#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.

[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.

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United 5-4 Olympique Lyonnais

Well. That happened.

I'm still in shock. I felt violently nauseous after the final whistle from the emotional rollercoaster and associated whiplash of that game.

United took an early lead in the tie after 10 minutes, with a great bit of quick play and movement leading to an easy gap and sidefoot finish for Manuel Ugarte - one of those goals that anybody could finish but that United have not been creating this season. Promising.

The Red Devils would continue to dominate possession and dictate the game before finally breaking through with their second goal in first half stoppage time, with a beautiful diagonal long ball from Harry Maguire finding Diogo Dalot who successfully held off the Lyon defender, balanced himself, took a touch, and bam, a low acute finish off the inside of the far post. Sublime. Your sins are forgiven for another week, Diogo.

At this point, United are in full control. FULL control. 4-2 on aggregate, 2-0 up at home, Lyon look toothless.

We come out for the second half. We continue where we left off. Alejandro Garnacho is released with a long ball from the depths of United's half. It's a race, he's onside, he's edging ahead... he cuts back and sells the defender out. It's 1v1 with the keeper but a whole acre of net behind him to curl a shot into.

He shoots near post and a point blank save is made. ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

This was the turning point, because we failed to put Lyon to the sword when our own confidence is so shaky this season.

Lyon got one back in the 71st minute through Tolisso, with a 1-2-3 sequence of headers evading Dorgu, Maguire and Yoro to root Onana to his spot and get the French side back in the tie. Maguire even ducked the ball as it came at him, which was so poor to see.

One goal became two, and Lyon levelled the match and the tie with a goal just six minutes later from Tagliafico: Dalot failing to stop or block the initial cross, Dorgu abysmal at blocking the ball towards him or noticing the player he's meant to be marking, and Yoro caught half a yard out from where he needed to be to stop Tagliafico scoring.

I will say - Yoro played very well tonight, but the fact there are 2 goals and 2 errors... it's not just a him problem, but with more experience he'll be good enough (like a Bruno) to undo the damage caused by lesser players (Dalot etc) making silly mistakes. Quality can buy you grace, and with time this kid will show his more and more and more.

Leny actually had a John Terry moment (no, not racism). A slip on the grass took him down from blocking a shot, so the young Frenchman threw his body forward and blocked it with his head/face. Heroic. That's bravery. Blood and thunder stuff. Dying for the game.

There was what we thought was a momentary reprieve with a second yellow card for Corentin Tolisso, but Lyon looked entirely unfazed by the drop to 10-men, and United looked goosed. Utterly exhausted. We failed to capitalise on the advantage before full time, so into extra time we go...

It's at this point that we fucked up again.

Rayan Cherki, the magic footed forward, finally got his reward and a goal in the tie. 2-3, advantage Lyon, Old Trafford stunned into silence.

It then got worse.

Yoro, trying to tackle, gets interceded by Luke Shaw who makes too much player contact in the box and down the man goes. Penalty to Lyon.

It was a good penalty and a goal for Lacazette. At this point we're done for. An Arsenal reject just knocked us out with 10 men. It's shameful. Banter FC's banter decade just entered a new level of banter that might be X rated.

What had been a generally good performance from people across the pitch (Dorgu overlapping, Hojlund's hold-up play and final third passing, Ugarte's shuttling in CM) just all fell apart. Maybe it was the fatigue, but it felt more like the mental state. The fragility of our own self-doubt manifesting.

Luckily, Casemiro and Bruno Fernandes exist. Mentality monsters. A foul in the box on the Brazilian earned a 114th minute penalty for the captain to bury. Game back on?

Fucking right game back on. Sir Kobbie Mainoo, super sub back from injury, is played in that advanced role that didn't work versus Crystal Palace. Well, it fucking worked here.

Best goal of the night from the kid, a stunning right foot curling effort from the inside left of the box. Top strike from a false striker, but they all count, and this one was MONUMENTAL.

Now Old Trafford's awake. It's happening. We can will it to happen. Our energy can transfer to them and manifest the shithouse comeback of all shithouse comebacks.

Well, we did it. An 11/10 lofted pass from Casemiro into the box, over the defender, and onto the head of Harry Maguire who had all the time in the world with the measured pace of the ball to frame his body right, lose the defender, and nod it across goal past the keeper. I give him a lot of shit, Slabhead, but fuck me he has his moments of genuine class. This was one of them. Peak United, elite composure, the stuff legends are made of.

This game had everything for the neutral. 1-0, 2-0, 2-1, red card, 2-2, extra time, 2-3, 2-4, 3-4 penalty, 4-4, 5-4. And a tifo. And flares. Fair play to Lyon for making it a spectacle with us, and for their fans for giving it 100% from the away end.

For the home fans though... I think we all need a cold shower and a lie down. It was exhausting. Players outperforming their usual selves this season only to revert back to it later on. Hope turning to despair turning to anger turning to hope turning to elation.

It's hard work being a United fan.

Next up in the Europa League are Bilbao; away on May 1st, and home on May 8th.

In the league though it's a home tie against Wolves on Sunday at 2pm. I shall be there. PLEASE can we have a quiet win 😅

[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.”

[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, Graves, 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

[accio-bagel]

Ellie Crawford

Quick MC Facts

✧ ABOUT ✧

Name: Elizabeth Crawford

Nickname: Ellie

Birth date: 23 October, 1874

Birthplace: London, England

Nationality: English

Blood status: Half-Blood

House: Slytherin

Sign: Scorpio

Orientation: Bi

Gender: witch (she/her)

✧ APPEARANCE ✧

Eyes: hazel

Hair: dark brunette, wavy, messy. usually tied into a braid/bun when long, cut short after 5th year

Height: 5’8” (172 cm)

Body type: athletic/slender

Markings: freckles, scarred left eye and several more scars/burns on her body after 5th year; eventually gets a lightning tattoo on her back

✧ PERSONALITY ✧

Sociability: extraverted introvert

Morality: grey, chaotic neutral

MBTI: ISTP

Archetype: lovable rogue

Positive traits: confident, cool under pressure, determined, funny, intelligent, kind-hearted deep down, loyal, perceptive, resilient, resourceful, silly, and witty

Neutral traits: ambitious, charismatic, competitive, criminal tendencies (used for both good and bad), cunning, flirtatious, independent, passionate, persuasive, private, rebellious, and sarcastic

Negative traits: blunt, cocky, deceptive, emotionally guarded, manipulative, power-hungry, stubborn, can be selfish, untidy, and vengeful

Likes: animals & beasts, the night sky, coffee, the mountains, the seaside, food (especially chocolate), spending time with close friends

Dislikes: anyone who hurts her loved ones, poachers, Ashwinders, boredom, authority and the status quo, peas, her parents, waking up early, and Binns’ droning voice

✧ EXTRAS ✧

Activities: Quidditch (Keeper), Crossed Wands

Hobbies: exploring, hiking/rock climbing, flying, photography, knitting, crafting

Pets: owl named Willow, cat named Cinnamon

Scent: green apple shampoo, a hint of fresh lilac, and smoke

Amortentia: bergamot, cedar wood, and Butterbeer

Favorite color: sea green

✧ MAGIC ✧

Wand: cherry wood, phoenix feather, 11 3/4", swishy

Patronus: crow

Animagus: crow, unregistered

Boggart: inferi who look like her loved ones

Ancient Magic: selective use, loves her lightning powers especially

Dueling style: agile, strategic, lots of taunting, and occasional use of Dark Magic

✧ RELATIONSHIPS ✧

Best Friends: Sam Cohen (my other OC), Poppy Sweeting, Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow

Friends: Natty Onai, Imelda Reyes, Garreth Weasley, Amit Thakkar

Enemies: Duncan Hobhouse (one-sided from him), the Beasts class bullies, the children of Ashwinders/poachers who hold a grudge against her, and the Ashwinders/poachers themselves

Family: estranged from her parents, Lavinia and Edmund

Love interests: note: she's had a lot of crushes and a few AU relationships so I won't list them all here. Sebastian Sallow (5th year), Imelda Reyes (6th year, unrequited), Garreth Weasley (6th year), and finally Alejandro Salvatori 💚 (OC by my platonic wife @savingsallow)

✧ BRIEF BACKSTORY ✧

An only child born to parents who didn’t want her and didn’t love each other. When it became apparent Ellie had no magical abilities, they cast her out as a Squib. Struggling to take care of herself after being abandoned by her family, she resorted to petty crime to survive and discovered she was actually good at it. At age 15, her first accidental magic outburst involved a chase with authorities after pressing her luck one too many times, resulting in Professor Fig finding her on the streets of London, panicking after she'd suddenly turned a policeman into a chicken. He took her in during the summer before term began at Hogwarts and became her mentor and pseudo-father figure.

✧ FUTURE ✧

Career: Curse-Breaker; Charms Professor

Residence: world-traveller; Hogsmeade

Spouse: Alejandro Salvatori

Children: twins Maria Isabel Salvatori & Emiliano Hugo Salvatori, born 23 January, 1907 🐍🐍

Thank you for reading 💚

Dividers by @rypnami

[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

[smilocity]

Author’s List of Writing

Characters I write about (including games, animes, shows, etc)

I write for only x female readers (Sorry in advance!)

COD

COD—Ghosts

David "Hesh" Walker

Logan Walker

Keegan P. Russ

Captain Commander Thomas Merrick

Kick

MWI—MWIII (Old and new)

John "Soap" Mactavish

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Captain John Price

Alejandro Vargas

Rodolfo Parra

Alex "Echo 3-1" Keller

Reacher

Jack Reacher

Joe Reacher

David O’Donnel

Calvin Franz

Tony Swanz

Jorge Sanchez

Manuel Orozco

Oscar Finlay

Haikyuu

Karasuno High (Everyone except Ukai and Takeda, Kiyoko and Yachi)

Aoba Johsai

Nekoma High

Inarizaki High

Shiratorizawa

Fukurōsani Academy

Kamomedai High

(I won’t write for EVERY character of these schools. There are many characters so I will be accepting them as long as I’m okay with it.)

One Piece

Roronoa Zoro

Vinsmoke Sanji

Monkey D. Luffy

Sabo

Portgas D. Ace

Marco

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Usopp

The Disastrous Life of Saiki. K

Saiki Kusuo

Kaido Shun

Kineshi Hairo

Kuboyasu Aren

Kuroko no Basket

Kuroko Tetsuya

Kagami Taiga

Kise Ryota

Midorima Shintaro

Aomine Daiki

Murasakibara Atsuhi

Akashi Seijuro

Kasamatsu Yukio

Hyuga Junpei

Izuki Shun

Takao Kazunari

Himuro Tatsuya

Hayama Kotaro

Ninjago

(I will not be writing about Lloyd since I don’t think he’s of "age" because of the whole aging potion thing.)

Cole Brookstone

Kai Smith

Jay Walker

Zane Julien

(I may just write head cannons or funny Drabbles.)

Young Justice

Robin Nightwing (Dick Grayson)

Connor Kent — Superboy

Wally West — Kid Flash

Red Arrow Arsenal — ( (1st Clone) Roy Harper)

Red Robin - Tim Drake

(2nd) Robin Red Hood — Jason Todd

LEGO Monkie Kid

Sun Wukong

Six-Eared Macaque

Nezha

MK 9-11 + MK 1(2023)

Raiden

Kung Lao (from either of the games)

Kenshi Takahashi (Taira) - (from either timeline)

Johnny Cage (Any MK)

Tomas Vrbada (Smoke)

Kuai Liang (Scorpion) - (MK 1)/(MK 11)

Liu Kang (Fire God/Chosen One/Keeper of Time)

Hanzo Hasashi (MK9-11)

Takeda Takahashi

Syzoth (Reptile)

S.W.A.T

Daniel "Hondo" Harrelson

David "Deacon" Kay

Dominique Luca

Victor Tan

James "Jim" Street

Resident Evil

Chris Redfield

Leon Scot Kennedy

Piers Nivans

Billy Coen

Ethan Winters

Carlos Oliveira

(I know, I know…I’m all over the place…Trust me…I just got into 9-1-1(in like 2024)…)

Any "weird/disturbing" asks will be deleted and you will be blocked!

[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

[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.

[aeon-borealis]

Captivated (2010 Version Remaster) Ch. 3

Chapter 3: Cut me a Deal

In English class, we’re doing a stupid partner project and much to my misfortune, I’m stuck with Owen the walking trash compactor. Earlier this week during lunch, one of my lovely lady friends pointed at Owen in sheer horror. I witnessed him polishing off three different lunch trays loaded with rubbery meat loaf, plastic mac and cheese, green beans that were more swamp matter than vegetable, and a 2 liter soda.

Honestly, his ability to pack it away is impressive. Competitive eating isn’t my scene and I can’t watch for more than a few seconds before the urge to throw up, but I digress. The nightmarish element was how indiscriminate he is about his food choices. The lunches here are inedible. I wake up an hour early every day to prep my own food to avoid the toxic waste fillings.

That’s the closest I have to a compliment about him. Otherwise, everything about him absolutely irritates me. He’s so cheerful it feels like he’s a living cartoon character, he’s oblivious and ignorant, and he honestly believes everybody is his friend. I was being nice and polite, you buffoon. It doesn’t automatically translate to something more unless you’re an attractive lady, a fellow football fan (the real football), or someone I genuinely admire.

“Heya, Al!” Owen trumpeted at me, waggling his hand in hopes of getting a high five.

I absolutely hate getting called ‘Al.’ Owen’s justification is that Alejandro is too hard to pronounce and he gives everybody some dumb, cute nickname. I asked him to call me Alejandro anyway but he steamrolls my request or chooses that moment to be a selective listener.

“Hello Owen,” I said with a customer service smile. I gave him a limp high five and he gleefully pushed our desks together while wearing his own annoyingly bright grin.

“I heard there was a cat fight over you in the cafeteria…” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Nice going, Al. You’re quite the ladies’ man, huh?”

“You could say that…” I tried to discreetly scoot as far as I could from him in my chair.

“So, you know some things about girls.” He leans closer and pushes his index fingers together. “Could you give me some advice?”

His breath is a mix of a whole garlic clove and a fish tank that desperately needs cleaned. While I don’t want to be rude, my eyes are watering and the scent is clogging my nose. I gasp and clap my hands over my mouth while dense Owen only leans in that much closer.

“She’s the most beautiful girl in the world!” He sighed as his eyes sparkled and his entire demeanor screamed lovesick puppy. “She has long red hair and...and….she’s so amazing. So amazing. I know she likes me since we made out in the back of my dad’s truck a couple times last summer. But I don’t know if that was just a one time thing….”

My eye twitches a few times as I physically stand up. I’ll cut class and eat the bad grade if it means one less second near a scent that’d horrify a grave keeper.

“I really want to ask her out.” Owen just keeps talking. “I don’t know if it’s too late. I’m scared.”

I groan and pinch my forehead. The pleasantries end here.

“Brush your teeth!” I growled. “Maybe use some mouth wash? Grab some cologne…”

“Okay…” Owen nodded a few times and stared at me expectantly.

“Okay.” I threw my hands up in surrender and met his gaze. “Test the waters. Flirt with her and see if she’s still receptive. Find out what she likes to do besides...making out in your dad’s truck. Start with a get to know you coffee date, and if that goes well-”

“Slow down, please!” Owen smiles at me. “I wanna write all this down!”

****

It’s a day after the cafeteria incident. Heather absolutely refuses to look my way and directs her full attention to the bedazzled phone under her desk. Elegant pink and velvet red nails dance across the buttons. Her other hand squeezes the wooden bars on the back of her desk chair, tightening and loosening like the loops of a boa constrictor.

The masochistic part of my brain imagines a pocket-sized version of me in that hand getting abused like a stress ball. No, she’d be smushing and stretching me like silly putty. Is it weird that I honestly find either one of those possibilities appealing?

“You have a quiz over the Spanish subjunctive tomorrow!” Mr. Smithfield announced with a dramatic finger wag as he reached for the chalk. Everything else he said quickly drowned out and became background noise.

Heather’s fingers continue dancing, her shoulders bob, and she lets out a few really frustrated grunts and breaths. I split my attention between looking at her softly swaying hair and idle doodling on a loose piece of notebook paper. If I stare at her too much, I’ll get caught.

Eventually, I stop studying her and move my attention to drawing cartoony caricatures of her instead. They’re rough and quick. I try to portray her catty smirks, smug little smiles, and add an unrelated one where she has a pair of cat ears. It’s cute enough I think I’ll keep it tucked in between my actual notes from more difficult classes.

“Alejandro…?” There’s a light tap on my desk. When I look up, Mr. Smithfield gives me a frustrated stare over the tip of his bulbous nose. “Could you stay after class a minute?”

Another quick look around the classroom and all of the other students were collecting books, talking to each other, and walking out. Curious, I sneaked a glance at Heather’s desk. She was still here, legs crossed and arms folded, scowling. The death glare she gave our teacher was heated enough it should have fried a hole in the side of his bald head.

“You’re familiar with Heather, right?” Mr. Smithfield gestured at her.

“We’re...acquainted,” Heather spoke up through gritted teeth.

“Excellent.” Smithfield clapped his hands and gave both of us a very forced smile. “So, have you ever tutored another student before, Alejandro?”

“Excuse me! If you’re that worried about my grades, why don’t you tutor me? That’s what study hall is for…” Heather said with a deepening frown.

“I have three other classes and mountains of papers to grade,” the teacher replied in a very tense, about to break tone. “I don’t have time. And I’ve asked my students to step in and tutor their classmates before. Most of them don’t mind and it’s been pretty successful in the past!”

“I absolutely refuse to work with him,” she said snottily, tilting her little pixie nose up in the air. There’s no way she doesn’t know how irresistibly adorable she is. No wonder she was Justin’s first choice out of his hordes of lovesick idiots.

“My go-to tutors are busy with school play prep!” Smithfield complained. “And you seemed pretty chummy with Alejandro. Are you two fighting or something?”

“That’s none of your business,” Heather growled.

“We can call a truce…” I winked at her.

That led to her shooting a death glare at me. Instead of her intended result, my heart soared and I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Heather…” Smithfield sighed heavily and turned towards her. “If you don’t get your grades up, you know you won’t be able to try out for the dance team. I’m trying to give you a last Hail Mary here, kid…”

I filed that comment away for later. That little tidbit was enough to break Heather’s angry mask. She looked vulnerable for a moment. Her dark eyes shifted as she mulled something over. Tentatively, she locked eyes with me and it was a bit unnerving. Despite how much I’ve enjoyed winding her up, I tried to keep a neutral expression.

After a moment, she blinked and shook her head, dragging fingers through her hair.

“There’s got to be another way…” she muttered.

“I...have study guides.” Smithfield shrugged helplessly. “You can try a YouTube tutorial? That might help if you’re a more visual learner.”

“Whatever…” She stood up, fists shaking, and stomped out of the classroom.

Once she was gone, Smithfield turned towards me with a very quick, awkward “I’m sorry” and immediately scurried back to his desk. He picked up and started clicking a pen, making a big show out of how busy, busy, busy he was now.

I scurried out of the classroom, hoping to catch Heather. Surprisingly, she’s only a few feet from the classroom door, hunkered against the wall and buried in something on her phone. Most of the other kids are in their next classes or slipping off campus early. The hallway is eerily deserted. When Heather grunts or curses, the sound echoes slightly.

“Heather…?” I take one tentative step towards her.

She jumps a little and snaps to attention like she was just electrocuted. Wide eyes and shock quickly fade to narrowed lids and an annoyed frown. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was serious about calling a truce,” I said in a gentle voice. “Mr. Smithfield is a...very subpar teacher. I’m a native Spanish speaker and I’m confident that my command of the Spanish language is above and beyond anything he could do. Even if he was competent.”

“Of course he sucks!” Heather sighed. “He’s a substitute teacher. He was only supposed to fill in 1-2 weeks tops, but we’re stuck with his ugly, stupid ass the rest of the year.”

“Damn….”

“Ms. Diaz was supposed to come back from maternity leave…” Heather grumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Disappointment briefly flashed across her face before she looked back up at me with a tight frown. “You probably see this as your in, right? I’m failing one of my classes and you’d swoop in as this knight in shining armor or some shit. Not happening.”

She’s not entirely wrong.

“Besides, I’m taken.” She snarled at me. “I heard what you pulled with Bridgette. You’re on the fast track to everyone’s shit list if you mess with the most popular couple in school…”

“I thought that was you and Justin?” I raised my eyebrows.

“No.” She shook her head and gave me this really condescending smirk. “Those two have been Homecoming King and Queen for my class every year. Everybody loves them. They’re friends with pretty much everyone in school.”

“Hmm…” I tapped my chin. “Alright. If this will put you at ease, I’ll leave Bridgette and Beth alone.”

“I really don’t care what you do with Bridgette.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you won’t find any success pulling that with me. I’m not falling for cheesy lines, roses, or other pointless romantic bullshit.”

“Is there anything I could do to tempt you?” I couldn’t resist shooting her an ornery grin.

“Again, happily taken.” She folded her arms. “So, you’re a native speaker?”

“Born in Peru, spent a year in Argentina, raised in Spain.” I put on my most confident smile as I tried to land my sales pitch. “I could teach you basic Spanish as well as give you a crash course in any slang, lingo, or differences between dialects you’d like.”

“Hmm….” She furrowed her brows. “I think we could hammer something out, Casanova. If you teach me, then I can get you a spot at the table.”

“Wasn’t Justin going to do that anyway?” I asked.

“No.” She snorts. “I know you’re gunning for the table. I might as well let you in on my terms and keep an eye on you.”

“Isn’t that counterintuitive?”

“If I’m the one vouching for you, then it’d be in your best interests to stay on my good side.” She looked at me through lowered lashes. “I’ll stop underestimating you if you stop underestimating me.”

My heart shot to the stratosphere as I tried to keep my cool. I managed to match her businesslike grin with my own.

“Deal.” I extended my hand. “Meet me in the library after school?”

“I’ll be there,” she said with a short nod.

She didn’t shake my hand. She patted my shoulder as she breezed past me and continued down the hall with a prideful strut and raised shoulders.

Chapter 2:

Chapter 4: In-progress

[protagonists-catastrophe]

I've done it again

"Rexer has an intense fear of cook books."

"Rexer crashed a riding lawn mower into their fence."

"Rexer pauses for a long time when speaking"

"Rexer sucks at fortnite"

"Rexer is resembled by a hammer" huh?????

"Rexer isnot allowed to drink energy drinks."

"Rexer wants a friend a whole lot"

"Rexer has a crush on their best friend."🤨

"Rexer likes Steven Universe but will never admit it."

"Rexer loves you."

"Rexer is praying to ok god" WHAT DOES THIS MEAN????

"Rexer lives off caffine and spite"

"Rexer hates animals and nature."

"Rexer voted Alejandro from total drama in the tumblr sexyman poll." this generator is so strange

"Rexer watched the Mario movie."

"Rexer has played smash or pass."

"Rexer knows how to make a key chain"

"Rexer was banned in Animal Crossing. This is how it all started"

"Rexer has watched too many 3 hour long video essays"

"Rexer wants attention for everything they do"

Warren is not safe from the generator he's next :]

// Oh no, not another one. Guess I'll answer this the best I can. 💀

1. False

2. False

3. True, but it depends on the situation.

4. True, he doesn't know what video games are.

5. False???? Goofy

6. True, bc he could get pretty shaken up and cause problems as a time keeper.

7. Unfortunately, this is true, but Rexer is never going to admit that. He wants people to really understand him.

8. True!! And now they are Canon. Rexen for the win!!!!

9. I'm going to say False because genuinely, I think he'd be confused. Warren probably would, tho.

10. FALSE!!!! THIS MAN WILL MANIPULATE AND USE YOU!!!! 🚩🚩🚩🚩!!!

11. True. Praying is fine by him, but he no longer aligns himself with religion. (There's a reason why he's only ever nice and sparing with Angelica's.)

12. True.

13. False! He loves nature and animals!! It doesn't matter how big or small, passive or hostile, animals are always precious to him. He will get super depressed if he destroys a world surrounded by many different animals.

14. False.

15. If it's game night with the other time keepers, and they all end up watching movies, sure. This can be true.

16. True, but I'll never tell you who he'd pick.

17. False because I don't really see him being the crafty sort. Unfortunately.

18. True. His villain arch... all bc he was toxic as fuck.

19. True!!! Especially if he has to document from the essays! He has to keep everything organized, of course.

20. Sadly, True. He wants to be recognized as an authoritative figure amongst all time keeper's and all life. He doesn't believe he is some 'God' by any means, but he sure acts like it at times.

// So the ratio this time iiiis...

12-8

[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."

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United 3-0 Leicester City

Ruud's time as interim boss comes to an end with a comfortable win at Old Trafford to make it 3 wins, 1 draw in his four games as gaffer.

Tactics may not have changed much, but it feels like attitudes - for most - have improved, and so too has United's gameplay.

Goals are still an issue, and United need much more from Rashford, Hojlund and Zirkzee, but Bruno Fernandes and Alejandro Garnacho continue to lead the line in their stead.

United's first was a lovely low, driven effort from Bruno - slotted past Hermansen after a cute backpass from Amad, though Alan Shearer pointed out that perhaps it was fortunate that the keeper failed to stop something so easily in his reach... harsh but fair. It was well hit but closer than should have passed him.

Goal two was an own goal that narrowly missed Bruno's head, but well crossed by Noussair Mazraoui - United's best signing in the last few years

Amad came close with a shot late on but the final goal was a sensational curling finish into the top right from Garnacho, who has been criticised by fans and pundits this season for his irratic decision making but there's no denying there's class and potential there. He sits pretty as United's best goal contributor so far this season - and this is him making errors of judgement. Wait til he locks in mentally, and then goes to Real Madrid lmao. Still, glad the kid could bag, and I really liked what Bruno said post-match about how he was wrong not to celebrate and wrong to doubt himself because of fan opinions.

It's the international break now (yaaaaaay...) but Ruben Amorim is here and will be legally/officially in place ready for our next fixture away to Kieran McKenna's Ipswich Town on Sunday November 24th.

[alex-toldastory]

TD circus AU

I thought of this as I was doodling heather on my homework.

Ringmaster- Chris

Trapeze- Heather and Alejandro

Or

Tightrope walker- Heather

Lion tamer- Alejandro

Knife throwing- Duncan and Gwen

Human cannonball- Tyler

Face paint- Lindsey, Sadie, Katie, and Beth

Magician- Harold

StrongWoman- Eva

Acrobat- DJ

Contortion- Brigette

Hand to hand balancing- Brigette and Geoff

Cowboy acts- Trent and Justin

Stilts- Cody

Fortune telling- LeShawna

Clowns- Owen and Izzy

Consession stand- Sadie and Kadie

Aerials- Courtney

Hula hoopers- Beth and Lindsey

Fire acts- Sierra and Gwen

Animal keeper- Ezekiel

Carnival Barker- Noah

Tech- Chef

I think imma do a collection of drawings for this AU.

I feel like Sadie, Katie, Lindsey, and Beth would switch roles all the time because they can't decide which one is more fun.

Gwen Definitely didn't enjoy being partnered Sierra but likes it now. Her and Duncan do a knife throwing skit/act

[More to come]