— Identity

This or nothing

society if women were seen as people

I don't need to defend him but I'm sick of people slamming him at every chance. So here's an audio clip of him openly being anti-trump. There are 2 clips actually that I stitched together cause he's a rambler. But I recommend you listen to the whole thing though.

FULL EPISODE HERE.

Time-stamps:

The first half hour they talk about his work.

Around the 6min mark he's comparing Lee Iaccoca to Trump and calls him a POS.

35min in the talk about the election of 2019.

37min is where my clip is from. He calls him a chump and says they need to get him out of office.

44min he talks about having family that are Trump supporters.

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

Dog Tags

AN: Just a little blurb before bed, got this idea during the Super Bowl and I couldn't stop thinking bout it. I won't lie this idea made me tear up earlier so i only felt good if i could make other people feel the same way :)

Warnings: blood, death, angst

You were exhausted from running around, patching up soldier after soldier, not having enough time to even look at the dead one's faces before her watch pinged you of someone else needing help.

Right now, you were sprinting through tunnels underground, this one farther away than most. Dead bodies littered the halls, none you recognized in your quick passing.

The 141 had teamed up with the local forces to stop Makarov's forces from blowing up the tunnel. There had been more troops than expected, turning into a massacre, you having to watch your step to avoid all of the bodies.

As you were nearing your destination, you could see a clearing between two tracks, instantly recognizing one of the figures as Ghost. His mask making him easy to identify.

Your stomach dropped. One of the 141 was hurt. Was it Price? Gaz?

You sprinted faster, slowing as you saw them surrounding a body on the ground, the all too familiar face of Soap, your Soap, looking blankly at the sky.

The men instantly parted for you, guilt flashing in their faces as you could see your soldier clearly.

Nonononononononononono.

You dropped to your knees next to his head, desperately feeling for a pulse even though you knew there wasn't one.

Tears blurred your vision as your hands fumbled around, trying hopelessly to find any source of life from the man lying in front of you.

You felt someone's hand touch your shoulder and heard Price's gruff voice, "M' sorry but he's gone hon'."

Shaking your head, you cradled Soap's head in your lap, his beloved mohawk squished and covered in blood from where the bullet was shot into his head.

It wasn't possible, maybe it was just some prank. Maybe he'd suddenly blink and laugh and brush away your tears while holding you to his chest, apologizing for how dramatic he was.

But the longer you stared into his empty baby blue eyes you knew he wasn't going to blink.

You knew he'd never give you that beautiful smile that lit your whole world up. You knew he'd never laugh so hard he'd clutch your shoulder, crying. You knew he'd never carry you to bed after falling asleep watching a movie. You knew you'd never wake up with his arms around you, his face nestled into your neck.

Letting out a choked sob, you pressed your face into his bloody shirt, not paying attention to your pinging watch. They didn't matter anymore. No one mattered anymore. Not when your soldier, your love, your life was gone. No one else deserved to live when he was gone.

The men let you grieve as long as possible, keeping watch for any enemy soldiers, any that threatened to take you, knowing they already failed their brother in arms once, they wouldn't fail him again by letting you go with him.

You didn't know how long you stayed there, your body shaking with sobs before Ghost picked you up, Soap's body being taken away to somewhere else. Somewhere away from you.

Price was kind enough to tuck Soap's dog tags in your hand, your fist immediately grabbing hold of them and tucking them into your chest.

You didn't feel the rumbling of the car as you took off, didn't feel Ghost carrying you out, didn't feel him putting you in your bed.

No.

You felt the dig of the metal dog tags in your hand. You felt the cool sheets, normally warm from Soap's body.

But most of all, you felt the absence of him. The absence of your other half, forever.

You’re not depressed. You just need $250,000 in your bank account.