Another Amazing Fix That I Would Like To Keep Track Of

I’m pan actually. YOU WERE WRONG

shout out to all the people who identify with gifted kid burnout syndrome who are probably just neurodivergent but werent diagnosed as a child, who used to devour books like it was nothing and never really understood why the protagonist would leave their cool fantasy world behind to go back home at the end of the story, and who are now extremely disappointed in reality and use escapism as their primary coping mechanism. how’s that bisexuality and deep-rooted anger at the school system going for you?

Angst angst angst (GhostSoap)

The touchdown back onto base after the death of Hassan was a breath of absolute fresh air to Soap’s aching chest. He was in pain, but was insanely happy that he’d survived the shit show that was the task to detonate that missile, fight armoured guards with nothing but glass and a box cutter, and directing Ghost to kill Hassan while Soap hung off a damn skyscraper. He was alive. And he was happy about it.

If he weren’t concussed from a hit in the head, hurt from a fall from elevators, being shot, being beaten and jumping through windows, he’d be practically bouncing off the plane. Instead, he followed Price out of the plane and took as deep a breath he could before the stabbing pain returned to his ribs. He would need to go to the infirmary, but eh, that could wait. What he really wanted was to talk to Ghost. He wanted to perhaps plan a time for them to chat after he was out of the infirmary.

He turned to Ghost with a big smile on his face, looking up to the blank eyes that were looking off into the distance.

“Hey Ghost~! Wasn’t that great?? We all did so well!”

Ghost didn’t respond. He looked down at Soap, who would’ve been a miserable sight. Cut, bruised, a gash on his forehead with blood down his face and neck that had dried, shot, burnt. Beaten in general. Foolishly, he kept talking.

“I can’t believe we succeeded on such an impossible mission, it sure is exhilarating!”

“The only reason you’re alive is because of me.”

“… What?”

“You heard me.” Ghost started advancing on Soap, who backed off, sensing anger. Every step that Soap took back, the taller man stepped forward.

“Your stupidness meant that you got shot, and you had to traverse a city alone to get to me. Why did that take you a fucking hour, Soap?? I was there within fifteen minutes! You nearly died!”

Soap shrunk in his skin. “Woah woah- where is this coming from…?”

Ghost paid no attention. “You seem to think you’re a human fucking pin cushion! You’ve been shot how many times in the past 48 hours?? Graves, Hassan, Shadows?? And all through that you don’t shut up! You’re only quiet when I want you to talk to me!”

“I followed yer orders…”

“I had to save your life twice!”

“… ‘m sorry… I thought we were friends… what about all the joking-“

“I work alone, Johnny. That way I don’t have to save people and I don’t have to be saved.”

The last sentence was spoken with such a blank tone that it almost scared Soap more than the shouting. Everyone was looking at them. Everyone was looking at Soap. Recruits too, hearing that he had to be saved multiple times, that he’d been hurt so many times over. He looked down, furrowing his eyebrows in an effort not to cry. His chest was tight, and all the pain he’d felt before was tripled. He always struggled with the feeling that he didn’t belong, but he thought Ghost actually liked him as a person. Now, he was ashamed, embarrassed, and burdened by a freight train’s weight worth of impostor syndrome.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but shook it off and barged past Price; the owner of said hand. On his way to the infirmary, probably in Ghost’s field of vision but he hoped not, he began sobbing. His hands, bloodstained and cut, soaked up the tears and smeared oil and blood and grease all over his face. He was pathetic. He didn’t belong. He was stupid to think he made a friend, especially in someone who wore a fucking skull on his face.

(There will be more parts)

Nice to see we all have taste.

Rebloging so I remember when it updates!

It’s warm and cozy and honestly perfect.

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for Captain America, a Witch and a Fluffy White Cat, a shrunkyclunks soulmate AU by @thedamageofherdays 😍 22k, E

created for @marveltrumpshate

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Bucky Barnes + Tumblr Text Posts

+ a Civil War Bonus:

The ratio is:

If I can see it, there is too much corpse.

Solution: 7 weighted blankets

Alright people, prepare to cry.

So, in Infinity War, the Infinity Gauntlet has the power to change reality right? So what if that means the people that were snapped were never really snapped, they just weren’t able to be seen or interacted with. They could move around and talk, but the people who weren’t dusted would have no idea they were there.

That would mean that the people who were dusted saw their family “ignore” them for five whole years.

Peter thought he saw Tony get tired of him, and work without him.

Bucky thought he saw Steve forget he was there and thought it was karma for him forgetting Steve.

Clint’s family thought they saw their dad and husband leave them all alone.

Groot thought he saw Rocket loose interest in him.

Steve: Great invention, Mr. Stark.

Howard, holding a jar of peanut butter: Thank you.

Peggy: But, the name…

Howard: What’s wrong with sticky nut juice?

Bucky: Everything. Every. fuckin. thing.

Awwww. You made Ahsoka so adorable <3

They're so sibling coded, Rex is definitely that one mom friend to have snacks on him