political meeting

September 25, 1917 - British Political and Military Leaders Meet in Boulougne to Discuss Strategy; Continue Ypres Offensive or Send Reinforcements to Italy 

Pictured - A British howitzer crew in Italy. British and French troops went to strengthen the Italian lines. On the other side German soldiers joined the Austro-Hungarians in preparation of a strong offensive.

“Easterners” vs “Westerners” clashed again as Britain’s leaders argued over their strategy for the rest of 1917. Prime Minister Lloyd George visited the Fifth Army in Ypres and made no secret that he wanted to abandon the offensive in Belgium, telling Chief of the Imperial Staff William “Wully” Robertson that supporting Haig was “backing the wrong horse.”

Lloyd George was particularly angry because Italian Chief of Staff Luigi Cadorna had just written to say Italy needed reinforcements or it could not make any more offensives. After the paltry gains and bloody combat of the Tenth Isonzo Battle, Cadorna asked for British and French troops and guns. Lloyd George wanted to send them, Robertson had to stop an even more ambitious plan to strip Haig of ten divisions and make a landing in Turkey.

Haig on the other hand was furious at the Prime Minister’s political meddling. He claimed that the German divisions at Ypres were “broken,” and that enemy prisoners were so weak and scrawny that the whole German army must be about to buckle from starvation. Lloyd George for his part no longer believed a word coming from BEF headquarters in France. He would have liked to sack Haig, but realized it would look very bad to Parliament and the public. Haig continued his battle, which he meant to escalate again on September 26 with an attack on Polygon Wood. 

6

They are all convinced she is a princess queen. Val Daenerys looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess queen, Jon decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

Okay but what I love about Wonder Woman is how her being from another world is used for humour, but never at Diana’s expense. Of course a woman who has never seen a baby before would go running towards a crying baby. What she’s wearing is considered normal in Themyscira so why would she want to cover up? She’s used to attending all important political meetings at home so why would she miss out on this one?

And instead of being like “women, amirite?” Steve responds with the kind of fond exasperation someone has for their very large and enthusiastic puppy.

Winchesterprincessbride Reads-A/B/O Edition

Everyone who knows me knows I am complete, utter A/B/O trash.  Especially Alpha! Sam.  He just does it for me in a big, BIG way. I know I often see people looking for A/B/O fic recs, so I’m gonna make some recommendations since I have read so many of them.

1.  Nice To Meet You- By @ilostmyshoe-79  -  Alpha!Sam yummyness! I have read this one so many times I can probably recite it by memory.  One of my all-time favorites. Kimmy is the bomb!

2. Claimed- By @ilostmyshoe-79 Another Kimmy masterpiece.  This one is Alpha!Dean, and another one of my all-time favorites. So I like Kimmy, so?

3. Moonlight By @cleverdame A/B/O and Daddy!Sam feels in the same story. Hells Yeah!!! This story has a sequel.  Blisteringly hot sexy times in this one! George is a Sam!girl after my own heart!

4. I Lost My Sock By @huntingandwritingthings  Who knew laundry could be so hot? It all starts when Sam’s sock end’s up in the reader’s basket.  I will never look at laundry as boring again!

5. Political Animals By yours truly, @winchesterprincessbride  It’s my list so I can put one of my own stories if I want! Alpha Sam!/Omega Reader (duh!) where they hook up in a bar and reader bails, only to cross paths later at a debate where their parents are opponents.

6. Together- By @kittenofdoomage  This is Alpha!Dean and it is angsty as all get out. But it’s Kitten, so you know it’s DAMN good! Some trigger warnings so check before you read.  

7. Starting Over By my favorite redhead, @oriona75 This is an A/B/O AU featuring Alpha! Tahmoh and Omega Reader and it’s really good! This was one of the first A/B/O’s I read and I remember thinking to myself, What the hell is a knot??? Oh how far I have come LOL!

8. Alpha looks like an Omega By one of my buddies in the A/B/O trash can, @dr-dean  This one is 12 chapters in on AO3, and it has a unique twist.  The reader is the Alpha, and DEAN is the Omega.  SO GOOD, and the spin makes it different.

9. The Arrangement By @helvonasche If you know Hel, you know she writes some damn fine smut! Sam and (OC Charlotte AKA Chuck) make an arrangement to get them through her heats and his ruts.  Dean and Donna are a couple in this also, which is a plus!

10. Of Hyacinths and Cookies By @madamelibrarian - Alpha!Sam/Omega!Jess .Even though I knew what was going to happen, I wanted the ending to be different somehow.  Knowing didn’t make it any easier.  So touching and sweet and sad.

11. Brown-eyed Girl By my pal @jotink78 AKA Sleepy Jean.  This little gem is her first attempt at A/B/O.  SJ doesn’t do smut, and you don’t even notice. It’s Alpha!Sam. (Are you guys sensing a pattern here ?? :) What happens when Sam saves an Omega from an assault and realizes he wants her for himself?

tagging @jotink78 @madamelibrarian @helvonasche @dr-dean @oriona75

@kittenofdoomage @huntingandwritingthings @cleverdame @ilostmyshoe-79

the spy au that @philosophium ordered !!


Andrew slips through a slit in the crowd, brushing through the sleek trains of expensive gowns, rich wool suits jackets catching on his own. He’s on his second flute of champagne, and the tartness keeps him focused. His attention is on the flavour and the rim of the glass and the warp of faces through it. His earpiece crackles and whispers.

He can see his mark on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by servers and liars and pretty things. One of them is all three, Andrew can tell: a waiter’s vest, a seam of over-applied foundation, and bright blue eyes.

He’s distracting, flighty, a rubber band pulled all the way back. He looks like the memory of a case file, and a name occurs to Andrew one second before Kevin hisses it into his ear.

“It’s fuckin’ Charlie Pilot. Don’t engage, Minyard, we’re not here for him.”

Andrew doesn’t make any effort to reply, just takes another pull of champagne. He’s not really watching the troupes of entertainers or the clockwork security or the velvet and silk blooming under bowing chandeliers. He’s not even watching the man he’s either going to rob or kill, who’s laughing and weedy, red in the face from the alcohol. He’s stuck on Pilot –  next to his target, holding a heavily stocked tray of appetizers, his expression pleasant and empty.

He’ll be an irritant to what should be a straightforward plan, if he keeps hovering. Andrew takes a loaded step forward and the voice in his ear complains.

“Don’t even think about moving in until Pilot leaves. He’s probably doing reconnaissance for Matt. I bet he doesn’t even know about the file.”

Andrew watches Pilot’s face tick, the way he blinks like he’s on a timer, the way he’s worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

“I bet he does,” Andrew murmurs, and he drains the last of the champagne. He plucks his tie pin away from the fabric and drops it in the empty glass, leaving it on a passing tray.

“What— what the fuck Minyard, we’ve lost visuals. Do you hear me? Andrew? Andrew?”

Andrew weaves through the rest of the golden crowd, ignoring the buzz of Kevin’s reprimands in his ear. He finds a new spot on the outskirts of the crowd where Pilot has installed himself.

“Do you know how fucking expensive those cameras are? You’re such a piece of shit operative,” Kevin says. “When you inevitably come back without the intelligence and without our equipment, it’s costing us to keep you around, do you realize that?”

Andrew’s more focused on the way Pilot’s shoulders are turning to face him, the slim line of his tailored pants, that eyelash-thick smudge of un-blended make up.

“Shrimp?” Pilot offers, swaying the tray in his direction.

“No,” Andrew says, but he stays uncomfortably near, feeling along the edges of his boundaries without finding any seams. Pilot’s composure is still and reserved as a frost-ravaged garden.

“Have a good evening then,” Pilot says graciously, turning back towards the host that Andrew should be sizing up but hasn’t even looked at. He glances at him for a sliver of a moment, finds himself uninterested, and looks back at Pilot.

Andrew catches him suddenly by the arm, but relaxes his grip just as quickly, caught off guard by his own impulsivity. His own disguise is just an invitation and sun bleached hair; he isn’t playing a character like Pilot is. He’s neutral for a living, but Pilot is a new weight on his scale, unbalancing him so that he can’t quite settle at zero.

When their eyes meet, the polite, curious waiter snips out of existence. Charlie Pilot stares at Andrew, with eyes like the bluest part of a fire.

“There’s a conflict of interest,” he tells Andrew calmly. “And your interest will lose.”

“I’m not interested in anything,” Andrew says broadly.

“Hm,” Pilot says, unconvinced. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says. He’s always saying it; it’s a novelty that employers enjoy and enemies challenge, amused.

Pilot raises his jaw, mouth twitching. “No, you wouldn’t, would you.” His eyes flicker to the side of Andrew’s face, where Kevin is breathing furiously through his earpiece, then down to the grip he still has on his forearm. He lowers his tray down until the rough edge is pressed to the root of Andrew’s hand threateningly. “You’ll want to let me go, Andrew, or you’re going to end up needing a longer armband.”

Andrew feels genuine surprise squeeze his fingers around Pilot’s wrist. He hadn’t noticed the black fabric extending a whiff beyond his crisp white sleeve. He lets go, and Pilot tucks his shoulders back, satisfied. His hair is too dark to match his freckles, Andrew notes quietly. It is, perhaps, what the make up was meant to cover up.

“You are not going to win, Charlie,” Andrew says. “We’re the more capable team.”

Pilot smiles indulgently. “‘Charlie’,” he repeats, mouth curling around the name. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been Charlie Pilot.” He jostles his tray from one hand to another, and loosens his collar with his freed hand. “And I don’t think you understand how much farther ahead we are than you. If you’re looking for information, we already have it. If you’re trying to find the connections this place has to the Yakuza, we’re the ones undoing them.”

“Who’s we? I don’t remember seeing anything about loyalty in your case file. You’re just a runner.”

Pilot looks briefly bothered by this, and he juts his chin again. “I’m loyal to whoever’s doing the work that needs to be done.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

He looks down, at Andrew’s empty hands, at the hip where he’s hiding his gun. His expression is warped and sad when he looks up, like the real filling in his strange costume is finally oozing out.

“You can call me Neil,” he says, and drops the whole tray of food so that it clatters and rolls into the host’s feet. There are gasps and yelps, partygoers dodging and stooping to catch the runaway platter. Andrew looks impulsively down to track its progress, and when he looks sharply back up into the knot of activity, Neil is gone. Of course he is.

He doesn’t have time to think about where he might have disappeared to, just steps neatly into the opportunity that’s been afforded to him. He uses the distraction as a doorway directly into the offices behind the coddled host.

Kevin is asking repeatedly for updates, and Andrew fishes the earpiece out and tucks it into his breast pocket. He likes to be alone for this part, when the most important door closes behind him and everything makes as much sense as a ticking clock.

He keeps thinking of Neil’s reaction to ‘runner’, of the vulnerability trussed up in his persona. He finds himself sick to his stomach wanting to know what his real hair colour is.

He tries every door in the polished row of them, finding all of them locked. He picks the lock on the door farthest from the burble of the ballroom behind him, and cracks into what looks like a room built for business arrangements and drinking. There’s a snifter next to a half dozen tumblers on a cart along the wall, and extensive cabinets under the desk.

He feels his way along the underside of the desk, and opens each drawer, idealistically left unlocked and unprotected. He finds useless information and shady information and heaps of anonymous, unlabeled tapes.

He finds the safe in the floor, facing up patiently under a wingback chair and a panel of floorboard. He stoops so that he’s face to face with it, shrugs his jacket off like a dead skin onto the floor, and puts the heart of a stethoscope to the face of the safe.

He’s sweating, spread out surreptitiously on the floor, but the safe is flimsy. It cracks in under an hour, the party wilting two rooms over, pressure taking him by the hair. Andrew flicks the door open impatiently, unwinding the stethoscope from around his neck.

It’s filled top to bottom with paper, and he reaches for the first file, carding his fingers through the spill of sheets.

Got you, it says. Over and over again, in unassuming little typescript. And on the next page, got you.

Andrew’s fingers flex. The next file is the same, and the next. A million taunting, twirling repetitions: got you. Got this. Got here first.

The safe was already cracked. The list of names was already stolen. Neil’s face winks and swarms when he closes his eyes, furious. If you’re looking for information, we already have it.

He roots around for the bud in his pocket and pops it back into his ear. He leans back, splayed away from the spill from the safe, the stacks of failure. He enunciates clearly into the microphone sewn into his collar.

“We have to find Neil.”

Keep reading

I bring my dog everywhere with me

In public he’s a very quiet, well behaved animal. He spends a lot of time looking at people’s faces whilst they’re doing things.

Mind you, the guys’ my best friend. Like we’re together constantly, we do everything together and when it’s just me and him he’s the biggest dork on the planet. He’s the most undignified creature I’ve ever had the pleasure to be acquainted with.

So of course, like I forget how pretty and unique he looks to new people. He’s a German Shepherd that was born all white -so he has a long, stark white coat, a fluffy tail, and golden eyes. They’re the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, in the right light they sort of glow amber.

Today we went to get coffee, and the coffee lady looked down and just had a meltdown, “he’s a fae!” (Her accent makes me think she’s Russian/Ukrainian) so I looked down and the little nerd is doing his best “we’re in public I’m gonna act cool” schtik, sitting with his fluffy tailed curly majestically by his side, chest out, head tilted slightly up so he can just by a few degrees look at the lady right in her face. He just sits. And stares.

Again like my dog is nuts, he’s the type of guy that will reduce himself to a puddle of whimpers, nibbles and flailing paws over a phrase like “is it time for a walk?”, also, he sleeps with a stuffed hedgehog. Every night. If he can’t find Sonic he’ll storm the house and howl at people like they’re holding him prisoner until it’s found.

So cue Sabot (dog, pronounced “Say-bow”) acting like he’s not a hot mess, and this lady is just captivated. She says “he has such a wise face, he looks like an old wizard’s dog, can I biscuit him?” To which I say of course, she gets a biscotti and comes around the counter and squats down near Sabot, who does what most polite people do when meeting a new person and shakes hands. This is too much for the coffee lady, and she takes her 15 minute break. To talk to My Dog.

Guys, I think I just found a new best friend because that was the cutest reaction to meeting a dog I’ve ever seen.

The Proposal

“Oh, look, Draco. It’s Mr. O’Sullivan, the Arithmancer. We should introduce ourselves,” Harry said in an overly-chipper tone.

Draco eyed his boyfriend speculatively over his glass of champagne. Harry usually hated Ministry events such as this, and he hated meeting the people there even more. Draco did not for one second believe that Harry wanted to meet Mr. O’Sullivan, especially considering that the man’s job was one of the most boring in the Wizarding World.

“Should we now?” Draco asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“I just said we should, didn’t I?” Harry kept talking in that annoyingly buoyant way and Draco rolled his eyes.

“If you insist, love.”

Harry and Draco crossed the crowded room, Harry’s hand placed possessively on Draco’s lower back. The smile on Harry’s face was about a mile wide when they reached Mr. O’Sullivan. Draco was smiling too, but not in the manic way that Harry was, his was simply a polite nice-to-meet-you smile.

“Mr. O’Sullivan?” Harry said and the middle-aged man who had been gazing out the window turned to face the two gentlemen.

“Yes? Oh, my. It’s you.” O’Sullivan’s eyebrows lept up to where his hairline should’ve been, had he not been bald. Draco’s smile widened almost imperceptibly, as he found it quite amusing when people twice his age were awed to be in the presence of his boyfriend.

“Yes, it’s me,” Harry responded. “I’ve heard that you’re a very talented Arithmancer and I wanted to introduce myself.”

O’Sullivan turned a horrid shade of scarlet as he said, “Oh, my. Oh, my. That’s very kind of you, Mr. Potter, but I’m just one of many Arithmancers in the world. But you, Mr. Potter, there’s only one of you. It’s such an honor to meet you.” O’Sullivan gazed admirably at Harry and only when Draco cleared his throat did he seem to realize that Harry was not alone. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. It’s an honor to meet you as well, Mr. …”

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, forcing himself to ignore the way O’Sullivan’s eyes widened as he realized that Harry Potter was accompanying an ex-Death Eater.

When O’Sullivan failed to reply, Harry spoke up, “He’s my fiancé.”

It was now Draco’s turn for his eyebrows to rise to his hairline and his eyes to widen. He and Harry weren’t engaged. If they were, Draco was fairly certain he would know about it.

Keep reading

The Trump Standard

What did Trump say when confronted with proof that his son jumped at the prospect of meeting with a “Russian government attorney” offering to dish dirt on Hillary Clinton as “part of Russia and its government’s support” for his candidacy?

Trump said: “many people would have held that meeting.” 

The next day, Trump revised “many” to “most,” saying: “I think from a practical standpoint, most people would have taken that meeting. . . . Politics isn’t the nicest business in the world, but it’s very standard.”

It’s true that politics isn’t the nicest business in the world. I’ve been there. Real estate development isn’t the nicest business in the world either, for all I know. But breaking the law and flirting with treason isn’t standard practice in either realm.  

Much ink has been spilled over the last six months documenting Trump’s tin ear when it comes to all matters ethical: His refusal to put his business into a blind trust, as every one of his predecessors in recent memory has done. His refusal to reveal his tax returns, like his predecessors. The never-ending stream of lies that he continues to spew even after they’re proven to be lies (three to five million fraudulent votes, Obama spied on me, fake news, and so on).  

None of this is “very standard” for presidents. It’s the opposite of standard.

I think we’ve been missing the boat by characterizing these as ethical breaches. Ethics assumes some sort of agreed-upon standard against which an ethical breach can be defined and measured.

But Donald Trump doesn’t live in a world that has any standards at all, and he never has. His entire approach to life, to business, and now to the presidency has nothing whatever to do with standards. It’s about winning, at all costs. Whatever it takes.

Winning at all costs is the only thing that’s standard in Trumpworld.

When he was in business and couldn’t repay his creditors, he declared bankruptcy. Again and again. And when his bankers finally wised up and refused to lend him any more money, he found foreign bankers who would oblige.

When he could have chosen to pay his contractors, or others who worked for him, he didn’t. He stiffed them.

Trump has spent most of his life in business being sued or sueing – as if our judicial system was just another standard tool for winning.

To make a name for himself in politics, he suggested Barack Obama wasn’t born in America. Hey, whatever it took.

To win the presidency he told lies about undocumented immigrants and crime, about Arabs cheering as the World Trade Center went down, about  his business smarts. He promised his followers he’d jail Hillary Clinton, drain the Washington swamp, build a wall along the Mexican border, create vast numbers of jobs, repeal the North American Free Trade Act.

He’d lie about anything. He’d promise anything. All was just a means to becoming president. There are no standards. Whatever it took.

“I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose voters,” he said.

Did he collude with Russia to become president? That wouldn’t be standard practice in politics, but it would be consistent with Trump’s standard.

“I said [to Putin] ‘Did you do it?’” Trump reported back on his meeting with Vladimir. “And he said, ‘No, I did not. Absolutely not.’ I then asked him a second time in a totally different way. He said absolutely not.”

And that’s supposed to be the end of it? 

The  U.S. intelligence community has told Trump that Russia interfered on his behalf in the presidential election of 2016, at Putin’s direction. So why does Trump ask Putin if he did it? 

He should be telling Putin what the United States is planning to do in response to what Putin did.

We may never know the exact answer to whether Trump himself colluded with Putin to win the presidency. Or, more likely, his core supporters may never know, because Trump will tell them not to believe whatever Special Counsel Robert Mueller and the intelligence agencies come up with, and to blame the press for reporting fake news. Politics isn’t the nicest business in the world, he might say, but whatever he did was very standard.

A president’s major responsibilities are to protect the United States and the Constitution, and to see that the laws are faithfully executed.

But Trump’s major goal now is to remain in power and to accumulate even more money. Whatever it takes.

Wait, what?

(based on this) (look, there’s a part two)


Yuuri barely has time to grab his jacket when he runs out the door, much less brush his hair or find a hat. Unfortunately, he’s sure that that means that his hair is an absolute mess. It’s been getting long again, but in between classes and helping Yura out with his routine on the weekends, he hasn’t had much time for things like haircuts. Besides, Victor doesn’t seem to mind it, and Yura likes to experiment hairstyles on Yuuri “so that if it looks stupid, I don’t have to see it on myself.”

It’s not that big a deal, except on days like this, when he sleeps in (thanks a lot Vitya) and doesn’t have the time to really get it under control. He usually meets up with his friends before class, and he doesn’t doubt that they’ll notice, and probably tease him about it.

They notice.

“Yuuri!” Estephania gasps, sounding too scandalized for her words to be anything but teasing. “What on earth happened to your hair?”

Yuuri flushes. “I was running late,” he mumbles.

Richard snorts. “You sure? Because that looks more like sex hair to me, man.”

“Ooh, he’s right,” Estephania coos before Yuuri can protest.

He wonders if it’s possible to die of embarrassment (especially since they’re not entirely wrong). “No, really I–”

“We know, sweetie.” She reaches up and moves his hair around a bit, trying to make it look presentable. “You’re just too easy to tease.”

“You sure you’re really twenty seven?” Richard raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri just smiles at the ground in fond humiliation (apparently it’s not a common emotion, but it’s a little hard not to be used to the feeling when he’s married to the world’s biggest drama queen) and nods. “I am.”

His friends are too much sometimes, he admits. Richard is the embodiment of America in a lot of ways: loud, completely lacking a sense of social norms, a walking personification of testosterone. Estephania is less… everything… than Richard, but she’s very touchy and affectionate in an entirely platonic way that reminds Yuuri a lot of Christophe, only without all of the innuendo. But they’re both loyal down to their very core, and they’re not bad people.

His phone starts ringing, Stammi Vicino playing loudly. Yuuri picks up, keeping his phone away from Estephania’s hands. “Да, Vitya?”

“Dude! You speak Russian too?” Richard looks like Yuuri just smacked him in the face. The school year just started, so they’re all still learning about each other.

Yuuri just smiles, since Victor is in the middle of one of his usual mid-morning crises. “Vitya, calm down,” he says in Russian. “Makkachin is probably out with Yura. You know he takes her for walks sometimes. Have you seen him today?”

He manages to get Victor off the phone just before class starts, flipping his phone to airplane mode since he’s sure that this isn’t the last he’ll be hearing from his lovable trainwreck of a husband.



Keep reading

Masterlist

One Shots (Dean Winchester X Reader)

Uncle Dean to the Rescue

Smells Like Dean Spirit

The Bet

What’s So Super About It?

Eyes Are A Mirror Of the Soul (Soulmates)

Surprise, Surprise

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Where Do We Go From Here?

Mall Santa

And Still They Come (CYOSA Nov ‘16)

Dean Picks Truth (CYOSTODA) March ‘17

So I killed My First Vampire, Now What? (Alpha! Dean/Omega! Donna)

One Shots (Sam Winchester X Reader)

Sam’s Christmas Present

That’s What Makes You Beautiful

You’ll Always Be My Valentine

Can’t Bring Me With You

PMS, Red Wine, and Dr.Seuss

Take Me With You

I’ve Got You

Sweet and Lowdown

Beach Day

Not On My Watch

Jealousy is a Green-eyed Bitch

Snow Day

Under the Mistletoe

The One With the Blind Dates

Its 5o’clock Somewhere, Right?

I Hate Myself For Loving You (A/B/O Alpha! Soulless Sam/Omega Reader)

I’ve Got This 

Book Smart

You Don’t Own Me

Rule #1

Martha Stewart Has Left the Bunker

The Lore Can Wait

Getting Inked

A No-Win Situation

She-Devil

Face Your Fears

Suck it, Cupid

Sam to the Rescue

Clueless

You’ve Been Warned

Overdue (Alpha Sam/Omega Reader)

Look What You Made Me Do

Fall Day

Look How Far We’ve Come

Bring It, Winchester

The Moose Will Be Mine

One Shots (Other SPN Characters)

A Little Slice of Heaven   (Castiel)

Everything Has Changed  (Gabriel)

One Shots (No Pairing)

Sam’s Twin

The Winchester Gospels

The Photo Op

When the Hunters Meet the Slayer

What’s that Damn Song?

Overprotective Much?

Who Stole My Candy?

The Prank King

Dean and Disco Don”t Mix

Dog Day Afternoon

Driver Picks the Movie

And Another Reason Why Blind Dates Are a Bad Idea (CYOSA Sept ‘16)

Fear

Sam Winchester Goes To Stanford

Because I Knew You

My Last Mothers Day

One Shots (Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier/Sebastian Stan)

Small But Mighty

So You Speak Romanian?

A/B/O Series(Alpha! Sam/Omega! Reader)

Doctor, Doctor, Can’t You See I‘m Burning? (Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(6)(7)

Keep You Safe (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10)

None of Your Business  (AU) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)(16)

Political Animals (AU) (2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13)(14)(15)

(16)  Political Animals-The First Meeting (drabble)

Poor Little Rich Girl(INTRO) (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13)(14)(15)

Poor Little Rich Girl (A/B/O Appreciation Day drabble)

A Different Blend (1)(2)(3)

In the Deep End (Collab w/ @kittenofdoomage) (1)

(Alpha Dean!/Omega Reader!)

Not What He Expected (AU) (2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)

(Alpha! Dean/Omega! Jo)

Political Animals-Dean and Jo  (2)

Sam X Reader Series

Devil With a Blue Shirt (Part 2)(Part 3)

Nobody’s Angel (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Sobriety is Highly Overrated (Part 2)

And Throw Away the Key   (Part 2) (Part 3)

Who needs A Soulmate Anyway?  (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Sit Still, Look Pretty (Soulless!Sam)

In Name Only (1)(2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)(12)

Reflections (Part 1) (Part 2)

Still I Rise (Intro)(2)(3)

Jared X Reader Series

The Contest  (2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13)(14)(15)(16)(17)(18)(19)(20)(21)(22)(23)(24)(25)(26)(27)(28)(29)(30)(31)

The Contest-The First Meeting (drabble)

Dean X Reader Series

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6) (7)

A Winchester Christmas Carol (Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

Misc. Series (No Pairing)

Something Tells Me We’re Not At the Con Anymore, Dorothy  (Part 2)

Charlie’s Adventures in Oz

Winchesterprincessbride Reads(Fic Recs)

Best fics of 2016

Winchesterprincessbride Reads-A/B/O edition