#people will really say the most heinous shit all in the name of some imaginary being in the sky

[r1ghtwhereyouleftme]

"Taylor was struggling to breathe at her concert because she mocked god"

A) she literally didn't do anything of the sort

B) it was a heatwave

C) plenty of things have been projected onto that statue but you're not saying shit about that are you

D) the fans of Brazil wanted that on the statue. Are you gonna say that girl died bc she "mocked god"? Are you gonna say peoppe were passing out because they "mocked god"? No? Didn't fucking think so bitch

F) fuck god and all you assholes riding his dick. I'm really fucking tired of people using some most likely not real all powerfully being to hurt people

[alfredosauce50]

Who’s the bad guy? (2p + 1p America x reader) 15

Wordcount: 2,212 The reader is referred to as she/her

For a get-together between four people to come up with an intricately-thought out plan that dragged on into the small hours, it was not even that good in Allen's opinion.  Nothing but a table lamp illuminated the interior of the house, but that was no big deal for all the souls under that roof were huddled together in the living room. Tens and tens of ideas and strategies were scrapped, tweaked and polished until it all came down to this. Alfred had suggested doing a team up with the NYPD for backup, to where Happy agreed to with no objection at all. Allen and Flavio, on the other hand, were not so keen on this idea. 

"What did I say about getting the police involved with our business, Alfred?" The redhead murmured with a click of the tongue. "I'm not on the best terms with them and Flavio sure as hell ain't either because of his shithead of a brother. I don't wanna repeat this anymore." His voice was husky and low with vexation as he addressed the small group huddled around the coffee table. A soft hum of agreement was heard from the blonde just next to him whose arms were wrapped around his knees buried in his chest. 

"Yep. I don't want to be rounded up for questioning because of my brother. So telling the po po about this is an absolute no no." He added, causing the men sitting opposite to exchange looks. The one with blood-stained bandages returned his visage to the rest and leaned forward in a hunch. Lines of white coiled around his shoulder and chest, and the pristine condition of them all was ruined by bright red blotches seeping into the material from underneath. His brows lowered in a small frown and so did his eyes. What were they to do without the support? They needed all the help they could get; no longer would they be afraid of being outnumbered if the whole department was there with them, but being outgunned would forever be a problem. How else were Luciano and the empire he built able to survive so long engaging in the most heinous crimes? His name was on the very top of the list of FBI's most wanted, and yet, nobody had even scored something as pathetic and significant as a single lead. Not the feds. Not anyone. All except for a few well-informed inhabitants of New York City. Alfred's eyes flew open and lit up. "Yo... I just came up with the best fucking idea ever." He finally broke the silence and he scanned the faces with a mischievous grin that practically screamed you-are-never-going-to-guess-what-I-came-up-with. "Let's go and consult with the police! We can threaten them with the knowledge we have about Luciano and his gang," His cousin clicked his fingers. "And we give them a couple of conditions to follow before we give it to them. Alfred, you actually suggested something smart for once." Happy let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that idea isn't half-bad!" Said man narrowed his eyes at his cousin. "Hey! That's not nice!" "Since when was I nice to you?" "... Touché. But things have improved, I guess." Alfred shrugged. The other just sat there and made no response. He was taken aback by what he said, but he was not wrong. "Anyway, let's not run off on a tangent. So our plan to get the police to help us is to bribe them with information on the most wanted cartel they never could get their hands on. Then we give them a few rules to follow that'll work in our-" He dragged the last word on for a while and let it change into something else. "-your advantage. Flavio's too." "-And we also tell them to drop all of my criminal charges." Allen added. An awkward silence ensued, but it was broken by a few coughs. Before then, Flavio and Happy had their brows raised at him. Alfred's lips stretched into a thin line after the coughing ceased. "Okay... I'm not even gonna ask." It was unexpected for him to leave the conversation there, and yet it wasn't. The redhead eyed him with an incredulous look and fixated his visage on him for a while as if he expected those lips to move again along with his sharp tongue. Knowing him, he would be up his ass by now with a few insults thrown here and there about his questionable background. But this time, he heard nothing but a statement indicating his intention to continue moving forward with a change of subject. It was nice, actually. Weird too. An unprecedented event it was, for he never anticipated himself to ever experience feelings of gratitude towards his cousin. Allen folded his arms together and darted his eyes away to the rest. "Great. So that's solved." He murmured. He too, leaned forward in a hunch when his mind floated off to the other details of their skeleton of a plan. "Wait." Everyone returned their attention to him. Rubbing his chin with an index finger and thumb, he glided his tongue over his bottom lip. "How are we supposed to get the police to help us without... Making it obvious that the police are helping us? You know how the whole world knows when the cops pull up with their bright-ass lights?" A hum rumbled from Alfred's throat and he nodded. "I see where you're coming from. Their uniforms also give it away." "Exactly. They can't just suddenly crash the place, cuz that little piece of shit has eyes and ears everywhere. They'll disappear down the friggin' sewer before we can infiltrate the damn place." His cousin pointed at him with a million dollar smile. "I just had another epiphany." He mumbled, sounding as though he was biting back an explosion of obnoxious laughter. "Disguises, dude. Undercover cops! We'll have em all waiting around outside in the cafes and stores and shit. They'll look like normal citizens, but nahh-" Shooting up on the spot, he pulled out an imaginary gun from under his imaginary clothes and fired it a few times at the door. "Bang, bang, bang! Put your hands up in the air where I can see them!" Happy knitted his brows together and gawked at him with disbelief. It was understandable that he was being paid a six-digit salary to protect a big shot like him, but seriously? He'd rather risk his life for the president. "Alfred-" He hissed. "Just- just- sit down." The other let out a disappointed whine and sat back down. "What? Was my idea bad?" "No. I just want you to act your age." He responded. Alfred felt his eye twitch. "I don't wanna act like an old fart like you!" "The fuck did you say?" Happy growled. "I'm not old! I'm only a few years older than you, you manbaby!" "Well, it sure looks like a whole lot more than that!" As the two bickered on, Allen pulled the butcher's paper splayed out on the glass surface closer to himself and popped off the cap of a pen. Letting the nib glide across the sheet quickly, he wrote a few dot points that really looked like a few squiggles. The figure with a baby pink scarf coiled around his neck leaned over to watch him work his magic with illegible writing. "Whatcha writing?" "Everything we just said." He grumbled, drilling his scorching gaze at the two men wrestling each other on his carpet. A vein was popping around his neck as he bit back all the anger he had lodged in his throat. Even at a crucial time like this when your whereabouts and fate were unknown, they still had the audacity to argue about their insecurities, and it made his blood boil. "Because right now, Alfred and Happy aren't contributing." Allen rose his voice sharply when their names rolled off his tongue. The two stopped what they were doing and sat up at the mention of their names. When they caught the hint of death glinting in those dangerous scarlet eyes glaring at them, they paled like they had just seen a ghost. And If they did not cooperate with him, a ghost was what they were going to become. Allen set his pen down without breaking away from their intense stare down. That way, he would know if they were listening or not. "According to Flavio, Luciano's next auction is going to be held in two days at the Four Seasons Hotel. We're going to one of the police departments tomorrow to get them to join us. Together, we'll solidify a plan." He needed to ask Flavio a few times if he was sure that the venue for the auction was correct. It was just too close to them that it was suspicious. It was as if Luciano wanted them to come to him. Usually, they would take place in other cities- different states even, like Las Vegas. Thankfully, there was no need to fly across the United States just to get to The Bellagio. All they needed was a short car ride to Manhattan, to the same godforsaken site where you were taken in the first place. *** The moment the group stepped into the police department, all eyes were on them. Mixed reactions were stirred, ranging from awe to disgust depending on who you were gawking at. Striding down the halls were a billionaire, his bodyguard, a fugitive, and a guy who liked fashion. Making their way past a wall displaying New York's most wanted, Allen pointed at one of the men and joked that he looked like Alfred. "Hey! This 11201 motherfucker looks just like you! He looks more like you than you do!" They were not given the warmest welcome per se, for the figure in the bomber jacket was shoved to a wall shortly after teasing his cousin. His face collided with the cold harsh surface and he let out a painful grunt as his skin began to sting. A dent was already made by the strong impact of his head making contact with the wall. A burly man standing at about 6 feet tall had appeared out of nowhere to hold him there against the wall. Letting his piercing icy blue eyes search those red ones, he neared his face with a patronizing glare. "You've got guts walking in here, Allen." Before any of them could explain themselves, Alfred walked up to them with a smirk. "Karma got right back at ya." With invaluable knowledge on Luciano's cartel delivered straight to their door, it was impossible to keep it closed. Even if they needed to be convinced to accept some of the conditions, it all worked out in the end. Now, everyone was on the same page with the same goal in mind-- to seize an illegal auction, save a hostage and arrest the mastermind behind it all. *** Restaurants and eateries that lined the street were swarmed with hungry patrons whose mouths all watered for a delicious lunch. For those who already ate, retailers and boutiques called for all the shopaholics to enter them with their inviting display of high-end goods. And outside those establishments was the bustle of life, people walking and talking with friends and family to fill the air with the hum of lively chatter. To be frank, the sheer number of those there in that particular street was unbelievably high, especially for a working day. But what was the reason for the influx of people? Half of those in the cafes were not even intending to eat anything. Two-thirds of those browsing in the shops never touched their wallets. Instead, their eyes kept darting to the entrance of a five-star hotel. Those who were situated at much closer proximity were noting down the faces and appearances of guests stepping out of the polished cars and limousines that pulled up in the driveway. Comparing to what they were all wearing, the onlookers of what looked like a party or convention were pathetic. The women adorned themselves in beautiful dresses flowing like fabric waterfalls, and on top of that, they decorated their necks, wrists, and ears with priceless jewelry that glimmered under the sun. Their male counterparts did not fall far behind either. Although they were less flamboyant than their partners, their tuxedos were just as dashing. A man with choppy blonde hair continued to flicker his bright green irises to the esteemed guests stepping out of their vehicles, but when he spotted a young woman that fit a certain description nailed into his brain through the art of repetition, he reached up to scratch his ear. Or at least, it looked like he was scratching his ear. "Hostage sighted. She's wearing a black knee-length dress with spaghetti straps. She just entered the hotel with a man... Dark auburn hair and weird looking eyes. Standing at about five foot seven. Wait..." The revelation pierced through his body like an arrow. Clamping a hand over his mouth as he gagged into it, he swallowed down his lunch he had consumed around an hour ago. "Fuck me." He whispered, never tearing his dumbfounded expression away from the man. "It's Lucky Luciano."