Roach In Las Almas What Will He Do

this kid is 14 oh my god is no one teaching children to protect themselves online anymore…

So...I already have a thing for suits...and Mando...I guess I have another thing now 😍😍😍

Stunning Mandalorian art by @fayren on Twitter

Always

Me too eevee

Even after death this will be my show. The boys have done so much for me but maybe this could be the start of something bigger for them.

reblog/reply this post if, even when the show is done, you’re standing on this spn hill with me until we die 

Purge trooper cody and Obiwan for @thelastbattlecry so this is entirely his fault

“Those poor boys”

“She deserves to be punished too.”

“I’m not saying I support rape, but-”

“Sorry to say - she deserved it.”

“She put herself in harm’s way”

“But if she was fingered, then that’s not rape.”

“She ruined their lives.”

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

Paint With Me ( Pt. 1 )

{ markus x reader }

{ word count : 1,220 }

[ thank you! It took me for-fucking-ever to write it. And I’m happy there are people who actually enjoy my writing so, I hope you all enjoy this one :’) I wanna make this two parts…so that’s whats happening] 

—

The cold Detroit winter wind brushed across your face as you walked towards the house of your longtime friend Carl. You shivered severely as you rang the doorbell. Rubbing your hands together and trying to blow warm air in them as you looked around behind you. The door opened, you turned expecting to face a lady care android. But what you came to eye contact was something you didn’t expect. The tall man before you that wore a black sweater held the door. “Can I help you?” His soft and gentle voice is what knocked you back into your shivering reality. “O-Oh I’m Y/N L/N? I’m here to see Carl?”

“Markus! Just let her in, it’s freezing out there!” You heard the old man grumble as he wheeled into the foyer, Markus nodded and opened the door wider granting you entry. You smiled and walked in slipping off your boots almost immediately after ‘Markus’ closed the door. You then unzipped your jacket and began to take it off until you felt someone pulling at the shoulders of, You turned slightly seeing Markus look back at you innocently, “Excuse me, I should have asked-“ “It’s fine…” You said with a smile. Allowing him to pull the rest of it off.

“Y/N, this is Markus…my android.” Carl said, a smile on his face, you grinned back rolling your eyes, “I mean, I see that.” You giggled following Carl as he made his way back to the studio. You watched as he got back into his lifting chair. Markus pulled back the sheet and your eyes were met with the most beautiful sight. “Dear god Carl.” You said gazing up at the wall, the older man looked down at you, “What? Not good?” He asked real concern in his eyes, you looked up at him and grinned, “It’s amazing! Oh my God Carl!”

The older man grinned then went back to painting, this was one of the reasons why Carl was so much of an inspiration to you, he was the reason why you began painting yourself. “Y/N? Do you mind passing me that paint?” He asked pointing the paintbrush over in the direction of a tall ladder with a bunch of paints on the top. “Oh…OK?” You said making your way towards the ladder before Markus’ voice broke through the air. “I can get it.” Carl glared at him from above, “No Markus. She’s got it, why don’t you get us something to drink?” You looked over at Markus, the Android paused for a second, “Yes Carl..” He looked at you for a second. “Oh- I’m fine, maybe a water?” You asked before turn looked back up at Carl. Markus nodded and walked out the studio door. You looked at the way he went and furrowed your eyebrows, looking back at Carl then shrugging. “He’s very special to me.” You smiled at the cute way he said that.

You and Carl had met when you were at an Art show in Spain with your parents, who were critics for the world. You were only around sixteen when you first met him and now you would be knowing him for over ten years because of your now turning twenty-six. You had been close, him of course as stated before being the inspiration for a lot of your art and the whole reason for your beginning as an artist in general. You smiled at your reminiscing before climbing the ladder. It gave a soft groan before cracking a bit. You looked down, your movements ultimately stopping. Fear overcame you slowly, you reached for the paints from the step you were at.

They were still too high, you furrowed your eyebrows and slowly went up another one, the ladder cracking under your weight. It was an old ladder, no one had been on it since Carl lost his legs, and you met him in a wheelchair. So why there were paints on top of a 20ft ladder, maybe he wasn’t afraid of heights when he started, who knows? You knew that you were uncomfortably high and the higher you went the more the old wooden ladder snapped and cried out in painful groans.

You gave a shaky breath reaching for the paints again when you grabbed the bottles you needed you let out a soft yes and lent back, beginning to come down before you foot slipped through the gap between the other step. As you flew back you felt as if everything was in slow motion, you were too high in the air to not hit the ground without severely hurting something, but you watched as the paint had slipped through your finger-tips and flew to the ground. Carl had yelled your name and as you felt something that you presumed was the floor hit you, you braced yourself. Only no pain can.

You blinked, shaking lightly before you looked up. Making eye-contact with light green orbs, “Are you alright?” The smooth voice asked, making heat rise to your face. “I- Thank you,” You said, your hand by slight accident, you felt his heart…or what you guessed was his heart. It was, beating, like a human. And you watched as his eyes gazed over you, they squinted…his LED flashed yellow, then back to blue. You heard Carl come down and get into his wheel-chair rolling over to you.

Markus gently let you down, “Good God! Are you alright? I’m glad you came back in time Markus.” Carl said taking your hand lightly. You looked around seeing broken glass on the ground near you. You turned to look for Markus who began to clean it up. “Y-Yeah, I am too.” The dark male looked up and smiled, “I knew that I had to move fast for a reason. Whether it was to get you your drink, Carl. Or save a damsel in distress.” He said, winking. Carl laughed, “Wow. I’ve taught you well.” Carl said.

The older man sighed looking over at the spilled paint bottle. Blue and Grey paint crossed together to make an ugly mark on the floor. “Damn.” He muttered wheeling over to it, You bit on your thumb. “This was my fault, Carl. I’ll get you some new paints…on me.” You said holding the older man’s shoulder softly. He looked up to you and waved his hand, “That’s not necessary Y/N.” He said shaking his head beginning to roll back to his lift. You jumped in front of him. “No, Carl I insist.” You said crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed, “Oh sweet Y/N. You’ve always been so stubborn.” He rolled his eyes. You grinned, “Fine, Markus…take the girl to Bellini’s, you know what to get.” He said to get around you and hopping into his lift. “Now hurry please.” He said, you looked over at Markus, he smiled back. He felt his pump begin skipping slightly as he saw your smile. The way he looked at you was….special.

Tags:

@glitch-girl318 / @sodatune

I’d love to hear other peoples’ thoughts on this, but hear me out…

Soap is lowkey way scarier than Ghost

He’s not usually scary because he doesn’t try to be. Soap is very charming and boisterous and has a great sense of humor.

But I saw someone point out how Soap’s eyes are just on the side of too blue if he wants them to be. Too intent. Have you seen the way he looks at graves? Have you seen the way his ADHD ass focuses with that wide-eyed, predator-like intensity?

Soap isn’t a bad guy, he wants to fight for what’s right. But he likes the fight. He has fun. I sincerely believe this man has a very well-hidden and controlled sadistic side.

He’s a demolitions expert. He’s incredibly smart and incredibly destructive. I feel like people headcanon him as being the most effeminate or happy-go-lucky of the 141, which he very well may be! But I also think he is the most batshit insane and quite possibly the last person I’d want to cross.

I rest my case here 😌