#THIS FIC TEARS ME APART

[charcoaledrocks]

hello Tumblr User @pittdpeaches you ruined my life / j

[intelligentbees]

Ik we stevetonies love our ‘Steve pulling Tony out of a bender in the workshop’ trope but me? I LOOOOVE the other way round. A bad mission and Steve loses someone - he tried to save them but it was too late, he couldn’t get there in time. And post-mission he just holes himself up in the gym and stays there. For days. Working himself to exhaustion just so he can shave half a second off his sprint (half a second and that person would be alive), punching bag after bag until his hands are bloody and raw.

Tony is the only one who can get through to him like this. It’s only his voice that can make Steve pause, come back to himself. Sometimes Tony has to actively stand in front of whatever it is Steve’s attacking, which absolutely infuriates him, but damn if it isn’t effective in a way only Tony no-thought-to-his-own-self-preservation Stark could be. And Tony is equally as infuriated that steve is insisting on doing this to himself, but even though his tone is angry, his touch against Steve’s knuckles is impossibly soft.

He’ll drag Steve back up to the land of the living. Put him in the shower and clean him off, freshen him up, make him feel human again. Steve will already be healing, of course, but Tony still tends and bandages his hands - attentive to the finest detail, devoting every part of his mind to just making Steve feel a little bit better.

They don’t talk much throughout this. God knows Tony’s tried it before, but Steve is never in the headspace for it, and Tony never says the right thing anyway. But he’s there.

He runs his fingers over the back of Steve’s palms. Up his forearms. He strokes the sharp curve of Steve’s neck, settling against the quick pulse. Steve’s face is blank, but Tony is always surprisingly patient with him. He waits.

“I’m fine,” Steve will say every time, while his face will say the opposite.

“You’re an idiot,” Tony will respond. “I’m locking you out of the gym.”

He won’t. Steve needs it, even if it’s unhealthy, even if it’s agonising for Tony to watch. This is just how they get through.

But Steve will see the way Tony is looking at him- distressed, angry, worried - and it’ll break through the fog. The thing that always takes priority over everything is Tony, and even though Steve’s brain is screaming at him to get right back to it, he just can’t put it above Tony’s well-being. He couldn’t ever do that.

“I Guess I can take a break now.”

[mishapen-dear]

the road to hell is paved with good intentions

[josephtrohman]

how in 20+ years of consistently wearing hats, many of them baseball/trucker hats, has patrick never been photographed (to my knowledge at least) wearing one backwards. does he know the kinds of things that would do to people with terrible taste (me). like please throw a dog a bone already

[raticalshoez]

And I'd hope that if I find the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way.

Just finished the fic You Could've Applied Online and it permanantly altered my brain chemistry...

Versions without text:

[sairee]

We're both coming home (Ghost x Soap)

Ghost and Soap get ready for the final mission and seek comfort in each other before they leave.

Chapter 46 excerpt from Don't Let Me Go on ao3.

It was long days followed by even longer nights. Perhaps Ghost was expecting something dramatic to happen. The sky would darken, or every television would suddenly cut to breaking news, or someone would come crawling to their doorstep, bloodied and with desperate stories to tell.

But in fact, it was quite mundane.

It was a normal day. The team had finished a recon mission just a few days prior and were currently waiting around for a new set of orders to come in that would inevitably whisk them off to someplace else.

Ghost was sitting on a couch in the breakroom next to Soap who was roughly sketching something in his notebook. Ghost rested his head on the back of the couch and stared up at the grey ceiling, one arm over the couch and his other hand on Soap’s thigh.

The gentle scratching of Soap’s pencil was occasionally interrupted by quiet footsteps tapping down the hallway. Ghost let himself be relaxed by the sound of the drawing as well as Soap’s quiet puffs of breathing and he slowly closed his eyes.

Ghost didn’t realize how much time had passed when he was gently nudged awake. He opened his eyes and looked over at Soap who was tilting his notebook towards Ghost to show him something. Soap then looked up at Ghost, his face falling slightly.

“Oh shite,” he said. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were sleeping…”

Ghost blinked a couple times and rubbed at his eyes. “No, it’s okay,” he replied, lifting his head off the couch. He gave Soap’s thigh a reassuring squeeze. “What is it?”

Soap smiled and raised his notebook again. “What do you thi-” he started to say but was quickly interrupted by Price careening into the room.

They both abruptly looked up and at the man. He was uncharacteristically flustered, eyes frantic, and out of breath. Ghost immediately sat up straighter.

“We got him…” Price panted, still holding onto the door frame.

“What?” they both asked at the same time. But Price was already rushing out the door. The two of them jumped off the couch and clambered after him down the hall.

-After the debrief-

The team was dismissed back to their quarters to pack everything up. As Ghost and Soap made their way back to their room, Ghost could feel a suffocatingly thick tension in the air. The two of them silently collected their belongings, the unspoken pressure on their shoulders an ever-present feeling between them.

They’d been on risky missions before, taken down countless people and organizations, but this felt different. Even the missions they’d been on in the past few weeks were relatively easy and had been completed without much worry.

No doubt this was Jürgen’s last chance. If shipments were being organized out of a single facility, that meant that this was his final stand. He had everything in one place and would go to extreme lengths to ensure that he wasn’t stopped.

There was going to be protection, armed guards, high security.

It was going to be dangerous.

From the way that Soap’s lips were pursed and a tense furrow morphed his brow into serious concentration, Ghost could sense that these same thoughts were rattling around Soap’s mind too.

“Hey…” Ghost said softly. “Come here.” He slithered his hand around Soap’s waist and pulled the two of them closer. Soap’s eyes were focused but there was a rare, hidden hesitation behind them. “We got this…”

Soap faintly nodded and raised his hand to cup the side of Ghost’s face. Ghost laced their fingers together against his cheek and leaned into the touch.

Secretly Ghost was also fearful, a feeling he didn’t often get before going on a mission. He’d just gotten Soap back and was terrified to lose him again. If this was Soap’s last mission… then it would also be Ghost’s.

“Both of us are coming back home,” Soap said, almost as if trying to convince himself.

“Of course.”

Soap dropped his eyes to where Ghost’s lips were under his mask and he ran his thumb over them.

“How’s this?” Ghost said quietly, taking Soap’s hand and pulling it back. “We’ll save that for when we get back. Keep something to look forward to…”

A slight flicker of disappointment flashed across Soap’s eyes before he nodded in acceptance.

“Okay.”

Ghost leaned forward and placed a kiss in between Soap’s eyebrows. Soap let out a sigh and closed his eyes as Ghost lingered there for a few seconds.

Despite his heart telling him not to pull back, he eventually did.

“Let’s finish packing up, yeah?” Ghost said. “They’re probably waiting on us.” With a small chuckle, Soap nodded and the two of them finished packing their bags. Soap scooped up the shell of Ghost’s hard mask and handed it to him to put on. Ghost’s hand reached out and squeezed Soap’s one last time before the two of them made their way to the tarmac.

Full chapter ao3.

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

on today's episode of "hey fuckass did you know that fic authors can see the fucking bookmarks you make for their fics"

[ufolane]

everyone's losing their mind simping over @naffeclipse's cryptid sightings and then there's me coming outta left field obsessing over vanessa. that's alright, i got two hands

[smilysstuff]

Sighhh guess who decided to rebinge 'Put my guns in the ground' in an entire day

[faz-friendly-light-up-shoes]

"The storm outside the plex raged on, the sounds of if were faint through the tune of the daycare but the occasional flicker of the over head lights served as a good enough indicator that it wouldnt be letting up soon. Youre pretty sure you are arent supposed to be here for as long as you have when you're off the clock and the plex is closed but hey. Its not like you can just. Go out in this weather right?"

[ollyollyaxe]

no adam don't do it, that man hasn't had his rabies shot!!

inspired by @theflirtmeister's hoffheight fics, never thought i'd ship this but i fear i've been converted

[ginkgo-mist]

started reading @wyrvel ‘s fic, “Let the Devil in”

n it’s giving me sooo many brain worms it’s so good

[leafy-m]

My stupid story is 20k now how I do make it stop 😵

[couthbbg]

god. im having like near death trade experience shakes at the mere thought of this happening to Willy and our core. I’m so sorry ducks fans. leafs fans,… prayers of gratitude to any god you believe in,, amen

[saylorsaysstop]

Dick Grayson is such a slut.

That’s it. That’s the post.

He can be 🔛🔝 of me

(And until I find someone else, my fan cast has always been Steven R. McQueen for Dick 😩)

[intrulogical]

oh the intrulogical is intrulogical-ing