#y’all this better get 150 notes /j

[robiinurheart33]

I’m SUCH a sucker for drunk calls/texts confessing their love and y’all know I gotta project it onto ghoap (buckle up guys its a long one I had to break it into two parts SORRY) pt. 2 (clicks for Palestine)

Soap’s blood is pumping. He can feel it heat up in his cheeks in the form of a blush, giggles bubbling up in his throat and his mind loose enough to just sew together a semblance of a bad idea.

Deployment had been boring at first. Stuck at home with unending nervous energy, fingers twitching and aching for the solid feel of a gun, the rough texture of his vest, the adrenaline clapping him on the shoulder before shooting through his veins like a drug. It was so unendingly dull. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at his apartment in Glasgow, and their break time was too short to visit his Ma.

So why not invite a few buddies out to drink? No harm, no foul.

Well, that’s what he initially thought. A couple hours later of wheezing and pounding of the table, shoes sticking to the ground and the smell of booze wafting though the air, Soap could confidently say that he was wasted. He’s leaning heavily on his buddy, chum, pal, that he for the life of him cannot remember right now. He’s swaying from side to side, feeling unusually breathless as he mumbles what could be the song that’s playing right now. He’s not sure. He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching a bit anxiously at the nape of his neck. Soap’s not sure if he wants to cry or laugh or vomit right about now. Pretty sure that’s a sign to fuck off, pass out on his bed and deal with the rest tomorrow.

Soap pushes off his… friend? Wait, did he even come with him? And heads towards the general direction where the toilet is. Might as well not look like a homeless person before heading home, wouldn’t wanna scare anyone. His head is spinning, pounding, loud, loud, loud, and nowhere near done with its madness. Soap slams his hand on the wall beside the toilet door, squinting and hoping the door he’s reaching for is the actual door, not it’s double. He does, in fact, get the right door (small miracles), and pushes it open.

He fumbles with his zipper and exhales heavily as he relieves himself. The man beside him in the toilet exits with a sniffle and stumbles out, the music getting louder for a second before the door closes again. Soap leans heavily against the sink counter and washes his hands, placing his fingers together and splashing water onto his face. Soap drags his hands down before greyish-blue eyes look back at him with a piercing stare. He blinks, and re-evaluates again. His hair is flopping to one side, weighed down by sweat. His face is flushed and his skin glows slightly with a thin sheen of sweat, his freckles just shy of being seen under his rosy cheeks, eyebags evident through the haze. He looks down and- oh. It appears his attempt at splashing his face with water wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped, half of his shirt drenched in water. Soap tugs loosely at the corner of his sleeves, releasing the bundled up fabric at his pits. He frowns in discomfort as the sticky heat of his arms lay back down against his skin. He sighs once more, not really feeling like his lungs are filling with oxygen, turning around and laying his hip against the counter lazily before pulling out his phone. 0237. He swipes down on his home screen and pouts at the “no new notifications” tab. He unlocks his phone and swipes through his contacts, unsure of who to drunk text at this hour. Gaz is probably asleep by now, if anyone has a spotless sleeping schedule, it’d be him. Price would have his head on a platter if he texted him about anything non-military business. Laswell, no. Ghost?

Huh.

Ghost…could be someone he could text. Soap isn’t quite sure if he would be awake right now. Do ghosts even need sleep? He huffs at his little comment, tapping on their chat together. Do they have the kind of relationship where soap can dramatically drunk text Ghost at 2am right now? Soap lets out a little bemused huff when he sees that he reached a dead end to their chat after one swipe of his thumb. Of course. Right bastard doesn’t text anyone. He tilts his head up to meet the flickering white light of the bathroom ceiling, watching water damage and mold streak across the concrete. Ghost�� how is he during deployment? Does he still wear that mask around the relative safety of his own apartment? Does he have any hobbies? Does he go to the gym as well? Does he long to be back on base? Does he long to be back in the chaos of the war zone, alongside soap? Does he think of soap? Does he ever think to- before Soap knows what he’s even doing, his fingers clumsily type out a greeting.

Hwlli

That’s not quite right.

Gellp

Nope.

Hellu

Oh my god.

Hello

There we go! Soap smiles giddily at his screen, bringing it closer to his face before very carefully writing a much more sophisticated and brilliant follow up.

U up?

He’s the smartest person in the entire world. He supposes a part of himself preens at the thought of even just being able to text someone like Ghost. Big, bad, Ghost. He decidedly does not giggle like a schoolgirl. Just as his mind starts to wander back to the world outside the sickly bathroom, his phone vibrates, and looks down in confusion.

Drunk?

Soap frowns.

Who

You.

Wanna try anf gues, Lt?

You are drunk.

He says it like it’s a fact, like he knows everything. It annoys Soap, much more than it should. He supposes that it could maybe be something to do with the massive amounts of alcohol thrumming through his bloodstream at the moment, but he knows for a fact that it slices through his brain, presses against his throat and contracts his chest.

Yiu think so?

I know so.

Soap thinks Ghost is being a real dick right now.

Ittle know iy all

You’re drunk, Johnny. What do you want me to do about it?

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny. His head spins. If he closes his eyes and imagines hard enough, he can hear the raspy gravel of Ghost’s solid, thick British accent murmuring commanders into his ear. Speaking of noises, his brain starts to register more of the music from outside, the start of a song that Soap can vaguely remember, but he can’t quite put his finger on it right now. The electric guitar, drums and bass all purr in his subconciousness, his lips parting over the words, moving silently as he tries to pinpoint exactly where in the song he is right now. There’s this tune… think of you.. repeat, until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…do I wanna know? Soap whispers, his mind curling and his ribs creaking. He feels like he’s truly, deeply losing it now, fingers slowly loosening over his phone. His head feels too big and his cheeks are burning, his shirt too tight against his chest and arms and his toes too restricted under his shoes. Everything was funny and everything was too bright and shiny and yearning and blurring and he wishes Ghost was here and he wishes everything was different and he wishes life could just be a little bit easier and-

His phone is vibrating.

Crawling back to you.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Rundown Job

leverage 5.09

the HEART EYES in parker and eliot’s eyes as they watch hardison crack the code of the vault is my religion

- - - - -

Hardison: Kiss for luck?

Parker: Who needs luck?

confident baby

- - - - -

(Parker begins doing elaborate moves and turns to get through the lasers, quickly reaching the far wall)

Hardison: I never get tired of that

THE HANDSHAKE BETWEEN HARDISON AND ELIOT BC THEY LOVE THEIR BADASS GIRLFRIEND

- - - - -

Parker (opens a case to reveal it is full of diamonds): Oh! Bup-bup.

(Eliot snaps at Parker to get her attention)

Hardison: Eight new schools. Okay, take care, sister Agnes. (hangs up)

(Parker closes the case and gives it to Eliot for mailing as Hardison dials the phone)

Hardison: Hey, Nate, we’re done in D.C. We’re flying back tomorrow. See you.

Parker: They’re so shiny. Couldn’t I have just kept one?

Hardison: Road to redemption, Parker. Just think how good it’s gonna feel when you get that Christmas card from those orphans. Hell, we may even get Eliot to smile.

parker deserves all the shiny things

“the road to redemption” THEY CHANGE TOGETHER

- - - - -

Riley: Why’d you quit, anyway? (pushes button again)

Eliot: Started running with some different people...

(Riley pushes button again but it doesn’t seem to be working)

Eliot: Like a hacker...

(Hardison enters room and nods. Riley pulls a gun from his drawer and shoots toward Eliot, but the gun is empty)

Eliot: And a thief.

(Parker taps on Riley’s head. He turns. She is holding the clip and a bullet from his gun)

Parker: Click. (tosses clip and bullet on table)

eliot “I started running with some different people” spencer loves his partners and I adore that with my whole (whole) heart

- - - - -

Eliot: Good night.

(Parker stuns Riley, who slumps on the desk)

I’m glad they’re enabling her tasering obsession

- - - - -

Eliot (checks his watch): I’m gonna keep her alive. You guys find a way to get her out of here.

Hardison: With what? I…

Eliot (walks away): You stole a Michelangelo with tinfoil and chewing gum. Figure it out!

eliot is like bitch please you’re smarter than this

- - - - -

the way the three of them back up to each other, covering their backs ,,,

- - - - -

Hardison: This is a violation of my constitutional rights.

Vance: You’re Alec Hardison. You cracked the Pentagon servers when you were 12. N.S.A. has a file on you a mile long.

Hardison: Do they? What do they say about me? I hope they gave me a cool nickname.

Vance: Parker here... No file on you, which is...

(Parker appears to be sleeping)

Vance: Is she asleep?

Eliot: She bores easy. What do you got on us?

hardison probably does have a cool nickname

also I LOVE how they still have no clue about parker

+

eliot being like “she bored easy” 🤷🏼‍♀️ the MARRIEDNESS

- - - - -

Hardison: Y-you’re talking about stopping a terrorist attack in an afternoon. We’d need all your intel.

Vance: That truck back at the crime scene... It’s an N.S.A. Mobile response intelligence unit–

Hardison: With the Schneier cryptography system and the j-dam satellite uplink? That... I know nothing about, ‘cause that would be treason and wrong. (to Vance) Are you for real

hardison: I wouldn’t know anything about that because that wouLd Be TrEaSoN

- - - - -

Vance: So, you grab the truck... (moves to sit by Eliot) Hell... Your girlfriend’s already out of her cuffs.

(Parker sits up holding the handcuffs and tosses them to Vance)

...they didn’t deny that parker was eliot’s girlfriend. they didn’t bother to correct him because it is, in fact, true that she is both their girlfriends. in this essay I will-

- - - - -

Agent: No, I can’t let you in the truck.

Hardison: A gigabyte gone... your job, gone.

Agent: Security clearances.

Hardison: You’re not gonna let who...

Eliot: What are we, terrorists? Okay, that was my plan was to come here, show you a real badge that I somehow got, and then bring somebody crazy to break into a secure vehicle? We’re gonna move this down the block. He’s gonna spend about an hour doing spot-checks on databases. I showed you my badge. Man, here, take my badge. (tosses it to Agent) Call it in. I got to deal with this guy

it’s funny because it’s true

- - - - -

Hardison: It’s got every database... N.S.A., CIA, FBI. It’s got hard backdoors into most commercial systems, live feeds into every security camera on the grid. Man, if this wasn’t such a gross violation of our civil liberties, I would be in love right now.

they never stop calling out the government and I’m Here For It™

- - - - -

Parker: Where do we start?

Eliot: We start with getting you two on a plane out of here. You didn’t sign up for this. Trust me.

Hardison: And you? You’re going to handle this by yourself? Come on, she’s a lady, man. She needs the right touch. What you gonna do with your big punching hands... Punch the screens? No.

Parker: We agreed we all change. Better or worse, we change together.

Eliot (after a moment): What do they got on the gunman?

ELIOT JUST WANTS HIS PARTNERS SAFE

also,,, for better or worse, we change together??? BITCH THOSE ARE WEDDING VOWS

- - - - -

Parker: Do you know why you bring a cooler full of ice to a robbery? No? I do. Everything we need to know is in that basement. I’ll drive.

Hardison: Hold on.

Eliot: Exactly.

Hardison: No, hold on. (holds on to table)

Eliot: Oh, you... oh, hell, man (sits down in chair across from Hardison. the van horn honks twice and eliot looks around, fumbling) No seat belts up in this thing- (looks at Hardison) d-do you got a seat belt?

Hardison: No, uh-uh, hold the wall (holds the wall)

eliot and hardison being exhausted boyfriends at parker’s reckless driving, I love this song

- - - - -

Parker: How do you lose track of a whole laboratory?

Eliot: There’s over 200 tons of uranium missing from the United States nuclear storage.

Hardison: The air force lost a hydrogen bomb off the coast of Georgia.

Eliot: Countries are big things, Parker. A lot of secrets slip through the cracks.

wow I love knowing these things and having to live with it

- - - - -

Hardison: The Spanish flu killed 50 million people during World War I, and now somebody’s got it. (opens door)

Parker: Look, we can do this. Just treat it like any another job.

Hardison: This isn’t just any other job.

Eliot: All right, all right. Stay focused.

Hardison: I focused! That bug in there killed 50 million people! 50! And that was when the population was lower.

Parker: Now?

Hardison: Now? 150 million people. 150 million dead. Hey, we’re thieves, man, and we’re good at what we do, but this is way, way out of our league. And you expect us to go catch some psycho with a city killer? A country killer?

Eliot: You scared?

Hardison: You’re damn right.

(Hardison turns to enter the truck but Eliot grabs his wrist, holding him back)

Eliot: I’m not. I got the best thief And the smartest guy I know chasing this guy.

(Hardison looks at Parker, but Eliot grabs his head and pulls him back)

Eliot: Hey, listen to me. You’re smartest man I’ve ever known, Hardison. I need that brain to get me to him. ‘Cause you know if I lay my hands on him, it’s done. Get me to him. (lets Hardison go)

tHe WaY hE gRaBs HaRdiSoN’S fACE

eliot knows hardison is spiraling but he also knows how to get him out of it because he knows hardison like the back of his hand and knows how to get through to him

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER

- - - - -

there are so many good ot3 shots in this episode it brings me so much joy

- - - - -

parker climbs hardison like a T R E E to turn off that detonator as eliot provides counterbalance

- - - - -

Eliot: Did it work?

Hardison: I... I don’t know. I’m trying to get the phone speaker.

Vance (on phone): Move, move, move! Get to cover! Pull everyone back to the perimeter!

Eliot: Ohh! My boy! (hugs Hardison) That is what I’m talking about!

tHe HuG, yOuR hOnOR

- - - - -

they really be playing grand theft auto in this one

- - - - -

(Udall fires toward the trio and they dive for cover. Eliot and Parker look at each other and nod. Parker looks at Hardison)

Parker: For luck.

(Parker kisses Hardison, then she and Eliot nod at each other. Parker grabs the briefcase and runs off the train while Eliot runs toward Udall. Hardison goes after Parker, and Udall shoots Eliot in the leg. Eliot reaches Udall and punches him, knocking him out. Hardison continues after Parker, who stops and opens the briefcase)

F O R L U C K

also high key the look parker and eliot share? it had the same vibes as “we do the things that they can’t, won’t”

+

parker high key kissing hardison “for luck” but also kissing him because eliot can’t

- - - - -

Hardison: Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do... that’ll do it. (he pulls her into his arms) Don’t do that to me. I can’t lose you. Do you understand? I can’t lose you. Don’t scare me like that.

Parker: Yeah.

Hardison: I can’t

he loves her so, so much

- - - - -

Vance: Promise you’ll at least consider working with us again.

Eliot: I work with them now.

Vance: Honor among thieves?

Eliot: Something like that. (walks away)

something like that,,, HE LOVES THEM, YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

Vance: World can always use some more good guys.

Parker: Yeah, well, too bad we’re the bad guys

smh, “sometimes the bad guys are the best good guys”

- - - - -

Parker: You’re shot. You should go to the hospital.

Eliot: I don’t do hospitals. (drops crutch)

Hardison: I told you. He takes getting shot very lightly

he drops his crutch to lean on parker and hardison THIS IS NOT A DRILL

- - - - -

after watching this episode, I agree with y’all wholeheartedly that this was an ot3 GOLDMINE

edit: also, notice how much is written in pink (the colorcode for ot3 notes and meta). like, more than half of it. because LITERALLY ALL OF THIS IS OT3 MATERIAL

[fakeboi-weightloss]

I’m J and this is my weight loss blog. Obvious trigger warnings for frank discussion of weight, food, calories, and exercise in the context of weight loss. If you’re struggling with ED, probably not a healthy blog to be on.

I’ve been fat for most of my life and I’m exhausted of it. My hope is to develop life-long good habits that improve my health and well-being as well as decrease my clothing size.

The benefits are several:

1) Eating better and exercising is good for every body, mine included, and eating things that are good for me while maintaining an active lifestyle will ensure that I can keep being active for a long time, weight loss or no.

2) My family is prone to heart disease and diabetes, which can both be exacerbated by obesity, so even if I can’t avoid the conditions all together, I’d like to keep from increasing my chances of complications.

3) The specific way that I carry my weight exacerbates my gender dysphoria to dangerous levels and weight loss will likely improve that immensely. Weight loss will also potentially end in more visually pleasant results from reconstructive surgeries related to my transition.

4) I will be able to achieve body aesthetics my brain is looking for. This is the least important reason for losing weight, because beauty standards are bullshit etc etc, but it’s still a motivator.

Current weight as of writing is 213lbs and some change. This is already lower than it was last year. But I can do better. The idea is effectively to get to a weight somewhere under 150lbs in the next year to year and a half. I don’t think I’ve weighed that much since I was 14, so it’s a bit of a stretch, but with the right mindset it can be done. I mean 135 would be an AWESOME but I would be happy just being in a BMI range considered relatively healthy, so. We’ll include 135 on the list even though idk if I’m that concerned with actually getting there.

I’ll make notes here whenever I reach a goal weight, and I may give myself a little reward for every goal met just to keep morale up.

SW: 213

GW1: 200

GW2: 190

GW3: 180

GW4: 165

GW5: 150

GW6: 145

UGW: 135

Given that I do not currently own a scale, the weight updates may be slow, but they will happen.

Anyway. This blog exists to catalogue different low calorie and vegetarian recipes I’m interested in trying, keep track of my progress, share motivational workout memes, and if y’all are good you may even get some comparison photos.

[conspiracy-talk-blog]

New Post has been published on CTN News

New Post has been published on https://goo.gl/J1f2Dx

5 Easy Steps To Becoming A Gangsta

1. You have to master the swagger of your typical homie. Watch MTV for inspiration, then imitate the ridiculous walk of your favourite rap star.If you find yourself having difficulties, visualize yourself with a massive case of hemmorhoids, and/or a pickle shoved up your ass. A big pickle.

Checklist:

  Are your feet wider apart than your shoulders?

Do you have a decided backwards slant to your torso?

Do your knuckles hit the back of your calves?

  If so, you can continue.

2. Language is very important. When attempting to fit in with the rap community, you must forget everything you have learned about the English language and how to speak it properly. It helps if you have some sort of speech impediment, preferably one which makes you sound like you have a mouth full of oatmeal at any given point. Remember, contractions are your new god. Practice at home, at the bus station, at school; anywhere you can.

Translation guide:

  yo’ma’ma = A derogatory term, used to insult your mother. (Note: this is supposed to incense you.)

word, y’all = Something roughly equivalent to hello.

  Variations on this are many: what’up ho’mes; word to yo’ma’ma; yo y’all (pl. y’allz); what’up; what’da word from’da ‘hood; and others.

  you best be steppin’ = You should leave, before the speaker decides to hurt you.

I’m a gon’open a can of whoop’ass on y’all = I will beat you up.

watch’or mouf, man = It would probably be a wise idea, when this is heard, to shut up.

mofo = Motherfucker, in the new hip short talk.

I gots ta bounce = Roughly equivalent to goodbye.

cruisin’ = walking about aimlessly, shoving each other into old people and laughing uproariously, whilst calling each other mofos.

  Checklist:

  Do you use four-letter words within 30 seconds of each other?

Can you drop a syllable off of every word without thinking about it?

Can you omit words such as “of” and “to” with ease?

Would you be unintelligible to your aunts or uncles?

  If not, you’d better practice a little more.

3. You’ll have to acquire a g’ name. 2-Pac is a popular one, as is Biggie. (For more information, see “people” section below.) Or, there’s always shortening your name to the first letter of your first name, then adding an adjective. For example, there’s Lil’ J, or Big R. You can also go with just the adjective: Slim, Shorty, etc. You’ll fit right in.

Checklist:

  Does your name sound stupid?

  Well, since this is the only evident requirement, on we go.

4.You’ll need to be hip to the rap gurus of the moment. A commonly idolized rapper, 2-Pac, was shot some time ago. In the “softcore” rap crowd, Ma$e and Puff Daddy are really cool. Busta Rhymes, Lil’ Kim, Biggie Smalls (also dead), Snoop Doggy Dogg and Dr. Dre are also cult favourites. Feel free to mix ‘n’ match at will. With the celebrities, come the “sides”. There’s Westside and Eastside. They have nothing to do with where you are on a map. To demonstrate your undying allegiance to the Westside, cross the two middle fingers on one hand, and wave that hand about profusely, whilst shouting “Wess’ide, man..Wess’ide!” This will go over big. The Eastside sign is formed by turning the previously-made W upside down, in the shape of an M. One will shout “Yo’mofos! Eass’ide rules!” or something of that ilk. Make sure, before you attempt the hand signs, that you’re with a group of the same patriotism, or else you’ll get a can of whoop’ass opened on you. Y’all, rather.

Checklist:

  Can you name the past five rap stars to have gotten shot?

Can you wave your hands about with sufficient fury to give yourself carpal tunnel syndrome?

Are you scared of your own idiocy?

  Let’s hope so. These are crucial before moving on to the last section.

5. G’ clothing is rather simple. For pants, all you need to do is cruise the local mall until you find a really fat person. Check out the waist size on his jeans, then head to the nearest store playing rap music to buy a matching pair. They must also be long. You’ll know you’ve made a good buy when you have three yards of fabric bunched about your ankles. You must wear them low-slung as well. The prerequisite, an assumed few pairs of cool boxer shorts, should be mostly hanging out. But to complete your lower half, you must own a stylin’ belt. The purpose of this belt is not altogether clear, save for it holds your pants firmly against your upper thighs and restricts movement, making the rap strut easier. Trust me. As for what kind of pants to wear, army pants (in any, and all, colours), jeans, tearaways and cargo pants will all do nicely.

On your top half, you should wear shirts which would fit the fat man at the mall. At the same store where you bought your pants, you will find the bright colours that are a necessity to successful gangsta dress. Oranges, yellows, and greens are especially good. T-shirts are acceptable, provided they have sleeves that reach halfway down your forearm, and that they come at least halfway down your thigh. Sweatshirts should be almost as long, and have either Nike or Fubu emblazoned across the front. Never, EVER get caught dead in a sweater. Jackets are easy. All you need is something that’s shiny, bright, and looks like it would fit a 300-pound Eskimo, as well as be suitable for said Eskimo’s environmental surroundings.

For shoes, again, Nikes and Fubus are the best. Reeboks and Adidases are fine for the beginning g’. They have to have cost at least $150, and be shiny and bright. You might as well forget how to tie knots, because the gangsta who ties his shoes up, gets beat up. You can accessorize with one of those key chain straps (the ones that circle your neck) that seem to be all the rage. It must say Fubu on it, of course. A hat is good, as long as it’s got one of the previously-mentioned trade names on it. Turn the hat sideways for extra respect. That’s spelled R-E-S-P-E-C-T. You can always go with a handkerchief as well, with the hat or alone. Snoop Doggy Dogg wears one, if you need celebrity reinforcement.

Checklist:

  Could you put on 200+ pounds and not have it be noticed while dressed?

Could you fit your entire family into one single pantleg?

When you walk, are you perpetually close to tripping/falling over?

Is your shirt long enough to cover someone seven feet tall?

  It appears, with the above questions answered affirmatively, that you’ve completed the tutorial and are now a fledgeling gangsta, prepared for the wide world of rap. Happy g’ing!

wait… you need 1 more thang… a pet, a mean looking one. A pit bull is normally a great choice.