In Obama’s eight years, his drone strikes killed about 100-400 civilians, depending on the count. Trump has killed over 1000 in 64 days, comparable to deaths from Russian strikes on Syria, with strikes up 450% and no proper assessment of targets. I’ve heard reports for years that Obama was putting stringent limits on what the military wanted to do with drones, and I guess this proves it.
stubbornness is the only thing that has jimin’s hands on the steering wheel, the job of driving originally having been pre-assigned to jungkook, but seeing that at a point in the night jungkook came to be on the verge of drunkenness to the extent of possibly mounting a roof while wearing a tin foil hat, the responsibility passed on to jimin.
of course, while the two were discussing the decision, jungkook had put up quite the fight, vigorously crying out that he was perfectly fine and in no way tipsy (“IN NO WAY, I SAY!”), but jimin refused to let up. after further arguing (which, on jungkook’s part, became more meaningless words than actual reasons), jimin, undoubtedly, won and proceeded to promptly drag jungkook away from the bourbon and tequila and to the car.
if jimin may say so himself, this was his brightest moment of the night, because jungkook has been acting so positively tipsy that jimin is thankful that he’s the one manning the the steering wheel.
his dimmest moment of the night was agreeing to leave in a car with jungkook in the first place.
as they cruise down one of the many boulevards of town, now miles away from the party, jungkook’s head dramatically whips to jimin. he seems to be trying to sport a devilish, suave look, but it turns out 35% confused, 65% constipated, and 100% ridiculous.
jungkook clears his throat and grins wolfishly, albeit crookedly. “so, did it hurt?”
jimin raises an eyebrow at him, to which jungkook wiggles his. jimin scoffs and rolls his eyes, making a right turn into highway 101. here, the roads are empty, like a secret town of pavement, the city lights peaking up in towers on the both sides of the car and the chill of the night blocked out by their rolled-up windows.
“let me guess. when i fell from heaven?” jimin rolls his eyes.
jungkook giggles, looking satisfied with the reply he received. “nope!” he cries, eyes crinkling as he smiles.
a look on perplexation crosses jimin’s face. “what?”
a smirk blooms on jungkook’s features as he leans forward, and jimin feels his skin heat up. he’s awfully glad that the highway is empty, because they would’ve crashed seven times by now if it were crowded.
“did it hurt,” murmurs jungkook, eyes shifting to meet jimin’s coyly, “when you fell for me?”
jimin practically veers off his lane. “w-what?“
god, he’s glad the highway is empty: at some point he slammed down on the break and switched the gear shift to park, too busy gaping at jungkook, who seems very tipsily pleased with himself.
“cat got your tongue?” jungkook says, the expression on his face smug, as if he has to right and audacity to feel so, as if-
“god, oh my god. please, stop it. stop talking, like, now.” jimin buries his face in his hands, noticing the way jungkook’s expression slightly warms, before jimin gets himself back together. he shakily adjusts the gear shift to drive and his eyes back to the road, taking a deep breath and press-ganging his heart into reeling back to its normal pace.
“i am never going to let you drink again,” he mutters as the car starts rolling again.
a laugh bubbles from jungkook’s lips. the corner of jimin’s vision can make out that jungkook has leaned back in the passenger’s seat again, but the way that his eyes fixate on jimin makes it feel as if he’s still only inches away, tempting and tangible. jimin’s muscles are tense as he continues down the highway, body locked up and defensive because of how raw and exposed he feels under jungkook’s scrutiny, with his presence so prominent, and jimin has to roll down the windows to breathe through it.
after minutes of flicking through silence stretches and radio bursts, jimin spares a full glance at jungkook. the night wind is blowing his hair without care, sweeping across his grin, and if it doesn’t make him breathtaking, then jimin doesn’t know what does (the answer: everything). jimin blushes.
“not another drink for the rest of the year,” he thinks, and then too late realizes that he said it aloud.
jungkook catches his words too, unforunately, chuckling and sitting up. “imma tell you a secret, jimin. come here, come here.” he beckons him with a hand, and jimin, if hesitantly, does as told, still keeping his eyes on the road. jungkook closes the distance between them until his breath is cresting over jimin’s ear, his grin hot on his lips.
So, you guys aren’t going to believe this, but I just filled another set of 100 Miraculous drabbles because I’m a ridiculous person and this fandom has so many great prompts and I wanted to do all the things!
If you want to check them out, you can find all my drabbles from here on AO3:
A/N: What a lovely request from @barely-emily! I got a little carried away cause I too am Falcon trash. The story changes from Sam’s location and readers a few times which I signified in bold text. Honestly I think I saved the best for last form these drabble request. Here is Sam trying to find you after being separated in a snowstorm in enemy territory.
“Y/N!” Sam screamed into the unrelenting storm. His right wing was clipped in half from the force of the explosion, but he wouldn’t be able to fly anyway in these winds. There were a few agents littering the ground, but thankfully none of the corpses were you. “Dam it, girl. Where did you go?”
What are you about to read: A short one shot where Harry and Y/N shares a steamy kiss while Woman plays in the background. Italics are song lyrics!
The music kept playing in the background as Harry mumbled the words, his delicate hand holding a scotch half way finished.
She eyed him up and down, taking in every single detail as he kept moving his head to the beat of the new melody, a proud smile on her face as she admired him from where she was seated.
The song kept playing as Y/N made her way to him, leaving her own fruity beverage on the coffee table -careful not to knock down the alcohol bottles. She wanted him; wanted his wet mouth on hers, his warm- sweet tongue inside her mouth. She didn’t care about the nasty thoughts when she stood right before him, her silk blouse all wrinkled from previous make out sessions.
“Hello there,” he looked up, the song kept playing in the background as he mentioned her to sit on his lap with a quick glance.
This thing upon me, howls like a beast…
“I want you to destroy me with your mouth,” she spoke, now fully seated on Harry’s thighs.
You laid on the couch in the living room. Roman and Dean were playing video games and had been all day and even through last night.
You were bored out of your mind. Playing video games were fun, don’t get me wrong, but all night and then right out of bed?
“Ro, are you almost done? You promised me you read with me before you went back on the roads and you’re leaving in less than 34 hours.” Roman grunted and wave his hand in the air before returning it to the controller.
“You have fun, Baby.” You frowned. “No offensive, Dean, but Ro you’re on the road with him all the time. I would like it if I could spend some time with you.” Another grunt.
You got up from the couch and snatched your book from the coffee table. “Whatever. Spend time with Dean…” You mumbled, making your way to the bedroom.
The book you were reading was so damn good. You haven’t been able to put it down since you began reading it.
You didn’t even know Dean and Roman stopped playing video games and now Dean was asleep in the guest room.
Roman opened the door to your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorframe. You were lying in bed, blankets wrapped around you, propped up and most of the pillows.
Roman smiled, taking in how you looked in the moment.
Roman slipped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him. Crawling on the bed, Roman tried to get your attention by sticking his nose in the corner of the book.
You simply moved the book out of the way to far into your book to notice it was Roman. Next, he tried to curl his large body around yours.
You still didn’t notice him. Roman sighed. “Baby…” He hummed, dragging his nose up your arm. Nothing. “Baby…”
He dragged his hand up your thigh. Not a reaction. He sighed. “Sweet cheeks…” He nuzzled your neck.
You flipped the page of your book. He groaned loudly. “Babe!” You bit your lip, eyes still scanning the page.
“Babe…Come on…” He whispered in your ear. You flipped to the next page. Finally, he snatched the book from your hands.
“Don’t ignore me! I want attention!” You stared blankly at him. Honest. You didn’t know he was in here. You smirked then. “Now you know how it feels.”
Molotov Cocktails aren’t actually full of alcohol.
Most people might not realise that.
Surprisingly, movies and video games sometimes turn the dials down on ‘realism’.
It’s just a 'fun name’. Because War is fun.
Alcohol doesn’t burn that well; anything less than 50% is just a waste of Liquor.
The best substances would be turpentine, diesel, or jet fuel.
Unfortunately I’ve not been stranded next to an Airport fueling station for the past fortnight.
Fortunately, I’ve been stranded on top of an outdoor strip mall for the past fortnight.
Unfortunately, the dead rose a fortnight ago.
Fortunately, they’ve not been able to get up to my roof fortress, booby trapped in pigeon shit and cigarette ends.
So, swings and roundabouts really.
There’s an access hatch on the roof that leads to all the stores. At night I grab food and supplies from the 7/11 and the kitchen of the Chinese and Mexican restaurants.
But mostly booze from the liquor store. It’s got a steel gate and no windows. I’d sleep in there if it wasn’t for the moans and thumps against the gate.
Oh, funny thing. I sleep in a pillow fort on the roof. It’s mostly cushions I grabbed from the furniture store and anything else that would fit, braced and taped together. But yeah, it’s a pillow fort.
There’s nearly 400 of them out there.
I’ve counted. About five times.
Some are unique and stand out, 'main characters’ if you would. Beard guy with rebar in his chest. Old man in a windbreaker missing an arm. Poor man’s Amy Adams with bullet holes in her chest. Zombie 18th century Professor.
I’ve not burned them yet. A couple are too far, and some I’ve just grown accustomed to. Like fish.
I’ve burned a lot though. Makeshift molotovs have become my post apocalyptic hobby. I went through about six bottles before I realised high grain content works best.
Whiskey and Vodka primarily.
At first it sickened me.
First the fact I was burning something 'human’.
But then it was the harrowing nonchalance of it all.
How the couple who caught aflame would march as usual, uncaring. No screams. No pain. Just emotionless, purgatorial indifference as their flesh bubbled and skin peeled. Like a building slowly collapsing in on itself, or a drunk stumbling home.
It’s enthralling now. Honestly, I enjoy it. A lot.
I never imagined I would.
But it’s mesmerising in it’s simplicity and erosion.
Like watching a candle melt, or time lapse footage of ants on a carcass.
I time it.
I try and alternate between hitting feet, then torsos, then heads. Multiple undead burning in various areas, creating Zombie screensavers of flame and rot.
I’m honestly addicted to it.
I’m an alcoholic you could say.
Just of a different kind.
Part of me hopes this never ends.
There’s liquor in there for months.
I burn dozens a day, but the herd never thins.
The first step is admitting you have a problem right?
Stiles just wants to know what he smells like to Derek.
Note: This fic is so lovely. I actually had to scroll up to the top when I was halfway through to check it was under 500 kudos because I was sure I must have strayed way over the limit somehow. The Derek feels will hit you in the heart and there’s such a cosy, fluffy ending. I keep going back to reread it.
Prompt: “This bath is too damn hot.” – “This is why
we can’t do cute things. You complain too much.”
Word Count: 400+
“Dean, I’m bored,” you said as you looked up at your
boyfriend, whose arms were wrapped around you as you were sitting in his lap.
“Mm, what do you want to do then?” he asked,
glancing down at you.
“Oh! We should take a bath together!”
He smirked a little and your rolled your eyes,
already knowing what he was thinking. “A bath, huh?”
“Not that kind of bath, genius. No, a cute little
bath with bubbles and stuff. It’ll be romantic.”
“I don’t know the meaning of the word,” he said and
“I’m aware. Anyway, you wait here and I’ll go run
the bath, alright?”
“Dean, come in here!” you yelled as you looked at
the bath you’d just drawn for the two of you. There were bubbles and bath salts
and you thought it looked pretty damn good if you did say so yourself.
“Well, would you look at that. You did good, babe.”
“Thanks,” you said as you began pulling your clothes
off, eventually standing naked in front of your fully clothed boyfriend. “Now
take your clothes off.”
“As you wish, my darling,” he said and you rolled
your eyes, getting into the bath.
“Now get in here, Ambrose,” you said once he had
finished taking his clothes off. “This is so relaxing.”
He smiled and stepped into the bath across from you
and you smiled, thinking he was absolutely adorable covered in bubbles. You
guys talked for a few minutes until you noticed that he looked uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked and he shrugged.
bath is too damn hot,” he said and you rolled your eyes
playfully, not surprised by his words.
is why we can’t do nice things. You complain too much,” you
joked and he frowned.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything until you asked me what
was wrong. I was willing to put up with it for you,” he said and you smiled.
“Well, that might just be the most romantic thing
you’ve ever said to me,” you said and he rolled his eyes.
“Oh, shut up, you know that’s not true. I think it’s
pretty romantic when I say that I love you.”
“Yeah, well, I suppose I love you, too.”
“You suppose? Well, I’ll make you love me!” he said
as he splashed you.
“Oh my god! You’re the worst!”
“Say you love me and I’ll stop.”
“Fine, I love you, Dean.”
“I love you, too, Y/N. More than anything,” he said
and you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him. Maybe he did know the meaning of
romance after all.
1 Splenda tablet (1 tsp of sugar will do, or the equivalent of any other sweetener)
4 cherry tomatoes, finely chopped
½ tsp chilli flakes
1/8 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp mixed herbs
pinch of ground black pepper
250g frozen mixed vegetables
2 tbsp chopped onion
about half a cup of cooked rice
Make the peanut sauce by placing the peanut butter, soy sauce, vinegar and Splenda in a bowl and pouring over 2 tbsp of hot water, then mixing. It may not be a very smooth consistency, but that’s okay. As long as all of the ingredients are incorporated into each other, you’re good. Then stir in the tomatoes, chilli flakes, cinnamon and mixed herbs. Give it a taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary.
In a non-stick frying pan, heat the frozen vegetables with the chopped onion until cooked, stirring often. Add the rice, followed by the peanut sauce, continuing to stir until the food is piping hot.
Notes: I’ve had to get a little creative with my recipes while on holiday given that we bought very little at the corner shop and have only a handful of spices in the cupboards, hence why I was using the splenda I bought for my coffee instead of maple syrup and the packet of vinegar from a chippy. BUT it did occur to me that this is a very good meal for if you’re living on a budget!
Assuming that you have a well-stocked spice rack, the ingredients would cost you less than £5 to buy and each meal costs 38p to make :) I’ll have to remember this one when I go to uni in a few weeks time lol
You’re in love with a beautiful boy, and the amazing part is that he
loves you back. He’s all dark honey eyes and buttermilk skin, moles down
his neck that he lets you kiss and kiss again. He’s all sharp laughter
and too wide sweeps of his arms, and it’s been ten months but you’re not
thinking about your first anniversary, you’re thinking about forever.
Rec’d by @notvirginawoolf who says:
I don’t understand why this doesn’t have 1000+ kudos. Gorgeous writing, clever twist on an old trope (OC POV on getting back together), and a sunlit happy ending for everyone.
Note: This really is a wonderful piece of writing. It managed to make my heart ache for the OC (which felt like a bit of a betrayal because my head was telling me I should have been rooting for Sterek!)