by the damn mustard

Never Good Enough

Originally posted by deangifsdaily

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 736
Warnings: Angst

Part 1 of Last Chance


“Hey, babe?” You smiled, walking into the library where Dean was on his laptop. “I made you something to eat.” It was just about lunch time, and wanted to surprise him. Setting the plate down, you hoped that he enjoyed what you made.

His green eyes darted to the plate for a moment before looking back to whatever he was doing. “You use that mustard I like?” He asked simply.

“Yup!” You told him, glad that you had remembered.

“Not bloody, right?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at that. I’ve worked it out to timing it perfectly.” As of late, you hadn’t had any issues with the burgers you made coming out too raw for anyone. “Seasoned the burger with salt and pepper while it cooked, as well.” That was something that you’d learned damn quick to do, as it brought out more flavor.

Turning to head back to the kitchen to clean up, you smiled as Dean picked up his burger and took a bite. “Awe, come on.” He groaned, getting up to walk past you. “Barely any mustard, none of my damn pickles, and could have been cooked a couple minutes longer.”

You let out a soft sigh, hoping that you could do something else to make it up to him.

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My favorite things about Why Drones Suck

·FIRST PAPA FRANKU RANT SINCE THE RICEFIELDS
·his nerd ass glasses
·his fluffy hair
·the fuckin cum part that was probably dijon mustard
·he shot a god damn drone WITH A SHOTGUN for the meme
·"It had to be a black drone"
·him genuinely being scared of the drone, aw
·"you’re just a pussy ass bitch"
·did I mention Frank because yES

Aurors in Fantastic Beasts

Look I really tried to take these bad ass Aurors seriously…

I mean look at these guys 

How could you not be in awe of them

Tina could punch me in the face and I’d say thank you 

But despite all that I could only think about this….

LOOK at this dork with her mustard-stache ready to defend and protect 

And damn that musical for making me crack up every single time I saw an Auror

But even through all that I’d still trust my life with these badass dorks 

Wrong Target

Originally posted by crazy-vibes-under-the-moon

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 902

Part 1 of From the Other Side


Dean could hear you walking into the library, but kept his eyes on the screen. Everything was stressing him out, and it was just one thing after another. Hell, sometimes he couldn’t even figure out what was bothering him. Glancing at the burger, he quickly went back to work. “You use the mustard I like?” He asked. There were very few things in the bunker that didn’t wind up being shared- his mustard being one of them. After Sam had used the last of it, that was it.

“Yup!” You sounded happy about that, making the corner of his mouth move slightly.

Licking his lips, he went on. “Not bloody, right?” He liked his burgers medium-rare, not like he was a damn vampire again drinking blood.

He saw you shake your head from the corner of his eye. “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at that. I’ve worked it out to timing it perfectly.” Dean had to admit, that was true. The first time you’d cooked him a burger, he wound up basically hosting a cooking lesson just for you. He thought it was cute how intently you listened to him. “Seasoned the burger with salt and pepper while it cooked, as well.” That he taught you by making two pieces of chicken. One seasoned, one not. You tasted both and it hit you what a difference it made.

Dean picked up his burger, his mouth watering, and took a bite. “Awe, come on.” He groaned, getting up to walk past you, chewing his bite quickly. “Barely any mustard, none of my damn pickles, and could have been cooked a couple minutes longer.” Honestly, he really didn’t care all that much, but with everything else- he blew it out of proportion.

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Of Pups and Alphas - 2

Requested by @screams-setonfire : Can you do a part two to the overprotective of baby mama Derek Hale imagine? The first one was beautiful ?

Prompt: Derek and you get paint for the nursery. Derek scares an employee at a fast food restaurant and the baby kicks for the first time.

Characters: Derek x Pregnant!reader

Word count: ~1700 words

A/N: Second part of the protective daddy!derek series. Part 1



You pulled on your shirt before inspecting yourself in the full-length mirror. Your baby bump was now clearly visible, stretching out your shirt. Turning a bit you inspected you bump from the side – first you were surprised about how big your bump was despite that you only were 3 months along, but Deaton had explained that it was completely normal.

Werewolf pregnancies in general are shorter than human ones and since you were carrying the child of an alpha it wasn’t surprising that your pregnancy was moving along faster as well.

Sighing you ran one hand through your hair and with a last glance in the mirror you left the bedroom.

“Derek!”, you shouted while walking into the kitchen.

Before you could shout for him again Derek came running, crouching down in a fighting stance in front of you.

Puzzled you looked down at him while Derek’s eyes scanned the room.

“What the hell are you doing, Der?”

Derek breathed in deeply before his stance relaxed and he drew himself up to his full height.

“Don’t scream my name like that. I thought you were getting attacked.”

Laughing you patted Derek’s cheek, “You’re really acting like a guard dog since I’m pregnant, Derek.”

Anyone else would have gotten a good punch from Derek for calling him a dog but you only got a weak glare.

“I wanna buy some paint for the nursery,” you said, completely ignoring Derek’s glare.

“I can call Lydia over to watch you while I buy some paint. What color do you want?” Derek asked.

You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest, “I said I want to buy the paint and you’re going to take me somewhere where I can do that.”

“Can’t you stay home while I buy the paint?” Derek whined.

Since you got pregnant Derek tried to keep you home as much as possible. Usually, you didn’t mind, it was sweet how worried he was, but you were adamant about buying the paint yourself.

You glared at Derek, letting him know exactly what you thought about his plan. Derek frowned and glared back at you for a few seconds but soon sighed, “Fine.”

You cheered and Derek’s lips twitched up in a smile – he would do anything to see you happy.

Half an hour later you arrived at the store and immediately shuffled towards the paint buckets, Derek hot on your heels.

You looked at the different colors, wondering what would be best for the nursery. Since you didn’t know the gender of your child it was impossible to choose one of the typical colors for girls or boys. On the other hand it was a good thing since you didn’t want your child to grow up forced into some stupid gender role.

Maybe it would be cool to draw something on the walls, like a scene from a fairy tale. The first fairy tale coming to your mind was little red riding hood. You chuckled about the irony of your idea, but hey, it was a cute idea nonetheless.

While you were still thinking about all the colors you would need Derek stood behind you with his arms crossed over his chest, looking the aisle up and down. Every time someone else wanted to walk into the same aisle he shot them a glare, effectively making them turn on their heel.

You tried to grab a paint bucket, but immediately Derek reached over you and took the bucket, his chest pressing against your back.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy things,” Derek grumbled when you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t let me lift anything,” you replied, the amusement clear in your voice.

Derek shrugged, “Is that a problem?”

“Nope, but we still need more paint.”

You started to point at all the colors you wanted and Derek diligently lifted them down.

In the end you had choosen 7 different colors and Derek carried them all to the register at one go. Honestly, you were impressed by how he managed to balance them all.

A few minutes later you sat in the car again, the paint buckets safely stored in the trunk. You spent the drive in comfortable silence, playing with Derek’s fingers.

You drove past a restaurant and immediately decided that you were hungry. Really hungry.

“Der?”

Derek quickly glanced at you, squeezing your hand to let you know that he was listening.

“I’m really hungry,” you stated, rubbing your baby bump to emphasize your statement.

“Yeah? I could cook something for you when we’re back.”

“Nooo, you’re just going to make me some healthy crap,” you groaned.

Derek raised an eyebrow, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes, “It’s good for the pup.”

“Your pup wants curly fries, a milkshake, salad and burgers.”

Derek was silent, staring straight at the road.

“Pleeeease?”

You saw his jaw clench and knew you had won.

“Fine, let’s stop somewhere, but tomorrow I’m cooking again,” Derek relented.

10 minutes later you were skipping into a fast food restaurant, mentally making a list of all the things you were going to get.

You stopped in front of the counter, Derek planting himself behind you, one of his hands softly resting on your bump.

A young employee, maybe around 17 years old, sent you a tired look.

“What can I get for you?” he drawled out his words, but you were focused on starting at the pictures of food behind him.

“Mhhm… I want a vanilla, a strawberry and a chocolate milkshake. 3 large orders of curly fries, a salad and 5 cheeseburgers,” you tilted your head to look at Derek, “do you want anything, Der?”

Derek shook his head and you turned back to the young employee, “Okay, that’s it… oh, can you put mustard on the cheeseburgers and no ketchup?”

The employee groaned, “You sure you want to order so much? And no mustard, we only put ketchup on cheeseburgers.”

You shoulders fell and you immediately teared up. Damn pregnancy hormones, but you really wanted mustard and you could order whatever you want! Stupid boy!

Derek pulled you closer, a low growl reverberating in his chest. You wanted to calm him down, but Derek had already stepped in front of you, slamming his hands down on the counter.

The employee’s eyes widened almost comically when Derek leaned over the counter, his muscular arms clearly visible thanks to the black t-shirt he was wearing.

Derek’s voice was rough, a bit of his alpha voice slipping through and you were sure his eyes had flashed red by now.

“Listen, kid. You’re getting my girl her order and she is getting her cheeseburgers with mustard, are we clear? I don’t want to hurt a kid, but I’m going to if you push my patience any further.”

Not even five minutes later you held your order in your arms and made your way out of the restaurant. Derek held the car door open for you and you smiled up at him gratefully.

“Thanks Derek, but the poor kid almost pissed his pants and what did we say about growling at people?”

“I know, but you know how I get. My wolf freaks out when he thinks you or the pup are in any kind of danger and I could literally smell your tears.”

Pouting you got into the car. Derek placed one hand on the car door and leaned down with a smirk, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“It was fun and the kid deserved it,” with that words he closed the door.

Still smirking Derek slid into the driver’s seat. You decided not to say more. Scaring that boy seemed to make Derek happy and long as you had your food you were content.

Once you reached the loft Derek led you upstairs and you started to spread out your food next to you on the couch while Derek left to get the paint.

You were just unwrapping your first burger when you felt a sudden pressure against your bump. Surprised you placed your free hand on the bump. You almost wanted to pull your hand back when you felt it again. That was your baby. Kicking. Your baby was kicking!

“Derek!” You screamed loudly, “Derek! Hurry!”

You heard something clank to the ground – hopefully the paint buckets and not Derek.

Only seconds later Derek burst into the loft, his canines extended. You gave him an incredulous look when he panned his gaze around the room.

You felt the baby kick again and you let out a surprised noise. Derek rushed towards you and kneeled down in front of the couch, his hands awkwardly hovering over your body.

“W-What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, baby. Should I get Deaton? (f/n)?”

“Shut up, Derek.” You grabbed one of Derek’s hands and placed it on your belly. As if the baby knew what you wanted you felt another kick, even stronger than the ones before.

Derek jumped back a bit, but immediately placed his hand back down, a look of wonder on his face.

“Our pup is kicking…” Derek mumbled, more to himself than to you.

He gently pushed your shirt up and placed his hand on your bare skin. You giggled when you felt another kick and Derek look up at you with a boyish grin. You had never seen Derek look so happy, so carefree.

Derek pulled you down and nuzzled his head in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“He’s just as strong as his daddy,” he mumbled against your skin.

“I think it’s a girl and she’s going to be just as strong as her mommy,” you said and ran a hand through Derek’s hair, “I told you our baby wants burgers and curly fries.”

You could feel Derek smile against your neck, “I’m still cooking something healthy tomorrow, (f/n). And we have to buy new paint, I dropped all of it.

Piss is hot under bleach
And we wait
For them mortgages
To appear, disappear
With post office deposits
At least
There’s a beautiful body
Remember me
Getting you hot
By saying
That’s how you do it
When that guy was tearing that
One Spanish bitch up from the back,
Things I do,
Sound Clashes
Speeding through Alhambra
Playing
“The boy is mine” UK Garage Mix
Wearing mustard yellow tinted
Sun glasses,
Damn I’m life
I want that beautiful face
I’m just going to kiss that beautiful face
All up,

the zombie au (pt. 1)

content warnings: zombies, violence/blood/injuries, ableism

  • so the machine sends them a number one day
  • it’s some scientist working on a cure for whatever
  • seems straightforward enough
  • protect the dude, let him finish making the thing
  • they keep an eye on him for a week, he finishes the thing
  • mission accomplished?
  • EXCEPT
  • the machine totally wanted them to take him out. to stop him
  • he unintentionally created a virus that leads to the zombie outbreak
  • it spreads quickly in ny
  • tm tells root to get the team the fuck outta there
  • tells root that She is going to have to go offline. to die
  • the electricity will be shut off, society will collapse
  • root tries to tell finch, he doesn’t believe her at first
  • “zombies? this isn’t science fiction, ms. groves”
  • “isn’t it?” reese asks with a bitter laugh. he believes it right away. hes too weary to show the fear
  • “i’m sure people will say that about our secret ai war too, finch.” shaw growls
  • she’s also behind root 100%
  • zombies? it’s crazy. but she’s been brought back to life. anything is possible
  • “the machine doesn’t make mistakes, finch. you said it yourself.” john says because finch will listen to him if anyone when it comes to the impossible
  • so they barricade the entrance to the subway and hightail it the fuck outta there
  • the infection’s in the early stages, no mass panic yet
  • john and shaw raid several army surplus stores
  • they arent looking forwards to going back to those damn mres
  • “finch, you got a gated community somewhere out on the coast or something?” shaw asks when they start packing gear out of their safehouse “we need a place to sit this out”
  • john immediately makes a face
  • "have you ever tried to survive in new york in the winter without shelter? most people don’t make it. i barely did. we shouldn’t risk it.”
  • roots not that into the idea of travelling
  • "we’d find a place to stay. plus- the machine DID had me infiltrate a tent city, that one time. i’ve roughed it!”
  • “that isn’t the same. trust me on this one, guys.”
  • finch picks up the conversation so john doesnt have to explain any more, thankfully
  • he convinces them to drive south
  • the world’s scariest roadtrip
  • they take cars until society starts to collapse
  • by that time they’ve probably made it to tennessee 
  • thought they arent exactly sure where they are. cell service, if its still up, is limited and most website servers are no longer running
  • but theyve made it south
  • somewhere mild enough so they wont die in the winter
  • when its no longer safe to go out in public, they settle down in an abandoned house
  • shaw/john/root brought a shitfuck of weapons with them
  • shaw and john constantly emphasize the need to conserve ammo
  • harold is kinda in denial about the collapse of society for awhile
  • he cant go on scouting missions, or raids
  • he stays at home and protects the homestead (with john most of the time)
  • takes care of the vegetable garden
  • he’s absurdly proud of his damn garden
  • “most people aren’t capable of growing mustard seeds this far south- however i do think that this plant will bloom quite nicely. we’ll have some dijon in time for barbeque season.”
  • shaws not very impressed
  • “where are we gonna get the hot dogs, harry”
  • “finch has a weiner i can eat. don’t think you two would like it, though.”
  • the girls are horrified
  • finch is blushing
  • anyway
  • root keeps a motorcycle around for quick transport and scouting
  • they’re lucky for awhile
  • they’re out in the middle of nowhere so they don’t come across too many wandering zombies
  • they only trade in neutral territory, they never bring others back to base
  • harold thinks it would be a good idea to team up with others
  • especially in the beginning
  • he wants to hold onto society for as long as possible
  • it doesnt end very well. he stops asking to bring others into the group after that
  • they cant live in quiet paradise for forever
  • eventually they’re overrun by a herd
  • john gets a nasty gash in his leg. shaw’s worried they’ll have to amputate
  • "we can match limps, finch”
  • he’s lying on a dirty bed in a dirty room, clutching finch’s hand for dear life. root’s patrolling the perimeter while shaw does her best to clean the wound
  • “now is not the time for jokes, mr reese”
  • johns breaking out in a cold sweat. hes pale and weak and holding onto finchs hand with what be every ounce of strength left
  • finch cant help but cry. his strong, brave patroclus, whos already been mourning every day over the undead lives hes had to take, brought down by a stake hed put up for finch’s own defense
  • he remembers how john had joked and smiled as he’d worked it into the ground
  • how they’d kissed sweetly after and picked fresh tomatoes
  • they ran out of antibiotics last year, after root got a nasty upper respiratory infection
  • john ends up losing his leg
  • his screams are the hardest part
  • they both cry for a long time

ho that’s straight

i hit em with the k

i hit em in they face

i tell em see you late

i hit em with the funk

i put em in the trunk like damn


you know it’s houdinne

you know i got the binne

you see me on tv

two thousand thirtinne

OCT

i fuck her no delibe (deliberation) like damn


on that wake

barely awake

couldnt een skate

still sound great

fish in the lake

ya bitch catch the bait like damn



fo fifteen

hit em with the triple beam

mustard green

fuck ya whole team

i’m really unseen

perception keen like damn



just hit the bong

flew from here to hong kong

on that strong

tong pong kong

my shlong is very long

i got it goin on like damn

Made with SoundCloud

NPR just published an exposé about nine secret experiments performed by the US military on 60,000 Black, Japanese-American, & Puerto Rican enlisted soldiers during WWII. There have been previous exposés about US government human experiments, including CIA experiments, from 1940 through 1970. The WWII experiments were all racist-based–as were many of the later ones.

The WWII experiments were with mustard gas which affects a person within seconds, producing burns & irreversible damage, including cancer, chronic skin diseases, respiratory illnesses, eye problems. Mustard gas was first used as a weapon of war by the Germans in WWI so US scientists knew damn well what mustard gas did to human beings: skin blisters, vomiting, blindness, internal & external bleeding, stripping of mucus membranes in the bronchial tubes.

According to NPR, because the experiments were secret, they were not recorded on the men’s military records so they have no proof they went through them. They received no follow-up health care or monitoring of any kind. They were not volunteers but were ordered or offered incentives to participate. Rollins Edwards, a participant & the man in this photo, said he never questioned the experiments. “Defiance was unthinkable especially for Black soldiers,” he said. “You do what they tell you to do & you ask no questions,”

Participants were also threatened with dishonorable discharge or military prison time if they told & were unable to disclose the cause of their disfiguring & chronic health problems to doctors after they were discharged.

Now here’s the kicker! Given what we already know about human experiments, especially the large number of racist experiments conducted by US government scientists–(that includes Tuskegee, eugenics experiments on Black, Latina, Native American, & disabled women, & on women in Guatemala & Puerto Rico)–NPR should have felt entirely confident asserting the unmitigated racism of these experiments that rival Dr. Josef Mengele & other Nazi scientists in debasement.

Instead, showing the corporate sponsorship to which they dance, NPR pulled its punches. They said we should remember the US & its scientists were preparing for chemical warfare in WWII–as if that justified racist experiments on human beings. They claimed scientists wanted to see if there were variables between how different ethnicities reacted to chemicals & that “at the time” scientists thought Blacks were more resistant.

“At the time” has to be one of the most atrocious & banal excuses for historic crimes ever invented. At the time of these experiments, there was a major political campaign to desegregate the US military. At the time, Black & Puerto Rican soldiers were coming home in body bags, all shot up, missing limbs just like every other soldier. So they can cut the crap on that “at the time” stuff.

Rollins Edwards is here showing the scars from exposure to mustard gas 70 years ago as part of the WWII experiments. He says he has constant itching on his arms & legs which break out in rashes where he was burned. During outbreaks his skin falls off in flakes & he carries a jar of the flakes to show people what happened to him.
By Mary Scully
(Photo by Amelia Phillips Hale for NPR)

I've discovered I can categorize sexy men into mustard types:

We have your averagely hot French:

Ooh Lala

Mildly hotter American:

 

Talk about a “Hot Dog”! ^^

And of course your (FUCKING DAYUM) Hot English!:

Have my babies!

In conclusion, both the men and the mustard look pretty delicious to me!

Imagine:

Being punished by Roc. If he told you to do something and you got an attitude, he would throw himself on you forcefully and gave you that GOOD dick. Shit, I’ll make the nigga a damn sandwich after.

“What you want on your sandwich? Mustard? Lettuce? Tomatoes? Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

-Teenage Zane