#Alex play Dumb Ways to Die

[sprout-fics]

(Gif originally by @shadow0-1)

Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Again.

(Soap x GN! Reader)

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 5400 Tags: Doomed Narrative, Time Loop AU, Heavy Angst, Blood and Injury, Self-Sacrifice, Whump, Hurt Very Little Comfort, Happy Ending, (I PROMISE THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING!!) Warnings: Major character death. That's...literally the plot A/N: Hi here's the doomed timelines AU nobody asked for

Call of Duty Masterlist

Summary:

The 23rd time you meet Soap, you don’t bother to smile. You know how this ends.

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” You say for the 23rd time, words that have passed your lips in more lifetimes that you wish you didn’t remember. “I look forward to working with you.”

And I don’t look forward to watching you die.

The first time you meet Soap, it’s how you expect. 

It’s a warm spring day, the kind where you need to shed layers in the brightness of afternoon, only to don them again come sunset. He stands just beyond the shade of the barracks, awash in sunlight that seems to catch the blue of his eyes. You blink as you take him in, and it’s the only barest indication you give at the instant impression that he’s handsome.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you. You reach for it automatically, remember yourself and offer a pleasant smile in return, along with your name. 

“Looking forward to working with you, John.” You reply, and John- Johnny, as you’d come to call him in the tender moments between you, chuckles. 

“Call me ‘Soap’.” He tells you easily, and you smile a bit wryly, tilting your head at him. 

“The hell kind of name is ‘Soap’?”

- - - - -

It’s easy to work with Soap. He has a cheery, bright demeanor to him that is immediately endearing. He’s friendly, outgoing. His smile is contagious, and the bark of his laughter becomes familiar to you. You listen and guffaw at his jokes over the comms, try vainly to hide your smile when he says them before you. 

It only makes his eyes twinkle to see you try and conceal your amusement, and that becomes familiar too- the sparkle of his irises with endless mirth. 

He catches you during your duties, sidles up beside you during weapons training, becomes the first to suggest himself as your partner during drills. The company he offers is warm, welcome, lifting the dusky heaviness of your heart into something more tender, fragile. You hold it for him, feel his grin bleed into yours, lay awake at night and sometimes think about the shake of his shoulders when you get him to laugh. 

You feel endlessly special when he devotes his time to you, feel as if Soap treats you like you’re the only person in the world. Even in the presence of others he finds ways to indulge himself in you. A nudge of his boot against yours under the table of the briefing room, tossing you an extra round of ammo as you gear up for a mission, finding an excuse to sit next to you on the chopper ride home. Soap feels like a breath of fresh air, the first taste of a cool breeze during summer, a respite from the weight of the world. 

Like two stars in orbit, you circle each other, drawing closer into the gravity of each other’s gazes. You try at first to resist, to hold yourself away from the feelings of the other sergeant, knowing at any moment that he could be taken from you. It’s written in the wheels of fate, your destinies as soldiers. If you’re lucky, if you stay alert, if you train hard enough, if chance smiles upon you, maybe you’ll both live to a day where the sound of rockets and bullet-fire doesn’t haunt your waking dreams.

Yet you can’t resist him. When you fall asleep against his shoulder after a days long mission with hardly any sleep, when he playfully grapples with you over the last slice of pizza during movie night, when he gives you that smile during a rare night off-base at the pub- how can you resist?

Gravity pulses between you when you at last fall into him, feel his breath against your lips as your fingers comb through his mohawk. He breathes the blessing of your name against the corner of your mouth in a panting gasp, flexes his fingers across the small of your back when he drags you even closer. The taste of him is honey and ale, a sweetness with a beloved bitter aftertaste, one you drink down greedily in the form of his moans against your flesh. 

When you lay in bed together after, sweaty limbs tangled together, you watch the tender, soulful smile form across the handsome planes of his face, and you know. 

He’s yours. 

There’s kisses stolen in the hangar before take off, moments hidden in the shadows of safehouses. He cups your face and lifts it to him in the aftermath of battle, smears ash against your cheek with his gloved thumb. You try to carve each moment into your heart, never fail to try and memorize the glint of his eyes, the soft slope of his smile. You know the shape of him in the darkness of his bedroom, know the sound of his voice even blinded by the brightness of his mere presence. 

Johnny is the sun- emanating a gentle, beckoning warmth from afar. Yet when you get closer you see the glory of his inferno, see the flashing burn of his eyes in the midst of battle. The solar flare of his battle cry seems to carry you like soar of Helios's chariot upwards into the heavens of his devotion. When you touch him, you’re seared, branded by his fingers as they trace sentimental sketches across the dip of your waist. You want to bask in him, feel the ember of his stare as he gazes at you silently across the table of the restaurant he takes you to for your official first date. 

“What?” You ask him, averting your eyes a little bashfully, catching his shrug in your periphery. 

“Just lookin’.” He replies with a grin, his cheek smushed as he balances on his hand. “Just seeing how pretty you are.”

You kiss him for that, and when he laughs you kiss him again. 

You kiss him a thousand times, each as sweet and passionate as the last, know the curve of his smile on your lips. You kiss him before your next mission, when he holds you against the wall of the armory and tells you how he can’t wait until you both get back. 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t come back. 

He’s looking at you in the chopper when you hear the sound of the RPG. The explosion has him backlit for all of a moment before the world is spinning, the roar of the dying engine in your ears and Price’s holler to “BAIL BAIL BAIL-!!”

You reach for the rope, glance behind you to see Soap not out of his seat- a breed of panic in his eyes unlike that you’ve ever seen from him. The jammed clasp of his strap is caught in his hands as he tugs at it desperately, and you meet his gaze for all of a moment, seeing the imminent knowledge of what comes next in his beautiful blue eyes. 

You fall, without him, are caught by the canopy of trees where the snap of branches under you muffles the distant sound of the helicopter exploding as it lands. 

You ignore Price’s orders, run desperately for the wreckage, only to be greeted by an inferno that stretches towards the sky. 

Johnny is on fire, and this time when you reach for the burn of him the flames are real. They scorch your flesh and you shout his name even as you try to reach him, already knowing it’s too late. When Ghost and the others haul you back you fall to your knees, grip the scorched earth beneath your fingers and scream.

And then you wake up. 

Warm springtime. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you.

You blink, heart still hammering in your chest, feeling the warmth of flames chase you even as songbirds sing in the trees. Yet Johnny is alive before you, whole, smiling, looking so much like the man he was when you met him for the very first time. 

“Was it a nightmare?” You ask him breathlessly, and Johnny- Soap- merely arches a bewildered eyebrow at you. 

“What?”

Nightmares, you come to learn, are so much more kind. 

It happens all as it did before. The jokes over comms, the glancing gazes over drills, the bump of elbows in the mess hall. It’s familiar, sweet, amorous…

And you know something is terribly, terribly wrong. 

Back to the start, somehow. You don’t know how, you don’t know why- but there’s no denying what has happened. Johnny died. You went back, and now you have a chance to save him. 

It’s months before the helicopter crash. You replay the scene over and over again in your mind, and you keep arriving back to the look in Johnny’s eyes as realization washed across them. Everyone who dies a sudden death is confused, scared, not ready, and the knowledge and horror you saw in his stare haunts your waking dreams. 

Yet Johnny falls in love with you just as he did before, and you fall into him so readily, desperate to accept his warmth in the wake of his death. Orpheus embracing Eurydice, you try to trace him into your skin, imbue the memory of him into the marrow of your bones and pray that you can reverse his fate. The gears of destiny tick in the back of your mind even as he stares at you over the restaurant table on the evening before your departure. 

“Just lookin’.” He tells you when you return his stare, mistaking your concern for confusion. “Just seeing how pretty you are.”

When you kiss him, you try to swallow the sob in your throat.

When you get on the helicopter, you point out his jammed strap with shaking fingers, and he blinks in astonishment. 

“Hell’s bells.” He huffs, fiddling with it before it comes loose, and it stays that way for the remainder of your journey. “That coulda been terrible, ey bonnie?”

He makes it out this time, and when he rises from the forest floor he rushes to you, cups your face in his hands and stares down with eyes glinting in concern. 

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, chest heaving with exhilaration. “Are you hur-”

He jerks back at the sound of a gunshot, and you drop automatically, crawl to him just in time to catch his hand as he reaches for you. The bullet wound at his collarbone gushes red, red, red, and your hands are coated in it as you plead, tell him he’s going to be okay-

The light fades from his eyes, still staring up at you, the last thing he sees. 

You still feel his heartbeat on your hands when you wake up. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you. You tremble, take it and see him blink in surprise when he feels the uncontrollable shake of your palm against his. 

The second time, you think it’s a fluke, a horrible prank. 

He steps on a landmine, scattered to the four winds.

The third time, you’re petrified. 

A man hidden in the darkness, he lunges for you. Johnny pushes him aside. The blade wedges between his ribs.

The fourth time, you beg destiny for answers.

You make it to the compound, the fence lights him up like a firework.

The fifth time, you try to tell him, only to find your throat clogged, unable to speak. You try to tell him a hundred more times in the months that follow, and each time the words are stolen from your breath, as if fate forbids you to inform him of his doomed destiny.

“...Nothing.” You tell him when he asks after you’ve tried to speak over the restaurant table, your food barely touched. 

Johnny shrugs. “Doesna matter, too busy looking at how pretty you are.”

You cry silently that night in his bed, while he dozes gently next to you, unaware of what awaits him. 

You can’t tell him. You don’t know how to save him. You still love him. 

He’ll forget he knows you, forget he loves you by the time he wakes up

You’ve found eight ways for Soap to die, and have taken years to defy all of them. You have to write them down everytime you wake up unless you somehow forget. The notebook is filled with scribbled reminders, ever present in your pocket even as he steals the last slice of pizza out from under you.

He doesn’t have enough ammo. Remind him to take extra clips

He put his knife on the wrong strap that he usually does, fix it for him.

He steps on the landmine fourteen steps after the creek. Stop him.

You can’t stop trying. Not when it’s him.

Yet each time you find a way to outsmart the latest execution of him, fate finds one more thing to steal him out from under you. Unstoppable, imminent, condemned to wake up and see his smiling face mere moments after his heartbeat slows to nothingness.

“I love you.” You whisper as you cradle his head in your lap, knowing he already can’t hear you, glassy eyes staring up at the sky. “I’ll see you soon.”

You burst into tears by the 19th time, buckling in on yourself much to the shock of the men around you, relaying startled looks of confusion between them. You excuse yourself, find a dark corner to fold into and sob, knowing this time you’ll fail too.

It’s Soap who finds you, sits beside you, says barely a word when you cry into his shoulder even though he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

Falling in love with him each time is painful. Your heart beats for him and him alone, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose him again. You’ll go right back to the start, to him having just met you, not yet falling into gravity with you, even as you hear the tick of gears turning ever closer to the moment you’ll watch him die.

“Don’t you know me?” You want to ask him, want to bunch his shirt between your fists and let tears stream down your face. “Don’t you know you loved me?”

His smile doesn’t waver. He jokes and laughs and playfully teases you and it hurts. It’s a balm that burns, heals your heart and yet doesn’t erase the scar. He’s your only comfort, the only thing you have as you feel your soul chipped a little further each time he leaves you. You can’t tell him why you cry into his arms, can’t confess to him that you’ve seen him die more ways than you care to remember, that you’ve tried to save him in dozens of lifetimes and he doesn’t even know.

He holds you even though he doesn’t understand, hushes sweet endearments into your hair and comforts you, not knowing how this will end. 

“I love you.” He tells you softly as you hiccup against his chest, not knowing what else to say. “Ever since the moment I first saw you, I’ve loved you.”

Your tears drip into the fancy china at the restaurant he takes you to and Johnny looks afraid.

The 23rd time you meet Soap, you don’t bother to smile. You know how this ends.

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” You say for the 23rd time, words that have passed your lips in more lifetimes that you wish you didn’t remember. “I look forward to working with you.”

And I don’t look forward to watching you die.

He looks at you, blinks. His brow furrows.

“How’d you know my name?”

This time, you forget to warn him about the rigged doorway, and he vanishes in a flash and puff of smoke. 

“Don’t cry.” He wheezes when you bend over him, words pouring from your lips in a ceaseless mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “I always hated watching ye cry.”

You wake up. Everything happens as it did before. You meet him, you listen to the sound of his laugh, you finish one of his jokes over the comms and he groans.

“Don’t tell me ye know that one too!” He grouses, and when you smile your chest aches with the force of thirty lifetimes. 

You place a palm against his back, unable to help yourself as you enter the compound, wanting to feel the frame of his body just one more time before destiny finds a new way to kill him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smiles even as uncertainty colors the blueness of his gaze. 

“Yer like my guardian angel.” He tells you, still smiling even after all this time. “Dannea what I’d do w’out ye.”

A grenade at the staircase. He pushes you out of the way. He doesn’t duck out of the way in time.

You close your eyes when you wake up. You can’t bear to look at him, knowing you’ll just lose him again.

You try to keep him from loving you, thinking perhaps that is the crime to warrant this eternal punishment. You can’t stop loving him, but maybe, maybe you can stop him from loving you. Maybe if you never have him to begin with, maybe you can save him. 

Yet Johnny is drawn to you anyways, sucked in by the way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, like a moth to an infant flame. He hovers at the fringes of your soul, tries desperately to find his way inside, and you can’t help but let him. He comforts you when you cry against the futility of it all, and there’s nothing you can say to him to explain. You wet his shirt with your tears, knowing it’ll be the one he dies in.

The next time, you force yourself to not speak to him, to try and avoid him at all costs, try everything to drive him away. If he never loved you to start, then maybe he’ll live. He seems pre-ordained to find a way to confess to you, ask why you hate him so, look at you through glistening eyes and ask “What did I do?”

You wonder if maybe that’s destiny too, if it’s truly Soap falling in love with you, or his strings being pulled by the same machinations that inscribe his death. 

When he asks you again, tries to approach you with flowers and apologies, and offers to take you to dinner on the eve of his death, you wheel on him in desperate fury. 

“You don’t actually love me!” You cry, face hot with tears. “Can’t you see that?! All this time it’s just- it’s just the story we’re in. Just because you’re supposed to love me doesn’t mean you do. It’s all just a fucking lie.”

Soap is stunned, too shocked to speak. In all the dozens of lives you’d lived, you’ve never ever yelled at him before. 

Hurt flashes across his eyes. His eyes drop along with his hands, the bouquet limp in his grip. The bitterness of his smile as he refuses to look at you threatens to shatter your heart like glass. 

“You hate me.” He murmurs, as if to himself. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean tae…”

He falls silent, and eventually he walks away. 

You don’t get on the chopper this time. You can’t stand to watch him die again. 

You try to tell him again, ask him why. Why does he have to torture you like this? Why love you, why allow you to love him so deeply, only for him to leave at the end of this doomed story bound to repeat? Why would he love you?

He looks torn. He’s hurt. He wants to comfort you. He doesn’t know what to say

“Why wouldn’t I love you?” He asks in a whisper, devastated by your outburst. 

You can’t speak. You’re forbidden to tell him. You want to. You can’t.

“Bonnie-” He tries, stepping forward, trying to embrace you as if that will somehow solve everything. 

“No.” You manage, pressing backwards as he reaches for you, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. Pain dances across his eyes. “Go away, Johnny.”

He leaves. 

He dies anyway. 

When you wake up, your body feels weighed down with the passage of a hundred lifetimes, and your legs fall out from under you without warning. Johnny hauls you into his arms, his blue stare flickering with concern. 

You forgot how much you love being held by him. 

This time, you don’t push him away. In fact, you never do again.

Yet things are different now. It’s subtle at first, things you take for granted. Something in this story has changed, and in turn it’s changed him. Johnny walks into rooms and seems to forget why he’s there. He asks what day it is and frowns in confusion when Ghost replies blandly for the second time that day. 

“Didn’t you already tell us this?” He asks of Price during a meeting, and Gaz’s head snaps to him, to the smartness of his tone towards your captain. 

“No.” Price responds gruffly, succinctly, and continues on. You watch Soap, see the way he doesn’t seem to understand. His fingers tap on the table, and it’s a small gesture meant to conceal the worry in his eyes- the knowledge that maybe, maybe he’s been here before.

“I saw you in a dream, once.” He tells you one night as you both clamber onto the roof of the barracks to stare at the stars. “Before I even met you.”

You stare at him, and he laughs a little nervously, rubbing at his nape. “A bit crazy, eh? Sounds like am’ off ma heid.”

You shake your head, slide your hand over his, feel your heart thump when he looks at you in surprise. “Tell me.” You whisper, and when he smiles you shudder, feel the weight of destiny press heavy on your shoulders. 

“I saw you crying.” He murmurs, and his eyes are a little distant, like he’s looking back at a life that no longer exists. “I told you not to cry.”

“Don’t cry.” He wheezes when you bend over him, words pouring from your lips in a ceaseless mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “I always hated watching ye cry.”

This time, you nearly die beside him, and almost wish fate would take you too.

He has nightmares now. He thrashes in his bed, a cold sweat dampening his skin when he wakes. You ask him what it was, what vision plagues him, and he only shakes his head, eyes distant and terrified. He clings to you like he’s a little boy frightened by shadows, gazes at something you can’t see but know all the same. He doesn’t have the words, but he doesn’t need them.

You roll over one night, startled to find him wide awake, eyes unblinking as he stares at you. His voice sounds like an echo of himself, a dark magic winding through his words that sound like an all too familiar prophecy.

“I saw myself die.” He tells you, in a voice you’ve never heard- one you’ll never forget. “You were there- and then you weren’t.”

He finds bruises on himself the next morning, in the same places you watched him become riddled with bullet holes. 

You’re running out of time. You don’t know when you’ll wake up and he won’t be there. You don’t know if this will be the last time you ever see him. 

“Please.” You beg him, tugging on the straps of his vest as he steps towards the chopper. “Johnny please, don’t. Stay here. Don’t go.”

His eyes shine with worry at the sudden, fervent desperation in your words, and he opens his mouth to respond-

Only for his eyes to take on that foreign, distant stare once more.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, and once more you’re forbidden to tell him. 

Because you’ll die. Because I’ll be forced to watch. Because I have no way to stop it. Because I’ve seen it happen a hundred times and I can’t do it anymore.

Inevitably, you arrive here, and this singular moment in time, at the place where you’ve yet to find the part in which he survives. 

It always ends like this.

You survive the crash, fend off the ensuing ambush, weave past the landmines and the soldiers patrolling the perimeter, disable the electric fence and disarm the rigged door. You make it inside, stop him before he triggers the tripwire, disarm the pressure plate, lob the grenade back up the stairs, open fire on the door to his left before he passes it. You anticipate the reinforcements at your back, fix the radio when you signal for ex-fil, remember to give him your extra ammo. You know when the roof collapses and drag him to safety, point out the missed charge in his demolitions package, take out the turret before he even spots it-

Then you arrive here. 

“The detonator doesn’t work.” He tells you for the thirty sixth time, out of a hundred and forty eight lifetimes. You know what comes next. The chopper will get here, you will be overrun, and Johnny will kiss you one last time with an apology, push you into Gaz’s arms even as you scream. Then he’ll make his way to the control room without you all, will stay behind and make it his final, valiant act. 

Then you’ll watch the facility explode with him still inside, hear the gears of fate click and send you hurtling back to the beginning.

If you stop him, you’ll all be shot down. You’ll be the only survivor of the crash, and will see the broken bodies of your teammates join him. Or someone else will take his place, and your rescue chopper will be shot down anyways. 

There’s no escape. This is always the moment that you can’t save him from. Thirty six lifetimes and you know in just a few minutes you’ll wake up, will hear his voice begin it all again, over and over until one day you wake up and he isn’t there. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you.

You had a dream last time. You were both sitting at the restaurant table, and you spoke before he could. 

“Are you going to tell me how pretty I am?” You asked him, swallowing down grief, feeling it bloom like a macabre bouquet when the sound of his joyous laughter tickled your soul.

“Stole the words right from mah mouth.” He chuckled.

You blinked, and the seat across from you was suddenly empty. 

You close your eyes, in this moment, try once more to find the part where you all make it out alive. You try to find the part where you don’t lose him. Where you’ll go back to that restaurant and it’ll be the last time. 

You’ve had enough.

“I’m going to stay.” Soap declares, eyes grim with resolve. 

He turns to you.

You close the distance, reach up and kiss him. You tangle your fingers in his mohawk like you did the very first time, listen to his shocked gasp as you try and drink in the taste of him just one more time. Just one more time.

Honey and ale. A bittersweet goodbye. 

You snatch the detonator from his hands, raise your hands to his shoulders and push.

He topples backwards, nearly colliding with Price, and it gives you just enough time to bolt for the door leading towards the control room, locking it behind you. 

Soap screams your name, hurls himself at the door, frantic desperation coloring his beautiful blue eyes. The color of a sky in summer time, of a fresh breeze that reminds you so much of him.

There’s a nervous smile on his lips, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He thinks it’s a prank, another joke between you two, and he says just as much, voice wavering when he asks you to unlock the door. 

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You whisper, tears warming your eyes. “I can’t lose you again.”

Confusion makes him pause, but it’s only for a moment. 

“Open the door.” He demands then, jiggling the lock uselessly as his voice rises. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!”

“I love you.” You whisper, raising your hand to the glass pane, your splayed palm against his closed fist and the world between them. “In this lifetime, and the one before. Ever since the day I met you, I’ve loved you, Johnny.”

He calls your name, voice cracking in desperation and he begs you to come back. You take a few more moments, and think to yourself how unkind it is that the last time you see him will be like this. Afraid, broken, desperate.

Terrified.

Just like how he was all that time ago, the first time you failed to save him.

Not this time. 

“Don’t cry.” You tell him quietly. “I always hated watching you cry.”

You leave him even as he screams after you, running in the direction of the control room. 

You don’t know this part. You’ve only ever watched Johnny or one of them vanish in this direction. You aren’t prepared for this the way you are with the rest of this story. You’re not ready for the hail of gunfire that greets you, the bullets ripping through flesh. Your blood drips red onto the floor, you run low on ammo, and yet somehow you press on.

Not this time. You think. Not ever again. You can’t take him from me any longer. I won’t allow it.

You’re limping, heavily wounded, riddled with bullet holes, chest seizing and smearing an abstract of crimson behind you as you finally make it to the control room. By the time you dispatch the remaining soldiers you’re on the floor, feeling the corners of your vision pulse red and black as the gears turn, as the clock ticks down. 

The timer has just enough time to make it out once you start it. You know you won’t be able to. 

So you watch the numbers click on the countdown, flop onto your back and cry.

You didn’t want this. 

You wanted just a little more time. Maybe you should have let him go, let him finish this if only he can wake up and not know you. Maybe you should have let him die one more time, if only to get the chance to fall asleep in his arms months into the future and past, knowing he was going to die. 

It’s too late now, and as the numbers click down, as your heartbeat thrums in your ears and your vision pulses red, you can only try to remember the feeling of his smile against your lips, the sound of his laughter, your name breathed into your skin as he wraps his arms around you, safe from destiny in his embrace.

“Ever since the moment I first saw you, I’ve loved you.”

You love him. You’ve always loved him. In this lifetime, in the hundred lifetimes before. In a thousand lifetimes to come you will still love him. Even if you go back, wake up again to that warm spring day, you know you will only love him once more.

You wish he was here, at the end, and wish that even if he was he’d find a way to live without you.

When you exhale, it’s the sound of his name, the memory of his eyes as they stare across you from the restaurant table, full of endless devotion.

The world goes dark. 

And then you wake up.

It’s bright. 

You don’t expect what comes next. 

There’s no birdsong. No springtime warmth. Only the beep of a heart monitor, the feeling of cottony sheets tucked into a hospital bed, the fluorescent glow of overhead lights. 

And the sound of a voice. 

Johnny is holding your hand, head bowed, tears falling freely down his face. 

“I did it.” He sobs, words choking his throat, shoulders trembling. 

Whole. Alive. Just like you. 

“I did it.” He cries again, looking up and finding your eyes with his that swim with emotion. When he speaks, it sounds like the weight of a hundred lifetimes presses down on him. 

“This time. This time, I saved you.”

Taglist: @soapskneebrace @guyfieriii @writeforfandoms @alicesfracturedmirror

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #my writing #my fic #to add to masterlist #Alex play Dumb Ways to Die

[lightningzbolt]

Awsten Knight Hair (Two different files)

I started with showing Red & Black first as it's the latest but I made 17 swatches. I think I covered every significant color, skipping most Greatest Hits hairs as those are a pain okay, I am but a single person with GIMP. I did do the scene hair but I would like to some day do it on another mesh. I sorted and organized all my pictures of Awsten, over 400 btw, by hair color, to help me figure out the best examples of each, and to figure out which ones were just faded versions of the others, a few swatches are 'faded' colors, and which looked distinct enough to make swatches for. Green seems most consistent, I have the most pics of blue. Greatest Hits tricolor and red & black are my favorites. The blue is the first color that shows up on the swatches so the thumbnail shows blue hair to make finding it easy. I tried to mimic that the two distinct reds were not exactly the same. I've gotten way too fucking good at telling when a picture came from even if the color is gone from it. None of these are what hair my Awsten Sim normally has tho.

This is. I made this a couple years ago and never changed it from most outfits as it just makes him stand out and it took hours to make, I wanted to get the most out of it. Just one swatch here. Both of these are base game mesh recolors, so nothing else is needed. Standalone files. Also I went out of my way to grab werewolfy poses and emotions because I think it's adorable, okay. He's the least intimidating werewolf, but still my favorite. Forgive Jack's face and body and everything being in frame a lot I am playing as him.

Hair 1

Hair 2

#sims 4 #sims 4 cc #the sims 4 #ts4 cc #the sims cc #ts4 #sims 4 cas #ts4 cas #cas #awsten knight #waterparks #hair #sims 4 hair #I got sick of Alex so I swapped to play as Jack so I could use him for jewellery stuff as I felt that pack fits Spellcaster aesthetics #But his apartment has no room for that shit so I set it up at his parents' house and they are a pain but they are spellcasters too #Anyway finding rocks is harder than I thought but I made a lot of jewellery for Awsten because LUNAR hahaha werewolf #But when visiting Awsten the first time also hoping he'd bite Jack from a new mod I got #Jack is dumb and he kept playing with Awsten's pet rat instead and LONG STORY SHORT he got himself bit by the dumb rat #Got sick and had like no fucking money and no quick way to earn it so I kept pickpocketing random sims to get some #Just enough that he could get the antidote and NOT DIE he almost fucking died #I tried messing with his bitchy neighbor when he was contagious but yeah other stuff happened with her instead #Anyway he is now barred from playing with rats as he is too dumb to live #Yeah I made hair for Awsten but I have nothing to say about him as a Sim #He's a dog that's all there is to it #Okay that is his house tho i built it when the Werewolves pack was new and I got him moved away from an apartment into Moonwood Mill #And got him turned into a werewolf #He has 7 cats btw #I made green hair for him first way back when before all that but this is a new version of it #I'm not a big fan of the purple

[faestolemythoughts]

In light of my most recent discovery, made some cute little Sam/Alex/Seb hcs

Of course they’ve always known each other they’ve all grown up in pelican town together, the three (especially Seb) just never clicked as a trio.

-Sam and Alex are the first to warm up to each other through mutual lack of braincells.

-Alex finds Sam trying to do a kickflip one day and something along the lines of “Dude!! I didn’t know you skated!!” Is said. Thus a beautiful dumb friendship blossoms.

-Alex eventually asks Sam how to teach him to skate and Sam all but explodes out of excitement because he has someone to skate with, finally. He’d been trying to get Sebastian to skate for years.

-Honestly Sebastian is a little iffy on the whole Alex hanging around them thing, even if it’s just while Sam skates. Sam notices, and of course has to give him a pep talk.

“Come on, he’s cool. He’s not that bad”

“He’s a jock”

“A cool jock. Those are rare”

-Alex picks up on Seb’s nervousness too, even if it goes unsaid. He makes a point to be nice, maybe even ask where he gets his hair cut because he’s been meaning to change things up a little.

-Sebastian is the one to eventually invite Alex along to one of their band practices, he’s not sure what answer he wants though. Alex agrees. Sam boasts, of course.

“If you like my skating you should see me kill it on a bass.”

Alex would rather die than admit he can’t seem to stay away from the weird little duo.

-Alex sits the wrong way on Sam’s desk chair, legs on either side, watching them play, looking a little bit like an excited little kid. Thinking to himself how the hell are these dorks actually cool.

“Wanna try?” Sebastian inquires. Nodding down at the keyboard under his hands. “Need a smoke anyways”

They all crack up as Alex makes random noises on the synth as Seb smokes out of Sam’s window.

“I think he got a beat there for half a second!”

#stardew valley headcanons #stardew valley #sdv alex #sebastian stardew valley #sam stardew valley #sambastian #sdv #alex stardew valley

[musclesandhammering]

Spn Opinions That’ll Have Me Burned at the Stake Pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo

I’m back and bitchier than ever. For reference, here’s part 1.

• Season 5 wasn’t that great.

• D*stiel isn’t real, it’s a sucky ship, and that confession scene was just the writers pandering to the rabid deancas fans cause they knew they were the only ones still watching the show lol. And they left it ambiguous enough that they could still say it was meant platonically if they needed to.

• I hate how they watered down both angels and demons post-season 5ish.

• I liked Ruby 1.0 better than Ruby 2.0.

• I hate Honey!Cas. They just did that cause they didn’t know where to take his story from there, needed him out of the way, and thought it would be funny. It was insulting.

• Jack should’ve been played by an actual child so everyone’s abuse of him would resonate with the audience for what it was (casual fans are brain dead and need to be spoon fed).

• Victor Henrikson deserved more time on the show.

• I said it in the last post, but Alex is way more interesting than Claire and should’ve been given the lead role in the wayward sisters storyline instead.

• Dean is canonically straight and for Christ sake if you guys wanted bi rep, there’s about a thousand other characters that are strongly coded or implied to be bisexual (including Sam!) but y’all didn’t focus on them because it wasn’t actually about representation, it was about making it more plausible for your dumb fetishised gay ship to actually happen (spoiler: it didn’t).

• Season 3 and Season 6 were some of the best ones, you guys just don’t have any taste.

• Claire is not Castiel’s daughter and saying she is erases Jimmy and insults her, and even Cas himself acknowledged that on the show.

• Castiel is canonically NOT gay and Misha constantly saying he is is annoying and airheaded. He’s been attracted to women IN THE SHOW and he’s not even really male, so calling him a Gay Man is reductive and just plain wrong. Also, it’s veeery sus that- given how bi/pan folks are even more underrepresented than gay people- that one of the rare times where the bi/pan label actually fits a character BETTER in CANON……. the allies and monosexuals adamantly reject it. Hm.

• “Curing” vampires or werewolves or demons shouldn’t have been a thing.

• The Winchesters cause most of the bad shit that happens and then they just force supernatural beings to fix it for them- tell me again how they’re Super Special Heroes.

• It shouldn’t be possible to make angels human by removing their grace, because (unlike demons, werewolves, etc) they were never human to start with. If you drained me of all my blood, I wouldn’t magically transform into another species, I’d fucking die.

• Making Billie go crazy was dumb.

• Rowena was one of the most interesting and charismatic characters on the whole show- they just didn’t know what to do with her character.

• The archangels, Lilith, and Azazel should’ve been the biggest threats on the show. No other knights of hell, no god and his sister, no Cain, nothing like that. Having every villain just get progressively more overpowered made the show unbelievable and repetitive and annoying.

• The kernel sanders king of hell guy was hot.

• Dean is misogynistic as HELL, homophobic, likes racist porn, is a narcissist, pervs on teen girls, & thinks all non-human people should be exterminated… and that is all CANON.

• Most of John Winchester’s abuse is fanon.

• Fans portraying Cas as a smol bby who colours in colouring books and has a bee plushie is so fucking annoying.

• Instead of having so many gigantic cosmic storylines with god and his sister and alternate dimensions and even the angel and demon tablets, they should’ve just scrapped those and made the stein family and the bmol and the alpha vampire storylines way bigger than they were. Less cosmic stuff, more earth-based stuff.

• They ruined Lucifer’s character post-season 5. Before that, he was more sympathetic and reasonable than Michael. After, he was a spoiled child hurting people for fun.

• Everything from season 7 on is garbage. All of it. There’s bits of goodness here and there but overall seasons 7-15 are trash.

• How the fuck are there actual people who are deangirls and hate Sam?? The space where your brain should be is empty, I swear to god.

• If there was gonna be any lgbt rep in the Wayward Sisters group, it should’ve been Jody and Donna instead of Claire and Kaia. Those two were boring as hell and had zero chemistry or build-up, but Jody/Donna had plenty of chemistry and was very believable.

• Meg has the best and most realistic redemption arc of anyone on the show.

• Chuck was not likeable or charismatic enough to carry off as big of a villain arc as they gave him. Also that whole thing was stupid and WAY too Out There.

• All the angels should’ve been aroace. All the demons should’ve been pan.

• I stanned Cole so hard up until he changed his mind about hating Dean. That was disappointing.

• Sam went through the same shitty childhood Dean did (plus Bonus Abuse on top of it) and he didn’t turn out Like That.

• I cannot think of a single person that was asking for a spin-off about the Winchester family, like that has to be the most boring thing.

#unpopular opinion #unpopular supernatural opinions #spn unpopular opinions #spn #supernatural #anti dean winchester #Dean winchester critical #dean critical #supernatural wank #fandom wank #castiel #sam winchester #anti destiel #anti destihellers #Misha Collins criticism

[fromkenari]

Waterloo Letters #2: You are a dark sorcerer

You are a dark sorcerer Henry [email protected]                6/8/20 3:23 PM to A Alex, I can’t think of a single other way to start this email except to say, and I do hope you will forgive both my language and my utter lack of restraint: You are so fucking beautiful. I’ve been useless for a week, driven around for appearances and meetings, lucky if I’ve made a single meaningful contribution to any of them. How is a man to get anything done knowing Alex Claremont-Diaz is out there on the loose? I am driven to distraction. It’s all bloody useless because when I’m not thinking about your face, I’m thinking about your arse or your hands or your smart mouth. I suspect the latter is what got me into this predicament in the first place. Nobody’s ever got the nerve to be cheeky to a prince, except you. The moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him. Actually, remember those gay kings I mentioned? I feel that James I, who fell madly in love with a very fit and exceptionally dim knight at a tilting match and immediately made him a gentleman of the bedchamber (a real title), would take mercy upon my particular plight. I’ll be damned but I miss you. x Henry

Re: You are a dark sorcerer A [email protected]                6/8/20 5:02 PM to Henry H, Are you implying that you’re James I and I’m some hot, dumb jock? I’m more than fantastic bone structure and an ass you can bounce a quarter on, Henry!!!! Don’t apologize for calling me pretty. Because then you’re putting me in a position where I have to apologize for saying you blew my fucking mind in LA and I’m gonna die if it doesn’t happen again soon. How’s that for lack of restraint, huh? You really wanna play that game with me? Listen: I’ll fly to London right now and pull you out of whatever pointless meeting you’re in and make you admit how much you love it when I call you “baby.” I’ll take you apart with my teeth, sweetheart. xoxo A

Re: You are a dark sorcerer Henry [email protected]                6/8/20 7:21 PM to A Alex, You know, when you go to Oxford to get a degree in English literature, as I have, people always want to know who your favorite English author is. The press team compiled a list of acceptable answers. They wanted a realist, so I suggested George Eliot—no, Eliot was actually Mary Anne Evans under a pen name, not a strong male author. They wanted one of the inventors of the English novel, so I suggested Daniel Defoe—no, he was a dissenter from the Church of England. At one point, I threw out Jonathan Swift just to watch the collective coronary they had at the thought of an Irish political satirist. In the end they picked Dickens, which is hilarious. They wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama? The fruity truth: My favorite English author is Jane Austen. So, to borrow a passage from Sense and Sensibility: “You want nothing but patience—or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope.” To paraphrase: I hope to see you put your green American money where your filthy mouth is soon. Yours in sexual frustration, Henry

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 202-205). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

#waterloo letters #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #out of credits

[louiseintrees]

The Knock

There was a knock on the door.

It was late into the night. Probably around ten o’clock at night. I almost didn’t get up until the knocks persisted. They weren’t angry and demanding they were just abrupt and persistent. I was scared but Somthing in my gut had me drawn to opening this door.

So I got up slipping on pants so I didn’t just have a tank top on. And I walked down the stairs of my home to the front door. The sound of the rain pouring outside filled my ears as my curiosity pulled me to the door. I looked through the peep hole and I thought I was dreaming. I thought it was some really vivid dream but when I pulled the old oak door open suddenly the dream became reality and my lips parted slightly and I took a step back not believing my eyes.

There stood—in my doorway—a slumped over man, his dark brown hair soaked and sticking to his face from the rain, and his eyes glued to his feet. He wore a muted green coat with no hood, and I could see that stupid leather jacket he had become so fond of poking out underneath, and under that a dumb white button up that he never buttoned properly.

“Alex?” I questioned not believing what I was seeing.

“Y/n.” He stated.

His voice was so incredibly weak. Like he’d cried for days…maybe he had. But I wouldn’t know. I wanted to hug him but I don’t know if I could let myself do that. I couldn’t let myself fall into his arms so easily after him leaving me stranded. Literally and figuratively. He left me in Las Vegas. And stupidly enough when he left, he left everything else we ever had. All those years of friendship from when we were young, all those secrets, promises, and inside jokes, all of those night crying in each others arms, every gig and concert I went to, to support him, to show him I cared, all the days I worked my ass off to the point of wanting nothing more than to die I would make time for him, and all of that suddenly meant nothing and was left…and I thought forgotten.

“Why are you here, Alex?” I tried to push down my happiness. He was once my best friend but I can’t forget the pain he put me through so fast.

I watched as his head turned from his toes to the bush beside him. He bit his lip like he was holding back something…something like tears.

“I fucked up.” His voice was already starting to break, “It started with you and then afterwards everything else went downhill with Alexa and Arielle and-…I didn’t know where else to go- I just-…”

Now he was crying. It was all blended in with the rain but I could tell. The way his voice shook and trembled like a lost puppy, how he kept biting his lip to hide the hard sobs, and how he couldn’t look at me to scared to show me that he too could be vulnerable and weak, and because he didn’t want to see the look on the face of the person he hurt all those years ago.

And in that moment suddenly all that pain I had felt after Vegas was completely forgotten, everything he put me through I suddenly put aside. He was still Alex. He was still that little boy I met all those years ago, who got a guitar for Christmas and couldn’t stop playing it, who was late for everything, who hated his piano lessons, who at one point promised me he would never ever let anything come between us, he was still there, he just had a different look and a struggle to keep promises.

That’s why I ran into him, wrapping my one arm around his midsection to his shoulder and the other around his neck. He cried into the crook of my neck as his arm weakly wrapped around my waist. That smell of shit cologne, cigarettes, and him filled my nose. It made me want to cry more than I already was. It was cold and wet outside, my hair becoming soaked, but part of me was warm and happy. And although I couldn’t forget what he did to me I hope I can forgive him, and I hope he’s changed, but at least for now,

That hole—the shape of him—in my heart was finally sealed again.

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #alex turner arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #angst #alex turner x reader

[scimitar-and-longsword]

Alright... Starting the Modem Warfare (2019) campaign for the first time. Let's see how dumb of a decision this was.

(this is an fps... So just ALL the trigger warnings for guns, death, etc... dead dove etc etc)

First mission: Fog of War

Playing my boy Alex! My mouse 5 button isn't working, so I can't mount my gun 😂 also I keep accidentally shooting my friends. I am SO good at this. 😌

I am laughing like a mad woman in this dark warehouse. Like nervous cackling as I try not to die. I'm playing on the easiest difficulty here, and I'm still finding fun ways to accidentally explode people by tossing grandes in the wrong direction.

Welp. All my friends are dead now so it didn't matter that I was shooting them anyway. Cool.

Well I played a single mission but now I have dance rehearsal... So idk maybe I'll play more later, we'll see.

Gotta fix my mouse 5 button first though.

#lolo liveblogs #lolo rambles #lolo liveplays #??? #idk #cod #modern warfare #tw: guns #tw: shooting #lolo cod playthrough #i think that might be the tag inuse going forward #just fyi

[musigrusi]

Random headcanons and Bullshit I would do if I were friends with 141 etc.

Order T-shirts with the 141 insignia but with the text "1 whore 1"

Would randomly hide in anyone's room for a nap, I sleep better anywhere but in my own bed lol.

I'd steal Graves' comb for that once-a-week brush out and then bring it back with all my hair still in it.

I hc that Soap is afraid of spiders so whenever he would be scared of one I'd collect it and proceed to chase him around with it

Ask Alex to change my car's tires, do the maintanance and such. He strikes me as a car tinkerer

Dance with Rudy to Salsa music, like 24/7 I love that shit.

To rlly trigger my daddy issues, I'd ask Price to slow dance with me to all my childhood songs. Not in a romantic way, just for my own comfort and depression (Bryan Adams' have you ever really loved a woman? / Eagles hotel california/ Beethoven's Moonshine sonata/ Elvis Presley's Falling in love/ Whitney Houston's I will always love you, and so on)

Building shit with König. Every insane Austrian can craft. Make me a bird house.

Go on midnight adventures with Ghost (like, go swimming, on walks, maybe even camping)

I'd also drag Ghost to my horse bc they seem a bit like kindred spirits, they would just stand there next to each other, in each other's company. He's also super shy to ask for pets so I'd like to believe that Ghost would be able to deal with that really nicely.

Farah for the 1st time on skis omg I'd die of cuteness overload. Protect at all cost, also Alex is a Snowboard PRO and would hoover over her.

Also König would be constantly surrounded by animals, the kind that would find a trash panda and keep it lol.

Soap is lactose intollerant and I would be more than happy to be complicit in buying whatever triggers it the worst.

Sending Glitter Fart bombs to Shepard on a weekly basis, hiding em in different places every time.

Soap and my horse would be 200% guaranteed accidents, the dumb kind of accidents. The kind you're afraid to explain to the doctor.

What happened? Well the horse rolled and got stuck and I tried to help and also go stuck. We were stuck together for 3 hours. Played a few games of tic tac toe

I'd go ice skating with Gaz and watch him use one of those children trollies for balance while twirling around him.

Fart spray on Ghost's balaclavas (all of them)

I'd oil up all handles in Alejandro's house. The door knob, the fridge, the toilet seat his car keys, nothing is safe

Ask Laswell if I could do her nails to practice on her.

Soap would end up asking if I could do his toe nails bc he was interested but didn't want to walk around with one inch claws. so he gets one inch toe nails aahahahah

I'd take all of em to my town's fare bc I think they would hella enjoy it (I'd find a children's carousel for Ghost and sit him on a swan with cotton candy in hand and keep him there and happy)

Rammstein living room concerts with König (and maybe Ghost?)

Ghost is the one I'd ask to bring me toilet paper if I ran out.

Après-Ski with alcohol intus would be ironically the SHIT with König. Also Soap and Alex would party along too.

I'd take em all to Mallorca's Ballermann just for shits

König was on skiers by the time he turned 3, also he can climb and boulder like a pro AND is a "Wetterfrosch".

Drunk Price on a mechanical bull would be the most epic, sexy and terrifying experience for any of the 141.

Black pist tour club in Arosa Lenzerheide would be König (Ski), Alex (Snowboard), Ghost (Snowboard, he has one with skull faces on it and all that jazz), Price (also Snowboard according to my bestie, I'd say more ski tho)

Gaz *would* try to follow them down on skis and probably say "jesus take the wheel" the whole time. He'd end up down in the valley either on the skis or on his ass.

Soap would end up as one big snowball down in the valley and be the first to yapp about going down again.

König is pro at ski lifts, while Ghost is the most annoying and PESTERING guy there, would leave one out and the fail to take the next one while bitching his way to the front of the cue.

Price would be constantly pissing, just. whenever you leave him out of sight, he is going to piss.

The reason for their substantially sized collection of wet wipes is that Whenever Alejandro, Rodolfo or Farah cook, Price (who is the biggest fan of their food) will excuse himself politely exacrly 20 minutes after setting down his cuttlery and vanish to the closest rest room.

That particular rest room will be off limits for the comming days after he finished his business. (legend has it, that Ghost once walked in accidentally and came back out a changed man for the worse).

Didnt think this would end up being half a ski resort fanfic but here we are.

#simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #gaz #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #soap #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #price #captain price #captain john price #john price #könig #koenig #cod #cod mw #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #farah karim #farah #alex keller #alex #general shepherd #phillip graves #graves

[itsmaddienotmaddy]

I wasn’t going to tonight, but after THIS, I have to.

USWNT v Nigeria (2 fast 2 furious)

Okay. I already bitched in another post but will reiterate. Our veteran and clear line organizers are Miss Alyssa Naeher, Queen Rebecca, and Andi goddamn Sullivan. Taking all three out of your lineup is stupid and is an unnecessary baptism by fire for Naomi, Sam and Casey. They’re excellent players…. They’re just not seasoned directors on the national team. And it SHOWS. Players not knowing when pressure is coming, what outlets they have available, how much time they have on the ball. It wasn’t THERE. 🙄

Poor Sofia and Alana. They just…. Did not have it during Nigerias goal. All credit to Nigeria because that was a badass goal. But dang did our gals look, scrambled on that one. Alana is def coming into her own so I’m not worried. And Sof. She was making all the right movements and (especially offensively) was in the right areas. Execution was just off today

Moving on. Can we check on the limbs and ligaments of Lindsey and Foxy? Girlies were getting getting tackled out there. It was a physical game in general but those two took the brunt. Thank god Fox came off, but Kristie or Demelo getting a cap instead of Lindsey almost dying? It would have been PREFERRED. (I did not include Sanchez simply because she is little and may have gotten trucked worse.) also. Lindsey was awesome over the weekend and today.. the ball was sticking (?) to her feet in the worst way. Oof.

I am forever thankful for Rose Lavelle and her pure skill. Her goal was obviously the highlight, but she put in a hell of a shift. Lindsey could have handed the armband to her, would have been great. If I wanna get nitpicky, her final ball could be a lot better. She does so much work just to pass the wrong angle or put too much weight on it. She’s so CLOSE.

Alex did mediocre Alex things. Her off the ball work is always good. Nothing new. Always nice. But wasn’t getting fed the passes she wanted so there wasn’t any productivity.

Sophia Bubble Braid Smith. V good while in. Happy with the sub, idk if it was planned or precautionary, but we don’t need to be overplaying or injuring her. We NEED her and we need her healthy.

Mal is so frustrating because she is so talented but her decision making is dumb af sometimes. Wide open channel into the box for a shot? She crosses it. Open players all over the place? Time for a shot over the crossbar. If she could chill, and think, we’d be golden. Her breakaways were so 🔥 and nothing coming from them was just a bummer.

And Pinoe. Love her. Love when she immediately makes a difference. She v deft and smart and connects well with so many. I want her around forever

I think that’s it. I don’t like US Soccer tactics but I love watching the gals. Keeping my fingers crossed that we dont fucking DIE when playing England (having myself a moment over here that we have to face them without Christen because ACLs are fucking rude and USSF/Vlatko don’t want her to thrive)

#uswnt #Lindsey Horan #Megan Rapinoe #rose lavelle #Alyssa Naeher #becky sauerbrunn #andi sullivan #sam coffey #naomi girma #emily fox #sofia huerta #Casey Murphy #alana cook #Alex Morgan #Sophia smith #Mal pugh

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Steve Harrington Headcanons

Part 1/?

He can only identify actors based on the project he saw them in first, he doesn’t know any names of any actors (other than Farrah Fawcett). Like how he identified Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future as Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties? Yeah, that but for every other actor in existence

He loves spinny chairs. Like, you’ll go into Family Video and just see his dumb ass spinning around in the chair while completely zoning out. And even after you snap him back into reality, he’ll still spin around in the chair because he’s a doofus

When he can’t sleep, he gets in his car and drives down all the backroads in town. Eventually he ends up just parking behind the police department and knocking out in his backseat. Hopper has found him there multiple times on his way into work, but he just lets him sleep

He’s actually not half bad in the kitchen. He’s no Julia Child, but he can make a decent meal without burning the house down. You always tease him when you come home to find him bustling about in the kitchen with a dish rag slung over his shoulder, because he looks like a single mom of 6 in a 20 year old man’s body. He just sarcastically laughs it off before asking you to jump in and help him get dinner on the table (like a mom)

He always cheats at Monopoly. Every time. Without fail. And even when he cheats, Dustin still beats him, claiming that “karma is a cold, heartless bitch, Harrington”

Since both he and El are HORRENDOUS with understanding pop culture references, they compile a list from both the Party and the Older Kid Squad of movies and shows that they need to watch, and they designate Thursday nights as their “TV Night”, where he picks El up, they buy Eggos and other snacks, then they go back to y’all’s apartment and get all comfy before popping in the tape. You’ve come home from work or chauffeuring the kids around to find them passed out on the couch while the tv was on the static screen multiple times

He’s the biggest cuddle monster you’ll ever meet. Mostly because he’s terribly touch starved (fuck Richard and Gloria Harrington for not loving their amazing son), but also because after all the Upside Down shit, he just needs to cling to the person he cares about to make sure they don’t get taken away from him

He claims to hate it, but he actually loves it when you play with his hair. Not during the day, obviously, he puts at LEAST an hour of work into that mane. But at night time when you’re snuggling before bed, he likes it when you run your fingers through his soft brown locks and scratch his scalp with your nails. It helps him fall asleep better

Definition of a Golden Retriever Boyfriend. He’s always so excited to see you (even if you’ve only been out running errands for an hour), smothers you with kisses any chance he gets, and always has to have an arm around your waist or shoulders or be holding your hand, otherwise he might die

Expert blanket fort architect. No one knows how he got so good at it because he’s an only child, but you bet your ass if you guys are hosting a sleepover at your guys’ apartment, he’s helping the kids build a blanket fort to watch movies and consume copious amounts of junk food in. Even after they’re all in college and you guys are most likely married and getting ready to start a family of your own, a blanket fort is being made, damnit

He refers to his car as “your chariot”, but only when he’s picking you up for a date. The rest of the time she’s “old girl”, but always said lovingly with a pat on the hood, the roof, or the dash

He still isn’t 100% sure what the difference is between Star Wars and Star Trek, but at this point he’s afraid to ask because Dustin will crucify him if he does

Eddie somehow convinced him to listen to more metal music, so now some of the tapes he was gifted are in the Driving Around Town Rotation. Like, you’ll get in the car and Crazy Train is just blasting on the stereo, so he turns it down, but you still hear him mumbling the lyrics with 100% accuracy as you’re driving

Robin and Nancy managed to drag him onto the Skincare Bandwagon, so sometimes you’ll come home to find him and the girls on the couch in face masks and bathrobes gossiping like there’s no tomorrow. Steve is even wearing a headband to keep his hair out of the mask, because Robin forced him into one

Once during a sleepover with the Party, Will practically begs Steve to let him teach him how to play DnD, and of course Steve can’t say no to his big brown baby cow eyes, so he plops down on the floor and gets a beginner’s course in DnD. Dustin even helps him design a character, and the next time the boys come over, they bestow a fully decorated character binder upon him, and he joins their campaign. You can’t help but smile when you watch them play from the kitchen while fixing up snacks for them, because you can tell Steve still barely knows what he’s doing

Like Spencer Reid, he’s the biggest man-baby in the universe when he gets sick. His immune system actually sucks, and you would bet any money that his parents completely blanked on getting him up to date on all of his vaccines, so you end up having to take care of him. He’s usually asleep the whole time, but when he’s conscious he’s a whiny little shit, and as much as he gets on your nerves, you still adore him

He never had any pets growing up, so the second Hopper hooks him up with a big boy job at HPD and he’s living in an apartment with you (pet friendly by design of his master plan), he begs you to go to an animal shelter with him to see what they have. You end up getting a 3 year old Beagle named Arthur, and he might love that dog more than he loves you, but he’d never admit it

He’s a shameless flirt around you and is constantly dropping pick-up lines and shit like that on you, but the second you say something like “you’re such a pretty boy, Stevie”, he turns into an actual puddle because in addition to being a shameless flirt, he’s also the world’s largest simp

#logan speaks #logan writes #logan has headcanons #steve harrington headcanons

[txxfiles]

youtube!

why is she going on about youtube i hear u cry? well it’s on my mind and idk what else to talk about so here i am to tell you all about how i’ve recently rediscovered my love for the fucking eboys and ponder upon why i am here once again. but anyway what does it mean? who am i? what is going on? if i knew we wouldn't be here so let's take a trip, shall we? 

for anyone who doesn't know the eboys are 4 youtubers who made a short live youtube channel and podcast back during lockdown. it was a culmination of 4 guys i really loved so obviously, i was in. i loved their content separately so having them all together was a dream. their content was the sort of dumb shit i always enjoy so what a fucking win. and then, like all good things, it died within just over a year and i was obviously heartbroken but understood why they decided to call it quits. i don't think i realised how much i missed it until i started watching it again so now there's a small hole in my chest wondering what could have been. i know they won't come back together again like they haven't even made a video all together since so that dream is dead which is sad but whatever. 

i’ve come to realise i have very ‘immature’ taste when it comes to youtube, i don’t watch cool video essays very often or like educational or life vlogs or anythng like that, i like commentary videos and ‘i ran a marathon in heelys’ videos (love u will if ur reading this i’m free literally all the time) and i’m not saying this is a bad thing before anyone starts, it brings me joy so it’s fine but having fallen off youtube and come back to it, it’s really made me think. 

i was out ALL DAY in central london by myself the other day and had been catching up on george’s (memeulous) videos bc there was nothing else in my sub feed that morning and to be honest, i had missed him. call me lame all u want but that lil man has charmed me for several years at this point and he is exactly my type in terms of personality. he even reminds me of that last person i had a crush on which is hilarious, both in terms of personality and stature (HA.) but anyway, i was out alone and the music wasn’t hitting so i turned to podcasts. the sunny podcast has been on hiatus forever and i’ve listened to that enough and the majority of the other podcasts i listen to are fiction ones which i wasn’t in the mood for. so, i went back to the boys and just had so much fun. they’re so silly but i love it, it’s like sitting in a room with your mates and listening to them chat shit. so now i’m sat here writing this with them on in the background slightly upset the channel died (looking at u will) but i digress. 

i was in a major youtube slump last year, apart from my bestie tomska who i have religiously watched for over 10 years now (yikes) i really haven’t kept up with anyone. and then dan and phil games came back and i had a bit more reasons to keep up with it. but I’d fallen out with the eboys for reasons beyond my comprehension. i think something in me was like ‘you’re too old for this’ or something but that’s just so not true. i think part of it was trying to move on from a certain part of my life. i found george and alex specifically through the literal worst person ever so i wonder if leaving them behind was a subconscious effort on my part to put the whole thing behind me which is a lot of what i focused on in therapy. but why let someone else ruin something you love? if i wanna be a teenage boy watching commentary youtubers whilst i play fortnite i will, fuck you. 

i never understand why my hyperfixations die, like i can’t put my finger on it but I’ve had several youtube ones. way way back i was a big dan, phil, chris, and pj girlie but also a big fan of tomska and his crowd at the time. never really been into any of the american youtubers tbh but i was SO into all of that specific british crowd for the majority of my time in high school/college. mostly because i was incredibly lonely and watching their videos made me feel like i had friends. but as with everything i fell off it and into k-pop and kinda moved on from keeping up with any of them religiously. and then i got back into it with george and alex and then kinda went out from there and really reconnected with youtube. especially during lockdown when the eboys and their podcast were big, i loved it. i used to watch them when i had to go to work by myself and be socially distanced from everyone for like 8 hours so again, it was like having my friends there. maybe that’s it, maybe its loneliness. maybe i’m lonely at the moment. idk. but anyway, when the channel died, they all drifted and i drifted too. other than keeping up with last month (tomska) i didn’t rlly pay attention to anything unless i wanted to watch a game play through (big up jacksepticeye.) and then we come to now and it’s like going back in time. dan and phil are back and i’m rewatching 4 20 something men talking about butts. it is like a time capsule actually because i’d forgotten about half the stuff they bring up in the podcast episodes so it’s kinda nice being reminded of all the shit that went down. 

i think i owe a lot of my want to go into like media to people like tomska, because seeing them make videos and stuff with so little that do so well is so inspiring. and he’s genuinely the longest standing youtuber i’ve kept up with, i’ve never dipped off him. i might now tho bc elliot left and i miss him. idk. it’s weird growing up with people you don’t know but feel like you do. like tom got engaged at christmas and that’s just mental to me. 

these people are my friends at this point in my life and yeah i know, parasocial relationships are bad i get it, but i’m not delusional. i’m not stalker level obsessed with any of them and i never have been but i feel a connection to them because i found every single youtuber i love when i was at a horrible awful lonely point in my life so of course it makes sense for me to be connected to them on a slightly deeper level than maybe your average bitch is. but thats not a bad thing i don’t think, like these people arent giving you their ACTUAL lives or personalities, it’s just a small part of them like george doesn't even show his face for fucks sake but that mans my buddy. he doesn't even know me but he’s been there for me when no one else was so of course we’re connected on some level, even if it’s one sided. 

i don’t really know if this has a point, i just wanted to talk about it i guess? i think there’s a part of me that’s ashamed of going back to something like this? like it’s not exactly high media is it. how can i at my ripe old age look someone in the eye and say ‘yeah i’ve been watching a man who wears a bandana chat shit about peoples tattoos for the last 18 minutes, how’re you?’ who in my real life is interested in that? lmao. i said at new years i was going to have less shame about the things i enjoy but this feels like step toooooo far. i guess it is loneliness in a sense, everyone feels like they’re moving on and i’m stuck in a rut of trying desperately to move on too or wondering if i should just die instead. returning to something like this brings me comfort. makes me feel safe. life is so weird man. i’m nearly 27 surely things should be getting better? 

god help whatever i end up writing when it’s my fucking birthday. 

i realise this isn't the most comprehensive thing i’ve ever written but that's not the point so hope u enjoyed the inner workings of my mind! 

peace out homies

eucalyptus xoxo

[indefenseofkara]

My (mostly silly) thoughts while playing the MWIII Campaign

spoilers under the cut, obviously

Operation 627

was this man wearing a suit in prison?

Cutscene

wonder what the 141 was about to do before learning about Makarov

RIP Dena, first named side character to die this game

Precious Cargo

if Graves was serious about helping Urzikstan he'd pronounce Farah's name right

I tried to be stealthy. it never works 😢

omg Graves is so annoying and won't stfu. he even interrupts himself

Cutscene

RIP Ivan, you were just trying to do the right thing

i don't think patches really tear and attach that easily

Gaz's headshot is really so much better than everyone else's lmao

Reactor

once again i tried to stealth and failed

"I'm going loud" yes?? of course??? i just blew up a helicopter! is there a way to stealthily blow up a helicopter????

gave Price lung cancer oops

Cutscene

ghost is so proud of his joke lol

finally Farah learns about what Shadow Company did in Las Almas (kinda i guess Price didn't mention all the innocent people killed lmao)

aw but Price trusts Farah

Payload

i kept pressing the button for exiting recon drones in MP/WZ but it's different in the campaign 💀

my left joystick keeps drifting and idk whyyyy

the bunker dining room is set up so nice. table cloths and flowers!

Cutscene

damn Farah really gets everything done, the other 141 boys didn't stop their missiles

Nikolai! Rocking out to metal! I love it!

is Kastovia in Russia? I thought it was a country

Yuri!

Deep Cover

i'm Laswell!

for like 2 minutes lmao damn that was short af

Cutscene

oh god No Russian coming up

do i have to shoot civilians this time?

Passenger

bruh wtf is this?

why was Makarov even on the plane?

could/should have been a cutscene

Cutscene

Farah is my badass motorcycle gf

"Yes, ma'am" Alex knows what's up.

Crash Site

ooooh i found a crossbow!

goddamnit Alex i just took down like 30 men and you got caught by 3?! get it together man

the game wouldn't let me dramatically zipline in to save alex, rude.

Cutscene

Farah continues to be the most capable person in the series

Aww Gaz and Nik being bros

Flashpoint

this post is supposed to be silly thoughts but what is going on with this timeline? Price and Soap and Ghost are together but not part of the 141 because that hasn't been made yet. Also they're all British SAS why are they reporting to Shepard? (that's a question for all the games but especially in this pre-141 scenario) (ok back to silly thoughts)

i shoved Makarov so much lmao (i also shot him but that made me fail the mission)

everyone is gloating so much get it together

Cutscene

Herschel lol

he clearly has a plan and they're all like "what are you talking about Makarov we totally got you"

oh look i was right

oh look it's my least favorite people

"Ghost that is not nice" ok that got me i cackled

Gaz is distractingly pretty rn

Oligarch

listen i swear i'm trying really hard to be stealthy i don't know why i'm so bad at this i'm on recruit ffs

Cutscene

good cop bad cop

"to hide my face" he has a point

i have strong doubts that Milena actually worked for that money lol

Makarov talking about a "Shadow" and i am shocked. Shocked, I tell you! (i am not shocked)

Highrise

this was a fun level

Nolan's talking shit after i shot him, but i didn't even know i got him - i downed him while blinded by a flash grenade lmao

when did Price hook into the skyhook? nearly had a heart attack when we took off

Cutscene

oh its the high fashion mission coming up

Frozen Tundra

godammit another mission where i want to shoot the guy we have to keep safe for some dumb reason

Gaz is the voice of reason again

soap keeps running away when i try to get ammo from him 😭

Cutscene

lmao gotta love these scenes where everyone is part of an intimidating conversation

Gora Dam

i didn't even try to go stealthy this time, immediately stole a truck with a sentry turret on the back

Cutscene

Graves ugh

Gaz not shaking his hand, ICONIC

Danger Close

not really a fan of these types of missions

accidentally used a missile to take out one person but that's ok because i got an achievement for it called "your tax dollars at work" 🤣

Cutscene

yeah he's not dead

huh Shepard telling the truth, shocker

lol jk still lying too

lmao where was Alex in that little scene. "Nik take Farah back to Urzikstan" and Alex? where'd he go??? weren't you in Urzikstan? You left just to talk about this with Farah but not Alex? WHAT IS GOING ON? DID YOU THINK I WOULDN'T NOTICE DETAILS LIKE THIS

Trojan Horse/Countdown

doggo!!!

actually liked the CCTV bit, it's realistic

got runover by a train because my joystick keeps drifting 💀

playthrough interrupted for cat snuggles

"chunnel" lol i forgot some people call it that

RIP Soap, that was a pretty definite death

"one KIA" you mean one task force member... all the police with you are KIA too damn way to be insensitive Price

Cutscene

Uh does Soap not have a family?

Lol Gaz is the only one who took off his hat/hood

Tbh i was expecting a tragic military funeral with bagpipes

this was too short i didn't even have time to process before it was over. didn't cry.

Bonus scene

thank fuck he's dead. now let's get Graves.

Credits

lol what is this music? (oh it's 21 Savage)

production babies!

someone is named Amish.

I know some of these people!!!! I sat through over 10 minutes of credits to cheer for my pals suffering under the evil overlords at Activison!

there wasn't a "thanks for playing" picture at the end what

#this isn't that interesting but i don't have irl people to share my silly little thoughts with #COD #call of duty #modern warfare iii #mwiii #spoilers #i don't think anyone cares about spoilers anymore but still i'll tag it #my COD posts

[matthew-and-tirreny]

Alex: yea no.

Shinobu: we also fucked!

Alex: mhm yes we did

Kyle:I refuse to believe you two had sex aren't you married to am- oh wait she died *he played dumb ways to die on his phone *

(I'm sorry I couldn't help it-)

#ask

[hanzi83]

Just a Late Night/Early Morning Blog Off Vibes

I feel in the last week, I have tried to maintain keeping my sanity with so much shit going on in the world, or just how everyone seems to find their moments of “ignorance is bliss” routines, while slowly crawling over to the right leaning side because they know of what is to happen in the future, no one other than “conspiracy theorists” can put that out there, but the problem is most of the people doing “conspiracies” are now far right wing people, who can take advantage of the truths the corporate and establishment types will tell, and you better believe any “conspiracy” that gets proven true, who do you think takes all the credit? People who are not on the side, love to dumb down the villains, and the threat, while promoting what is being normalized, a bunch of laws being passed to eradicate a communities who are deemed “woke” in the most weaponized way, and you have nonstop sensationalist discourse about a viral moment that you will use to define everything by and then pretend because you post online or consume shit online that you are the ultimate free thinker and you don’t fall for agendas, only if they seem to be a little bit more liberal, while pretending the shit that others fight for is not some sophisticated right wing propaganda, which is not seen as bad because it is online mainly while there is this assumption that the the system is “left leaning”. I could just turn all this shit off and just go away and I fucking try but when the world is in a state of impending doom, and there is no one to talk about this shit then where else can I bitch about it, I am a red flag account, like there is more monitoring on me for personal vendetta shit, and yet those resources can’t be used to actually monitor when someone is gonna take a gun and shoot a bunch of people. Please don’t try to act like they don’t have us monitored at all fucking times, you think all that shit about the people in power spying on us is just them spying and not having anything else more nefarious going on, I have to constantly see more revelations of more corruption, these corporations being soulless and never any real solutions other than the discourse of which political sports entertainers were booked to do and then they become cartoonish in the discourse while they are normalizing their corruption in an era, where they can market themselves canceled, so they can justify crossing over to the other side and be where the evil will be protected, as I am writing this, I noticed that there is news of another shooting taking place in the campus, and I am not even phased at this point, the last 15 years, I have bee subjected to so much trauma porn that has seeped into my fucking mentally ill head, and nothing gets done, I am not supposed to think there is anything conspiratorial going on with the ones that get major promotion, not that typical cliched 2010’s conspiracy of “false flags to take away your guns” because then false flags get misconstrued since the Alex Jones shit where it is defined by “no one dying” bullshit, but since Alex has always been a right wing psyop who used to promote that more of these would be happening and promoted, then me being dumbed down and not trusting the MSM narratives, and seeing this shit play out, I am not allowed to think there is something more, but then earlier this week, Charlie Kirk from Turning Point USA, flat out saying that the cost of having guns is that people are going to die, and then proceeds to then make that shitty car argument that every “free thinker” used to make, and it would seem like the most revolutionary talking point whatsoever, like “OH SHIT, THE SHIT LIBS DON’T GOT AN ANSWER FOR THAT, HOLY SHIT, I AM SO FUCKING ORIGINAL” but if someone like that, Charlie Kirk, who has admitted on his platforms that they need to fund more shit at school boards etc, him saying that kind of shit about guns and lost lives, am I not allowed to say maybe they orchestrate these things to happen because everytime there is this big mass shooting promoted, that more people then buy guns because they think that day is coming. I have no issue with anyone having a gun for protection and if they are responsible gun owners, but there are some people who should not be near a gun, there are thought leaders who will promote just as much propaganda because they are tied to the NRA or whatever fucking place that has control over politicians. But what will happen after this Oklahoma shooting, it will be more politicians talking in circles, and they will be pro wrestling villains while other platforms, especially ones who brag about being better than MSM as their main personality trait, they will fall for this same okie doke, it is clear they want this world to implode, and as much as I detest and loathe the far right wing shit normalized, they at least have their people ready for some kind of civil war that they are training them into being activated for, I am sure the identity of the shooter will also be another discourse thing, whenever they want to blame a marginalized community, the right will buy it as face value, like in the 2010’s at least conspiracy theorists used to think that there was more to the suspects and their ties to law enforcement or the feds etc, and think they could’ve used a patsy etc, now they buy it all at face value, and if it is someone who is a white supremacist, it will still be presented in a limited way where the right wing will then point out other people who have a “left” leaning stance and the “LAME STREAM MEDIA ISN’T TELLING YOU ABOUT IT” even though they are on a corporately run platform spreading the message of whatever billionaire/think tank is funding your shitty viewpoint because the MSM has become utter shit. Most people don’t even watch MSM shit, most people do get their news off the internet, but for some fucking reason we are pretending the internet is just some obscure message board that you log into on your fucking 56K Modem, are we really so desperate to dumb down the aesthetic to seem like we are all normal and reacting genuinely and expect things to get better, when we don’t disclose the reality, the ugly fucking reality because it is scary then there will be no solutions, and all this bedlam is just filler until we really have shit hit the fucking fan. 

I couldn’t sleep and I decided I wanted to just let off some thoughts in blog form where my haters will be the only ones to read this and continue to take notes and try to figure out ways to paint me as some terrorist radical so they can continue to perpetuate I will do something crazy when people who are monitoring me will know it is not true but they can keep trying their best, sometimes they will leave me be for a while but that is because they want me to lower my guard and celebrate they won’t bother me, but once people have an obsession over their targets, that shit is for life unfortunately, so me writing blogs and expressing myself is not a good thing for people who blindly hate me, the only satisfaction they have is that no one is propping up my shit so it doesn’t have the biggest reach whatsoever, especially if I am out doing people who get paid to be thought leaders with at least presenting another angle, whether you disagree wit it or not. Thing is I wanted to write about the come down from my mentally ill feelings the last week since the wrestling world loves to rub my face in shit whenever Mania week is happening and notoriously it is just a reminder that I am not allowed access, and notoriously before my mentally ill tirades I try to get ahead of them because I have gone through the mentally ill cycles that I at least try my best to articulate it, I realize doing that also means I am putting myself in a vulnerable situation but that is so predictable for people to pounce on someone who is feeling low and needing to vent but it is expected and I feel mentally stronger than I did 10 years ago, albeit I do my my mentally ill moments that shine on certain days, but the come down is the worst because the adrenaline you feel in your head where it fuels your emotions from going through the accumulative trauma nonstop, like I described before, a nonstop playlist of diss tracks from the past play on loop, where then in my head I am creating my own playlist of disses from envisioning future scenarios where I might be tested, you feel every single emotion on loop and when you have no one to confide in about your trauma, because people want to pretend that it is not existent, because your trauma is useless and has no valuable until exploitative shit heads can profit off it and I get to pretend it was my story and I decided when I came out about it, even though I have been coming out with it for a lot of fucking years. Because no one gives a shit, it gets to me and it makes me shit on everyone and isolate myself even more. I will never fucking be able to get over this shit. I at least try to articulate this shit because I know other mentally ill people will read this and maybe they don’t know how to deal with their thoughts or whatever, thing is when you have those mental illness problems, and you are in a successful position, it is easier to hide behind a cult that will enable your mentally ill shit, and sometimes those people will have a more difficult time getting better, but my hope is other cogs who are facing it and don’t know how to express because it would seem too insane, and society will instantly shun you and make you feel like shit, me? I already accepted that most people are not gonna fuck with me, and maybe at first that hurt immensely but over time, I have become numb to it and choose to express my opinions, theories and my experience, what’s gonna happen? More people are not gonna talk to me or look in my direction? I am gonna be more blacklisted than I already am? And the people who judge me normally, they might have the better aesthetic and the cult to protect their image and enable their shitty behavior but they are more fucked up than I could ever be, even with my coping mechanism conspiracies of illuminati bodies, and celebs  faking death etc, I know those conspiracies are not the truest, but maybe I see what they show me on the screen and think “Maybe they are hiding the truth in plain sight” because if I had to face that everyone just drops dead and this is all a fucking big nothing, it gets even more depressing to me. You people who are elitist and judge me don’t even have the charisma to be the “celebs” you fucking claim yet you get online because you are paid by other sociopaths and surround yourself by sociopaths to call out other dumbed down people in the mainstream yet you all act as lame as those people so why would I even fucking root for anyone? This is why I get angered by the wrestling fandom, because a lot of them didn’t want real change, they just wanted a new promotion for their entertainment and all that calling out WWE in retrospect for their immoral and unethical behavior was just a way to act like a revolution was happening in the industry when there will be a repeat of fucked up shit that happened in the early 2000’s and late 90’s and people want to go back to being regressive with their ignorance now because you might get a gig with them or some shit. I am starting to get all over the fucking map but this is what happens when my thoughts scatter all over the place while I am to get shit off my chest and my thoughts move sporadically from thought to thought, it is time to time I freeze and it is like mentally I go deep into a scenario of the past and the future, and then I break free from it to then continue to write down, it is like if there was ever a strong indication that I am an AI being programmed but whatever, again like most blogs I don’t know what I intend to get out of publishing this shitty blog that I wrote because I couldn’t sleep, there is no telling where it will go, one minute I am doing a good job in pointing out the hypocrisy of the regressive shit heads and the next thought, I am doing into diatribes about illuminati cloning where everyone collectively has to roll their eyes and groan, maybe I should do more Sopranos references, not even the obscure ones, just the flat out beaten into the ground ones, like “I surely didn’t have the makings of a varsity athlete” “Alright but you gotta get over it”  I thought I would unironically just name cliched quotables but then half way through I was like “Alright I want to bail on this shitty bit” 

Basic thing is the world is imploding and we are not going into a good place. I know any day I will go back into my mentally ill rage but I feel less shitty at this moment, I never say “I am happy’ because once vultures see or hear that, they then get on me like a pack of hyenas, so at this moment with even more shitty news coming out at every single moment, every personality in the world of politics are becoming bigger caricatures that get focused on and we expect things to get done when we know on the surface, everything is designed to fall flat on its face and it will get worse, I already cried all the years of the past and what can happen, and maybe I am just ready for all of it to end that at this current moment I feel calmer than usual and maybe I needed to write this shit down while I am in this mood because in a few days I will be back to being super irrational and stuttering and stammering. Even when I write shit down, you can tell I am stuttering. Normally when I am in a calmer mood I don’t write down shit as much because I want to enjoy it to some degree so when I write it might come across a bit more boring because it is not me just throwing out insult after insult but I do like to try and challenge myself to try and come up with something. Kind of the downside of writing blogs and going off “vibes”, this is normally when you should check out and go read other informative and thoughtful blogs or think pieces, not some mentally ill fatso’s scattered thoughts where he doesn’t even know where the written is going to go but I am at the point where I feel being “informed” has done more harm than good in the sense of trusting other “smart” people, because they will change my view for a bit but when when I see that they have phoniness to them, it is like I make a mental statement and decide I don’t want to trust another soul again because eventually everyone has to bullshit you and sell you propaganda, and when I start voicing out my opinion on this shit, it bothers other people because they feel once they have the cult and some support that everyone needs to agree with them 100 percent and then use their past credibility to gaslight you, and if you see that people are going to more of a darker side, they then get mad at you for having a parasocial relationship and people being disappointed, but if they agreed 100 percent with what you say, that paraoscial weaponization goes out the window doesn’t it?  And now I feel like I can see where the world is going and it will get worse, but I at least feel a bit better than I am not getting 100 percent behind every single person who I would look to, to educate me because everyone has their own agenda and everyone has their selfish causes. Maybe I am calmer because the world gets better and maybe I won’t have to be on this planet anymore, who fucking knows. I have given up on the vindication arc that I throw out there, it is safe to say that I have pissed off so many people and go off on my own mental trail, that people don’t think I am worthy of being vindicated from the “imaginary” trauma I have “made up in my head” according to my detractors, I think sometimes the “good” people out there get off on me being miserable too, and it is why I stopped giving a shit about who pretend to stand for a good cause, you might represent for your mafia delegation in the system and present it like you give a shit about your entire community but will then partner up with the types that want to do harm to your communities, I used to want to believe and now I don’t really. Maybe later on, this will seep into my head and I will cry myself to sleep or whatever, but at this moment I am sitting here with my thoughts, see it was my punishment to get isolated and unable to make connections and they figured I would implode and just off myself but I didn’t and now I rather be alone with my thoughts, I am more peaceful, and I think about the bigger picture, I hang around with people, and people for some reason see me thinking independently as a threat, they constantly have to try to limit my thoughts and narratives because it might make them feel uncomfortable that I am thinking the possibilities are limitless and envision the grander view of what I perceive the world to be, I do pat myself on the back that when other thought leaders would sell themselves as truth tellers and I would believe it, that I catch myself and see through all their bullshit because I have gone through that, and it is because the entertainment that my dumbed down mind has consumed has shaped my mind for a hero complex of people making the save, those factions exist, which is more fucked up because they don’t intervene when they could, it is like “Is this person worth saving” yet they get to act like they are more pure because they say they are “anti war” when anyone can just say that shit, in the 2020’s, that shit is inflated and so many fucking phonies have just stated that while they shill for other neocon governments and they present an 80’s pro wrestling aesthetic of country vs country when the game is 100 times more advanced, at least from what my perception is, again I am an irrelevant mentally ill guy you all discredited and don’t care about, I don’t have any intention of doing violence, nor do I have guns or any weapons on me but yet a lot of people will think my level of thinking is dangerous enough. But again their satisfaction is that most people will not read this or know this exists, so right now it is fine, but it angers people that I am able to be skeptical. They don’t like that I can admit I am a bit conspiratorial but I am not the conspiratorial that they want to put in that box of a right winger. I could have sold out and market myself to someone who got victimized but then go along with right wing talking points to get support. It is funny though, many people of the “good side” are watching me and think I am not valuable enough to intervene for right, which is fine, but what is your hope, you want people to be so fucked up that they have no choice but to join the right wing side for a little help, is this a sick game that I have to go through the right amount of mental anguish to bow down to your side, which is why I question any side is truly good. 

Anyways I might as well close this one out. I kind of had a blast writing it. It is probably the only thing enjoyable in my life at this moment, because the entertainment I have entrenched myself into has not been good for me, and it doesn’t help that the world of politics which is supposed to determine how things go on the surface have been reduced to nonstop sports entertainment to the world’s detriment and people are getting worse the more they try to socially climb up in  that system. I don’t know if there is any good in the system, but it feels people are getting worse and it is becoming more of a parody of itself, I just look back at how all of this has manifested and how this shit has trained our thoughts whether we want to admit this shit or not, for some reason we are so beholden to entertainment that we don’t even want to admit we take it seriously when literally it is a useful tool because it is a way to manufacture consent, but there are people leaning right who will claim others are manufacturing consent  like they are not working on this new angle in how to manufacture consent just by the image of saying you are anti war while licking the asshole of Tucker Carlson which causes him to break out in his hyena level squealing laugh that he does. You know the one where he sounds like Dennis Reynolds from it's always Sunny. It just makes me go back to where this started with me and all the thoughts I had about this world from the time I was young and how I was afraid to think for myself because it was too difficult and I always figured if I need to know about something my brain will automatically just know it, it is like I lived  a past life where that technology was available for a machine to think for you, because my head would automatically think that in this lifetime whenever I did not understand anything, but now going back to times in my past, I can articulate the feelings I had in the past when I never knew how to articulate anything because I never used to read and when I did, my concentration would be focused more on how to pronounce the words rather than comprehending what I was reading, plus I always figured reading was just around because there was no other entertainment back then, like now you got radio and television, why would I need to read now? I don’t fucking know, I just needed to vent and I don’t know how many podcasts or blogs I have left before this world implodes, I figure my days are numbered anyways, I have dealt with so much mental shit in my head, that when I am thinking irrationally I want to talk as much shit as possible in hopes I will be ended, because sometimes I feel I am justified in being as hateful toward people who have acted unethical, and doing it behind the scenes, and because that doesn’t seem to be the shit people can recognize as being fucked up, people will then think rambling and losing my mind on the surface is the worst offense, because we pretend we care about mental illness, and never want to really do the analysis of what drives people insane, when the people who have control of this planet are mentally ill, and they are the ones who dictates what is normalized etc, how do we fucking ever get better, sure we can bring awareness to mental illness but people in power will fuck with people who have the issues, they will roll back funding and ensure that people get worse, how do you survive this? What is there to look forward to on this planet when it just seems we are all getting worse as a society. I want shit to get better, I hope we can overcome shit but I don’t think we can, when there is more incentive to be regressive and become more comfortable with more sophisticated fascist ideas that don’t even seem fascist at all because they have manufactured consent with sensationalist shit and people can’t even admit what they are doing, they have been enabled to think their way of thinking is 100 percent genuine and they need a cult to tell them what they want to hear so they can feel uplifted even though it is always some sociopathic and deranged behavior, anyways we are fucked, I tink mostly me though in the end, Thanks for reading, except for the people who are just stalking and hating on it but you insist o reading what I write, you can go to hell, you, yeah you.

#mental illness Hanzi 2023 BipolarCoaster Bipolar Coaster fandom entertainment politics sports entertainment conspiracy mentally ill

[from-a-reckless-writer]

29, 31, 36 Supercorp if that's not too much to ask?

"Lena?" Kara pokes her head in through the door, "Jess said you called for me?"

"You," Lena spits out the word as if it's personally offended her. Kara freezes in fear as she watches Lena stand up from her desk and head straight for her. Lena pushes her against the closed door, she's got something in her hand that she uses to point at Kara's throat.

"Is what I'm hearing true?" Lena snarls, and Kara gulps, sweat beading at her forehead, her brain trying to parse through the last 24 hours. What did she do to make Lena this angry? She hasn't seen her this angry since the last time they fought about whose apartment to move into, when they started dating. That was 4 years ago.

"Uh- uh what? What exactly have you heard?" Kara squeaks, feeling the need to raise her arms up in surrender.

"Don't play dumb with me." The thing in Lena's hand presses into the skin of her throat, dull tines scratching her.

"S-sorry, i-is that a spork?" Kara blurts out, index finger pointing, eyes rolling downward to take a better look.

"Yes. I was about to have my lunch," Lena answers, brows still knit in fury.

"Oh." Kara spies a familiar lunchbox on Lena's desk over her shoulder. Oh right, she cooked and packed her lunch this morning.

"Stop distracting me, Kara. Is it true? Did you or did you not invite my mother to my birthday without telling me?"

Oh. OH. Ohnonono. Her heart stops, drops down to the floor in fear.

The accusation hits her squarely in the chest. Oh, she never should've told Jack about that. She should've known better.

Oh, no.

Oh, no. Kara's going to die. Kara's going to die because Lena--the love of her life, the apple of her eye--will kill her. Alex will probably find her dead body here, on the floor of Lena's office with a spork--of all things--jammed in her throat, and then Lena will probably kill Jack next, before she finally kills her mom, like she's wanted to for so long. Oh God, they'll probably make a Netflix True Crime Documentary about it, too.

"W-well, uhm is it really me inviting her if she invited herself?"

"Oh my God. Kara!" Lena finally stomps away from her. Kara lets out a sigh of relief, her arms falling, shoulders losing some of their tension. Lena's standing in the middle of her office now, still terrifying, still angry, pinching the bridge of her nose, her other hand curled into a fist around the spork.

"I'm sorry!" Kara blurts out, trying to find a way to salvage things before Lena starts threatening her with a plastic utensil again. "She told me she wanted to come!"

Lena's head whips to her again. "How did she even know how to cont-"

"And! And- And she said she wouldn't even stay long, she's just going to drop a gift and greet you happy birthday!"

"How do you know all that?" Lena hisses, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Oh my God, what else are you not telling me?"

Oh shit. Oh no. Backtrack. Kara's mouth closes and opens, flailing like a fish. Lillian's face, Lillian's stupid face and her slimy manipulative smile pops up in her mind, utterly unhelpful. She can't lie to Lena. If she does, that increases the probability of Lena stabbing her larynx and ensuring she never tells a lie ever again.

"Well," Kara stutters, "uh so uhm don't be mad but uh- we sort of- kinda have weekly lunches together?" Kara's hands fidget, wincing as she hears herself confess.

Lena scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Every single thing coming out of your mouth, right now, is making me feel like Lex won't be the only Luthor who goes bald before they turn 40," Lena deadpans.

"She said she wanted to get know her daughter's fiancee!" Kara protests, "especially since the wedding is coming up, and it's so soon already, you know? And she-"

"You know what, Kara?" Lena holds up a hand to stop her talking, "right now, I have half a mind to call off the wedding altogether."

"Lena, come on." Kara reaches for her, tries to wrap an arm around her waist.

"Don't you 'Lena come on,' me." She jerks out of her grip. Kara's face falls at being rejected. Lena's waves of anger scorching the heart she already dropped on the floor. "You know full well that I can't stand my mother. I can't even stand the thought of her sharing the same air as me for even 15 minutes. You know all of this, Kara!"

Her voice booms all around the office, and Kara feels a certain gratitude for Jess who is too loyal to Lena to gossip about her.

"And still-" Lena crosses her arms against her chest. "And still you went behind my back and- you what? You go out to lunch with my mother? Who does that, Kara? You spend time with that woman willingly? Do you have brain damage?"

Kara ignores the jab, steps forward to try to gather Lena in her arms again. "Look, I know you're mad and I know you don't like your mom-"

"I loathe her," Lena clarifies, remaining stiff but finally stops resisting in her arms.

"But she's trying okay?" Kara's hand snakes up from her waist and up her arms to rub at her shoulders. The tactic works. Lena uncrosses her arms, and lets them fall to her side, defeated. Kara's touch always did manage to placate her.

"She genuinely wants to make amends, and she's read up on all your progress with L-Corp. She's proud of you," Kara continues, hands now rubbing down Lena's arms, until her hands finally reaches Lena's. She inconspicuously plucks the spork out of her grip, throws it down on the floor, before lacing their fingers together.

"And she's always nice to me even though I eat like- so much food when we're together. And she never lets me pay." Kara's train of thought momentarily drifts off to that new Chinese restaurant Lillian took her to last week, they served one of the best potstick- Focus.

"Listen, I'm sorry okay?" Kara dares to raise her other hand to touch Lena's face, thumb smoothing out the furrow of Lena's brows, before moving down and settling on her waist again. "But I really think you should give her a chance."

"I have given her so many chances, Kara," Lena sighs, "and each and every time all she's done is hurt me. I'm not going to subject myself to that again."

"I know, she hurt you, and I know you're scared and you're trying to protect yourself. I understand that, Lena. But I also know you want closure," Kara picks her words carefully, staring straight into Lena's eyes. Her fury ebbing a little. "And believe me, I would never let you get hurt. I promised you that remember? Trust me, please? If she pulls some bullshit on the 24th, you can call off the wedding if you want."

Lena closes her eyes, shakes her head again, takes a deep breath in. "I'm not going to let my mother ruin my wedding," Lena exhales, and Kara starts to smile a little. "But-" Lena jabs a finger on her chest, "if she does pull something on my birthday. You are sleeping on the couch."

"Yes, ma'am," Kara says. Lena only rolls her eyes at her. She lets out another exasperated exhale, "I cannot believe you managed to convince to let Lillian show up."

"You don't have to worry about anything," Kara promises, "all of us will be there. Jack and Sam and Andrea. And I'm pretty sure if Lillian even so much as tries to think of insulting you, Andrea will personally slit her throat with the bread knife on the table," Kara tells her, she wouldn't really put it past Andrea to do that. Lena lets out a snort at that. Oh thank God, she can still make her laugh. Huzzah!

Kara's eyebrows furrow after a moment though. "Wow," Kara breathes out, thinking about Andrea again, thinking about Lena and the Spork. She shakes her head, "You and Andrea are really violent people huh."

"That's what happens when you grow up with mommy issues, darling."

"Well, thank God for therapy then," Kara comments, pulling Lena closer, and leaning in closer still.

"I'm still mad at you," Lena breathes out, brushing their noses together.

"Mmhm, I know. You're hot when you're angry."

And then, their lips meet. Sporks and mothers and birthday parties finally forgotten.

#hows that joke go again daddy issues give u a bad taste in men but mommy issues make u a sociopath? #i liked writing this one #this prompt was a fun one #THANKS ANON HOPE YOU'RE HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE #the reckless writer writes #a prompt fill #a supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp

[wonder-kid-pugh]

This isn't Funny - (Rose Lavelle x reader)

Not really up to my usual standard but I thought I would post it anyways? Hope you like it.

April 1st also known as the worst day of the year for Rose Lavelle.

The day was just an absolute pain for the midfielder. It didn't help that being apart of the Uswnt also meant putting up with the multitude of pranks that you risk the chance of stumbling apun. Being teammates with people like Sonnet, Kelley and Pinoe didn't help either.

But they were nothing compared to Y/n

Y/n L/n, Rose's beautiful, lovely girlfriend was the worst prankster on the team. No one was safe from her pranks not even Rose herself. Rose was able to reel her in once they started dating minimizing the amount of pranks she pulled. She was able to keep her in line with the threat of no cuddles or kisses. It did help that Y/n's love language was touch and she would absolutely die if she didn't get her daily cuddles from her girlfriend.

But April Fool's was an entirely different story

April fool's day was the only day she had complete uncontrollable reign over her pranks. Within reason. Rose wasn't that dumb to not to set some ground rules. So when this camp happened to roll around on April 1st it was safe to say that everyone was on high alert for one of Y/n's pranks.

Rose gently cracked open the door to the meal room. She pushed open the door fully before quickly stepping out of the door frame. But she scrunches her face when nothing happens. "It's all clear!" She hears someone inside the room.

Rose pokes her head in to see the majority of the team are down eating breakfast. Rose walks in septical of the lack of pranks, "Nothing?" Becky shrugs, "We already checked the entire room as far as we know it's prank free". Rose frowns before shaking her head, "That's not possible. Y/n loves classic pranks there's no way she didn't at least put a bucket above the door or something!"

"Maybe she slept in too late to set it up" Alyssa suggests sipping her coffee. With a quick scan of the room Rose shakes her head again, "She was already gone when I woke up I thought she would be down here". Carli hums, "Now that you mention it. It does seem too quiet down here". Christen sends the midfielder a reassuring smile, "I'm sure she's fine Rose. I'd say she's just setting up some elaborate prank to pull on the team". Rose hesitantly nods, "Yeah probably".

Waving goodbye to the older players of the team she quickly grabs some food before heading over to her usual table. "Hey Rosie" Mal hums as she sits down across from her. "Hi" she says back while digging into her scrambled eggs. "Where's the devil you call a girlfriend?" Kelley asks.

Kelley, Sonnet, Pinoe and Ash were common targets of Y/n's pranks. Purely because when she first joined the team they saw her as the perfect target for their pranks. So Y/n saw this as payback and as it as justice for all the times they pranked the rest of the team. Rose secretly knew it was because she was staking her claim as best prankster on the team but she wouldn't tell them that and start a prank war because that wouldn't end well for anyone.

Rose bites the inside of her cheek, "I don't know..." Lindsey groans, "She's probably out setting up all her pranks for today". Mal pouts, "I hate April Fool's Day. I somehow always stumble into one of her pranks".

She did. She always somehow finds a way of walking into one of Y/n's pranks meant for someone else by accident. Like the time she borrowed Lindsey's hairdryer only to get a face full of flour.

They started strategizing straight away. It was common knowledge that Y/n loved classic pranks, all the old school ones. She always made sure to pull at least one every year. But then she always upped the antee with a more elaborate prank which would leave the team in stitches on whichever poor soul happened to stumble into it.

But as they started discussing ways of avoiding Y/n's pranks, Rose couldn't help but feel nervous. By the sounds of it no one had seen the forward yet today and that didn't sit well with Rose. Hoping to ease her nerves, she texted her hoping to at least know she was okay wherever she was. But as it was getting closer to the end of breakfast and there was still no sign of her and still no text telling her whereabouts, that's when Rose started to freak out slightly.

"You okay Rose? You seem really fidgety today?" Alex asked as she passed the midfielder who kept glancing at the door. Rose bites her lip, "I'm fine it's just I haven't seen Y/n all day". Alex gives her a small smile, "I'm sure she's fine she's probably setting up some pranks somewhere". Alex balances Charlie on her hip, "I just hope she doesn't have anything planned for me". Rose waves her off, "She doesn't. She said she didn't want to risk Charlie getting caught in the crossfire and thought you earned a break with your pregnancy and all". Alex grins and at the mention of Y/n, Charlie started to gurgle happily while clapping her hands.

Kelley whines, "What? That's no fair!" "Just because Charlie has Y/n wrapped around her finger..." Sonnet grumbles. Rose rolls her eyes at the two but Alex purses her lips. "Now that you mention it, it is weird...Y/n promised to take Charlie today while I organized some business stuff" Alex say to Rose. Now this causes Rose to frown.

One thing that everyone knew was that Y/n adored Charlie. She absolutely loves the child. She was always the first to volunteer to babysit her to give Alex some time off. And Charlie was always happy to see Y/n. It was extremely cute to see the two interact and it was clear that Y/n would do anything for the littlest Morgan.

And Rose wasn't going to lie, seeing Y/n with Charlie gave her major baby fever and found it extremely attractive.

Now this causes Rose to frown, "What? That doesn't make sense. Y/n never misses a chance to play with Charlie..."  Alex shrugs, "All I know is Y/n said she would take Charlie after breakfast". This didn't ease any of Rose's nerves.

Mal sends her friend a reassuring smile, "I'm sure she's fine Rose. Maybe she just forgot. You know how she gets on April Fool's". Rose sighs, "Yes but she would never forget about hanging out with Charlie. And she still hasn't answered any of my texts".

"Okay how about this. We give it an hour and if Y/n still hasn't shown up, we have a look around for her" Sam proposes. Rose bites her lip but nods, "Fine".

But one hour turns into two and Y/n still hadn't showed up. And even after searching the entire hotel, none of the team had found their missing teammate. "Nothing?" Rose asks as Christen, Tobin, Becky and Alyssa, the last group walk in. But they all shake their heads. "Sorry Rose still no sight of her" Tobin sighs.

"There isn't even a sign of a prank anywhere" Pinoe frowns. "That's unheard of for Y/n" Crystal comments. "She still won't answer her phone" Tierna sighs after trying to call the forward again. Everyone was quiet wondering where their lost teammate could be.

"Okay hear me out" Sonnet starts causing everyone to look at her, "could this be some complex prank Y/n planned? To get us all worried about her 'missing'" But Rose was quick to answer.

"No she wouldn't do that. She loves pranks but she wouldn't take it this far" Rose says adamantly. "Has anyone tried her apartment?" Christen asked. They all look between each other.

Christen sighs, "Okay let's go". Rose bolts up and is already out the door before anyone could stop her. Thankfully camp was in Utah this month. And due to Y/n playing for the Royals she had an apartment here for during the season.

Rose had a spare key just in case of emergencies which she decided this was one of them. But even as they walked in, Rose already knew she wasn't there. Y/n had a thing with silence. She grew up in a house with 4 brothers. She never got a bit of peace and quiet. She hated silence. It's a reason Y/n always carried earphones with her. When things get too quiet she starts playing music to fill the void. So when Rose walked into a quiet apartment she knew Y/n wasn't here.

Rose takes this time to try and call her again. But she sighs when the call rings out and goes to voicemail. When the voicemail beeps Rose sighs and rubs her temple, "C'mon Y/n this isn't funny anymore. I'm really worried about you. Please call me back". She ends the call and looks around the apartment for any clues where her girlfriend could be.

Christen and the others just send her sad looks though when they search the entire apartment but find no trace of the girl. Rose felt like tearing her hair out.

But then her phone rang

She didn't even check it before she was fumbling to answer it, "Y/n?!" But instead of the cheerful voice of her girlfriend, she heard a woman speak down the phone, "Is this Rose Lavelle?" Rose squeezes the phone tighter, "Yes this is she". "I'm calling as you are the emergency contact for Y/n L/n. She was brought in earlier today for a head injury".

Rose clasped her hand over her mouth trying to stop the gasp from leaving her mouth. "Is she okay?" "She's okay. A little roughed up but she'll be fine". Rose lets out a small sigh of relief, "What hospital?" After finding out what hospital she was at and telling the team they were quickly off again. Rose was already jumping from the car before Tobin had even come to a complete stop.

Rose rushes up to the reception, "Uh hi I'm the emergency contact for Y/n L/n. I got a call she was here?" The nurse nods and checks the computer before smiling at the midfielder, "If you would follow me".

Rose followed closely behind her. When she walks into the room she sees Y/n smiling dopely at her, "Hi!" Rose stares at her stunned for a second before she takes three quick strides to her girlfriend.

"Ow!"

Y/n pouts as she rubs her arm that Rose just hit, "Why would you hit me? I'm literally in a hospital!" Rose sniffles as she slaps her arm again, "Do you know how worried I was? Why haven't you been answering your phone?" She  frowns as she takes Rose's hand in her, mostly to make sure she didn't hit her again, "My phone is shattered I couldn't answer it the screen was too destroyed".

Rose's eyes drifted up to Y/n's forehead to see stitches above her right eye and a bruise blooming on her jaw. Her hand lifted up to touch her forehead but Y/n flinched away. Rose frowns, "What happened?" Y/n pursued her lips, "I was jumped when I went out this morning to get supplies for April Fool's".

Rose frowns as her hand grazed over her bruising jaw but this time she doesn't flinch away and instead nuzzles into her touch. "I'm sorry for worrying you" Y/n whispers kissing the pad of Rose's thumb affectionately. Rose shakes her head, "I'm just glad your okay".

Y/n grins at her girlfriend, "I know it looks bad but I totally kicked their asses". Rose couldn't help but laugh, "I'm sure you did babe". Y/n raises an eyebrow, "Seriously I totally had them. They got lucky that there was two of them and they caught me off guard. Otherwise it would be them here and not me". Rose giggles and kisses her forehead gently, "Whatever you say tough guy".

"You know we would have enjoyed our prank free day if we weren't so worried about you" Sonnett teases. Everyone laughs while Y/n pouts, "I can't believe I missed April Fool's Day! I had so many good pranks planned!" The older players shook their heads at her while the younger players silently cheered at they wouldn't fall victim to her pranks.

"I know you missed April Fool's Day but I might know something that would cheer you up" Alex says stepping forward. Y/n's smile immediately brightens as she sees who sees the small child in Alex's arms, "Charlie!" The littlest member of the Carrasco Morgan Family gurgled and babbled happily and made grabby hands at the forward.

The team watch as Y/n blows a raspberry against the child's cheek causing her to sequel. They watched happily as their now found teammate plays with the small child. Rose couldn't stop the smile spreads across her face as she watches her girlfriend play with  Charlie. She couldn't help but think how great Y/n was with kids. Even though she scared the shit out of her today.

The one thing Rose did know was Y/n would be a great mother.

#rose lavelle imagines #rose lavelle x reader #rose lavelle imagine #rose lavelle #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines