#Gary REALLY fucking hates me

[buddhistanchovies]

Rotoscoped my icon and made a sprite for her

Accidentally dropped the phone in holy water once so that’s where the icon came from

Personally I really liked the way the hair came out

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

i love and post a lot about entomologist roach but what about roach who got his callsign because he was terrified of insects and someone saw him freak out when he saw a cockroach

[talentforlying]

priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly? constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you? priest: you did what...? constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?

constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know! and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!! ...

constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way. — hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"

babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)

anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.

80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.

and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?

hm. i just don't know about all that.

[thebearer]

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust. 

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust. 

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.” 

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-” 

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.” 

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him. 

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.” 

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good. 

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.” 

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.” 

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office. 

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully. 

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?” 

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!” 

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant. 

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.” 

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open. 

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least. 

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.” 

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.” 

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned. 

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush. 

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly. 

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-” 

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered. 

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted. 

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.” 

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him. 

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded. 

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright. 

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.” 

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert. 

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left. 

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed. 

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock. 

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?” 

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered. 

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.” 

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?” 

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.” 

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil. 

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.” 

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven. 

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.” 

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?” 

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment. 

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie. 

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.” 

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.” 

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room. 

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded. 

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.” 

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in. 

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!” 

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please” 

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good. 

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!” 

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him. 

To: Carmen 

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’ 

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!” 

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way. 

So, Carmen did what he always did. 

From: Carmen 

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’ 

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret. 

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned. 

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance. 

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you. 

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.” 

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.” 

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?” 

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?” 

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked. 

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell. 

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way. 

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do. 

“What? Cousin, what are you-” 

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.” 

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned. 

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added. 

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him. 

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her. 

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-” 

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.” 

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?” 

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen. 

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.” 

[aethelwyneleigh27]

The Type of BF/GF Cod Characters Would Be (Scenario)

You know, like that one thing circling around TikTok

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

And yes I'm aware that some have repeated characters, some fit more than one

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I'm honestly on a roll and I've had my morning coffee so I'll start cracking, I have been trying to post more recently since it's October and I didn't really partake in the tober fests so I thought posting more might be good. Just me or are biker fucking hot? Yeah it's probs my thing for masked men.

Disclaimers/Warnings: OOC??

Doberman Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose first instinct was to protect you when you officially became theirs, initially they were always protective in subtle ways, subtle ways that also assert dominance over others. Little things like having a hand on your lower back or gently gripping your waist to move you. Their claimed spot is behind you, since they always find it to work when intimidating others and making sure no one even glances at you the wrong way. Might seem like they're intimidating but to you it's a different story, they're sweeter, more docile? Just far more affectionate and you basically have them wrapped around your finger. Switches in the bedroom but dom leaning, can be subs if you want them to be.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

Golden Retriever Boyfriend/Girlfriend who are so loyal to the bone, they're fun and oftentimes a little himbo-ish? Quality is the best spent with you, kind of follows you around all the time. They're very clingy but do respect your personal space if you aren't in the mood, though that's what you love about them isn't it? That's they're insistent and wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Also love doing things for you (acts of service) and lives for it when you praise them. Switches in the bedroom, sub leaning.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Tabby cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend whose chill around others but absolutely craves your affection behind closed doors. The kind of people sometimes randomly show affection in front of others even if they HATE pda. The kind of people who have been traumatized yet still affectionate as can be, everyone loves them for being down to earth but they do have bit of an odd side that only you see. Is a hardcore switch, no leaning.

Characters: Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Black cat Boyfriend/Girlfriend who randomly bring home things that made them think of you, they knew you'd like it but only let out a subtle smirk. Lives for you being their adorable little sunshine, mean and cold towards other but less with you. Tried to give you tough love but eventually gave in because you are you. You know how cats sometimes bring you dead animals as a proof of affection and acceptance, they've done that... only with a human head of course. Providing for you and making sure you're taken care of is their love language, very protective and can really hurt people if they wanted to, someone hurts or upsets you? Their head will be displayed on your front porch. Hardcore doms in the bedroom. (Yandere AU anyone??)

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves.

[aph-japan]

@alpaca-clouds @alpaca-clouds @alpaca-clouds I asked you once and you blatantly ignored me, so I'm taking it to main because you clearly don't give a care to acknowledge I commented to you directly about this. This post will remain on my blog until you delete the gif.

REMOVE MY MEIKO GIF FROM YOUR ANTI POST. THANKS

My personal Digimon season ranking

Given August is Digimon month, I cannot help but do one of these. Because, oh boy. I have not made one of those in a long, long while.

Now, let me tell you one thing clear: I have been in the Digimon fandom since Adventure started airing 2000 in Germany. I still vividly remember getting into the show and what the first episodes I watched were. I have obsessed about this show for so long...

But I also have unpopular opinions when it comes to the seasons. So let me get to those.

And please note: I will not list Digimon Adventure: (2020), as I only watched the first 22 episodes and then just dropped it. But I will list Digimon Adventure tri., though it is not quite a season.

#1 Digimon Tamers

My number one Digimon season is and will probably always be Digimon Tamers. This show really has no right to be as good as it is. Like, holy shit. This show went so hard in so many regards.

It really is the only season of Digimon that has something like a proper pacing. With only a couple of episodes being actual filler, while most do progress either story or character arcs. And those character arcs are so fucking good.

When I was a kid, I got so hooked on Ruki, because she was just such a good female character. But by now I do appreciate them all. (Well, Ryou maybe less, but that is a story for another day. Because he is one of those examples where I also grew up on those games and I love game!Ryou...)

Also, the amount of amazing background characters is kinda hilarious. Like, background figures like Janyuu, Yamaki or Shibumi are so well written.

Not to mention: For a 2001 merchandise TV show with 51 episodes, the animation has no business being as good as it is. How is it, that this series still has better animation than some of the later series?!

So, yeah, all around great show. Love it. Will rewatch most certainly a couple more times.

#2 Digimon Universe Applimonsters

And while a lot of people will absolutely understand, why I put Tamers in first place, pretty much most people will not get, why I would put Appmon in second place. Because other than Tamers this has a ton of filler episodes.

But to me none of that really matters, based on the fact that I just love the freaking character writing in this show, all the references to computer history and also... The fact that this show is gay as fuck. I mean, holy fuck, the entire Haru/Yuujin thing? Yeah, it warms my little queer heart so much!

But other than that it is another series where I really just love all the characters a ton. Haru is probably the goggle boy I relate to most out of all of Digimon. But I also really loved the other characters in this series, including the Digimon partners and what not.

So, yeah, to me this is my second favorite Digimon show.

#3 Digimon Savers

Masaru in a way is the polar opposite character to Haru, isn't he? While Haru is this soft spoken, introverted guy, Masaru is just this pure hardcore masculinity! GAAAAR! So, while I do like him less as a character than I like Takato or Haru, I did enjoy the writing in this show quite a lot. There were a ton of personal stakes to the story, that the others seasons did not bring in as much as this show did. And that was something I really enjoyed.

And while it got ridiculous at times, I also liked how Masaru was a bit more involved in the battles by punching stuff. Though I kinda am sad that they did not go with that original concept where all the characters would've been able to punch stuff.

I also enjoyed that the characters were a bit older in this, though ironically my favorite characters from the season are Chika and Ikuto.

#4 Digimon Ghost Game

There might be some bias here based on the fact alone that it is the most recent season of the franchise. But even though it was basically 100% episodic, I did enjoy almost every one of those episodes. Basically the show is 100% vibes for me, but oh boy, do I love those vibes.

I find this season kinda weird in terms of how it kinda pushed for two Digimon/human ships, with Ruli/Angoramon clearly being coded into the text, while it is also fairly clear that Jellymon is romantically interested in Kiyo. I mean, there always were seasons where you could definitely go for Digimon/human ships....... but it was never like this. But then again: All power to the monster fuckers, right? xD

And yeah... Being a fan of the horror genre, I absolutely adored how many episodes were based around classical horror stories from all around the world. That was so freaking fun! :D

#5 Digimon Adventure 02

Okay, let me make one thing clear: Digimon Adventure 02 is not a good series. It is not. Knowing what I know about how chaotic it was behind the scenes, aka how chaotic and cursed this production was, this is also not a big surprise. I disliked the show for this for quite long. I mean, there is tons of filler and the animation is soooooo bad in soooo many episodes. I mean, there is a ton of fan animation that is better than this series. But...

It also is kinda charming.

See, the thing about this show is, that I kinda still do like how the characters develop over the show and how... positive a lot of it is. The characters are sweet with each other and even with their enemies. And a huge chunk of the show is also dedicated to the characters outright trying to rebuild the digital world.

Also, this show has Ken, who to this day is one of my favorite Digimon characters. So, fuck it. I actually still kinda like it.

#6 Digimon Frontier

Fun Fact: I grew up with the Japanese dub of Digimon, but Digimon Frontier is the one season, where I actually kinda liked the US Dub, just based on the US soundtrack for this show. I really kinda liked the vibe it had.

In a way I do feel that this show had in fact the strongest character designs out of all of Digimon. The characters just have the right level of detail. They do not look overdesigned, but also not too simple. I really digged that. And yes, as a kid I cosplayed Takuya a lot.

To me the series just mostly suffers when it comes to the pacing. Not because of the fillers really (I am fine with fillers, as long as the fillers are fun), but rather in terms of the Cherubimon-arc being sooooo long and everything happening after it feeling kind of like an afterthought.

But I still very much like the characters. I just wished they did not make Junpei a glutton. One fat character who isn't a glutton. Is that so much to ask?

#7 Digimon Xros Hunters

For anyone now going like: "But this is not even a series on its own!" I will kindly ask you: "Shut up, this is my list." Because those couple of episodes from Xros Wars that were clearly just meant to fill the timeslot for a couple more weeks, do have a very different vibes from the rest of the show.

Now, this also is basically just filler + then the crossover event. But... At times this was kinda sweet. I liked the vibes this show had at times and some of the characters were kinda likeable.

And I really liked the opening.

It was not good. Definitely wasn't. But there was stuff about it I liked.

#8 Digimon Adventure

Yeah, let's get to my most controversial Digimon opinion: I do not like Digimon Adventure a lot. I really don't. Some of the characters are fine, yes, but... I do not like a lot more of this show. Mostly because I fucking hate the crest system and how morally simplistic the show is, with the bad guys just all being bad guys with not much depth. Meanwhile most of the characters are horribly underwritten and have their entire character arcs rushed through within like two episodes.

And I just hate Yamato and how the show just tries to excuse all of his bullshit. There. I said it. I think he is a horrible character. A horrible brother. And a horrible friend. So, yeah, fuck him.

And Nishizono, the showrunner, had no plan where he was going when he started writing. Not entirely his fault, given that he inherited a production that two other writing teams already had abandoned. But maaaaaan, it shows.

#9 Digimon Xros Wars

What is there to say?

Digimon Xros Wars sucked. It sucked. And to this day I wonder what the drama behind the scenes was. We know there was drama (given the showrunner abandoned the production half-way through!) but details are sparse even ten years later.

But, yeah. Taiki is a fucking Gary Stu and the plot just shifts around him. The story is a whole mess. The female characters get sexualized to no end. Everyone who is not Taiki gets sidelined constantly. The animation is inconsistent. And what not.

And the really sad fact: The manga is so fucking good.

I am fairly certain that most issues are because of production drama. And one day I am gonna find out what that drama was.

#10 Digimon Adventure tri.

Digimon Adventure tri. is one of the things that by themselves are not good, but get really bad once you consider the universe it is set in. It is one of those things put into an existing canon without honoring the existing canon at all.

It just ignores basically everything happening in 02. The character developments from anything that has happened before. The 02 characters are just not there. The "original chosen children" exist and yet the OVA does not give them the attention they deserve. And Meiko is just... Oh boy. Meiko is just a horrible character for so many reasons.

It is just fucking sad that this exists. So fucking sad. Just why?!

Also, for OVAs the animation is so bad. Soooooo bad.

[chleem]

Is it casual now?/extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, angst,

Warnings: swearing, sex, light read, etc

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

⋆.˚ official one shot, extra I

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. A smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

-------------------------------

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

[buttercup12233]

Alastor is such a Gary stu that wants everybody to know that he's "sCaRy" because he can have black eyes and red pupils, turn big, and shoot out tentacles. Like bro. That's not creepy. And most of his lines fucking suck. How does he know about modern slang? Didn't this guy die during the great fucking depression? Not to mention, this guy swears a whole lot. It would've been perfect if the only time he ever swore was when his staff got broken apart. That would've really shocked the audience. I wouldn't mind him saying "fuck" a few times, but when that shit becomes a common thing, that's a problem. Swearing wasn't common in the 1900's. So why is Alastor using it on a daily basis. He no longer stands out from the cast. He's just another edge lord. He says the most corniest lines too like omg everytime he says ONE embarrassing word, I have to pause from watching the show bc the guy gives me second hand embarrassment. He's trying so hard to be terrifying that it's not working. For some reason, Alastor just wants power.... I'm not sure if it was planned from the start, but the execution is dog shit in my opinion. Pilot Alastor was done better than this. The reason why pilot Alastor was so creepy and overall an amazing character, at least in my opinion, was because you didn't really know exactly how he was feeling, or what was going on inside his head. The whole point of him volunteering to 'help' Charlie run the hotel was that he could see sinners fail and give himself some entertainment. He even flat out admits it in the pilot. But then you just have that gut feeling that there's something more going on with Alastor. That he's probably planning something else than just finding entertainment. Let the 'him wanting power' be like a b plot if THAT was the case (explain why he even wants power too bc if he just WANTS it for the sake of it, then that's boring). And I think what was the most exciting thing about his character, was that he was mysterious. Notice how the only times he EVER used his power or lost his cool was when Angel Dust claimed that he could suck his dick, or when Sir Pentious interrupted his song and threatened to literally hurt him. I swear, this guy used his title as the radio demon for times when it was appropriate. That's what I loved about Pilot Al. He wasn't trying to be creepy unless it was needed. In this show, he desperately wants people to fear him. He even tries to pick a fight with everybody, even the ones who are kind to him. He's a complete asshole and a dickhead. And I'm just like "boo, fucking corny, bitch". Idk, man. It's pro just me. But I hate Alastor so goddamn fucking much. At least in the show. He gives me headaches, he's a Gary stu, and I can't believe this mf got away with talking trash to the KING OF HELL like holy SHIT. Why didn't his ass get humbled at the moment there? He just got freewill the whole time during season one without consequences. Besides Adam tearing his ass up.

Alastor is just so- ugh.

I beg for you guys to let me know if some of my points were invalid. I would actively listen to them. I was just in rage the whole entire time while writing this, so my mind was just clouded with 'wtf happened to the cool guy I once loved' and just...RAAAAAH. so please don't hesitate to speak out. I'm aware that not EVERYBODY will agree with what I say. But it's great to hear y'all's opinions about this. Thank you.

[grcetxt]

Fuck it we ball fanfic time. Gn reader x lars pinfield WOO

Okay WOO lmk if this is shit or ooc or anything, but im pretty happy with how this went :D its a little rushed, might redo it in the future idk. Also i made Y/N bit too much like me (northern) so watch out for that american readers SORRYYY. anwyays enjoy!

I am smart.

No don't laugh, I am, genuinely I am.

Maybe not in the way that others deem important, maybe not in the traditional sense, but I am bright.

Pinfield doesn't think so, the prick.

Every day I come into work, all smiling and welcoming, and what do I get in return? A roll of the eyes if I'm lucky.

Dickhead.

But I don't let him get to me, I love my job. My boss is chill, I love hanging out with Lucky, and the Spenglers seem nice! It's a good gig, really.

I'm the "PR guy" for Ghost Corps. Every time they fuck up and destroy a building or whatever I'm the one who covers it up. I'm a real smooth talker, 'gift of the gab' my mum used to call it.

The team needs me, I know that, they know that. Im crucial to the whole operation, the sole reason why that whiny mayor dude hasnt shut them down.

I'm the one who goes to press interviews, who goes on the radio or on TV. I'm the social media manager, I make videos, and post tweets, fuck I've even started a Ghostbusters youtube account! I deserve a raise honestly. #justiceforY/NthePRguy

I get on with everyone at work except for Pinfield, and I genuinely dont know why.

I've tried getting him to feature in videos, or explain the science of stuff to me so I can actually seem like I know what I'm talking about- but he just brushes me off.

Gary tries to reassure me about this on a daily basis. "Its nothing to do with you Y/N" he smiled one day, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the busy scientist. "He doesnt really talk to anyone, he gets really passionate about his work"

"I get that, but there's no need for him to be a dick to me, he's got me thinking all kinds of shit honestly!" I replied, exhasperated "I've never done nowt to him"

Suddenly, Pinfield raised his head from his work, scrunching his eyebrows together. "thats a double negative" he commented, looking at me as if I was stupid. Great, It's the most he's ever spoken to me and its a fucking insult- atleast I think it is.

"you what?" I ask, making my way over to him despite Garys protests. I fold my arms, looking as menacing as i can (which ive been told isn't very menacing at all)

"I said its a double negative, if you've never done nothing then you must've done something" before I can reply, he adds onto the end "which you haven't, by the way. I dont know why you think that. I treat you the same as anyone else"

I can't explain why his answer bothers me so much, but it does. Why does he view me in the same way he views the others? That's hardly fair. I'm always welcoming to him, I make time out of my day to include him in things. I hate to admit it, but I genuinely admire him aswell. His love for all things paranormal, the way he gets so excited and proud when he gets to explain the science of ghost-catching to someone. It's oddly endearing.

I tell him as much (excpet for the stuff about him being endearing, he doenst need his ego inflated any more than it already is)

He looks confused, I've never seen him look like that- its weird. Arrogant? sure. Annoyed? when is he not bffr. Happy? Once or twice. But confused? Weird. This is the guy with all the answers, the smart one.

He thinks for a moment, before seemingly making a desision. He stands up with a small huff of exhasperation, and walks off.

As he goes past me, he grabs my arm, more gently than I thought he was capable of. Okay, i guess im coming too. Fun, roadtrip time.

He takes me out of the lab and down the corridor, into a relatively well lit small room.

"Well this is-" before i can speak properly, he cuts me off. Told you he was a prick.

"I dont understand you Y/N" he blurts out, looking at me, as if I'm some sort of specimin hes studying in the lab.

"Well good." I joke. I dont like the serious tone he's taking. Dont like how aware I am of his gaze. HATE the fact I can feel my cheeks burning. Gross. Pinfield is a dick, we've established this. Why the fuck am I BLUSHING because he's LOOKING at me? Bit embarassing, pull it together Y/LN.

He doenst like this though. He shakes his head, pacing around.

"No Y/N you dont get it. I understand everyone, sort of anyways. I've observed them, I can predict their reactions to things. I know what they're all like- but you're... I just dont understand! You're so happy and nice all the time, but you also get angry at stupid stuff, but never really properly angry? I cant make sense of it, genuinely. You've not done anything wrong, you can't do anything wrong. Thats frustrating too. It's like you're this perfect, beautiful person, and I've been trying to see flaws but I cant-" He rambles, speaking like hes just letting out one stream of constant thoughts. He seems stressed, poor guy.

I interupt him, grabbing his arm. "Hey, c'mon Pinfi- I- Lars. C'mon Lars. I'm not worth the stress mate" I try and reassure him, but that just agitates him more.

"See! That's just it! I've been horrible to you, I admit it. But you've kept trying with me! When I hurt my hand you were the one who bandaged it and put it in a sling"

(i had found him almost blacked out from the pain on the lab floor, even the memory of it sent a shiver down my spine)

"you were the only one that looked for me after we all nearly died fighting Garraka"

("Pinfield? Pinfield!? Oh my god, there you are! Thank fuck you're alright!" Okay maybe this tiny non-crush had been going on longer than i thought... christ)

"I dont like the thought of you hurt..." i muttered, embarrased. this definitely wasnt how i was expecting this conversation to go, fuck my life I was crushing on a nerdy scientist who defintely didn't like me back.

He stopped his pacing and walked over to me until the gap between us was non existant. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand until he cupped my cheek.

"I don't like the thought of you upset because of me" he muttered, his voice low.

My heart completely stopped, my breath caught in my throat, was this happening? how was this happening? i swear this guy was like my mortal enemy not even 5 minutes ago. so many revelations were bieng made today...

I decided to be bold, why not? fuck it, i've got nothing to loose at this point.

I leaned in so our noses just grazed eachother, looking at him, really genuinely looking at him. his soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. Not pierce through it, like some weird blue eyed fuckers i knew, but looked. gently, tenderly, as if he was looking at everything i ever had been, or would be. like i was something beautiful, something to be treaured.

It made me want to sob at the thought. god, how disgustingly sweet.

"make up for it then" i whispered, the tension so thick i could cut it with a knife.

I'd planned on being the one to make the forst move, but apparently, that was all that Lars needed.

He kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine, sotfly, tenderly, tentatively.

I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him, so i quickly reciprocated. More eagerly than i owuldve liked- but oh well.

I could feel his hand resting on my waist, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. It all felt so tender, so raw, not at all how i thought it would be.

I felt like a teenager again, and couldnt resist letting out a small giggle, making Lars pull away. He looked confused again, making me laugh once again.

"What?" he aksed, a sort of amused smile on his face.

"Nothing- sorry. Nothing at all. Just thinking of how fuming mums gonna be when i tell her ive got a posho for a boyfriend"

"I am NOT posh!"

"you are a littleee"

"I AM NO- wait- boyfriend?"

"oh shit didnt mean to say that bi-"

he cut me off with another kiss, this one much more confident.

It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my head, oh I could definetly get used to this feeling. This war, sweet, happy feeling. My senses were flooded with everything Lars. His taste, his smell, his touch.

I felt like I was learning to live again.

[feralnumberfive]

‼️Did not make it all the way through without crying‼️

Going to go listen to The Maybe Man now, wish me luck 👍

[eponastory]

Well, I guess I'm going to have to address this now...

Since Blackbullet99 seems to have a hard-on for Zutara shippers who call it like it is.

Well, blackbullet99 can fuck off.

I'm not even going to get into why two American men decided to write a character like this, but it is what it is.

Bryke is the person responsible for the shitty writing that doesn't really address the trauma of a fictional character that I genuinely can't stand because he is one foot into Gary Stu territory and is a McGuffin at best.

Does this mean I hate Kataang? Not really. My problem is with Bryke and their stupidity about Westernizing South Asian Culture and how they wrote Aang. I'm not South Asian, but I do have some friends that are, and I'm very protective over them and their beliefs. I will admit when I'm being stupid and apologize for misunderstanding. Clearly, it is something that is blatantly going on with blackbullet here.

So in light of that, this reblog was discussing something about Aang's character being (hold on brain fart)... more or less unaccountable for any of his actions.

Here's the deal. I don't downplay actual real world genocide. I condemn it, my ancestors were victims of colonization and at the same time genocide on one side and the other were the colonizers. It's horrible. I am a student of history and I know things about genocide and war that most wouldn't believe happened. But here we are. It's bloody, it's inhumane.

But for a fictional character that is written by two white men from America... it's hard for me to empathize with that. I don't know how anyone can look at that and say oh yeah... they know! When they don't.

As a writer, I understand that we use real world events to inspire our work. But, here is the thing, we write what we know. I can not possibly know what it's like to survive a genocide and be able to write about it from that perspective. I have sympathy and I love those that have witnessed it first hand. But this is beyond my comprehension. I do my best to make things realistic in my writing by reading first hand accounts, but Bryke... sweet Godzilla... they know nothing.

So there. My defense against someone who thinks they are morally superior.

And they can still fuck off.

[effervescentdragon]

Carra whump is so underrated like I so desperately need a beat up Carra being tended to by Gnev. Bonus points if he was brawling defending Gnev’s honour.

i had a certain au in mind but that one isn't really ripe for picking in my mind, however i saw this art of yours this morning in between my slumbers and, well. i really hope you like this <3

"Gaz, lay off - lay off, shit - ow, ow, c'mon -"

"Carra, I swear to fuckin' God, shut the fuck up you baby, you brought this on ya self -"

"Youse could be a bit gentler -"

"Then move your head, I can't get to the cut and it's still fuckin' bleedin', 's not stoppin -"

"Ah, it's nothin'. Might leave a scar, though, how cool would that be, just -"

"Shut the fuck up, James!"

Jamie shuts up, because Gary actually yells at him, loud and proper. The breath he sucks in after is shaky, his lips pinched and his eyebrows furled, but when Jamie looks into his eyes, they're... they're huge, and Jamie doesn't know what that means.

"Gary?" Jamie says quietly, his burst lip opening up again. He feels it start to bleed again and he licks the iron, not wanting Gary to get even more upset. "Gary, lad, I'm -"

"Don't call me lad, I'm older than you." Gary scowls. The paper towel in his hand makes a reappearance, and Gary's touch is surprisingly gentle when he dabs against Jamie's lip.

"Not taller, though," Jamie says on reflex. He's had a growth spurt from one summer to the other in his teens, and now, at nineteen, he towers over Gary for the third year in a row.

Well, usually he towers over Gary. Not right this moment, though.

Now, he's sat on the edge of the tub in Gary's upstairs bathroom as Gary tries to deal with the mess that's Jamie's face after the fight. Gary himself hasn't been hurt; Gary hadn't even been there. He'd got to the alley just as that piece of shit John threw the final kick, and seeing Gary, him and his two friends gunned it out of there like there was no tomorrow. Gary'd screamed at them, fiery as always and fully prepared to beat up high school kids, if the furious way he was swearing was any indication, but Jamie'd tried to move and groaned in pain. That distracted Gary thoroughly and completely.

"They aren't aren't in," he explained as he half-dragged, half-carried Jamie to his Aunt's house. "They're with the kids, some camp this whole week and I came in earlier than I was supposed to. Aunt Linda left the key for me, thought I could use some alone time away from my folks on my break," he'd said. "I already hate this town and it hates me, how the fuck am I supposed to rest when the first thing I see is your arse being kicked by some kids?"

"There was three of them," Jamie had tried to protest, but Gary scowled at him and told him to shut up and sit hii ass down so he could see how badly he was hurt.

That brought them to this; Jamie sitting on the edge of the bathtub and Gary looking down at him after cleaning his face with some alcohol and gauze. Jamie's head hurts, and he's pretty sure there's something wrong with his ribs, but Gary is fretting and he is mad - maybe at Jamie, probably, he's always mad at Jamie these days - and he is so, so cute when he's all commanding and taking charge. Jamie understands why he's the captain of the Under 21s.

"Where else are you hurt?" Gary asks, his hand tracing Jamie's busted brow, as if unthinking of the action, and Jamie suddenly also understands that his adolescent crush might not have been as far away in the past as it used to be. "Tell me."

Jamie's left hand is on Gary's waist. He's acutely aware of that fact, because he grabbed onto Gary for support when Gary started cleaning his face. He wants to hold on, but he makes himself let go.

"I'm fine, leave it. You fixed me up as well as possible, and I'll be -"

"Jamie." Jamie stops, again, because Gary doesn't call him Jamie anymore, not like before, when Jamie was fourteen and Gary was seventeen and the best football player Jamie knew and a friend and larger than life. These days it's all wrong, or it feels like it's all wrong. It's Carra when he's in a good mood and James when he's mad, and Jamie doesn't know what to do with this, or with the soft little, "Please."

He looks up at Gary. He's still larger than life, somehow. His eyes are still huge and a beautiful brown colour.

"My ribs," he says, equally quietly. "That cunt got a kick in at the end, and I don't think they're broken -"

"Take off your shirt."

Jamie tries not to react, but the tone Gary uses and the words, put together... Jamie's acutely aware he's not looking at Gary and that his face feels hot as he obeys. He's slow in taking of his dirty shirt. It's red, so at least the blood doesn't show. He drops it on the floor and closes his eyes as Gary bends over, then goes on his knees in front of Jamie to better look at his ribs.

Jamie takes one look down and shuts his eyes tightly enough he sees spots playing in the darkness behind his lids.

Cold fingers press against his skin. "Does this hurt?" Jamie shakes his head, and Gary continues pressing until he finds the place that makes Jamie wince. "That's what I thought. I don't think they're broken, but ya gotta take it easy for a while."

Jamie nods. Gary's fingers are warming up on Jamie's skin. "Aye, captain," he tries to put some scorn in his tone, but he knows it all comes out wrong. He still hasn't opened his eyes.

He hears Gary shuffling and huffing. His breathing is erratic and he leans on Jamie's thigh in support as he gets up. Jamie forces himself to open his eyes.

Mistake. Gary is staring at him like he wants to see inside Jamie's mind. "Why were you fighting?" he asks. His shirt is white. There's dirt on one side, in the shape of Jamie's fingertips. Jamie knows how soft the material is, and how soft Gary's waist is under it.

"They were talkin' shit," Jamie says. It's cold in the bathroom, but he's running hot. "I couldn't let them get away with it."

Gary rolls his eyes. "You talk shit, Carra, you should know how it goes. The fuck did they say to you to make ya think it's a good idea to fight three of them?"

"There were only two when I threw the first punch," Jamie corrects, and Gary lets out a giggle.

"You're an idiot," he says, and there is a little smile in the corner of his mouth that he can't hide. "You could've got seriously hurt, and then what? You'd lose the place in the squad, you just wrote me they're letting you debut for the first team, you idiot! Nothing they said is worth missing that shot, James, I told you to keep your temper, I told you it'll get ya into trouble, and I was right, look at your face now, all busted up -"

"What, am I not handsome anymore?" Jamie grins, his lip hurting like hell but worth it to see Gary scowl again. "I'm still the handsomest bastard youse've seen -"

"Bastard is right, ya' idiot, to miss a chance because of fightin' -"

"But hadsome? Rugged, wouldn't ye say -"

"I'd said it a million times and I'mma say it again, only an idiot would risk the first team for fightin' -"

"Well I was fighting for ye honour, so catch me doing that again when all it gets me is bein' called an idiot!"

Jamie doesn't think when he says it. Him and Gary had always bantered, quick as whips both of them, and Jamie had always enjoyed it a bit too much to truly think about all the shit he's saying when he's winding Gary up.

"My - what?" Gary looks like someone's struck him. "My honour? What the fuck're you talkin' 'bout?"

Jamie says nothing. He's got nothing to say, or at least nothing that won't break something between him and Gary. It's all wrong these days, with Gary staring for United and Jamie on his way to be starting for Liverpool. There's a difference, a distance there ever since he switched from blue to red. It's not something they've ever talked about but... Jamie remembers. He remembers kids in red jerseys surrounding Gary, big kids, bigger than Gary was back then and much bigger than Jamie. He remembers the taunts and the words that his Ma told him never to repeat if he doesn't want her to wash his mouth out with soap. He remembers Gary's look when Jamie kicked the ball back to him on the playground, and how his frown disappeared when he saw his blue jersey when Jamie was eleven. He remembers the frown deepening when Jamie came to their playground in a red jersey for the first time.

"James," Gary says, and both his voice and his eyes are serious. "What did they say?"

Jamie clenches his fists. "Nothing, Gaz. Leave it alone, I didn't mean to say it, just ignore me."

Gary is still looking at him, and Jamie hates how fucking beautiful Gary's eyes are. Hates how much he likes when Gary smiles, lines appearing around them when he laughs at Jamie's stupid jokes. Hates how fragile Gary looks in the bad bathroom lights, like Jamie could break him with one word. Hates how much he wants to feel how that stupid barely-there moustache would feel against his skin. Hates how he knows they don't have that much time anymore, to fuck around with the ball every summer like they've been doing so far. Hates that he knows a darby is inevitable. Hates how he can recognize Gary's smell, even over the alcohol and the blood. Hates how much he just - wants.

Gary furrows his brows, then seems to decide on something. He lets the dirty towel fall on the floor as he steps closer between Jamie's legs, and the movement startles Jamie so much he grabs for Gary's waist with both hands this time. He swallows, grasping onto the white shirt, his breathing a lot heavier.

Gary's hand is shaking when he brings it down to trace the bruise on Jamie's cheek he can feel forming. "Jamie," Gary says, and it isn't fair, how much that one word affects him. "Jamie, were you defending me? Is that why you got hurt?"

Jamie swallows around his dry throat again. His whole body is hurting. His whole body feels like he's on fire. He can feel Gary's heat over the material of the shirt, where his fingers press down.

"I'm no prince charming," he says, stupidly, nonsensically. Gary smiles, and Jamie's startled to realise he hasn't seen that kind of smile on Gary in a while.

"No, you aren't," Gary says. His other hand rests on Jamie's shoulder. "But you're pretty charming, all ruggedly handsome, you."

Jamie tears his eyes away from Gary's lips to look into his eyes. It feels too hot in the little bathroom. Gary's fingers splay across Jamie's neck. It feels like the whole world is pausing. Jamie feels like he can't breathe. He tightens his hold on Gary's waist, maybe pulls him closer. He doesn't really know. None of this makes sense.

Turns out, he can breathe.

He takes the next breath right from Gary's lips, soft and hesitant and hotter than anything he's ever felt before. The angle is awkward but he realises he can hug Gary close and -

"- for fuck's sake Jamie, I can taste blood, I busted your lip, sorry -"

"Nah," Jamie grins, opening his eyes. "Fuck it. Bust it again," he says, and pulls Gary in.

[captain-mj]

Your last love potion.... Amazing. Chefs kiss. Cherry on top. Dot on the i (German saying for really good)

I'm really glad you like it! This chapter is a little short, ngl

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Roach waited all night for Soap and Ghost to return. The soup he had made would break the love potion over time, but it would be a hard process. Ghost would likely have to be restrained. 

His basement had already been changed to be a little more accommodating. Soap was nervous about this part of the plan, but Roach had insisted they had to. They’d have to make sure he didn’t get sick and that he kept taking the doses to get rid of the love potion. 

Finally, around 4 am, he could hear them. 

“Let me buy you something to eat.”

“Fuck off, MacTavish. I doubt Gary is awake.”

“He wakes up early to bake bread. Please.” Soap sounded… remorseful? Did something happen?

Ghost sighed. “I am hungry. Alright.” 

Roach smiled brightly and got up. He poked his head out of his basement, waving to get their attention. His head tilted to invite them in and, without question, they both followed him. 

In his basement, he had set up a bed that was big enough for Ghost, a few chains that were lying limp on the floor, and a chair for them to sit with him. 

Roach made a bowl of soup for him and handed it to him right away. “Don’t discount it, Gary. Soap is paying.” Pulling up the lower part of his knight’s helmet just enough to eat, Ghost grinned cruelly at MacTavish before sipping the soup. “It’s good.” He went to leave, but Roach stopped him. 

Roach made a motion for him to sit down as he fixed another bowl. 

Ghost hesitated, glaring at Soap, but he did sit down. He devoured the food, clearly very hungry. 

Roach frowned at him and gently put his hand on his shoulder. Simon stopped eating to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” 

Simon grimaced and nodded. He sipped at the broth, not noticing the herbs mixed in. Poor thing probably thought it just tasted good. 

Johnny picked at the soup, knowing he shouldn’t eat much of it. When Simon handed his bowl to Gary, Johnny slipped the bowl into Simon’s hands. “I don’t really like it.” 

Gary glared at him but Simon quickly grabbed the bowl. “Picky bastard.” He finished the second bowl and went to stand up, almost immediately faltering. Ghost glanced at both of them and then the door, managing to be rather convincing as he started to walk away. 

Soap grabbed him rather gently and pulled him back, making him stumble. 

“Fuck off.” Simon hissed, hitting him as hard as he could which was barely a tap. 

Roach hummed. Around this time, the world would likely be melting. His muscles would feel weak. He helped Soap to gently put a whimpering Simon into bed. 

Then, selfishly, he took off his helmet to see his face. 

Simon glared at them but he could barely move. He grimaced and his mouth started moving, but nothing came out. 

Johnny frowned. “I’m sorry. Really. I promise we’re not going to hurt you.”

Roach thought he should speak for himself. 

Johnny hesitated. “He has some really bad wounds. Can you check them? We’ve been moving around the forest for hours. I’m worried they reopened.” 

Gary loved the idea of taking Simon’s clothes off. Despite Simon’s continued glares and his attempts to make this as difficult as possible, they got his gear and shirt off. 

Roach felt sick. 

He had expected a lot. But whip marks? He looked at Soap questioningly.

“Roba.”

Roach nodded and quickly started to reclean them. He placed his lips between Simon’s shoulder blades, feeling the harsh shudder he let out. With gentle hands, he bandaged him. 

Johnny knelt down in front of him and tried to soothe him. “I promise you, this is for your own good. We’re going to take care of you. Going to get rid of this love potion and set you free of everything. I promise.” 

Simon looked at him, hate evident. His body felt hotter to the touch and Roach would have assumed infection if he hadn’t just drugged him. 

Roach kicked Johnny’s foot to get his attention and signed to him. “He needs rest. He won’t be very lucid right now. It’s best you get an alibi in case they come asking.”

Johnny nodded and left immediately. 

Roach pulled up the chair and sat with him. 

Simon started to fall asleep despite his attempts not to. He shivered and shook as a fever started to ravage his body. 

Love potions were evil. They embedded themselves in the body and mind. Took forever to root out. 

Roach would sit there as long as Simon needed. He would take care of him. 

After a few hours, soldiers came asking but Roach just shook his head, miming that he couldn’t speak and then that he had no idea. The soldiers left after a while. 

Simon was too sick to do anything. He had started to shake and his fever had gotten worse. 

Roach made him more soup and felt his forehead to see his temperature. 

Simon groaned and stretched, several bones popping as he did. 

Roach shook his head. This recovery was going to take a while… Selfishly, he hoped just long enough for Ghost to fall in love with him.

[talentforlying]

angelica :   where does your muse draw inspiration in life ?   what motivates them ?

angelica:   where does your muse draw inspiration in life?   what motivates them?

constantine is often inspired by the beauty in the world, and by the human potential for kindness. he doesn't always see a lot of it, but when he does, it moves him to passion. anything in life is worth enduring to see one more sunset, to hold one more hand, to hear the laugh of someone you love. he's face-to-face with pure fucking evil so often that even the smallest acts of simple decency will leave him fawning over humanity's potential for hours. show him a kind word, and he'll remember you. show someone else a kind hand, and he'll battle the devil so you'll have the chance to do it again, and again, and again.

in terms of motivation, we find ourselves on the other side of the coin: constantine is driven a lot by the amount of petty, cruel injustice in the world. living in the 80s under margaret thatcher was not a good time to be anything other than british-born straight white upper-class, and he witnessed a lot of his friends and people from all walks of life (and himself, though he'd brush you off if it was pointed out to him) get screwed, by the government and by people they thought were their friends and neighbors, because of nothing more than the color of their skin, their sexuality, their class. more than that, in the forty years following, he's never seen it end — only seen it change shape.

it makes him angry and it makes him righteous, and it pushes him to fight harder to protect the people who can't protect themselves/for whom it's safer to take the hits and keep going. if it means sticking his neck out for a stranger who trusted the wrong people, or stepping in to save a fledgling magic-user who had no one to warn them about what they were getting into, or facing down the monsters that have more power and money than god with nothing more than the shirt on his back and the audacity, so be it.

@cagedchoices / BOTANICAL HEADCANONS ( always accepting )

[drysaladandketchup]

5 mattdrai for the writing meme please

I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to handle this prompt, but I hope it's still to your liking, anon :)

5. things you didn’t say at all

"Hey."

Matthew really isn't in the mood for this right now. He was having a good time being back home in St. Louis for his first All-Stars, talking to some of the best players in the league, watching the skills competition, going out with the guys, and now the game is in a couple hours--

"Tkachuk."

Yeah, no, he's real. That's Draisaitl yelling at him. Well, he isn't yelling, but since he apparently is so hard pressed to even be around Matthew, it'll probably escalate to that soon.

I'd probably get off the ice.

Even if it was a joke--and maybe Matthew is willing to entertain the idea that it had been, coming from mister 'taken out of context'--it makes sharing the locker room awkward.

The thing is, he kind of likes Draisaitl. Admires his game, anyways, even if he is playing for fucking Edmonton. If Matthew had actually been drafted by the Oilers back then, like he thought, they probably could have been friends.

If he's being honest with himself, he kind of likes Draisaitl beyond hockey, too. Because he'd watched Leon's interviews, checked out his Instagram a little--he was curious, sue him--and because McDavid talks a lot when they're training at Gary's. Also, come on, Matthew's not blind. He hates the concept of him in Edmonton, but it's not fair to say Matthew genuinely hates the guy.

Right now though, this may be the first time he's heard Draisaitl ever actually say his name, and he wishes it was anyone else.

"Hey. Hang on." Draisaitl is in front of him now, stony and unreadable, and only then does Matthew realise like a fool that he has actually stopped. They're face-to-face, alone in one of the maintenance halls, the hustle and bustle of the arena a distant hum.

Matthew stares at him, not unkindly, because his mom taught him some damn manners, but not openly friendly, either. Not until he can get a gauge on what Draisaitl wants. Leon. It's Leon. That feels like the only thing Matthew really knows about the guy, sometimes.

"Did you want something?" Matthews asks coolly, leaning against the bricks with his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweater.

Leon glances down the hall, up to the buzzing florescent lights, running fingers through his hair. It's hard not to follow his tongue when it pokes out to wet his lips. Damn it, he has no business looking this good.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally says, and even after all this time Matthew is still caught off guard by how soft he sounds.

"Talk to me?" Matthew narrows his eyes. "I didn't think you'd even want to be seen with me."

Which is a shame, because they'd look pretty damn good together. In his opinion, anyways.

Leon doesn't take the bait. "I saw that interview you did."

"Buddy, you're going to have to be more specific. I've done a few lately. It's the All-Stars."

"Before the break. I don't remember with who. NBC, I think? They asked you about me. What I said."

He doesn't need to elaborate. Matthew raises a brow, scratches the sudden itch at his neck. The air in the hallway is stuffy and warm.

"What about it? I said you were a great player."

"After that, though."

Leon doesn't need to elaborate on that, either. The intensity of his stare does the job well enough.

What did Matthew say again? I probably can't answer that or he'll get mad at me.

Yeah, because the only thing running through his head when he heard what Leon said was, Well damn that sucks because I wanted to find out if he fucks better than he fights. He remembers biting his lip because his brain unhelpfully supplied him with some tempting ideas that were not exactly family friendly. He's twenty-two, he's got hormones, what's he going to do?

But he was pretty sure declaring he wants to fuck a rival player wasn't going to win him any favours with anyone, let alone Leon. And maybe that comment irked him a little in the moment, but no one's opinion matters to Matthew more than his own. Accidentally outing himself during an interview was not high on his list of career moves, so he'd played it safe, locked it all down, and assumed that'd be the end of it.

"I didn't say anything," Matthew says.

This feels strange. Leon doesn't look pissed, he looks curious. Piqued, like he's waiting to hear something specific.

"I know."

"So what's your problem?"

"What were you going to say?"

Matthew cocks his head. "What, you thought I was going to burst into tears because the German Gretzky doesn't like me?"

Except he knows Leon's not an asshole. Not all the time, anyways. Not off the ice. Which makes it fucking hard to just blow him off.

"You were all over us that game," Leon says. "Kass was pissed. You're a fucking pest, what the hell did you expect me to say?"

"Is this you trying to apologise? Because if it is, you're doing a hell of a job."

"You never hold back on anything."

"Why the hell does it matter?" Christ, it's like Leon is trying to pick a fight.

"You looked like you had something to say." There's a hint of suspicion--of implication--in Leon's voice that makes Matthew tense.

"You think I'm an asshole, so I don't know why you care."

Maybe this is a prank. Maybe he figured it all out and he's waiting for Matthew to break down and declare, I think I could fall in love with you if you let me.

Leon shuts his eyes briefly, shoulders rising and falling as he takes one long, deep breath through his nose.

"I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Yeah, I heard." Matthew's stomach rolls in ways it shouldn't. "I don't know what other context you want me to take it in, though. It's not even a big deal, anyways. I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks finding out a guy you like thinks you're a piece of shit, but it's whatever, right?"

"I didn't call you--I don't think you're--"

Groaning, Leon thumps his head against the wall and drags a hand down his face. He takes a minute to compose himself, staring up at the ceiling, then down between his feet, face screwed up in thought. Finally, he looks back to Matthew.

"You like me, eh?"

It's been a long weekend; Matthew's too tired to backpedal and try to make up some excuse. Part of him just wants to drop it out in the open and be done with it. Just come out and say, Yeah, the 'I want to take you home' kind of like. The 'I want you to make me scream' kind of like.

Just to see what Leon would do. At the very least, he probably wouldn't punch Matthew. He's not a glove-dropper, after all, and he's not so scary without a stick in his hand.

He tries to imagine Leon's wide eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe the little 'Oh' that would slip through his lips. Because yeah, 'Oh' would be about right. It would be the most embarrassing conversation of Matthew's life; more embarrassing than when he came out to his family and Brady asked him to rank his favourite players by 'fuckability'.

"It doesn't matter." Matthew shakes his head, clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Leon. "Look, man, let's just go back to beating each other up on the ice and pretend this never happened, okay?"

"No, hey, don't"--Leon grabs Matthew's arm as he pushes off the wall, fully ready to disappear and never talk about this again--"It does matter. Tell me."

Matthew would rather go dunk his head under the sink and rub the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He's hot all over, from the beating in his chest to the blood in his veins. Where Leon's touching tingles with an intimacy they've never had. It may be the first time they've touched without the aggression of a game to justify it.

And damn, Leon's looking at him like he can read Matthew's mind, or trying to get Matthew to read a little of his own. It's all heat and intensity and a look that says, I don't think you hate me, and I don't want you to think I hate you.

"What do you want from me?" Matthew says. "Why's this so important to you?"

It's possible he imagines the way Leon's eyes flit down and back. They're pressed almost right against each other now. That must be why Matthew's overheating, struggling to catch a full breath.

"i just want to know..." Leon swallows the rest of his words as he takes half a step closer; a little too close to be innocent. That brick wall of a chest is pressed up against Matthew's arm, nearly crowding him against the wall.

"Know what?" Matthew barely gets the words out.

It's scary to wonder. Ideas are forming in his head--excited, hopeful ones. Matthew won't pretend he's never wondered about Leon; what he could do with him. To him. How his mouth tastes, how his hands feel, what it'd be like having him over and under and around and inside.

And Leon is looking at Matthew like he genuinely cares how he feels. Like maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, too. Wanting.

Wouldn't that just be the biggest fucking drama of Matthew's life?

There's still too much they're not saying.

Neither of them gets the chance.

Something clatters down the hall, followed by the echo of voices.

Leon lets go abruptly, hand dropping to his side. "Shit, sorry. I should, um... Never mind. Just... forget it."

He spins and walks away, just like that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. For a guy who never backs down from a challenge, it looks a little too much like running away.

But it's not like Matthew can call him a coward when he can't even get his own voice to work. Breathless, he slumps against the wall and tries to piece together what just happened, how they managed to say everything and nothing. It feels like he's been through a tornado.

Fuck, he can't deal with whatever this is right now. He cannot be thinking with his dick come game time, let alone worry about whatever the hell his heart is doing.

He stands alone in the hall for a good five minutes, waiting for his nerves to settle, until he finally has the courage to head back, falling into the bustle of players and staff and media.

He avoids Leon in the locker room as best he can. On the ice, too. They don't talk and they keep enough bodies between them on the bench.

Once this is over, they can crack open that can of worms again, figure out what's going on. But there's more important things right now.

They play the All-Star game like they're bitter rivals.

Matthew feeds him a slick pass that turns into a goal.

He skates off without a celly, and Leon gives him a "fuck you" with a smirk and a tongue between his teeth.

But it's fun. Really fun. And despite it all, they're both smiling at the end. Leon's smiling at him.

And Matthew wants to believe that means something.

[floatingaimlessly333]

You’re Detached From All The Words

How could silence be so loud?

That was always Simon’s first thought when he had one of his… episodes. Well, once he was actually able to think again. Once his thoughts stopped swirling and everything stopped being too much.

All of his ...episodes were different from each other in their own little ways, but they could almost be sorted into categories. Simon's least favorite type by far had to be the days where even speaking felt too much. The days where words clogged up his throat and the only sounds that escaped his mouth were weak and strangled. Just like the day he was having now.

There had been a school assembly today, and the combination of yelling and cheering and far too many people pushing against him had sent him over the edge. Surprisingly, he'd felt fine when he had gotten home. There were no tears, no sudden feeling of being overwhelmed, just a sort of numb tiredness.

It was when he attempted to take a nap, determined to sleep the feeling off, that everything had truly gone to shit. And it was all set off by the simplest fucking thing. His pillow case rustled very slightly as he laid his head on it, and he recoiled from the sound. It felt as if someone had taken a cheese grater to his ear drum.

Now every single sound around Simon seemed to be amplified and he hated it. The hum of the air conditioner scratched at him and the footsteps on the stairs were piercing. He needed to get away from it all, but how could you escape from one of your own senses?

He felt trapped, and since he couldn't run from the noise, his next best idea was to cover his ears and pray everything would just stop for a minute. His hands did mute the auditory onslaught, but even the quiet felt loud somehow. Simon wanted to scream, to cry out in desperation, but he knew that would just serve to worsen the state he was in.

He was sure no one would be coming to find him. His door was fully closed, his lights dimmed, a sure sign that he didn't want to be distributed. So it was very lucky for him that he had an older brother that was very oblivious of social cues.

Gary had been talking to Simon on their way home from school, and the other boy had seemed to be in a fairly decent mood. But now a sickening feeling in Gary's gut told him that something was wrong. That feeling was only worsening by the second and he was practically running by the time he burst into Si's room.

The younger Price let out a strangled yelp as the door thunked solidly into the wall behind it. Gary was by his brother's side in an instant, praying that Si could see his signing in the darkness of the room.

"What's wrong, bubba? Are you okay?? What happened???"

There was no response. That was fine. Roach would find a solution no matter what, even if he didn't know what the problem was.

His first hint was the hands firmly clasped around the other's ears. So, sound must be the issue. An easy fix, really. One Simon could have fixed himself if he hadn't been so upset.

The bulky ear defenders were located easily and then gently slid over Simon's head to replace his hands. The tension quickly slipped out of his shoulders and neck, but now he squirmed uncomfortably.

"Do you not want your headphones?" Again, no response. "Please, Si, tell me how to help you."

Si opened his mouth, trying to explain that the silence felt wrong, but it was then he realized that his words had completely left him. All Gary wanted to do was help him, and he was too pathetic to even tell him what was wrong. Tears slowly made their way down his face, accompanied by neither a single sob nor whimper.

"Please don't cry, bub. Can you sign? Please??"

Si's brain almost felt too fully and stuffy to remember all of his sign words, but he managed to shakily point to the ear defenders and sign 'too quiet.' Gary reached out to simply take the headphones off, but Si quickly backed out of his reach.

"Too loud without."

Gary was slightly confused, but he knew first hand that a lot of things didn't make sense during a meltdown. So, he rolled with it.

Praying that this would calm the younger boy down rather than set him off even more, Gary pulled up an episode of Bones and kept a close eye out for Si's reaction.

Simon braced himself for the noise of the show that was sure to only grate on him further. It was a very pleasant surprise that it sounded just muted enough to sooth his ears rather than ambush them.

It took a good few episodes before Si felt even slightly normal again, but Gary would've watched Bones all day night if that's what Si needed. Gary took it as his sworn duty to do everything he could for his little brother. And since he hadn't been able to protect him for the first 13 years of his life, you could be damn sure he was going to make up for lost time.

I did it!!! @bringinsexybackk69

This might be shit, since I finished it at almost 2:30 am, but I tried!!! ,:)