#kyle makes me happy

[romeoslaughter]

one (1) thing

[potatobugz]

ITS JUST. ALL CREEK

im glad we can all agree that Craig approaching Thomas in "Le Petit Tourette" and asking him if he could do his laundry was very gay

[myfamilycrestisthedemonofdeath]

I know for a fact that the 141 men CANNOT handle a hot shower, the kind that you like to take. The one that is borderline painful because of how hot it is.... but it feels so nice and soothing, especially if you have aches and pains all over.

These grown men are military; too used to brisk, cool (heck, maybe even cold) showers that last 5 minutes at most. No shower thoughts to dwell on except to get it done quickly to get started on their day.

So I can totally see that when they try to join you enjoying your shower for the first time, they are in for a surprise.

Johnny definitely yelps. He tries to slide in behind you and hold you, but the minute his arms are under the sprayer, he's jumping, almost making the both of you slip. He probably mutters some garbled whines of "how the fuck you are under that spray, bonnie, it's too fucking hot the skin off me arms is burnt tae crisp, christ there might be a demon doon here, this is hell" and then he quickly backtracks and apologizes, "you are not a demon, just a lovely angel who enjoys water hotter than the sun's ass". He'll probably beg to have the water down a little cooler before rejoining you under the spray.

Kyle asks first to join you while you are already showering, and you can see his hesitance as he steps behind you, his eyes warily looking at the too steamed up mirror and wincing as the water splashes off you and onto him. "Jesus, this feels like a bloody geyser, worse than the goddamn desert heat", he grumbles, but after a while, maybe with your encouragement, he starts to not dislike it. "This why you always are hot, yeah?", he probably teases you with his grin, and while he takes a while longer before he fully joins you under the spray, he's enjoying how the surrounding heat is soothing him and how it's making you so soft and pliable.

"Bears cannot handle hot environment", is what you say when Price joins you. "I'm no bloody bear", he will say, but you definitely see him wincing while getting close to you from behind. This stubborn man is covered head to toe in hair, and while the situation for him is definitely uncomfortable, he will tough it out so long as he gets to be in control of how you clean your body. This hairy man has a fine body underneath all the curls drenched in hot water, and I'd be damned if you don't end up having a delightful time as he cleans the both of you.

Poor Simon will join, and I firmly believe you will have to either kick him out or really lower the temperature of the shower. He won't say much when he slides in, but when you finally glance back, this hulking wall of man is definitely lobster red and grumpy. For a stoic person, his body sure does a lot of the talking for him, especially when it is laid bare in front of you, and all you can read off him is that he will stay with you for your entire shower.

Lemme rephrase my point, they cannot handle a hot shower unless YOU are in it.

[avengerdaisy]

I know I'm going away for good, but I was hoping... you might come visit... once in a while? I will. I promise. That would be...

[princedevitt]

[laeana]

Maxime & Léon during the interviews post 4x100 medley (third place)

I'm feeling crazy, them laughing together, hugging, touching, smiling and Maxime somehow having Léon's pass and giving it to him. I'm not saying my shipping brain is working, but the fic is almost writing itself...

+ Bonus

Caeleb asking Léon to exchange swimming caps with him.

Kyle and Duncan that somehow have found each other, that are side by side and talking. One day I should really finish that fic I started about them and post all the records of their interactions I have.

[tiffysdeath]

me whenever i think about kyle

[metalljellyphish]

Okay... this is gonna sound super silly, but....

Werewolf Stan.... does he wags his tail when he's happy?

Would you believe instead of a demonic beast of darkness we got a Labrador?

[crab-people-overlord]

okay but can we talk about 'Mystery of the Urinal Deuce' because this episode is literally EVERYTHING when it comes to Stan and Kyle's friendship. Marsh is playing dumb the whole episode and Kyle is losing his goddamn mind over it. The betrayal. The DRAMA.

Stan in this scene knows damn well that everything is a conspiracy (he admits as much later in the episode and knows that Kyle thinks the same thing). And Kyle knows damn well that Stan out of everyone should also know this, because Stan is the one person he can usually count on to back him up on this type of shit. But Stan is the one messing with him in this episode, so we get these fun moments of Stan letting loose and enjoying pranking his friend Kyle. 

Many see the Assburger's duology as the establishment and turning point of Stan’s character. And while it certainly establishes his clinical depression, I’d argue it in no way establishes either his tendency towards depression/melancholy OR cynicism as both of those have always been present from the beginning (but that’s another discussion for another day. I already basically wrote an essay on that a longgg time ago that maybe I’ll share later).

When it comes to a true  ‘turning point’ for Stan’s character, I think of ‘Raisin’s’ ‘from Season 7, which expands on his already present tendency towards sensitivity and annoyances with general society and evolves it into a deep melancholy and detachment from society (at times bordering on nihilism, something we see more of from Stan post Season 7’s ‘Raisins’ such as in the ‘Douche and Turd’ episode in Season 8 and many other episodes). I don’t see the ‘You’re Getting Old’ episode as the turning point for Stan’s character at all. I see it more as an extension of what I actually view as his turning point episode of ‘Raisin’s’. 

What I love about ‘Mystery of the Urinal Deuce’ is it is a post ‘Raisin’s’ episode where Stan just gets to play around, which is sadly something we just don’t see from Stan post-season 7 as often. 

Kyle has always been the easiest target for Cartman not even necessarily because of his traits, but because of his reactions. He is super reactive to everything, and Stan knows this. Unlike Cartman, Stan respects this and usually stands up for Kyle when this aspect of him is taken advantage of. But at the same time, this doesn’t mean that Stan doesn’t like to tease Kyle at times - because let’s be real; Kyle’s high reactivity would make it so fun to mess with him. And in this episode, Stan takes advantage of that. 

And while usually I hate people taking advantage of Kyle in this way, it is so goddamn refreshing to see Stan just being able to let go of all the heavy shit that’s been so key to his character emotionally post-Season 7 and just play around with his bestie in this episode, something I think that at the core of his character he ultimately just wants to be able to do at the end of the day. you can TASTE the shit-eating grin in his voice. he is having the TIME OF HIS LIFE watching Kyle spiral. stan tries so GODDAMN hard to find happiness throughout the series to no avail, so it’s refreshing the times he succeeds and gets to just actually be himself.

Later on in the episode, Stan is also just able to let loose. His ‘Well dude, maybe we’re just badass, have you ever thought of that?’ later on in the episode is said so nonchalantly with him literally smirking, and it cracks me up every time as he tries to appease Kyle’s doubts. He is thoroughly enjoying pranking his friend. 

like yes give me more of this next season?? give me more of stan actually getting to be a kid and mess around with his best friend instead of drowning in existential dread 24/7? please and thank you?

[akai-akai]

Quiet of the Mind

a tiny 141 poly drabble— slightly price/gaz centric but not really.

***unedited***

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It's rare that they're granted this kind of peace.

The sun's just beginning brush against the treeline, the gentle lapping of water against a rocky lakeshore mixing with the hum of cicadas and birdsong.

John's old blue truck— the same once he's had since his beard was no more than some scratchy stubble on his chin— was backed up near a dock, a bright red cooler filled with beer and other drinks and lunch meat sitting on the bed of it and the tailgate flipped down.

Up a wooden plank staircase, a fair-sized cedar cabin sat on structural stilts, not far from the water's edge. The boys had rented the thing for the entire 2 weeks, per John's suggestion.

"We're out in the bush all the time as soldiers," John said when he spoke of the trip. "Never get to really enjoy nature, too busy watching our arses out there."

So here they were. A quiet, private lake spanned out in front of them, surrounded by lush green forest and the only other civilization being the cabins on the far side, far enough that the early morning fog that settles over the crystalline waters completely hides the cabins from view.

Simon and Johnny stand on the cabin's deck above, Simon manning the grill while Johnny spears darts into a dartboard fixed on the side of the cabin. Below, Kyle rests, sitting on the open tailgate with a cold can of coke next to him and a maplewood guitar sitting in his lap, his fingers deftly plucking away at the strings. It's a lulling sound, soft dulcet chords vaguely reminiscent of western folk music. John leans against the tailgate beside him, eyes fixed on the far shoreline as he watches a small herd of deer travel through the grass towards the trees. He's quiet, his mind is quiet. For once.

"What song?" He mutters to Kyle as he glances over to him, only to find Kyle's warm eyes already locked onto him through his pretty eyelashes, head tilted with the way he holds his guitar.

Kyle shrugs slightly, continuing to strum. "Just wingin' it."

John smiles at him fondly, but says nothing more. Just turns back to the lake and listens. Even the sound of Johnny cursing at the dartboard and Simon griping at him for putting a dart-sized hole in the wood siding of the cabin can't interrupt his peace. If anything, it's a comforting sound.

There's several plates lined out on a foldable table next to the still-smoking grill— bratwursts, burger patties, hotdogs, grilled cob corn, potato wedges, macaroni courtesy of Johnny, who nursed the pot over the cabin's stove for 15 minutes and fished the ripped up box from the trash 3 different times because he kept forgetting how much milk, butter, and water to add. (Simon told him multiple times to just leave the bloody thing on the countertop until the mac was done.)

The sun's shining bright gold and orange through the gaps in the trees when Simon lets out a whistle signaling the barbecue's done, and Kyle slides his fingers down the strings, stopping the vibrations as he carefully sets his guitar back in his case behind the cooler. He dutifully fishes more beers from said cooler for the other 3 men, favoring another coke for himself. John's hand brushes over his affectionately as he takes the glass bottle with a soft murmur of "thank you, love."

They each carry their full plates back down the stairs and take their seats at the old picnic table at the bottom as the sky paints itself purple and pink, and John's unusually quiet. Content.

His eyes rest on each of his boys in turn as he eats, Johnny and Kyle bickering good-naturedly about the best time of day to go fishing while Simon glances between the two, subtly eggs them on with a quiet "the best time's midnight" and suddenly they've both turned on him, allies against a common enemy. Simon must feel John's gaze on him— he has a knack for that— because he glances up at just the right moment as Johnny and Kyle move on to their favorite fishing lures.

Simon's lips quirk into the smallest crooked grin, an equally fond look in his eyes as the two speak without words.

Price just takes a swig of his beer and pushes all other thoughts from his mind. Averts his eyes to the sky.

A pretty sunset, he thinks.

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*bites hand and screams* I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

honorable mentions: I think simon would secretly have a nice, velvety singing voice, johnny is wicked on a drum set, and john is scarily good at whistling.

[mothoscope]

Guess my favorite South Park character challenge.

[natelia-aldelliz]

more werewolves au !

Ghost is being a responsible adult and grooming this poor weird pup he found, Price is being a thoughtful pack leader and is trying to inform Ghost that the puppy is not happy, and Gaz is trying to get the puppy to play with him to cheer him up.

This is the same Soap who will bring half of a mouse to Ghost's, Price's and Gaz's doors for them to discover in the morning. Or step on it if they weren't fully awake. And then refuses to admit to himself that it's probably him doing it and not a random stray cat. Even if he would have smelled a stray cat being on his territory. The three of them are convinced that Soap is hiding a cat somewhere because it smells like him.

[cod-thoughts]

Day 29 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 1.8k

Relationships: team as family

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, growing old, soft tf141

It’s the sight of Price that really does him in. They’re sitting around the table after a long mission, the kind that leaves them bruised and weary. Price stands up to grab a coffee, and there’s a subtle wince as he does, a hand going to his back to steady himself. Ghost watches him, and something inside him breaks, the gratitude and sorrow twisting together until it’s unbearable. He feels the tears welling up, uninvited and unstoppable, and he bows his head, trying to hide it. - Ghost notices signs of his age in himself and his team, something he never thought he'd see on himself let alone surrounded by others Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

Ghost notices it one morning, in the small things first. The stiffness in his knuckles when he closes his fist, a resistance that wasn't there before. He’s still strong, still capable, but the ache is undeniable, lingering like a memory. He catches himself in the mirror—a rare occurrence, as he’s long stopped staring at his own reflection. There’s a streak of silver in his stubble that surprises him. It’s not something that alarms him, not anymore. Just something he acknowledges with a nod, an almost-smile.

But today, the recognition of age hits deeper. He’s standing there, staring at his reflection longer than usual, and the realisation creeps up on him, unexpectedly heavy. It’s not just the silver, it’s the lines, the way his shoulders sag slightly, the quiet exhaustion that seems to settle in his bones. He blinks, but his eyes start to sting, and he feels a tightness in his chest. Ghost never used to think he’d make it this far. He always thought he’d go out young. After everything he’s been through—all the nightmares, the trauma, the losses that carved holes in his soul—it felt inevitable. The missions that pushed him to the edge, the times he came back with blood that wasn’t just his, the faces of those who didn’t make it—all of it convinced him that he’d never live to see anything beyond the fight. The fact that he’s still here, marked by time, is almost overwhelming. He’s lived through hell, and somehow, he’s survived it all.

He turns away from the mirror, but the feeling follows him like a shadow throughout the day. Every little thing seems to magnify it—the subtle groan of his knees as he stands up, the slight hesitation before moving too quickly, the way the scars on his body pull just a little more with each passing year. He tries to push it down, to focus on the mission brief, on the plans for the day, but it lingers, gnawing at him, an uncomfortable reminder of the years gone by.

When he steps into the common room, he sees it in his team too. Soap's laugh lines have deepened, framing the grin Ghost has come to rely on. Johnny’s hair has begun to fade at the temples, just a little, as though age itself has a gentle hand on him. Price’s eyes are as sharp as ever, but Ghost catches how he rubs at his lower back when he thinks no one is watching, easing a pain that probably won’t ever quite go away. Gaz, still the youngest of them, has his own small signs—a weariness behind the eyes that speaks to the miles they've all walked, the weight they've all carried.

They’re all still so capable, so strong. But it’s there. The years have left their mark on each of them, etched lines into their skin, carved aches into their bones. Ghost can’t help but watch them today, his gaze lingering longer than it should. He notices the way Soap's laughter fades a little more quickly, the way Price takes just a moment longer to stand up. These are men who have been through hell and back, and they carry it with them in every movement, every breath.

It’s the sight of Price that really does him in. They’re sitting around the table after a long mission, the kind that leaves them bruised and weary. Price stands up to grab a coffee, and there’s a subtle wince as he does, a hand going to his back to steady himself. Ghost watches him, and something inside him breaks, the gratitude and sorrow twisting together until it’s unbearable. He feels the tears welling up, uninvited and unstoppable, and he bows his head, trying to hide it.

He’s lost in his own thoughts, the emotions hitting him in waves. The gratitude that they’re all still here, the sorrow for the years that have passed, the fear that someday, one of them won’t be. It’s all too much, and before he knows it, he’s trembling, the tears spilling down his face. He’s fought so hard to keep it together, but here, surrounded by his family, it’s impossible.

Soap is the first to notice. "Ghost?" he says, voice tinged with concern. Ghost doesn’t respond, his shoulders trembling slightly. The room goes quiet, everyone turning to look at him. "Hey, you alright, mate?" Soap tries again, softer this time.

Price, still standing by the counter, turns, his brows knitting together in worry. He’s rarely seen Ghost like this, even in their darkest times, and it shakes him to the core. He crosses the room, kneeling down beside Ghost, his hand resting on his arm. "Simon," he says gently, using Ghost's real name. "What's going on? Talk to us."

Ghost lifts his head, eyes red, tears streaking down his face. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to find the words, but his chest feels tight, his throat constricted, and the words seem to stick there, refusing to come out. Slowly, with trembling hands, he reaches up and pulls off his mask. The room seems to hold its breath as Ghost reveals his face—the redness of his cheeks from crying, and the way his lips tremble as he tries to hold it together—evidence of just how much he's feeling. He bows his head again, his shoulders shaking as the tears spill freely now. He tries to speak, but it comes out as a broken sob, his voice caught in his throat.

Price moves closer, concern etched deeply on his face, his hand finding its way to Ghost’s back, rubbing gently. "Breathe, Simon," Price says softly, his voice a steady anchor. "Just breathe, son. Take your time."

Ghost tries, drawing in shaky breaths, but the emotions are too much—too raw, too heavy. All the trauma, all the pain, all the years of fighting and losing, all the moments he thought he wouldn’t make it—it all crashes over him, wave after wave, until he feels like he might drown in it. Price pulls him into a hug, strong arms wrapping around Ghost, holding him tightly. Ghost clings to him, his fingers digging into the fabric of Price’s shirt as he lets out another sob, burying his face in Price’s shoulder.

"That’s it," Price murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let it out, Simon. We’ve got you."

Soap and Gaz exchange a glance, both of them rising from their seats. Soap moves closer, his hand resting on Ghost's shoulder. "We’re right here, LT," Soap says, his voice thick with emotion. "Take your time."

Gaz sits down next to Ghost, leaning in closer, his eyes filled with empathy. "You know, Simon," he says quietly, "I think we all feel it sometimes. The weight of it all. And it's okay to let it out. We're here." His voice is gentle, filled with sincerity, and Ghost can hear the echoes of his own fears in Gaz's words.

After what feels like an eternity, Ghost manages to steady his breathing. He pulls back slightly, his face flushed and eyes puffy, but there’s a determination there now. He swallows hard, and then, with a shaky grin, he manages to get out, "I’m going grey." The words are soft, almost a whisper, but genuine. The grin fades as his voice trembles, his eyes glistening. He swallows again, trying to hold it together.

"I just..." He pauses, his voice breaking. "I never thought I'd get here. Any of us, really. After everything…" His voice cracks, and he looks at each of them, tears spilling once more. "I see it in all of you—the age, the years. And it’s... it's beautiful, but it scares me. I’m so damn grateful that we’re still here, that we’ve lived long enough to see this. To see each other start to grow old."

Soap reaches across, placing his hand over Ghost’s. "You’re not alone in this, LT," he says, his voice thick with emotion. He doesn’t let go, his grip firm and steady. "We’re in it together. Every damn wrinkle, every ache. We’ve earned it."

Gaz shifts closer, nodding, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "We’re family, Ghost. And every grey hair, every sore muscle is proof that we made it—together. And that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything."

Ghost looks at them, his vision blurring with tears again, but this time they’re not from sorrow. They’re from something warmer, something softer. He nods, swallowing hard. "Yeah," he whispers. "Family."

There’s a moment of silence, a heavy, poignant pause that hangs in the air. Price pulls Ghost back into his arms, his own voice trembling ever so slightly as he spoke. "You made it, Simon. After everything—after all you’ve been through. You’re still here, and we’re still here. And we’re not going anywhere." He releases Ghost, then adds softly, "Why don’t we take tonight to just be together? No rush, no pressure. Just us."

Soap claps his hands together, the sound loud in the quiet room but somehow comforting, breaking the tension with a grin. "Right then, let's see if Price's got any of that old whiskey left, eh? Something to toast to getting this far." Gaz lets out a soft laugh, wiping his eyes as he nods in agreement. Price smiles, getting up slowly, giving each of them a nod before gesturing towards the cabinet. "Alright then," he says, his voice softer now, almost tender. "But none of you lightweights better fall asleep on me. Tonight, we’re celebrating."

The mood shifts, the heaviness lifting as they gather around, passing glasses, clinking them together with shared smiles, and letting the warmth of each other's presence settle in. They share quiet jokes, some of them whispered, some louder, their laughter weaving into the fabric of the night. The night stretches on with stories—some true, some wildly exaggerated just to get a laugh—and laughter that feels almost healing, like a balm for old wounds. They let themselves relax, let their guards down, knowing that in this moment, they were safe, and they had each other.

Later, as the room grows quieter, Price leans back in his chair, looking around at his team. He catches Ghost's eye and raises his glass. "To surviving," he says, his voice rough but filled with warmth. "To the years we weren't supposed to have, and the ones still waiting for us." Ghost raises his own glass, his hand steady now, and the rest follow.

"To us," Ghost adds, his voice soft but sure. They drink, and for a moment, it feels like time itself pauses, allowing them to bask in this one perfect moment.

As the fire crackles in the corner, they settle into a comfortable silence. Ghost leans back, feeling the fatigue in his bones, but also the comfort of the people around him. Soap nudges him, a small smile playing on his lips. "Bet you didn't think you'd be sitting here with us old bastards, huh?"

Ghost huffs a quiet laugh. "No," he admits. "But I'm damn glad I am."

[herebecritters]

Go with the flow kinda bros

[bonefall]

Voted for Bumble bc of course but also if you think Alex would not pspsps Bumble you are wrong. If they could communicate they would go to therapy together /s

If then could communicate they would go to therapy together

/GEN

Kyle/Green Lantern resurrects her but then he becomes convinced that she's not the same person she was before the incident, OR SOMETHING SOMETHING Black Lanterns aren't ACTUALLY bad they're just misunderstood Grim Reaper types, in either case Alex ends up breaking it off with Kyle because they've become very different people.

And then Bumble's there

And then they go to therapy or Alex adopts Bumble, and then uhhh Bumble's like one of the superpets. Like Krypto the Superdog. Free premise go forth and play with it if ur a DC fan

[theartichrist]

Shu does traditional art real???

Sorry for the excessive amounts of tape I don’t like to draw directly onto the final product page 😞

Anyways reference sheet for this cutie patootie soon. (I just love making OC reference sheets ok)