#keeper Alejandro

[charliemwrites]

Okay, Alejandro time!!

(He’s a keeper but not via kidnapping. Still a deranged arrangement tho lmao)

You’d been a hostage - a tourist or just a casualty of narcos, it doesn’t matter. The men said all kinds of awful things while you shivered in the corner, tired with ropes that would leave scars.

It all happened so suddenly. You had no warning, no instinctive sense that something was going to happen. One second it was all half-drunk men playing cards and watching football - the next there was a metallic clank and the world went bright and loud.

Alejandro is the one to get you out himself, cutting so carefully through the binds. He helps you up on shaky feet, makes a furious expression at the state of you. You can’t hear what he says over the ringing in your ears and the distant cacophony.

He gets you outside, sits you in the passenger side of a big black jeep. You shiver and shake, wide-eyed. When he tries to move away you cling, begging him not to leave you, please please.

He shouts something to his men, then turns back to you. Gives you a once over. This time you can hear him cursing under his breath when he sees the damage to your bare feet. Another soldier brings a blanket that you’re quickly swaddled in.

You meet Alejandro. He takes you back to base, his sergeant riding in the backseat and trying to get your information. You give him what you can, glancing at Alejandro every now and then for reassurance.

He’s your savior, your angel.

On his base, you Velcro yourself to him, heart pounding when anyone else gets too near. He coddles you through the medics, through a debrief with his men, through a brutal punch to one of your arrested captors saying something nasty.

You shouldn’t be filled with warmth at the show of violence. But that it’s on your behalf means the world.

“Why are you letting me do this?” You ask, guilty as he leads you around for training drills.

“Because you need me, no?” he replies.

You do. “What… what if I never stop needing you?”

He hums as he considers that, head tipping side to side.

“Maybe you won’t. I will still let you be here by my side.”

And he makes good on it. As you heal, as you reunite with your family, as you settle into a post-trauma life, Alejandro lets you cling.

More than cling, he cares for you. Coddles you, just like he did that first night. Always hands you food first, and gives you extras from his plate if you still see hungry. tucks you into bed and gets you up in the mornings. Gives you little tasks for Los Vaqueros to keep you busy and keep you from feeling too guilty.

He starts calling for you by nicknames and you’re all too happy to perk up at “princess” or “kitten” or “cookie” exclusively. He starts pressing kisses to your temples, hugging you around the middle from behind while talking to his soldiers.

And because you’re always with him, you end up at a bar one night too. It’s loud, but the base gets loud too sometimes, so you don’t mind. What you do mind is someone making a pass at you after being told no - twice.

You stumble away, yelping for Ale and you all nearly get thrown out of the bar for the hell he unleashes. The night doesn’t last long after that and you apologize for ruining everything, trying to hold back tears. He shakes his head and bundles you in close.

“No, listen. I take care of what’s mine, yeah?”

“And… and I’m yours?” you ask hopefully.

“Yes, love.”

You nuzzle into him all the way back to base. Then spend the night in his room - not for the first time, though this instance is much… steamier than usual.

Ale is a romantic through and through. He takes you apart piece by piece with such care, whispering words of adoration into every inch of skin. He’s a proud man too, has to come twice before sinking into you with a sinful roll of his hips, hair falling around his face as he moans above you.

The next morning, he sees you in his shirt and has you for breakfast at the kitchen table. You follow him around that day with pretty hickies everywhere and his deodorant on your skin. He promises that you can move into his on-base apartment whenever you want.

Rudy helps the two of you the next day.

Still, you know he loves you. You know what kind of man he is. Good and brave and fierce. Loyal the way poets write. He would never stray… but you wish you had reassurance that you belong to him, and him you.

You get a bracelet that only he can take on and off, his name engraved proudly in the metal. He keeps the key with his dog tags. It feels right; you feel possessed. He gets this dark glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes when he sees you thumbing at his name.

A matching bracelet peeks beneath his sleeve when he raises his hand to call his soldiers’ attention. You keep the key on a necklace in the hollow of your throat on proud display.

When Valeria makes a snide comment about it upon meeting, you tilt your head at her.

“You seem like a very unhappy person.” And flounce off.

Alejandro laughs raucously about it still hours later, praising you while you sit in his lap and sip his beer.

[misiahasahardname]

total drama world tour if it was based

WOW my doodles look a lot weirder coloured. here’s a colourless one (don’t ask why i made these transparent because idek)

[ugartecoco]

garna goal ft. bruno having to do damage control gal vs mun 29.11.23

[thebramblewood]

Alejandro and August stumble upon some crumbling ruins in the Bramblewood, where they find a treasure trove of rare mushrooms. On their way back to camp, they visit the Creature Keeper, who asks August to keep an eye on the local wildlife for him. August is more than happy to oblige and is already off to start making observations.

[snow--berry]

Roommate AU #1

Characters: John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Gary “Roach” Sanderson

Context: For convenience reasons and future things I have planned, you‘ll be sharing this really big house with all of the characters I‘ll write these headcanons for. Why are you sharing this house? Just because I can. I’ll find a better reason later. This also includes Alejandro, Rudy, König and Horangi. This is kinda like a peaceful AU, where they don‘t work military jobs. This can be read as platonic or romantic, I don‘t really care.

John Price

•He‘s the peace keeper in the household along with Rudy.

•He can‘t go without tea in the morning and it‘s the first thing he does. If you drink tea and are awake just as early, he‘ll also make you a cup.

•Price is only half-awake in the morning, so he‘ll accidentally say yes to the stupidest things, because he isn‘t really paying attention.

•Maybe he could work as a police officer? I'm not sure if I can see him do anything else. Suggestions are greatly appreciated lol.

•I feel like he’d play chess. Or just like. Strategy games altogether. With anyone who’s willing to join :D

•But mainly with Ghost and Alejandro. And König if he’d have the balls to approach Price.

•If you decide to play with him and know the rules of whatever game you’re playing already, it’s no mercy mode.

•If you don’t, or are still learning, he’ll go easy on you.

•He usually can be found in the living room, kitchen or backyard.

•He isn’t home for most of the day, due to his job, but he enjoys having dinner with whoever is available. He obviously favours Gaz and we all know it. That his adopted son after all—

•Also, because he’s an old man, he goes on long walks for no reason

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

•He’s somewhere in between troublemaker and just kinda chills

•I know this sounds very contradictory, but hear me out.

•He doesn’t get in trouble often, but when he does he’s either having a mischievous day, he’s purposely messing with Price, his dad or the most common option; he’s being dragged along by Soap and Roach.

•Even if he’s being dragged along, he just films whatever bs Roach and Soap are up to though. They need a camera man!

•In the morning he also makes himself a cup of tea, but he’s awake later than Price is. Usually when breakfast is ready already

•He’s a little groggy and sometimes grumpy in the morning. (Soap advice to you when you join the household is to not talk to Gaz before he’s had his breakfast and tea!)

•I can see Gaz spending hours in the bathroom in the morning and he ends up pissing everyone off, especially because Horangi, Alejandro and Soap also take ages in the bathroom

•I’m not sure what he’d work as, but maybe a professional gymnast? Is that what they’re called? Help—

•Or maybe a daycare attendant?

•I think he’d like cooking, so he usually makes dinner and lunch for everyone

•He has two lists; one with everyone’s allergies, likes and dislikes, and one with the meals he makes for dinner for the week

•Sometimes he’s away for a week or two at a time because of tournaments he attends

•He doesn’t mind sharing a bed if you have nightmares, or just enjoy close physical contact altogether. Especially during movies!

John “Soap” MacTavish

•Chaos Gremlin #2

•Usually is the one to drag Gaz along

•His shenanigans usually involve but aren’t limited to: drawing on sleeping people, mixing up salt and sugar, turning off the light in a room where people are, climbing on random shit, hiding people’s stuff & so much more These are all Roach’s idea btw, but you didn’t hear it from me—

•Will happily involve you in his shenanigans as well, you usually don’t have a say lol

•Drinks coffee in the morning, hot chocolate if he’s feeling silly

•He’s upset when people come after him for taking ages in the bathroom, he needs to style his mohawk properly!

•Constantly misplaces his ADHD meds, they mysteriously reappear on his pillow sooner or later

•He has this joking conspiracy, that there is a shadow man cryptid thing or a guardian angel giving him back his meds because no one in the house admits to placing his meds onto his pillow

•Works as either a football coach, PE teacher or freelance artist

•Still has a sketch book full of sketches and full-blown artworks of all kinds of stuff

•Has sketched/drawn every household member at least twice

•Also doesn’t mind physical affection, especially not since he’s pretty touchy himself

•Also definitely mixes different shampoos together lol

Simon “Ghost” Riley

•Is always, and I repeat always the first one awake

•Also drinks tea first thing he wakes up

•Sometimes at ridiculous hours, like, no one needs tea at 2:53 AM! He disagrees

•Knows of Soap’s and Roach’s shenanigans, only watches them… usually, there are times where he does stop them

•You’ll rarely see him around when you first join the household, he doesn’t quite trust you yet He also doesn’t like change. ‘Tism who? He don’t know her—

•The more he gets used to you, the more you’ll see him around

•He likes to tell you his jokes if you happen to be awake around the same time as him, it’s a bonding experience!

•He works as a dog sitter or a bodyguard. There is no in between. I do heavily lean towards dog sitter though

•Don’t touch him

•Unless he explicitly tells you it’s okay, that is

•Accidentally gives the worst side-eyes in history

•He is the shadow man cryptid/guardian ‘angel’

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

•Chaos Gremlin #1

•No one out-gremlins him

•Don’t even try, you will fail

•I was thinking Party Planner, but my friend came up with Entomologist

•So, he’ll do party planning as a hobby because I can’t let go of that headcanon.

•90% of the parties he plans are insect themed birthday parties

•He also has a few pet bugs and Rudy hates all of them

•Also, all of the shenanigan ideas are his

•Usually can be found in trees in the backyard or in a random bush somewhere in the neighborhood

•If you don’t speak BSL or ASL, he’ll start carrying a notebook and a pen around for you

•Randomly stands in a corner of your room at night and T-poses because he thinks it’s hilarious

•He’s like an outdoor cat, he sometimes isn’t home for a few days but he always comes back home at some point

•Roach is also sometimes outside all day long and only comes back for dinner

[lethalchiralium]

No More | 8 | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

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It was still before dawn when you sat down in the briefing room, setting your cup of (coffee/tea) down on the wooden meeting table before looking outside. The sky was slowly becoming warmer in color, the sun nearing the horizon. Jet lag tricks always seemed to work on you, except for today. Laswell and Price walked in next, he looked more than pissed and she held a neutral expression. It was too goddamn early for whatever bullshit the U.S. Navy had to serve you on a silver platter. 

“Good morning.” A sip of your warm drink helped soothe the tension in your chest, even though your eyes didn’t change their intensity. 

Price’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “You seem rather calm for a soldier being repossessed by the Navy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Price, the ghost of Navy’s past will always haunt me.” You snickered into your mug before taking another sip, Laswell chuckled. 

“So you know.”

You set the tan mug on the table again, arms crossing across your chest. Your eyes flickered to Laswell for just a moment, voice low with annoyance. “Of course I know, Price. I’m not exactly thrilled to be back on a cockpit after I was promised that I never would again.”

“You were on loan from the U.S. Navy.”

“They were fine for seven years without me.”

“There’s nothing we can do if they desperately need you, Mercy. The 141 is, unfortunately, not your keeper.”

A hardened glare settled in your eye, knowing. To the untrained eye, you seemed indifferent. To your superiors, your friends who stood in front of you, knew what fear looked like. They somehow knew of the scared little girl looked behind your eyes. With a soft sigh, you relaxed your shoulders, pressing your back into the chair. “What will you do without a medic?”

The war worn captain across from you sighed, taking the second to roll his head to stretch his neck before meeting your gaze again. You’ve always found comfort in your friend, the man you considered more like a surrogate father, even though you were technically his equal. You’ve done a lot for him, he’s done so much for you - you’ve drank together, fought together, and worked together without many issues. You knew that Price knew you, yet at the same time, you knew he didn’t know you at all. It seemed like the second you stepped foot here, you were a different version of the Y/N that Price took seven years to shape into his perfect medic. So, what would he do without you? Gaz has minimal medical training, Soap isn’t much better, Simon knew enough, you weren’t sure about Alejandro and you were damn sure that Price would rather be shot than have to play medic to his bumbling oafs. There was no way he would do any sort of mission without you. Right?

He cleared his throat. “You know nothing will change this assignment for you, right?”

That gave you everything you needed to know, but you still needed Price to say it. “Yes, I do.”

“Alejandro will act as our temporary medic until you are finished with this mission and relinquished back to where you belong.”

Oh, you fucking assholes, making me think Alejandro was visiting for “official business”. Ass. Holes.

The scowl must have been obvious when you took another sip as Laswell continued, “I know you’re not happy about this, trust me, we’re not either.”

“If you’re not happy about it, why didn’t you pull your big ass strings and keep me away from here?” (Coffee/tea) rolled over the side of your mug as you carelessly set it down. “You knew I only agreed to joining the 141 ‘cause I never wanted to come back here to fly ever again. And here I fucking am,” Your hand gestured to your beige uniform, the one you were required to wear on base as base personnel. “In a uniform I didn’t want to wear again, seeing people I purposely did not say goodbye to, seeing my family again, and being forced to fly a fucking jet I don’t even think I could anymore. And you’re not happy?” You looked to Price with a furious look on your face. “Are you happy with it? ‘Cause I am, I’m sure you can tell by my huge fucking smile. For fuck’s sake.”

Laswell pressed her lips together, inhaling through her nose, seeming to choose her words wisely. “This decision wasn’t made lightly-“

Your arms crossed across your chest, the pins on your chest pressed into your forearm. It should’ve felt foreign, yet it didn’t. “Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“But there is no workaround here. My contacts cannot overrule the Commander of the Fleet here. He was insistent.”

“What are you gonna do if I fail my flight testing?”

Price was firm with his response. “You won’t.”

“What if I do?”

“You’ll test until you pass.”

You wiped a hand down your face, your chest squeezing itself with stress. “You two do know I have a history of crashing, right? Fucked landings, the crash in Ukraine-“

“It’s not like you to be scared, L/N.” Price’s words were sharp, you knew it was meant to get a reaction. 

All it invoked out of you was a harsh inhale and sitting forward, looking directly at Laswell. “If I die in a fucking jet, you’re gonna regret it.”

“I’m sure I will.” She spoke with an even tone, a neutral expression as she placed something on the desk in front of you. A pair of American dog tags. Worn, black and red rubber silencers lined the metal tags - you felt like throwing up. The only two pairs of dog tags that had that marbled red and black rubber were yours and Rooster’s. 

MITCHELL, Y/N

“REAPER”

U.S. NAVY

309191712

O POS

“I figured you’d still want to keep “Reaper” and “Mercy” separate.”

“F’r a medic, ye don’t have much mercy.”

“You’re like the grim reaper with that aim, Jesus!”

There’s a knock at the conference room door, both Price and Laswell looked towards it - your eyes were kept down on the metal tags in your hands. It’s been a long time since you’ve worn your real last name of Mitchell, not your original one of L/N. It was like reattaching a frayed thread to its fabric - you were back in your old boots, your old ways. 

Laswell moved towards the door, Price splayed his hand on the table top, leaning his head down to look at your face - even when you couldn’t look up at him. “I’m not punishing you, Y/N. I don’t want this as much as you don’t, and I want to help you get out of this but I can’t. I’m here to support you as much as I can, you know that.” There’s a small pause as you heard the door open, his voice because low. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for breaking my promise.”

There’s more pain underneath the broken promise than your friend, your mentor would ever know. Your heart rate could never grow slower, your anxiety could never ease, your sanity would not stop spiraling - all because you were alone. There wasn’t anyone meaningful yet that wasn’t Ice; Hangman was a brief fling and he never counted, Simpson was a pain up your ass, but no sign of your father or best friends. You were alone, drowning in your trauma, your life jackets seemingly lost to sea-

A firm yet gentle hand glided across your back, jolting you from a spiral. There was no need to look, the faint scent of cigarettes and your favorite cologne hit your nose - Simon. A soft pat before the chair beside you screeched and he sat down, his knee colliding with yours. It wasn’t an accident, it was a nod at you leaving before he woke up. Your hand left your dog tags, falling in between both you and Simon under the table; it wasn’t long until he took it in his own.

There was something about his temperament now, he seemed to be a lot more in tune with you than he was months before, when the trust issue came up. Maybe he could see your anxiety from being here? Maybe Price talked to him to watch out for you? No, he watches out for you regardless. Something was up since he usually never holds your hand in public, let alone when you needed it during the meeting. As Price and Laswell began the meeting, your focus was on your hands - one being held by your boyfriend, the other one holding the dog tags you screamed at your father to destroy, once upon a time. 

A pang of guilt hit your chest, making your stomach lurch and your breath seem to escape you. 

It was a quick decision, the one to join the 141. And you left behind your only family - your father, Rooster, and your other best friend, Rodeo. You’d abandoned yourself too, creating someone new with the friends you have now - but the residual guilt was there. What if they needed you and you weren’t answering? What if they were angry with you, deep down? You wouldn’t blame them. You tore yourself apart when you left and it took two years to put yourself back together.

“-not goin’ a damn mission without my medic.”

Ghost’s voice pulled your from your seemingly endless spiral, you raised your head to look at him. Eyes narrowed, you could practically feel the scowl radiating off of him. 

“We’re not leavin’ her here by herself. We’re a team.“

Laswell took a step forwards, her hand held up in front of Price to stop him from responding. “She cannot go on this mission. She has her own work to do.”

There was a hard squeeze from Simon’s hand before he let go and snarled back, “Fuck the Navy, she’s one of us now, they can go-“

“LT,” Soap spoke from your right, your head numbly turned to look at him. “The faster she gets done with whatever the fuck they need from her, the faster she can fix ye skull faced ass.”

The room fell silent for a moment, a breath invaded the tightness of your chest before you spoke, turning to Ghost, “He’s right.” There was a breath from you, “Faster I get this done, the faster we can go home, big boy.”

His eyes narrowed, Gaz chuckled from a desk down. Price continued his meeting regardless. “Mercy will be under the command of Captain Peter “Maverick” Mitchell and Admiral Simpson. We still have a job to do, which is eradicate this Makarov cell. There will be no changes until she has completed her mission, understood?”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir!” between the four men surrounding you, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to reply. 

Your dad was here. Of course he was here, why wouldn’t he be? Well, he wasn’t well liked, he was an asshole to anyone with a pay grade above his, and he was surely banned from here. Right?

“Dismissed.”

There wasn’t a moment spared in your seat, you were out the door in seconds. Cerberus, now awake from his nap beside your seat, was trailing behind you, as well as Ghost and Soap.  A quick dip down and you grabbed your dog’s leash, just needing to find a door to the outside. A door that will help you escape this crushing feeling in your chest, let you finally breathe. Right turn, left turn, right turn, and you could hear voices - from your friend, boyfriend, and people down the next hallway. Freedom. A quick right turn. 

A gasp and your heartbeat seemed to be lodged in your ear, you gazed down the hallway, your feet coming to a sudden halt. Simon almost barreled through you if it wasn’t for Soap reaching for him, pulling him back.

Ghost murmured, “Who’s that?” as Soap spoke to you, “Another shitty admiral?”

The man at the end of the corridor hadn’t spotted you yet, hadn’t taken a second to observe his peripheral vision, hadn’t understood that you stood at the other end. He held a helmet, a flight suit - the anxiety in your belly seemed to loosen and tighten violently at every moment. Soon enough, the man’s voice escaped your throat in a sudden call,

“Maverick.”

Your voice isn’t one that your father ever forgets, ignores. His head instantly turned to you, the scowl that rested on his face was quickly replaced with a smile. And just like that, you felt six years old again - running around these same halls, giggling and holding your hands out for your dad. Now, as your feet moved on autopilot, that memory seemed so close to the present. Mav had a few more wrinkles than the last time you saw him, some salt in his pepper hair - his smile was just as warm as it was when you last saw him seven years ago. 

The helmet and flight suit in his hands were long dropped onto the floor, and as soon as you were within reach, he grabbed you and pulled you in. His arms were tight around you, you mirrored him with your arms even tighter around him. 

“Welcome home, ladybug.”

The sweet childhood nickname made tears well in your eyes, your face then burying into his shoulder for just a moment - wiping them away. He smelled like oil with a kick of jet fuel, just like he always did - home. He let go, his smile wide as his hands settled on your shoulders.

“You know, I thought I was hallucinating when Ice said you’d need a helmet and a suit.”

You shrugged a little, smiling, “Can’t say no to him, can I?”

“None of us can.” He let go, turned away and grabbed your gear before he handed it to you. “You look different, kid.”

“So do you, old man.” You took the familiar gear, fear striking a deep chord within you, but it was soothed almost instantly by the presence of your father.

His smile was more infectious than before. “So?”

“What?”

He nodded towards your teammates behind you. “Gonna introduce me to your new sidekicks?”

You looked back at Soap and Ghost, ignoring Soap’s confused face and looking down for- “Ow!” 

Cerberus whined beside you after slamming his head into your thigh, you shook your head before pointing with your finger, “The dog is Cerberus, then it’s Sergeant John MacTavish, and Lieutenant Ghost. They’re both operators with me in the 141. Boys, this is Captain Maverick Mitchell,” there was a gentle pause, “He’s my actual commanding officer.”

Soap’s jaw was snapped shut after it had hit the floor, then a wicked smile tugged at his lips and he held his hand out, “Oh, it’s nice ta meet ya, Captain-“

“Soap.“

“I’m John MacTavish, but you can call me Soap, I’m ‘er best friend-“

“Johnny.“

Soap finally stood down when Ghost’s low baritone snapped sharply, it caused silence in the hallway. 

Maverick responded with a firm handshake, a smile, and a quick, “Pleasure’s mine, kid.” before he held his hand out for Ghost. And with his unwavering and emotionless stare, he took it. “I like your face thing.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed and you smacked your dad’s arm, “Mav.”

He spun his head to look at you, “What? I’m bein’ nice to your friends.”

“Be fuckin’ nicer.”

He rolled his eyes, letting go of your boyfriend’s hand before he pointed down the hall. “You ready for testing?”

Your expression dropped just a little, panic in your muscles. “Now? Like, right now?”

Mav gave you a confused look. “Yes, right now. You need to be retested for F-18-“

“I know that. I just thought I’d have an hour or two to kill.”

“Well, Simpson’s an inpatient man.”

You grimaced at that. “And he’s a cunt.“

Soap chuckled from beside you before wincing, you looked at your boys. Ghost was staring at you, Soap nursing his probably bruised arm, and Cerby looking as happy as a clam. You glanced at Mav again before speaking, “Would you two like a show?”

Soap grinned devilishly, “Depends- OW! I dinnae say anythin’ nasty!”

Ghost’s fist had connected with Soap’s arm again, eyes glaring daggers at him. “You were going to.” 

Maverick laughed a little before patting your back. “Go get changed, we’ll meet you on the tarmac.”

You nodded, meeting your boyfriend’s gaze with a silent plea for help before disappearing down the familiar hallway towards the female locker rooms. Your feet felt like stone as you lightly jogged into the rooms, hearing the familiar sounds of lockers slamming, women chatting, and showers running. The black SAS issued boots on your feet were a stark contrast to the tan ones you would wear here, standard pilot issue, but they would work. If Simpson had a problem with your uniform, he could bend over so you could shove the complaint up his ass.

Normally, a captain would have their own private quarters with their own bathroom, but this would be quick. In and out. Strip off the black compression shirt, city camouflage cargo pants, your belt of weapons, and almost your entire stash of weapons on your body. Just because you were in familiar territory didn’t mean that there weren’t moles, and you were not going to be caught off guard. You walked down a few aisles of lockers, ignoring questioning looks from younger and older pilots - deciding to change in the far aisle of lockers, away from everyone else. 

It took you just a few moments to start undressing in the far corner, back towards the wall. First came the belt, unclipping all sorts of weapons, then your beloved boots. You placed the belt down on the bench, before hiking a boot on it and bending over to untie it.

“Eject! Eject! Eject!” 

Your breath hitched at the intrusion of the same memory that has been plaguing your mind, but you bit your tongue to try and silence it. Nails dug into the black laces, tugging and tugging and tugging-

Snow covering the ground. Fire licking at the front of your jet. Warmth. Get out. Get out. GET OUT! 

Boot was off. Mindlessly, you switched feet. Take a breath, Mercy, take a damn breath. Your heartbeat in your ears, your eyes screwed shut and you-

Sounds of faint Russian in your ears, a cold pistol in your hands as you pressed yourself into the cabinet.

Your hands were shaking as you pulled off the next boot, they were trembling by the time you fumbled for the waistband of your pants. A breath, a deep one, filled your lungs - through the nose, held for five seconds, and out again. Think about something else, try to think about something normal, something good. What’s good? What is good in your life?

“Hey, are you okay?” 

A voice jostled you from your mind, your eyes darting to look at a fellow aviator, she wasn’t too tall, hair slicked back per regulation, with a kind look on her face. Sniffling, you stood a little straighter, taking a shaky breath as you answered, “Fine.”

“It’s okay to not be fine, you know.” 

She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, sun burn on her nose and cheeks - you couldn’t make out the last name on her badge but you could tell she was a Lieutenant. She wasn’t someone you knew. Fresh meat, you supposed. Can’t know everyone. 

“The mental health officer is down the hall. I could take you?”

You chuckled to yourself, looking back down at your two feet on the ground, your hands on your waistband. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

She nodded, not knowing what to say, before she backed away and disappeared from your sight. A simple distraction seemed to break you from your mental torture, and it helped. You were quick to throw off your cargo pants, pull on your flight suit, and pull your boots back on. Zipping up your suit, tying your shoes, and grabbing your helmet, you were physically ready to fly a F-18 for the first time in seven years. It’s muscle memory at this point, you’ll have to think for a few moments but you should be fine. Like riding a bike, right?Except this bike is worth essentially your soul, your task force, and five million dollars. 

It didn’t take you long to look at the helmet, hands holding either side. Its main color was black, with yellow and red stripes along the top and sides, REAPER adorned along the front. It was a sister match to Rooster and Rodeo’s helmets, all three of you having a black, red, and yellow helmet, just all different color combinations. Your thumb thread across the vinyl, a deep comfort settled over you like a warm wave. 

Your original helmet had a gaping hole on the side of it from it smashing against the canopy of your jet. The jet that wouldn’t eject you, the jet you had to somewhat land in a somewhat flat clearing in Ukraine. Gentle fingers traced where the hole should be in this helmet, but it’s not. It’s new, made from the same materials, but it has no memories attached to it yet. It hadn’t been left on your bed before departing for England seven years ago with John Price. This was a fresh start.

It didn’t take you long to get out to the medical facility for a quick check up - oxygen, blood pressure, BMI. Normal procedure for being out for so long, they didn’t have to do much else since you handed over your medical records for the past seven years, and the medic was impressed with your physical wellbeing. A perfect soldier, she had stated, before sending you on your way to the tarmac with the rest of your gear in hand.

Was there a hop in your step? Absolutely not. There was a quiver in your belly as you walked towards Admiral Simpson, Mav, Soap, and Ghost. Cerberus sat willingly in the shade, eyes following you as you approached, Mav and Simpson’s conversation ended the second the Admiral spotted you. 

“Captain, glad that you decided to join us.”

You gave him a saccharine smirk. “Sorry I was late, I was wondering how well desertion would treat me.”

Your father gave you a look, you ignored it, staring directly at Simpson. He flatly chuckled before turning, pointing down the line of jets on the tarmac to the one with a crew fussing around it. “That will be your jet. Fuel is currently being topped off, and you will need to-“

“Do an in depth outer inspection.” Your eyes never moved from Simpson’s, even as he glared at you. “You’ll do well to remember that I’m not a recruit and that I am a certified U.S. Naval Aviator with the damn medals to prove it.” 

The man whipped around, ready to lay into you when you walked around him, flicking down a pair of aviators you found in your breast pocket. You walked by a few jets before you came upon your own, that had your name brandished beneath the canopy. REAPER displayed in black in between your captain rank, first name, and Mitchell. A sigh escaped your lips, apparently Simpson still can’t listen to a word a woman says. 

Circling your aircraft, you took your time to inspect any blemishes or faults that may affect your flight - you pulled ‘Remove before flight’ tags, adjusted air valves in the underbelly before slamming the hatch closed, and placed your hand on the nose of your gray jet. The metal wasn’t scalding to the touch yet, but it was more than warm. You held your touch there for a moment, looking at the jet with a feeling of… something in your belly. This would be the first time you would be without your team in six years, they weren’t your backup and they weren’t able to work with you on this. Your safety net had been stolen from you and you didn’t know how to feel. 

Your forehead rested against the metal, a sigh escaped your lips. “We got this.”

Footsteps approached you, you took a deep breath before you felt a hand on your shoulder. “This is what you’re made for, kiddo.” Mav’s words seemed to soothe your anxiety like a balm, you didn’t have to turn to look at him to know he has your back. “These loons don’t understand the art. You do.”

“What if I crash again?”

“Eject.”

You pulled yourself from the jet, looking to your father. 

“Do you really think I could do this?”

He smiled, a comforting one. “I think you’re a Maverick.”

Your hand detached from the jet, your father’s hand left you and you didn’t feel alone. There was a comforting sense of grounding, knowing your duty, equipment, and service were all muscle memory. That your support was a short radio call away. A gentle look in your eye and Maverick nodded, turning and walking back down the tarmac - you turned away when you saw Ghost’s figure approach. You climbed the steps up, just a couple of them, so you could see into the canopy. You tossed your padding down, ready to strap it in when you were finally in. 

There was panic in your nerves, fear in your heart, and you felt your lover’s hand gently squeeze your calf. In normal circumstances, that was him practically shoving his tongue down your throat. Right now? He was showing Simon, not Ghost. Turning to look down at him, you felt your heart lurching at the way his brown eyes looked like honey in the morning sunlight. 

“Just a medic, hm?”

A simple breathless laugh escaped your lips before you pressed them together, inhaling deeply through your nose before exhaling.

He gently squeezed your calf again. “We can leave.”

“Yeah, right.”

“We can. You and me.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, glancing up to look at the sea of F-18s before looking back down at his skull mask. “What, and get court-martialed?”

He shrugged. “What’s a couple of charges? We’re war criminals. M’not worried about it.”

A huff escaped you, sounding half like a laugh as a smile broke on your lips. “I’m fine, Ghost.”

“Mercy-”

“I’m okay. Really.” Simon’s eyes seemed to dart all across your face - he knew you were lying. He knew you. You hated that he knew you so well, but it was one of the reasons you stayed. Why you keep fighting for the relationship, even if you don’t feel like he trusts you with his life.  “You gonna watch me?”

There was a pregnant pause, he blinked slowly before answering. “Yes.”

“I’ll do a trick for you.”

“Hold you to it.” A gentle squeeze of your calf and he leaned forwards, pressing a quick kiss to your leg through the mask before looking back up at you. “Be good.”

Heat rose into your cheeks as you softly whispered, “Love you.”

His eyes crinkled a little. He’s smiling. 

Ghost turned away, leaving the line of F-18s to stand in the hangar again with your executioner - who was waiting patiently for you to fail or crash and burn. Pulling yourself up and into the cockpit, you tugged the helmet snuggly to your head; attaching your air mask to the port beneath your seat, buckling your five point harness, then looking back up to the sea of levers and buttons. First, close the canopy.

The bulletproof glass enclosure descended, locking into place and leaving you in the one place you dreaded to be, but also felt at home in. Next, start left engine. 

Pressing it, you felt a jolt as the engine roared to life. It rumbled lowly at its minimum power to warm up, the jet jolted again as you started the right engine. Doubling checking fuel gauges, weight sensors, making sure the weapons were disengaged, and you had a clear connection to air control.

“Mission control, this is Reaper 6-0-3. Am I clear to taxi?”

Static for only a moment before someone responded, “Reaper 6-0-3, you are clear to taxi to runway B-2 right.”

“Thank you, Control. Reaper 6-0-3 out.”

With that, and your hand on the throttle, you pushed it forward slowly. You knew where to go from years of flying at this base, and the taxi didn’t take long. You were on the runway before you knew it. 

A deep breath filled your lungs, your eyes closed for only a moment as you settled all the fraying nerves in your body. If you think while you’re up there, you’ll get killed. You moved every finger on each hand, every toe snug in your boot, felt the comforting weight of your pistol strapped on your hip, embraced the snugness of the harness, the searing feeling of your lover’s gentle and innocent kiss to your knee only ten minutes ago. Stretching your shoulders, wrists, and cracking your neck, you opened your eyes as you gripped the throttle.

“Reaper 6-0-3, you are clear for takeoff. Proceed…”

You tuned them out. With a second deep breath, you pushed the throttle all the way down. Gravity pulled you tautly into the back of your seat as the engines roared with a familiar intensity, both of your hands grabbed the joystick again and you pulled steadily back. 

There is nothing like the feeling of leaving the sun bleached runways of Miramar, feeling each wheel leave the ground. The breath you were holding escaped with a rush, a smile adorned your face as warmth flooded your chest. A feeling of belonging. You were back where you were “meant” to be, and you were buzzing with the pride that you did it. You were back in a cockpit, in the air, the one place you loved to be. 

“Tower, this is Reaper, requesting a fly-by.”

A little crackle on the radio, “Negative, Reaper, the pattern is full.”

You turned your aircraft, bowing back towards base, a smile on your face and saying to yourself, “Well, it’s time to buzz the tower.”

[froznwater]

WHO THE HELL IS THE KEEPER OF THE ALENOAH FANLORE SECTION

Itscrazyyyyyyyyy how up to date and detailed it is, HELPPPP

IT EVEN HAS THE AVERAGE TUMBLR USERS COMMENTS ON WRITERS/ARTISTS ON THE COMMUNITY

[wxnheart]

I see your box is open o/ I have a request for Captain Price and Alejandro. What is their ideal type ? What type of person would suit them best ?

note: this was also written with the reader in mind, too.

𝐂𝐩𝐭. 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞

Let me preface this by saying that Price has a pretty strong personality. He's daring and a provocateur at heart. And he's quite unapologetic about it.

This doesn't necessarily mean his significant other has to be that way, too. On the contrary, he's very open to embracing someone who is very much NOT like him. As unapologetic as he is, he'll also be the first one to say that being Captain John Price is tiring at times.

Price also "secretly" likes being called on his bullshit and you're encouraged to do EXACTLY that. It's actually quite a turn-on for him. *wink, wink*

He also envisions them being an animal lover, too, because he wants two dogs and their names shall be Lady Marie and Sir Peabody Price and yes, he is unapologetic about this as well. And he will love and spoil them.

Home is where the heart is. You have to feel like home to him.

Most importantly, strength of will is a must. Price works a demanding job where his life is always on the line and there may very well be times when his s/o will be brought into the fray as well. Not everyone is cut out for this and let's be real, it's a pretty lonely path romantically; a significant other that can stomach everything (or just about everything) Price's job comes with is a bloody keeper in his book.

Additionally, there will be times when he absolutely has to prioritize 141 over them. He needs a significant other who can understand that. He's more than happy to make it up to you later.

Also, hugs. He loves hugging his significant other. And holding them. Oh, and Price also doesn't mind being the little spoon. Please be prepared for that!

The mustache stays, too.

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬

The man is here for a good time and a long time.

Believe it or not, Alejandro is VERY selective in choosing his partner. You thought joining Los Vaqueros was hard? Think again.

His mindset is quite similar to Price's in that his significant other must be able to stomach everything that comes with the territory.

LOYALTY and TRUST are the most important things he values in a significant other. Yeah, he knows shit can get bad (and best believe it can get REALLY bad) but they have to trust that he'll keep them safe.

A surefire way to lose Alejandro's interest is to make him choose between his relationship and Los Vaqueros. Do not, under ANY circumstances, make him choose.

His ideal lover has to have a sense of humor, too, because Alejandro loves to laugh. Helps ease tension and stress. Inside jokes and shit-talking will be commonplace.

There will be moments when Alejandro needs alone time to decompress and recharge. His partner will have to understand and respect that. No, it's not a slight against them. Alejandro is just an ambivert.

Also, pet names. You will have pet names. Accept the pet names. Embrace the pet names.

[auspicioustidings]

And today on AUs nobody has asked for but I need on a carnal level, Reader in Wonderland!

Gaz the white rabbit is such an awful thing, leading you into all sorts of trouble and teasing you about it everytime

The Ghost Mad Hatter and Soap March Hare tea party certainly gets you into a boatload of trouble

Caterpillar Graves gets you high and then is so mean about how needy it makes you

Even meaner is Cheshire Cat Keegan, always witness to every debauchery that you go through and oh so willing to use it against you

When you are put on trial, you learn that King of Hearts Price and Queen of Hearts Laswell very much build their partnership on ruining girls together the moment they declare them guilty

Good thing Gnave of Hearts Valeria is more than willing to testify that the crimes she had committed are actually yours

Alejandro and Rudy dum and dee are no help at all in the trial actually, they mostly just back her account up

Sure, have Bandersnatch König while we're at it and his White Knight Horangi keeper who actually does not a thing to keep the monster from you

[cod-dump]

Graves: *trying to break into Alejandro’s base*

Soap: Graves… what are you doing?

Graves: Taking this base

Soap: Is it your base?

Graves: its about to be

Soap: why’s that?

Graves: ‘Cause finders keepers and losers get their shit taken

Soap: okay *tazes Graves*

Graves: *flinches* Bitch I’ve built up a tolerance!

Soap: *wordlessly ups the voltage*

Graves: AH *drops to the ground*

[charliemwrites]

Hi!! Love your work so so so much! A quick question, if that’s okay. What kind of pets would Alejandro, Rudy, and Valeria have? I would love to hear your thoughts!! I also hope you’re having a good day!

Oooooh okay okay I love this thank you for asking!

I hope it’s not a cop out to say i think Alejandro and Rudy would co-keep a pet. (If you want them to have individual pets though, i can try to do a Drabble for that!)

Alejandro tends to spoil their precious princesa. He would probably be the one to see her and decided she’d be a great fit for their home. He’s just as quick to hand down a punishment as to lessen it when she cries or starts to struggle with it. Rudy, on the other hand, would be the one to double check all the research and workshop the “adoption” plan. He’d add those little extra detail touches like certain beds and blankets, safe outdoor space, meds or allergy care. While he’s also the quieter, more patient one, if he hands down a punishment that’s it. He’s always fair, of course, but it’s final.

Aftercare is a team effort. Alejandro bustles around, fetching water, running the bath, wiping everyone down. Rudy stays in bed holding her and lets her doze against his chest. The coordinate times where one of them goes by to check on her throughout the day. To see how she’s getting along.

Also, later on, becomes a regular around the Vaqueros’ base. They all call her some variation of “gata” or “gatita” and there’s a joke that she’s their unofficial mascot. Some of the more familiar ones will ask what she’s up to and she’ll usually chirp some sort of friendly response. They always make sure she knows where one of her keepers are and if she never needs anything they drop what they’re doing to help.

—

I’m not as familiar with Valeria, but I’ll try!

I think she’s would have someone a mix of Shy Thing and Good Girl, but with a wicked feral streak. As in, her pet is so so good for her just about always - gets spoiled but that’s because her pet deserves it! Discipline is damn near unheard of because she loves all the privileges that come with being Valeria’s perfect pet.

But that’s only for Valeria. Everyone else gets bit, scratched, hissed at. Valeria gives her a gorgeous little knife that she keeps on her at all times and has absolutely stabbed someone before for being too handsy. Valeria is always so proud of it too. The only time she would get chastised is if she’s ruined her clothes or a nice carpet with blood…. But it’s not that serious.

[ofsappho]

HEARTLESS CHAPTER 9 PREVIEW??? FINALLY??? (Something for the AleRudy stans)

Music pounds in your ears. A man croons over guitars and banjos and a trilling piano in a thick Southern accent as Colonel Vargas turns you around the dance floor of this American-themed pub. The place is so over-the-top that you find it charming - everyone’s dressed like you, cowboy hats and boots, and you hear more than a few bad imitation American accents. Very quaint.

Blue and magenta lights drape all of the dancers in a riotous rainbow of color. There’s a mix of clumsy young folks your age, out for a cheeky pint with the lads, so to speak, and older regulars who came here for the same reason you did; to dance.

Alejandro has a very respectful hand on the small of your back as he effortlessly guides you side to side, forward and back.

You relax and let yourself sway with his pace, your feet moving perfectly in time even once you stop consciously thinking about it. “You’re good at this!” You say loud enough to be heard over the music.

Alejandro flashes a white-toothed grin at you from under the brim of his black hat, the band trimmed in shining sterling silver.

“I’d hope so. Back home, in Las Almas, we go dancing a lot. Rudy and I.” He falls silent to guide you past a few people conducting themselves far less elegantly than the two of you.

You feel as though you’ve just stumbled on some great secret and found worthy by the keepers.

“Rudy?”

Alejandro’s face is a sight to behold. Even under the lights, you can see a red tinge to his tanned cheeks. “My, uh, how do you say it? Los Vaqueros. He is my… vaquero.” Cowboy. His dark eyes glimmer and you understand. Alejandro and his Rudy are continents apart and you can taste their chemistry from where you stand. You feel it thrumming under Alejandro’s skin, like the mere mention of Rudy is enough to bring him to life in a way you’ve never seen before.

(DONT WORRY. GHOST WILL BE BACK IN THE PICTURE SHORTLY.)

[kit-williams]

Where do babies come from?

You know I debated on answering this but decided fuck it.

Enjoy your bloodthirsters!

Soap just grinned his usual wolfish grin at his Bonnie. "Well lass when two mortals love each other very much..."

"Doesn't have to be love, Imvaassj." Ghost drawled out and chuckled as he waved him off.

"Right, when two mortals get down to it they fuck and boom a bairn is made."

"Right. Well honestly I'm kind of shocked you even know how babies are made." She laughed as he cocked his head.

"Course I know how they're made. I've made a few." Soap huffed and that got his Bonnie to look at him concerned.

"We've all made little ones, hen." Price says before tilting his head back and letting smoke roll out of his mouth.

"Aye why you think Alejandro and Rudy are so attentive to their hen?" Soap said with the biggest grin on his face as he bit his bottom lip like he was holding back a secret. "It's 'cause they're trying to knock her up bonnie."

He grabbed her before she could jump to her feet to warn the Inquisitor. With the amount of greater demons in one location... audio was spotty at best and it seemed that this moment would be conveniently lost.

"I aint done with ye. Now, if you want someone who is attentive I'd suggest going after a keeper or a changer... if you want a nest and the whole big display of wooing you and then leaving you... well that would be a slanneshi move. Really all depends on the demon's or prince's personality nothing really a blanket statement cept when you get with a bloodthirster or a demon prince of khorne we tend to do it with mortals with the full intent of knocking them up." He explains just sitting her down again as Ghost wanders over.

"My preferred partners are knights." Ghost drawls on.

"Aye but you have a nasty habit of tragic romances there Ghost."

He shrugs, "Not my fault I fall madly in love with my quarry. Though I am enjoying one of my Initiates company... a good little bird." He mutters as his brass eyes unfocused.

"Back on topic..." She says softly looking back at Soap. "So lets say you did knock me up." She leans back as Soap just practically vibrates before Ghost grabs the back of his neck.

"Heel. Try your best not to scare your bird." Is all Ghost says before he walks away after being happy with how much Soap calms down.

He swallows, his eyes glowing a little bit brighter, his chest puffed up a little more, she could practically see the outline of his horns around his head... she was confused was he preening? "But, when I do knock you up. You can expect a few things. Ahh if I was an unaligned demon you'd get something to what you humans would have called changlings or demigods depending on how strong they were. So not quite human but human enough. But given the amount of aether that would be going into you..." He taps his chin thinking.

"Well when König knocks up one of his darlings it's usually always another bloodthirster and also for him usually kills the mother."

Said bloodthirster huffed softly, "I'll make a demon prince one of these days. Just have to find... the right one so to speak." He said looking up from his book; a murder mystery.

"Aye but that's because he's a big boy and he tends to have big boys. But as for me I've made a few bloodthirsters, bloodletters, and a couple of blessed children. Al tends to make bloodthirsters as well but that's because of his rank. The old man's got one of his in yer Grey Knights."

Her head whipped over to Price, who just shrugged and barked, "I'm not that old. I'm at most a few centuries older than you. But yes one of my blessed brood is a grey knight. Not uncommon for what were once considered demigods to you mortals to be picked up by your space marines." He sighs softly, "Just I'm so disappointed that he went and joined them. Utilizes psyker powers too and everything."

"Geeze you sure don't sound too torn up." She states as Price barks out a laugh.

"No didn't really care for the mother with that one. But I'm certain my sweetheart and I can make a couple of happy little ones when she lets me." His chest rumbled.

"R-right... I think I've spent too long here." She gets up to her feet rather quickly but Soap grabs her.

"Och no. Yer goin' to gab to the Inquisitor." Soap growls as all of the bloodthirsters in the room look at her with that molten gaze. "They'll keep me away from you bonnie... keep us away from our hens... if they found out what we were after. Al and Rudy are so close to being a proud pair of papas... ye don't wanna take that from them do ye?"

"Imvaassj Pohn Oynhcat," She manages to hiss out watching his bindings glow but he fails to be contained and Soap just grins.

"Stay still for a wee moment bonnie. I was truthful with ye. Doesn't mean you have to remember it all."

"What."

Is all she manages to say before she grows slack jawed and eyes glazed as he pulls a glowing strand from the side of her head. Oh Johnny can't lie... none of the boys in the room could lie. They could be like fae of old and with hold the truth but not outright lie. Perhaps Johnny was a bit more of a fae then he let on as he pulled out bits from her memory to let it snap back like a rubber band.

He laughs, "What don't like the idea that Nurgle demons and demon princes just make the chunkiest babies." He says continuing a conversation that had no start. Watching her face grimace. "Like I was saying fussiest babies are from Slannesh, the curious ones are from Tzeentch..."

"And what about your lord?"

Soap just grinned at her, "We get the calmest little babies after all they should enjoy their innocence before their future is drenched in blood."

[cyarskj1899]

Shakira, a Strawberry Jam Jar, and the Cheating Rumor Captivating the Internet

Twitter is obsessed with the idea that Shakira caught ex-husband Gerard Piqué cheating because...she found her jam eaten, and Gerard never eats jam.

Shakira’s ex-husband appears to have found himself in a bit of a...jam. 

The singer has been no stranger to controversy as of late, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from globbing onto an unsubstantiated theory about how the singer may have caught her ex, soccer player Gerard Piqué, cheating on her. The plot of said theory can be summarized as follows: Who stole the jam from Shakira’s jam jar?

After a 12-year romance, Shakira, 45, and Piqué, 35, ended their relationship last year after Piqué allegedly left his wife for 23-year-old Clara Chia Marti. Though Piqué’s relationship with Marti had long been reported as an affair, Shakira was apparently “devastated” when sleuths uncovered footage of Marti in the back of a Zoom interview Piqué had given from their shared home in 2021. The two were reportedly still together at the time.

Fast forward to the juicy stuff: the strawberry jam. In August of last year, Shakira put out a single with Rauw Alejandro called “TeFelicito.” One particular scene in the music video for the single shows Shakira peering into a fridge, and when asked about the scene in interviews (according to a very murky string of sources, I must add), Shakira reportedly said she was hoping to “find the truth.” In the fridge!

The story gets increasingly blurry from here, but accordingto ShowNews.today, a Spanish TV program called Socialite declared that Shakira caught her husband cheating after discovering a partially eaten jar of jam. She had been out of town promoting her music…but Shakira is supposedly the only one in her household who eats strawberry jam! Gerard hates jam! So who could’ve eaten the jam other than…his mistress?!

As always, the internet loves a cheating scandal, regardless of the accuracy of the jam tale. Shakira shall go forth and be known as the keeper of the jam and the seeker of re-jam-ption. Because what could be more painful than a vision of some bitch eating Shakira’s special strawberry jam in Shakira’s house? The roof that Shakira raised her children under?! Shakira may have put a voo-doo doll in front of her mother-in-law’s house, and she may be accused of tax evasion, but God willing, the internet be damned if another woman sticks her claws in Shakira’s jam jar ever again.

Apparently the semi-famous former tenants of the Hype House, including Lil Huddywho is now just going by Huddy because maturity, caused more than $300K in property damage. Now, their landlord is suing. That’s so not hype!! [TMZ]

Singer Anitta wants to be honest: She thinks it’s totally fine to use apps like FaceTune to “make you prettier,” so long as you’re transparent about it! She’s also encouraged others to be open about their plastic surgery journeys like her—she got a nose job, jaw-shaping procedures, and breast augmentations. I feel so empowered now! [E! Online]

Channing Tatum’s daughter and Sandra Bullock’sdaughter got into an altercation when they were in preschool. Now 9 and 11, respectively, Tatum says the girls now love each other. We love a redemption arc. [E! Online]

Pamela Anderson said her relationship with Tommy Lee might be the only time she was ever really in love. No, I’m not crying, it’s just really bright in here. [People]

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United 3-0 West Ham United

Eyyyy we did it everybody. We won a game by a strong margin AND kept a clean sheet.

Look at these three fuckers. Makes you proud to be a red. Also fucks you off that we've not been smashing teams left, right and centre, but this is a crucial hub to build around - for Erik or a successor.

United opened the scoring in the 23rd minute with some top striker work from Hojlund; dropping the shoulder, switching to his right foot, and banging home a classic CF goal. We saw scrappy versus Wolves, we've seen elegant in the Champions League, but we needed to see more of the instinctive number 9 - and that came out today.

If the first half was all about Rasmus, the second was all about Alejandro. Moving him to the right wing has been a masterstroke, in so much as he's not shit like Antony. Having TWO wings as a threat? Wow. Rashford has more time on the ball, more confidence to drive at defenders, and that encourages Garnacho to do the same. Unreal.

Garnacho scored a deflected shot in the 49th minute past substitute keeper Fabianski, before wrapping up the win in the 84th minute.

The result puts United back above the Hammers, but still on -1 goal difference - a damning figure for a team that wants to compete for titles and European competition. 31 goals is one lower than newly promoted Luton Town; a team battling relegation.

The win was also marred by a fresh injury setback for Lissandro Martinez, described by Erik Ten Hag as "doesn't look good". The Argentine went down clutching his knee after a battle with Coufal and attempted to play on - before collapsing to the floor again.

A large part of how United have regained control of possession and transitional speed has been through Lissandro Martinez, so a new injury could derail United's return to form before it gets started. The hope is that this week's assessments will report maybe a few weeks absent - rather than a season ending ligament injury. We wait in hope.

That leads us onto an argument for another day that actually United need a versatile LCB/RCB prospect in the summer (though one of each would be nice). I'm thinking Todibo joined by Branthwaite... we'll see. Money's not exactly loose at the minute for United. Plus, Harry Maguire played (mostly) well today, and has been back in (reasonable) form for the past couple of months.

Next up is a crucial match away at Villa Park, with a week to rest and prepare for United. Doing the double over the Villans wouldn't jump United above Emery's side, but it would close the gap on one of the many sides battling for top four. Given the title race seems to be a three-horse fight... United, Spurs, Villa are the odds-on sides to take fourth and scrape into the Champions League. Based on current form I'm picking Villa for that spot, so here's hoping even without Martinez, United can retain the composure and desire to turn the season around.

[ramrage]

141 football HCs

inspired by the scrumptious works (x, x) by @horsebra, here are some headcanons that no one asked for but i couldnt help but make

Soap:

Malingers a lot. and dramatically. everyone, himself included, recognizes this but just kinda rolls with it because sometimes it pays off, and to be fair, man does get fouled a ton

if someone is on the ground, 9/10 times it is him

tenacious as hell. will run to balls he won't reach, faces off in aerial duels against könig-height dudes.

somehow always scoring because he'll go for shots others would shy away from and is magically in the right place at the right time (jk he reads the field well)

social captain of the team. is quick with a compliment or consolation no matter what

constantly talking shit and is a nightmare to play against

Alejandro:

shows off a ton which would be a problem if he ever lost possession, but he infrequently does

has fouled out the most and leads the team in cards

just as aggressive a player as Soap, if not more

speaks spanish with rodolfo to covertly talk shit or point out weaknesses in the opposition's defense

his locker room pump up playlist is nasty and excellent and everyone loves it, even ghost (doesn't admit it)

coolest boots on the pitch

obnoxious yet impressive celebration dance, will taunt the fans

Rodolfo:

official idiot wrangler for soap and ale

his passes are clean as hell without fail. no one would score without him.

not a particularly flashy or dramatic player, he's more on the side of efficient, but he'll sometimes pull out the most ridiculous, odee goals you have ever seen in the beautiful game

is great at intercepting the defense's attempts to clear the ball and then proceeds to cross it perfectly and it pisses the other team off severely

big on post-game stretching and gives people shit when they don't. he has saved the team so many injuries.

goes apeshit when ale gets fouled and is actually hurt. if he isn't foaming at the mouth, alejandro is fine. no one can figure out how he tells the difference

Ghost:

effectively a center mid but says he's a defensive mid for reasons unknown

great at assessing the pitch and moving his team around to make saucy plays

scores an awful lot for a "defensive mid"

king of set pieces

surprisingly supportive and kind when his team fucks up

not afraid to play dirty but will immediately own up when the official chews him out for decking a guy

once lifted soap up in a hug after he scored a goal and everyone teased him about it so he never did it ever again

acts pissed but is amused when Soap malingers to win foul against the other team

Price:

is probably way too old to be playing but does anyway

switches between center and l/r-back depending on what the ol knee is telling him

not as fast as he used to be but his judgment and technical skills are impeccable

sometimes pulls out fancy footwork to wow the kids

comfort character on the pitch. when he recovers the ball after shit goes tits up, you know the team is safe

best pump up speeches you have ever heard

Gaz:

quick as hell and loves playing teams that rely on fast breaks because it's a fun challenge and he cuts them off damn well

had one (1) own goal when he was really young and will never forget it

booted the ball to the other side of the pitch and it bounced over the other team's keeper and rolled on in for a goal one (1) time and will never forget it. or stop talking about it. knows better than to try it again.

talks and sings to himself when the other team's offense sucks and the ball generally stays on the far side of the pitch

feels bad when he decks players from the other team and will help them up but also finds it kinda funny

gets beyond hyped for the rare hydration break on hot days

kate:

team coach/manager, Head Idiot Wrangler

has evil conditioning days but no one gets too mad because they trust her judgment

is somehow cool with the owners even tho they're dicks and uses that relationship to advocate for the players

generally keeps her cool during matches but got a red card once for laying into a official for a terrible call

earned many wrinkles and grey hairs from managing the boys

constantly getting shit from people in the league because she's a woman but she shuts that shit down with calm, scary efficiency

not afraid to play politics with the owners and the league but is always honest with the players