and riot act

It is no longer sufficient to brand Donald Trump as abnormal, a designation that is surely applicable but that falls significantly short in registering the magnitude of the menace.

The standard nomenclature of normal politics must be abandoned. What we are witnessing is nothing less than an assault on the fundamentals of the country itself: on our legacy institutions and our sense of protocol, decency and honesty.

In any other circumstance, we might likely write this off as the trite protestations of a man trapped in a toddler’s temperament, full of meltdowns, magical thinking and make believe. But this man’s vindictiveness and mendacity are undergirded by the unequaled power of the American president, and as such he has graduated on the scale of power from toddler to budding tyrant.

This threat Trump poses — to our morals, ethics, norms and collective sense of propriety — may be without equal from a domestic source.

Everything he is doing is an assault and matters on some level.


There is an enduring expectation, particularly among American liberals, that progress in this society should move inexorably toward more openness, honesty and equality. But even the historical record doesn’t support that expectation.

In reality, America regularly experiences bouts of regression, but fortunately, it is in those regressive periods that some of our greatest movements and greatest voices had found their footing.

President Andrew Jackson’s atrocious American Indian removal program gave us the powerful Cherokee memorial letters. The standoff at Standing Rock gave us what the BBC called “the largest gathering of Native Americans in more than 100 years.”

Crackdowns on gay bars gave us the Stonewall uprising. America’s inept response to the AIDS epidemic gave us Act Up and Larry Kramer. California’s Proposition 8 breathed new life into the fight for marriage equality and led to a victory in the Supreme Court.

The racial terror that followed the Emancipation Proclamation gave us the anti-lynching movement, the N.A.A.C.P., W.E.B. Du Bois, Ida B. Wells and James Weldon Johnson.

Jim Crow gave us the civil rights movement, and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Congressman John Lewis, Fannie Lou Hamer and James Baldwin.

The latest rash of extrajudicial killing of black people gave us Black Lives Matter.

The financial crisis and the government’s completely inadequate response to it gave us Occupy Wall Street and the 99 percent.

A renewed assault on women’s rights, particularly a woman’s right to choose, gave us, at least in part, the Women’s March, likely the largest march in American history.


Multiple populations are being assaulted at once, across race, ethnicity, religion, gender and sexual identity.

So, in this moment of regression, all the targets of Trump’s ire must push back with a united front, before it is too late.

There’s a lot to say about Jingo, and I wish I was in the right headspace to really write coherently, but I’ve been sitting here with this text post open for about half an hour trying different sentences and finding that none of them quite fit what I’m feeling.

There’s a lot of anger in this book. It’s hard to notice, sometimes, because it’s also an incredibly funny and ridiculous book. There are a lot of jokes! But some of those jokes come to a sharp and unexpected point. That scene with Detritus and the Riot Act is hilarious; it’s got Vimes at his most dry and sarcastic and it’s got Detritus methodically picking up a man and using him to hit a bunch of other men. But it’s also got that sharp moment when one of the men claims that Klatchians have killed people, and Vimes asks “who?” and the man falters and says “…everyone knows they’ve been killing people!” and that’s such a familiar sounding phrase that it pulls you up short.

And any conversation between Fred Colon and Nobby is going to be hilarious, and there is nothing funnier than watching Nobby quietly make a fool of Fred’s casual ignorant racism. He doesn’t even have to try hard! But then: “You know we’re better’n Klatchians. Otherwise what’s the point?

There’s so much of that in this book. Little moments, that betray the frustration and anger behind the entire plotline. When I first read it, I was thirteen, and didn’t notice most of it. But I distinctly remember reading for the first time that scene between Carrot and Goriff:

“We can tell which way the wind is blowing,” said Goriff calmly.
Carrot sniffed the salt air. “It’s blowing from Klatch,” he said.
“For you, perhaps,” said Goriff. 

I’ve never forgotten that. That was how I remembered Jingo after reading the entire series and going back again. There are others that hit me harder now (the “they are us” passage in particular) but this was the scene that telegraphed perfectly to me the bitterness and frustration in this conflict, in watching it, in living it.

And then Jingo gives us what we all want so badly, the whole time, watching this play out. Vimes puts his foot down. He charges in. He arrests the leaders of the opposing nations. He arrests the armies. He stops it, he ends it. And there’s still frustration, there has to be, there’s no way everything can get better overnight. But he saw how stupid the whole thing was and he made it stop. There’s anger in that, too, because it’s what the angry part of us watching the conflict wants to have happen. We want to arrest the armies. We want to arrest Lord Rust and Prince Cadram and everybody like them. We want to end it, and we get to do that alongside Vimes. If only we didn’t have to put the book down afterwards.

I need to make some space for my own anger at the end of this tirade here. Reading the tags on some of these posts, a huge number of them echo the same core sentiment: “relevant.” And it is. It’s so relevant. And I’m so angry. Because it shouldn’t be. We shouldn’t still be here, watching the pebbles bounce. We shouldn’t feel an aching familiarity in the words of a bigot declaring that “everyone knows” something completely made-up, or in a family leaving their home because the people around them are claiming it doesn’t belong to them. Why are we still here. Why is this still happening. Why is this still relevant.

I’m extremely glad to have this book, as an excellent story and excellent social commentary, to be relevant in this time. But I still wish that it wasn’t.

nell411  asked:

I don't remember which blog you posted about this on, but on one of your blogs you mentioned a theory that it was actually Jeremiah that encouraged Kara to hide her powers and act normal not Eliza. Having just finished season 1 again, seeing the references to the past and what I remember of season 2, since I've only rewatched the first 2 episodes so far, I can totally see how that would make sense and if you ever post the details of that theory I would read the shit out it.

I think I mentioned it here at some point? Maybe. I have talked about it with @ultranos​ and with @motorcyclegirlfriends​ a couple of times.

It’s not really a *theory* in that I think it is the One True Way to read the family dynamics, it’s just … an interpretation of canon that nobody’s really considered that is both interesting and frighteningly easy to spin into a plausible headcanon.

The starting point is Alex.

Namely, it’s the fact that Alex is not a reliable narrator when it comes to any member of her immediate family.

She admits repeatedly in S1 that her own insecurities and jealousy toward Kara colored her perception of their relationship for years. She spent the better part of a decade inaccurately reading her relationship with Eliza, again because her insecurities clouded her judgment.

So, if Alex wasn’t seeing Kara or Eliza clearly for all those years, why should we expect her assessment of Jeremiah to be accurate, either?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Complete this conservation: "Mr. Winchester and Mr. Novak, your son has gotten into a fight for the second time this week. We're going to have to suspend him till Tuesday"

“Mr. Winchester and Mr. Novak…” Mr Gault stares down over the top of his glasses at the two men. “Your son has gotten into a fight for the second time this week.” Dean notices a barely noticeable curve to the man’s lip; a smirk if he ever saw one.

“We’re going to have to suspend him till Tuesday,” Mr. Gault continues, “At the very least.” The pleased expression across his face grows bigger. This man actually seems to be taking a weird sort of pleasure in kicking Matthew out of school.

The kid is six. How bad could the fight have been?

Dean’s nostrils flare and he opens his mouth, ready to read the guy the riot act, but he feels Cas’ hand on his arm.

“Mr. Gault, this seems a little extreme.” Castiel appears the picture of composure, but Dean can spot the barely concealed anger in that steely, unblinking stare. “Isn’t detention the normal protocol for something like this?” Mr. Gault’s mouth becomes a thin line.

“Normally, yes, but in situations where a student is injured-“

“Matthew hurt a kid?!” Dean blurts out incredulously. “Why the-“

“Um, actually, your son was the one… injured.” Gault admits. Castiel and Dean blink in unison.

“Another child hurt Matthew and he’s the one getting a suspension?” Castiel’s tone seems to drop the temperature in the room five degrees.

“He instigated the fight,” Gault counters. “And this hasn’t been the first time-“

“So why is this the first time we’re hearing about this?” Castiel crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, and now Dean feels like he’s the one who needs to hold his husband at bay.

“You seem to be dancing around the situation and placing the blame on our kid.” Dean narrows his eyes. “How about we ask Matthew what happened?” Gault’s shoulders straighten, and it appears like he’s calling Dean’s bluff.

“Alright.” He picks up the phone on his desk and hits two buttons, talking to someone on the other line and asking them to send Matthew in. The office door opens a second later and Matthew walks in sullenly, remnants of dried blood under his nose and a rather nice bruise on his forehead. Castiel and Dean both rush to him, talking over each other to ask if he’s alright.

“Matthew,” Castiel says, lightly placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder and quieting Dean. “Can you tell us about the fight?” Matthew gives a sullen nod.

“Eric Roth invited all the kids in class to his birthday,” Matthew sniffs, “But he said I couldn’t come.”

Castiel frowns. “Well, Matthew, that’s no reason to start a fight-“

“He said I’m gross because I have two dads.” A whimper escapes Matthew’s throat and he wipes as his face with his sleeve. The room goes quiet enough to hear a pin drop and both Cas and Dean twist around to look at a very bewildered Mr. Gault.

“Has this happened before, Matthew?” Castiel asks, his voice barely constrained and his eyes not leaving Gault. Matthew nods.

“He told the other kids not to talk to me because my dads are dirty-“

“Our son is getting bullied and you’re punishing him?!” Dean blurts out as he jumps to his feet, towering over the vice principle.

“Uh, well… I was told he started the-“

“I don’t care who the hell started the fight,” Dean snaps. “You’re ignoring abuse of your students and then blaming the victim when they fight back?”

“They shouldn’t be fighting at all-“

“And this has happened repeatedly.” Castiel finally lets the calm facade drop. “Have Eric Roth’s parents been made aware of their child’s behavior?”

“Well, he’s not the instigator-“

“We’re done here,” Dean announces firmly, scooping up a still sniffing Matthew into his arms. “I expect to hear that you’ve addressed the issues of bullying in your school and you won’t be suspending our child when he’s the victim.” Castiel and Dean walk out Mr. Gault’s office, leaving the man still gaping like a floundering fish.

As soon as they are out in the parking lot, Dean pulls back to take a look at Matthew. “You doing ok, buddy?” Matthew gives a small nod.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry about that Eric boy,” Castiel says, patting Matthew’s back comfortingly. “Dad and I will make sure to talk to his mom.”

“Did he hit you in the nose, Matt?” Dean asks. Matthew nods. “Your forehead too?”

“No, I head-butted him,” Matthew says. Dean can’t help but laugh.

“That’s my boy,” he says.

“Don’t encourage him,” Castiel says with a playful slap across his chest.

my official stance on the alt-right racist riots in charlottesville va that as of yet have resulted in the death of one anti-rioter and the injuries of at least 19 others is that i am disgusted not only by the actions of the alt-right but by the reactions of anyone else who isn’t disgusted and horrified that we let it get this far. not to mention i’m angry, truly angry that nobody’s calling this vile “rally” what it is: it’s a riot, it’s an act of terrorism, it’s an anti-humanist insult of the gravest degree. 

i don’t want these hideous, hateful monsters as my neighbours. i don’t want them as my leaders. i don’t want them in my society, nor anyone else’s. i want them defeated. i want them gone. and i want anyone who agrees with them gone as well.

i can believe we as a species let something like this get so far. i don’t like it, but it’s happened before – we just love tearing other people to shreds, don’t we? with with anger, hatred, violence, with politics and economics, with division, separation, and suppression of minority groups, with poor education and intentional misrememberance of history. it’s happened before, it’s happened so much, and with catastrophic consequences. and that makes me sad. it makes me miserable.

but that all of this continues to this day, and that nobody wants to commit to naming the threat, isolating it, and eliminating it – that doesn’t make me sad, it makes me absolutely furious. you know who’s responsible. you know who’s poisoning your country. the so-called alt-right, the kkk, the neo-nazis, and the enablers, anyone who would rather live across the street from a bigot than a black person. there aren’t “many sides” causing this problem, there’s only the one. 

and there are fewer of them than there are of the rest of us.

but you already knew i would say all this. you all already knew i would feel this way, right? i stand by my words, and i own them. and if you don’t like them, then feel free to leave.

also, click the link and read the news. you can’t get all of your information from social media, because it’s always biased toward who you follow and what they repost, and it’s always basely emotional and reactionary. read the damn news. react on your own terms.

Five days after the Voting Rights Act was signed into law, the Watts Rebellion exploded in South Central Los Angeles. . . For six days, an estimated ten thousand African Americans battled with police in an unprecedented rebellion against the effects of racial of racial discrimination, including police brutality and housing discrimination… The fires in Los Angeles were evidence of a developing Black radicalization rooted in the incongruence between America trumpeting its rich abundance as proof of the superiority of free enterprise and Black people suffering the indignities of poverty.
—  From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation, Keeanga Yamhatta Taylor

anonymous asked:

How do u counter the people who say violent riots are bad bc ppl are destroying their own city?

The people who say “violent protests are wrong and immoral, and property damage does nothing” are the same types of people who think MLK ended racism in the US or some other mystified nonsense.

What a lot of people fail to understand is politics is inherently violent. It deals with people’s lives–whether they receive proper care and security or find themselves cast out into the elements. And if state/corporate power is threatening the livelihood of vulnerable people, then these people have a right to be hostile.

To those who say “property damage is dishonorable,” I say “you value property over people’s lives?” Its easier to rebuild or replace trashcans, windows, or cars than it is to rebuild a broken and vulnerable human existence. If this society which robs me of my access to health, security, or education values property over my participation in that society or my precarious living situation in it, you’re gonna see what its like to lose whats precious to you.

These are people’s lives. We care more about seeing tomorrow than having clean streets or aesthetically pleasing shop exteriors.

And to those who say “violence and riots are dishonorable,” i say “look at history. You will see time and time again that all social struggles were won through riots and acts of violence against state and capitalist power.” No where in history have we won concessions from the state by being complacent or polite. If we dont make any demands or follow through to show how much we need it, then the state/capitalists will never show us the light of day. Because why could the capitalist state bother to give us any amount of power or concessions that would put the hegemony at a disadvantage unless they were threatened?

We have a minimum wage because of riots. We got rid of child labor because of riots. We got women’s suffragr because of riots. Slavery ended because of riots. Segregation ended because of riots. We have worker rights and the 8 hour day because of riots. We have LGBT+ rights because of riots.

Never in the history of the bourgeois state apparatus have those in power ever peacefully granted us concessions. It was always taken by force. Merely being polite and gentle makes it easier for others to step on us, and see us as less than a bother to be taken seriously.

And another thing

Why does Steve have monopoly over Peggy Carter? Because she is his ‘love interest’? You mean to tell me that in the seventy years Steve was gone, Peggy, who was one of Howard’s closest friends, wasn’t a part of Tony’s life growing up?

Give me Tony Stark growing up with Aunt Peggy only a phone call away, who was his confidant and mentor.

Give me Tony Stark growing up an honorary member of the Carter family and growing up in contact with badass cousin Sharon Carter and the extended family/descendants of the Howling Commandos.

Give me Tony Stark who had an extended family of loved ones to help support him when his parents died.

Give me Tony Stark with a network of seriously pissed off Howlies descendants out for blood when Obadiah’s treachery is revealed.

Give me Tony Stark making sure his Aunt Peggy had the best care money could buy and visiting whenever he could.

Give me Peggy in her lucid moments reading Steve the riot act for misjudging her favourite nephew

Give me Tony Stark and Sharon Carter as lifelong friends. Give me Sharon coming round for regular bitchfests with a side order of tequila and trying out gadgets in Tony’s workshop.

Give me Sharon Carter who shuts down Fury’s attempt to plant Natasha in Stark Industries and when he fights it she threatens to put ex-Director Carter on the line.

He shuts up.

Give me Tony Stark and Sharon Carter at Peggy’s funeral talking about their Aunt Peggy and everything she worked so hard to build and everything she did for them.

Also give me Sharon Carter who is no one’s token love interest, who didn’t tell Steve who she was because actually it’s no one’s business.

Give me Steve Rogers who realises he isn’t the only person who knows and loves Peggy Carter and respects their viewpoints instead of using her words to justify tearing apart the avengers and the remnants of SHIELD, everything she dedicated her life to building.

sentparagraphsofnonsense  asked:

Sooo.... What's the time you stole your middle school all about? You did say to ask.

+_+ I’ve only been dropping hints for months for someone to ask

ok ok so first of all i need to clarify this is going to be exactly and nothing like and episode of leverage. where in i did not, in fact, go “i need to steal the middle school” but did go “i gotta do something against the authoritarian regime i refuse to bow down to in this hell pit of a society called private school.” but first let me tell you a little bit about my middle school. it was fuckn tiny. there were 15 middle schoolers max. and middle school consisted of 7th and 8th grade. the poor 6th graders were still considered elementary level at this school and managed to escape open warfare that year mostly unscathed. 

after my ice cream trade fiasco my parents sent me off to private school to avoid the bad influences. but i brought all the bad influences with me and honestly i think the next 5 years were hell on earth for my teachers. who mostly just let me get away with murder because tiny me was a terrifying monster who wasnt afraid of the consequences anymore and my mother was the devil and even more frightening than little me who might shank you with a paperclip. now i went to a montessori school which are good in theory and very rarely successful in execution. the entire theory is that the school mostly operates on “students learn at their own rate and need to be responsible enough to decide what and when they learn things.” and mostly i decided that i never wanted to learn anything ever and i wanted to spend the entirety of 7th grade reading books not on the reading list. which created conflict with my teachers who didnt know how to handle a smart kid that could talk circles around them to the point that when they came to my mother completely frazzled and out of their minds with dread they said things like “she’s so smart if she wasnt so stupid” and “i just want to shake some sense into her” which usually resulted in the devil peering down at them from her throne of hellfire and stealing their souls and damning them to hell on earth and the riot act and a general “just go to school and do what you want” blessing to me. which i, tiny hell spawn who just got my period for the first time that year and had a bone to pick with everyone, took entirely to heart.

now the middle school peerage was open combat from week one everyone hated one another and there was no escape when you’re all stuffed together in one room and the teachers prefer group projects to individual work. and i was queen bee last year in 6th grade ruling the roost of elementary and then all of the sudden they wanted me to be small man on the totem pole to the 8th graders??? that wasnt about to fly. id been running a long con scheme out of the snack bar for years and nothing could stop me at that point. so i was fighting everyone, and a few times literally fighting a classmate or two (did i get suspended even though i started at least one of those? i did not. did i get about two black eyes that year and a broken nose? yes i did.) this is all very important to my amazing episode of leverage which happened about half way through the year. 

my school was in a small developing community and the houses were being constructed at an alarmingly slow rate around the building and my class had a door to the outside. so one day when i got so sick of life and my teachers telling me, yet again, “no you cant read comics you need to learn the history of the us government” and the stupid fucking 8th graders egging the teachers on about how we all needed to learn these things, i got up and left. walked right out the door and down the access ramp and over to the playground. i got yelled at pretty good but i realized something very very important that day. I could leave. Nothing could stop me. sure i had to go back in eventually but that wasnt nearly as important as the fact i could walk out those doors and take off whenever i wanted. 

remember how i said a key point of the montessori education program was responsibility? well part of that responsibility was at lunch we self-monitored and the teachers usually pissed off to eat in the office away from the evil brats they had to teach. and like always, away they went at lunch and there we were all of us. eating without the careful adult eye lurking over our shoulders. and i dont remember why or what happened that day but i decided to use my new power of leaving (only used once so far, you can never be too careful with things like this) and said something along the lines of “bye guys I’m outa here” and probably one of my friends said something like “can i come with you?” and i definitely said something stupid like “yeah sure i cant stop you” and out we went. followed by the rest of the the 7th and 8th graders. 

and this i do remember happening very clearly: the one bitch ass shithead i had problems with all year goes “guys you cant leave we have class” and i absolutely responded with the ever mature “you a fucking chicken? lets go already” and under the pervasive power of dropping the f bomb and the infuriating questioning of her honor she also came along. and now that i wasnt by myself i finally gave into temptation that the very slow construction sites circling the school had been offering all year. so i took my class adventuring.

meanwhile, all of which we later found out, my rebellion sent everyone into a tailspin back at school because 15 students were missing. the cops got called and kept very hush hush because no one actually wanted to admit to a hoard of what would be angry parents that their children were missing. 

i of course set off to the largest house in the neighborhood and opened the unlocked door (unlocked because no one had installed the door handles yet) mostly because i heard a rumor that there was an indoor pool in the house and i wanted to see what kind of other bullshit a house with an indoor pool had. turned out it was mostly a lot of stairs and dust since it was, ya know, a construction site. the pool was very cool and we all mostly sat around the edge of a empty pool for a few hours before we all decided that going back to school so we could get picked up to go home was probably the most important thing to do. and of course before we left i swore everyone to secrecy about who left first since all of us went. and used the dirt i managed to compile on the fucking 8th grader who i hated to blackmail her into silence. and back we went ready to go home after a day of thievery for the greater good. 

and since none of us where talking when we got questioned about what happened, where did we go, who went first– none of us got in real trouble. the school got in trouble for losing 15 students of course. and the teachers all knew it was me generally because i couldnt help the smirk of satisfaction™ anytime we made eye contact. but they couldnt do anything about it. 

this also led to my fellow comrade and enemies alike realizing that the teachers couldnt really do shit to us since our parents mostly owned the place by way of a paycheck and that meant the spring semester devolved rapidly into hell once we all went back to the status quo of hating each other. 

at the end of the year my mother was politely told that i wasnt invited back for 8th grade. and off i went back to public school with my bad influences leaving behind a legacy of greatness no other 7th grader has ever lived up to. 

the time i fucked with the 5th graders

Motherhood is such a beautiful part of a woman’s life and I’m so happy you chose to embrace it.
It’s 9 months of a person growing inside of you.
9 months of all those chemical, hormonal changes in your body and stretch marks spreading across your skin like maps to places you forget to love, bringing out all the softness you buried under your chest when the world got too rough.
9 months of every side of you that’s still learning how to heal.
None of it all matters when that tiny bundle is cradled in your arms, struggling to keep her eyes open.
I hope you’re not too rough pushing her out of the nest and teaching her how to fly.
I know you’re scared for her future and for your own, but there’s nothing wrong with taking a little more time in learning how to get back on your feet and walk again.
I hope you teach your child to be brave enough to fall over and over again because you’ll always be there to pull her back up so that the pitter-patter of her footsteps and the melody of her giggles resonate through your house, which has forgotten it was ever quiet.
I hope you teach her to get trapped in the web of her own head and fall in love with the things that save her.
I hope you teach her to be loving and caring, to know the difference between fairytales and snares, to stumble on rocks and bleed but to never stop craving the smell of fresh mud after the rain under her feet.
I hope you teach her to believe in the marvel of her curious wide eyes and scraped knees, because even when you catch a butterfly and she sheds her colours on your palms, she doesn’t stop escaping and fluttering her wings.
I hope you teach her how important it is to follow your own heart because you never want her to grow old and realise that in her pursuit for stability, she forgot how to be happy.
But most of all, I hope you teach her to be kind. To learn to love the fuzzy feeling of warmth spreading across her chest and her palms every time a wide smile stretches itself across someone’s face because she’d rather buy them food than save all her paychecks for jewellery she’d never use.
To teach her to be happy with being called crazy every time she’s grinning and excitedly talking about how she rescued a mangled puppy off the streets to give it a home.
To teach her how the world runs on these random acts of kindness but everyone is so deeply immersed in their own troubles that they forget how important it is to smile.
Last of all, I hope you teach her to say, “I love you” and never not mean it.
—  Tamarind Fall; Writing prompt: To the friend who is pregnant and about to give birth.
On My Own- Auston Matthews

Originally posted by matthewsdangles34

Ok so I’m not sure how I feel about this one… so let me know what you guys think! Especially you anon! Enjoy!

Warning: none

Anon Request: Could I request an Auston Matthews imagine based off the song Own My Own from Les Miserables, where y/n is in love with him and she thinks he doesn’t like her at all, and Mitch sees her crying about it one day, so she explains to him why she’s crying, and Mitch tells her to tell Auston she loves him because he knows he loves her too?


              You were so dumb.

Keep reading

I Sort of Like You

Keith rolled over, slamming his hand down on the alarm button. “Why do we keep this on my side of the bed again?” He asked, burying his face in a pillow.

Lance laughed lightly and wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso, pulling himself closer. “Because you are the worst about actually getting up.”

“I’m a night owl, how did I get stuck with a morning person?” He grumbled, turning to face Lance.

“It’s 10:30.” He said, blue eyes ran over his face like they were gaining the strength needed to get him through the rest of the day.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He pecked Keith’s nose and moved to get out of bed.

“Like I don’t look like a hot mess right now.” Keith mumbled, sitting up and trying to run a hand through his tangled hair.

“Well, you do, but still.” Lance smiled as he slipped on a shirt for the day. “That face gets me through the day.”

“You need to stop that.” Keith threw himself back down on the bed, a furious blush spreading across his cheeks. “Stop being so cute, so sweet, so… all of that. It’s too early to deal with it.”

“Am I turning you on?”

“Leave me alone.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

omg how would cisco react if he knew they were using his gun for kinky sex purposes

“You did whAT with MY gun?!”

“It’s not your gun, Cisco, it’s –”

“My sweet, innocent creation –”

“Cisco it’s literally a weapon you designed to hurt me–”

“Yeah - HURT you! Not get you off you kinky little –”

“Now now boys, no need to exchange such heated words.”

“Stay out of this, Cold.”

“Please Len, don’t get between Cisco and his inventions, really. Have I ever told you about the riot act he read me when he found out you had a kink for getting me off in the suit?”


[response to this prompt fill]