in my bio!