#he's not some god amongst men or w/ever the fuck. he was nine years old. and he loved his sister. and that's it!!!

[archersgoon]

actually the finnikin balthazar guilt hole is so crazy because hes convinced himself so hard that him wanting to be king when he was 9 is what killed the royal family but then u go ask 9yo finn why he wants 2 be king so bad and hes like "i think we should improve society somewhat"

[muse-oleum]

Fucknemies (fuckbuddies but with angst)

Yes, I’m aware I have an appalling sense of humor. 

Kingsman - Harry Hart x fem!OC

Based on this lovely anon’s request: Hi! Can ya write Harry with a Kingsman agent, enemies to lovers?

Summary: the mission agents Kay and Galahad were on goes to hell, where they finally stop bickering and start appreciating what the other has to give (*cough cough*)

This is going to be two parts, because I got carried away, so stay tuned for the smut! I toned down the ‘enemies’ to more ‘frenemies’ but I hope it’s still what the nonnie wanted. 

Word count: 2k85

Warnings: violence, swearing, prostitution, heavy themes, mentions of human trafficking

Also, my inspiration for this was this song, it’s badass, sexy and fits the theme of the underworld agencies pretty well. 

Agent Kay landed at Kingsman in the most uncharacteristic manner. She was, first of all, the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy tradesman based here in England; and her mother was an upper-end prostitute. 

Now, that shut up all these snobbish Kingsman boys alright. They didn’t know where to look ever since she had dropped the “w bomb,” as Merlin liked to call it. Her attitude, that of one raised between Soho and the up-end, was so ambiguous that most men were terrified by her. 

Most didn’t include agent Galahad. But then again he was rarely terrified by anything. Kay suspected he didn’t know what fear was. 

Little did Kay know that Galahad, or Harry, as she refused to call him, thought the exact same of her. Such lovely pet names as “hothead,” “idiot” or the more colorful and incontestably heartfelt “fucking imbecile,” were some of Harry’s favorite ways of nicknaming his feisty partner. 

For some reason, Merlin and Arthur absolutely delighted putting these two together for dangerous missions. It was almost as if their constant fighting in-between near-death and near-misses were their Sunday evening football gig. 

They loved it; and Merlin really couldn’t wait for his two friends to get their heads out of their own arses, and end that intolerable sexual tension once and for all. It was hanging over every curtain and curled up in every teapot, sizzling and unmistakably there. 

On that particular evening, Kay and Galahad were on an undercover “recognition” mission - the word had been stoically stressed by Merlin, the painful hitch in his voice the only indication that he already knew that shit was about to go down. Bad. 

So, an undercover mission. At some oil titan’s mansion somewhere in Italy. About two hundred guests and three different pools in which to drown Galahad if he became too irritating. Perfect. 

As Kay was exploring various creative ways to make him shut up if needed, Harry was troubled. 

He was troubled by the fact that he had a hard time focusing on anything else than the way her shoulders shone in the light of the chandeliers, or how her breath caused her chest to rise up, or how the thigh-high split in that godforsaken dress caused his mind to blank. 

It was all really infuriating. She was infuriating. 

Hot-blooded, compassionate, high-strung but cool under pressure, stunning, with the mouth of a sailor. She was delightful and sinful, all at the same time. And the older agent simply didn’t know what to do with himself every time he was near her. 

No doubt she thought him arrogant, snobbish and probably too old-fashioned. 

Little did she know all he longed for was to do very un-old-fashioned things with her. 

So, everything he said came out wrong, and with her quick wit, she absolutely murdered him with every comeback. He wasn’t sure what made her so enticing, apart from all the above, but he knew that virtually everyone was either terrified or drooling after her. Or both. 

Most of the time, both. 

A movement on her left caught Kay’s eye. Galahad was beckoning to her. They were posing as a couple, a little hint amongst the billions Merlin had already worked very hard to give them. 

Eggsy said he never face palmed as much as when his two favorite agents were out in the field together. 

“Do you see him?” Galahad whispered, his eyes unfocused but trained on the far corner of the room. 

Kay followed his gaze, immediately spotting the armed goon, one arm under his vest, no doubt cradling a gun, scanning the room in a would-be subtle manner. 

“They know someone’s there.” 

“On a scale of one to ten, how fucked are we?” Kay asked, her tone all that was innocent. 

Harry shot her a look. Her neck was craned towards the bar, avoiding looking in the direction of the armed man, although he knew she was following his every movement. 

He couldn’t help but notice how the slope of her neck met with her right shoulder in a sensuous curve. Her breaths were coming more rapidly now, and, as ungentlemanly as it was, Harry simply could not take his eyes off of her. 

She caught him staring, arching her eyebrow, and he realized he hadn’t answered her question.

“If they find us out, a solid seven.”

She scoffed, “we got out of a nine before, seven’s a joke.” 

Harry glared at her. 

“Last time, the nine was because of all issues locked, here the seven is because we’re clearly outnumbered. We weren’t outnumbered last time. So let me rephrase that: it’s a nine and a bit and we’re fucked.”

It was her turn to glare, sending him a look that plainly stated that she didn’t see the need for making such a fuss. 

“So what’s the plan now?” Kay asked, eyes going around the room. 

Three more armed agents had shown up, but nobody else here seemed to have noticed them. Wearing dark suits and all-too visible earpieces, Kay wondered how people could be so unobserving. 

“Get the fuck out ‘s the plan,” came a strong Scottish voice, a little too strained for her liking. 

“But we’ve achieved nothing,” she whispered, angry that the mission would be fruitless. 

She knew that oil trader had another, much more unpleasant, and definitely illegal trading business. Involving humans. 

As the daughter of a prostitute, she knew too well what exploitation was like. Her mother had not coddled her, but had shown her the ugly truth of her world. She could not stand by as others suffered a similar, sometimes worse, fate. 

“I agree,” Galahad said, causing Kay to look up sharply, surprised to hear her oh so careful partner agreeing with her. “Kay’s right, there are lives at stake here that we can’t ignore.” 

Kay blinked once, properly stunned. 

It’s not that Harry was unfeeling - he was doing this job to save lives too, after all - but he was sometimes too cerebral and restrained for her liking. 

Although, weirdly, she had to admit she liked that too. They were complementary; one was always there to catch the other. Perhaps that was Merlin’s scheming all along? The annoying Scot had something of a knack for psychoanalysis. 

Galahad’s brow was set, lips pursued and eyes hard. The traits of a man hellbent on seeing at least part of this through. She noticed how handsome he was, and how his charisma came not from his appearance so much as his demeanor. 

“So what do we do?” she asked, a little breathless, “do we keep snooping around and pray to all the gods and goddesses above to make it out in one piece?” 

“Pretty much.”

“You know what, Harry, for once, I won’t call you an arrogant upper-class jerk.” 

Kay left him standing there, a small smile on her face. She could hear Merlin grumbling something about murdering the two of them once he got them back at HQ. 

Nobody really cared about Merlin’s grumbling, as a rule; it was his default communication method. 

“Kay, take the upper floor and search for a door locked with a code. I’ll hack it. Galahad, take the gallery, you two keep an eye out. They know you’re here.” 

“I’m the soul of discretion, Merlin.” 

Kay heard Harry guffaw through her earpiece, earning him a smirk. 

“Ye, I’ll believe you if you come back without a hole through your head. Get to it.”

Always the picture of optimism and positivity, Kay thought, amused. Oh, let’s see what you’re hiding there...

She’d come to a locked door requiring a code. Patiently, Kay waited for Merlin to send her the code through her glasses. She waited a few seconds, before asking:

“Merlin? I need the code now, not in three hundred years.” 

“Afraid you won’t get it, princess,” came a voice that was decidedly not Merlin’s. 

Kay whirled around, face to face with a rather grumpy looking armed guard and his equally grumpy companion. 

Shit. So much for discretion. 

Without leaving her much time to deliberate, he attacked, slashing her arm with a knife she hadn’t noticed. It was painful, but bearable. His friend looked on, a small smile pasted on his face. 

Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’m going to wipe that smile off your face in no time. 

Her retaliation came swiftly. 

If people had been praising Black Widow on screen - and she had to admit Scarlet Jo had the moves down - she was a Black Widow. That man never knew how his neck broke, or indeed how her legs were suddenly wrapped around his throat at all. 

His friend had stopped smiling, a moderate improvement to his otherwise average features. He looked much better grumpy. 

Your turn, sweetie. 

Too bad Kay had failed to notice another armed agent - not her armed agent, unfortunately - because it really could have ended here and there if she had. 

Instead, she felt the bullet slice through her thigh even before she registered the sound of the trigger. It tore through muscle and lodged itself in the bone, causing her to scream out in pain. Blood was gushing out; all she could hope for now was that Harry was near and that the bullet had missed the artery. 

Somehow, she wasn’t too hopeful. 

“Nice little trick you got there. With those legs, it’s hardly surprising. Too bad I had to aim for them, eh?” 

That was the last thing he ever said. 

A disheveled, very angry and murderous looking Harry ended his life here and there, sparing him the pain he had inflicted on Kay only because his conscience told him so. 

A very flimsy, very tiny part of his conscience. 

“Too bad, indeed,” he said, before rushing to Kay’s side. 

Her vision was blurred and even though she tried to stem the blood flow, she knew the bullet had at least scraped the artery. 

“Merlin, what the fuck were you doing?” 

That caused her to chuckle slightly. Hearing Harry swear was one of the most entertaining things in her life. It was so out of place, so opposite his brushed-up, gentleman front. 

“Those bastards cut the connection!” came the angry voice of the Scotsman. “Get her out of here, I’ll send the car. It’ll be a bumpy ride, so you better hold on to her, and whatever you do, don’t let her lose consciousness ye hear me?” 

The car ride was one of Kay’s worst experiences ever. 

She wanted to throw up, almost did, refrained herself from emptying her stomach right on Harry’s impeccable waistcoat. The shivers arrived just before they reached HQ, where a literal battalion of nurses took over. 

Harry, covered in blood, made a move to go after her, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“Wasn’t your fault. They got us clean.”

He turned towards Merlin, jaw set. 

“She’ll be furious, she really wanted to take him and his human trafficking gang down.” 

“And someone else will, I promise. For now, ye need a drink, and a strong one. You also need to finally get it off your chest because I swear, if having her nearly die is what’s gonna take to make the two of you fucking focus again, I’ll do it again.”

Harry turned a disbelieving look towards his friend. With narrowed eyes, he took a step towards him. Merlin held up his hands.

“This one wasn’t my doing, but I hope it’s helped you realize how much of an idiot you’ve been. She’s a keeper, but you keep pushing her away with you high-almighty attitude. Stop being a goddamn idiot.” 

This time, Harry was quite simply speechless. 

“Ex-excuse me?”

Merlin ran a hand over his eyes, sighing deeply. 

“You’re mad about her, she’s mad about you, so you fight because none of you can see how much you mean to each other. Honestly, it’s exhausting. Get it over with.”

Merlin walked away, leaving his friend ruminating the reproaches over in his head. 

That he loved her, he had no doubt. The feeling of utter helplessness and fear that had gripped him when he heard her scream was sickening. 

Yes, she drove him mad. He wanted her desperately; wanted her to like him and want him, need him. Until tonight, when she had snuggled against him, whimpering in pain, he had not thought a woman like her would ever need anyone. 

And she had called him Harry. 

Perhaps Merlin was right and it was time he put the record straight. 

If you guys didn’t notice the subtle hint of Darcy/Elizabeth in there idk what to say to you. Stay tuned for part II!

[clubofinfo]

Expert: I’m back!! It has recently been reported that Senator John McCain has an aggressive brain tumor. Not long ago I would have thought: “Good. It’ll be great to be rid of that neanderthal reactionary bastard!” Not now. My kidneys are gone and I’m on (rather unpleasant) dialysis for the rest of my life. My separated-from German wife is in Germany and can’t fly because of the danger of blood clots forming and lodging in her lungs or heart. I’m an avid reader of medical news and almost every day I get choked-up and depressed by the never-ending heart-breaking stories of incurable pain and suffering of the old and the young. So I wish the senator a good recovery, if that’s possible. Probably no more possible than his politics recovering. He just condemned all the neo-Nazi actions in Charlottesville, this man who went out of his way to pose for friendly photos with neo-Nazis in Ukraine and jihadists in Syria. So far the dialysis does not seem to have helped, at least not with my two main symptoms: deep-seated sleepiness at home, resulting in repeated naps, making my writing difficult; and getting out-of-breath and having to stop and rest after a very short and slow walk outdoors. I’m curious about whether any of my readers knows of anyone with a medical problem that was clearly relieved by dialysis. It may be my advanced age of 84 that blocks any improvement. But, supposedly, the dialysis keeps me alive in the absence of functioning kidneys. Incidentally, nine of my readers and friends have offered me a kidney for transplant, but I can’t find a hospital willing to perform it; again it’s my age, though I’m very willing. At least I still have my eyesight and my hearing. My mind is okay. I have all my limbs and am not paralyzed. And I’m not in pain. Much to be thankful for. It’s also very nice to have gone past the hangups my condition thrust upon me and to be back writing my report for the first time in five months. During the recent American presidential campaign I wrote that if I were forced to vote and also forced to choose between Clinton and Trump I’d vote for the Donald. (As it turned out I voted for the Green Party candidate, Jill Stein.) I stated two reasons why I’d choose Trump over Clinton: presumably, a lesser chance of nuclear war with Russia and a lesser chance of the American government closing down the Russian TV station, Russia Today (RT), broadcasting in the US. There was at the time, and now again, growing Congressional pressure to do just that and I’m very reliant on the station. Because of such matters I was willing to overlook Trump’s many and obvious character defects, which I summed up with the endearing word of my people back in Brooklyn –- “shmuck”. But by now the man’s shmuckiness has been writ so large that little hope for him can be maintained. What is keeping Donald Trump from drowning in the very cesspool of his own shmuckiness is a gentleman named Kim Jong-un. Who would have believed that a single historical period could produce two such giant shmucks, men who tower over their pathetic contemporaries? There’s only one explanation for this remarkable phenomenon. Of course. It’s Russia. Moscow is using the two men to make America look foolish. And Russia, it may soon be revealed, gave North Korea its nuclear weapons. Did you think that such an impoverished, downtrodden society could produce such scientific marvels on its own? Is there any act too dastardly for Vladimir Putin? We don’t know yet whether Trump’s son, daughter or son-in-law made any deals with Kim Jong-un. Stay tuned to Fox News and CNN. Those stations, amongst others, put out a lot of fake news, but when it comes to news of North Korea nothing compares to the fake news of 1950. Did you know there’s no convincing evidence that North Korea did what they’re most famous for –- the June 25, 1950 invasion of South Korea, which led to the everlasting division of the Korean peninsula into two countries? And there were no United Nations forces that observed this invasion, as we’ve been taught. In any event, the two sides had been clashing across the dividing line for several years. What happened on that fateful day in June could thus be regarded as no more than the escalation of an ongoing civil war. Read my chapter on Korea in Killing Hope: U.S. Military and CIA Interventions Since World War II for the full details of these and other myths. The response to terrorism I still get emails criticizing me for the stand I took against Islamic terrorists earlier this year. Almost every one feels obliged to remind me that the terrorists are acting in revenge for decades of US/Western bombing of Muslim populations and assorted other atrocities. And I then have to inform each one of them that they’ve chosen the wrong person for such a lecture. I, it happens, wrote the fucking book on the subject! In the first edition of my book Rogue State: A Guide to the World’s Only Superpower, published in 2001, before September 11, the first chapter was “Why do terrorists keep picking on The United States?” It includes a long list of hostile US military and political actions against the Islamic world during the previous 20 years. So I can well see why radical Muslims would harbor a deep-seated desire for revenge against The United States and its allies who often contributed to the hostile actions. My problem is that the Islamic terrorist actions are seldom aimed at those responsible for this awful history –- the executive and military branches of the Western nations, but are more and more targeted against innocent civilians, which at times includes other Muslims, probably even, on occasion, some who sympathize with the radical Islamic cause. These random terrorist acts are thus not defendable or understandable from any revenge point of view. What did the poor people of Barcelona have to do with Western imperialism? Civilians are, of course, much easier to target, but that’s clearly no excuse. As I’ve pointed out in the past, we should consider this: From the 1950s to the 1980s the United States carried out all kinds of very harmful policies against Latin America, including numerous bombings, without the natives ever resorting to the uncivilized, barbaric kind of retaliation as employed by ISIS. Latin American leftists generally took their revenge out upon concrete representatives of the American empire: diplomatic, military and corporate targets – not markets, theatres, nightclubs, hospitals, schools, restaurants or churches. The terrorists’ choice of targets is bad enough, but their methods are even worse. Who could have imagined 20 years ago that an organization would exist in this world that would widely publicize detailed instructions on how to choose a truck to drive down a busy thoroughfare and directly into crowds of people? What species of human being is this? What is needed is a worldwide media campaign to make fun of the very idea that such men, along with suicide bombers, will be rewarded by Allah in an afterlife; even the idea of an afterlife can, of course, be derided; yes, even the idea of Allah, by that or any other name, can be derided; at least the idea of such a cruel God. Appealing to jihadists on simply moral grounds would be even more useless than appealing to Pentagon officials or Donald Trump on moral grounds. The jihadists have to be deeply ridiculed; the small amount of human empathy and decency still remaining in their heart of hearts has to be reached through embarrassing them before their friends and family. Femmes fatales can be used against young Islamic men, most of whom, I’d venture to say, have sizable sexual hangups. Bombing them only increases their numbers. Some thoughts on the question that will not go away:  Capitalism vs. socialism The whole art of Conservative politics in the 20th century is being deployed to enable wealth to persuade poverty to use its political freedom to keep wealth in power. –– Aneurin Bevan (1897-1960), Labour Party (UK) minister The fact that Donald J. Trump is a champion –- indeed, a model, or as he might say, a huge model –- of capitalism should be enough to make people turn away from the system, but the debate between capitalism and socialism continues without pause in the Trump era as it has since the 19th century. The wealth gap, affordable housing, free education, public transportation, a sustainable environment, and health care are some of the perennial points of argument we’re all familiar with. So many empty houses … so many homeless people –- Is this the way a market economy is supposed to work? Twice in recent times the federal government in Washington has undertaken major studies of many thousands of federal jobs to determine whether they could be done more efficiently by private contractors. On one occasion the federal employees won more than 80% of the time; on the other occasion 91%. Both studies took place under the George W. Bush administration, which was hoping for different results. The American people have to be reminded of what they once knew but seem to have forgotten: that they don’t want BIG government, or SMALL government; they don’t want MORE government, or LESS government; they want government ON THEIR SIDE. As to corporations, we have to ask: Do the members of a family relate to each other on the basis of self-interest and greed? Speaking in very broad terms … slavery gave way to feudalism … feudalism gave way to capitalism … capitalism is not a timelessly valid institution but was created to satisfy certain needs of the time … capitalism has outlived its usefulness and must now give way to socialism … the ultimate incompatibility between capitalist profit motive and human environmental survival demands nothing less. The system corrupts every important aspect of our lives, including the one which takes up the most of our time -– our work, even for corporation executives, who demand huge salaries and benefits to justify their working at jobs that otherwise are not particularly satisfying. Several years ago, the Financial Times of London reported on Wall Street’s opposition to salary limits: Senior bankers were quick to warn the plans would cause a brain drain from the profession as top executives seek more rewarding jobs out of the public eye. Unlike other careers where job satisfaction and other considerations play a part, finance tends to attract people whose main motivation is money. … ‘The cap is a lousy idea,’ complained one top Wall Street executive. ‘If there is no monetary upside, who would want to do these jobs?’ As for those below the executive class … When they work, it’s too often just any job they can find, rather than one designed to realize innermost spiritual or artistic needs. Their innermost needs are rent, food, clothes, and electricity. For those concerned about the extent of freedom under socialism the jury is still out because the United States and other capitalist powers have subverted, destabilized, invaded, and/or overthrown every halfway serious attempt at socialism in the world. Not one socialist-oriented government, from Cuba and Vietnam in the 1960s, to Nicaragua and Chile in the 1970s, to Bulgaria and Yugoslavia in the 1990s, to Haiti and Venezuela in the 2000s has been allowed to rise or fall based on its own merits or lack of same, or allowed to relax its guard against the ever-threatening imperialists. The demise of the Soviet Union (even with all its shortcomings) has turned out to be the greatest setback to the fight against the capitalist behemoth, and we have not yet recovered. How could the current distribution of property and wealth reasonably be expected to emerge from any sort of truly democratic process? And if this is the way regulated capitalism works, what would life under unregulated capitalism be like? We’ve long known the answer to that question. Theodore Roosevelt (president of the United States 1901-09) said in a speech in 1912: “The limitation of governmental powers, of governmental action, means the enslavement of the people by the great corporations who can only be held in check through the extension of governmental power.” And what do the corporate elite want? In a word: “everything” … from our schools to our social security, from our health care to outer space, from our media to our sports. “We are all ready to be savage in some cause. The difference between a good man and a bad one is the choice of the cause.” – William James (1842-1910) A few years ago, when George W. Bush came out as a painter, he said that he had told his art teacher that “there’s a Rembrandt trapped inside this body”. Ah, so Georgie is more than just a painter. He’s an artiste. And we all know that artistes are very special people. They’re never to be confused with mass murderers, war criminals, merciless torturers or inveterate liars. Neither are they ever to be accused of dullness of wit or incoherence of thought or speech. Artistes are not the only special people. Devout people are also special: Josef Stalin studied for the priesthood. Osama bin Laden prayed five times a day. And animal lovers: Herman Goering, while his Luftwaffe rained death upon Europe, kept a sign in his office that read: “He who tortures animals wounds the feelings of the German people.” Adolf Hitler was also an animal lover and had long periods of being a vegetarian and anti-smoking. Charles Manson was a staunch anti-vivisectionist. And cultured people: This fact Elie Wiesel called the greatest discovery of the war: that Adolf Eichmann was cultured, read deeply, played the violin. Mussolini also played the violin. Some Nazi concentration camp commanders listened to Mozart to drown out the cries of the inmates. Former Bosnian Serb politician Radovan Karadzic, convicted by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia for war crimes, genocide, and crimes against humanity, was a psychiatrist, specializing in depression; a practitioner of alternative medicine; published a book of poetry and books for children. Members of ISIS and Al Qaeda and other suicide bombers are genuinely and sincerely convinced that they are doing the right thing, for which they will be honored and rewarded in an afterlife. That doesn’t make them less evil; in fact, it makes them more terrifying, since they force us to face the scary reality of a world in which sincerity and morality do not necessarily have anything to do with each other. Dick Gregory, 1932-2017 Mayor Daley and other government officials during the riots of the ’60s showed their preference for property over humanity by ordering the police to shoot all looters to kill. They never said shoot murderers to kill or shoot dope pushers to kill. When the white Christian missionaries went to Africa, the white folks had the bibles and the natives had the land. When the missionaries pulled out, they had the land and the natives had the bibles. The way Americans seem to think today, about the only way to end hunger in America would be for Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird to go on national TV and say we are falling behind the Russians in feeding folks. What we’re doing in Vietnam is using the black man to kill the yellow man so the white man can keep the land he took from the red man. http://clubof.info/