#why am i like this?

[mellosdrawings]

Hey @basuralindo I started to make the shitty meme redraws ! (For ref, here's the original post !) Here's a first!

(Based in this meme by @basuralindo )

[fanaticsnail]

I can't with these guys.

[spaceorphan18]

What she says: "I find myself suddenly at a loss of words. My reticence is not due to a desire to protect any risqué couplings. [...] My restraint comes from a place of joy."

What she means: 'Sorry, can't chat, it's not that I don't have any gossip, it's that I'm too busy fucking my husband.'

[stopper-my-heart]

"Oh my god, I like you so much. And I love liking you."

I think this sentiment is a great summary of Nick-with-regards-to-Charlie. It's true from the very beginning.

At the same time as Nick is terrified of his feelings for Charlie, he is, in a way, not bothered by that and is even happy about his feelings. Or, at least, the Charlie of it all is very happy for him.

There are many instances of this, where Nick is visibly confused or surprised or scared (or all three) about how he's feeling, but he smiles before, during or afterwards, and of course he continues to seek Charlie out, spend time with him and be into him. What's happening may be unfamiliar and scary, yes, but it feels good.

And then we have this scene:

In Nick's face we see a beautiful moment of realisation and maybe resigned acceptance, with no hints of the typical happiness to balance it out. In this moment, it's no longer about Charlie or Nick's feelings for specifically Charlie. It's now about Nick. And that's scarier in a deeper way.

What do his feelings for Charlie mean for Nick, for his life, for his sense of self and identity, for how Nick sees himself and how others will see him?

The titular refrain of Orla Gartland's "Why Am I Like This?" of course starts playing at this moment, implying that's what Nick is thinking: "Why am I like this?", with a further implication of, "What's wrong with me?"

It seems like such self-doubt, and self-recrimination, even.

Nick could back down here. He could put his thoughts aside, do something else, bury his feelings. But he doesn't. He maintains his determination, immediately taking action to try to figure out what's going on with him and better understand himself. Even though he's scared.

This is an example of one of my favourite things about Nick: He may be scared, but he doesn't let that stop him (or if he does, it's never for very long). He may be scared, but he loves likes Charlie Spring, and he loves liking him.

[lohotine]

AN: My parents walked into my room midway of me making this and asked me what I was doing- 😰 Um... enjoy?

Part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/shmolish/746719597375504384/hi-read-your-um-possessive-shadow-milk-x-reader?source=share

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN! Reader

Oneshot (1/2)

Warnings: Suggestive scenes, marking, possessiveness, mild swearing. MINORS, DNI.

-Jealousy, jealousy-

You had been talking to someone new at the theater. They were naturally charming, and you couldn't help but laugh at their jokes, and smile at how they spoke.

He was obviously in love with you, but for some reason, you didn't notice.

Those hungry eyes should be obvious to anybody, though.

Little did you know, someone else had been watching the entire time.

A certain blue jester, gazing and silently hating from afar.

He knew he could make you laugh so much harder, smile so much wider... Make you feel so much better.

Surely you hadn't forgotten about him.. right?

If you did... he would just have to remind you.

You were finished talking to that person soon enough, and Shadow Milk took this as the perfect opportunity to reunite with you!

"Hello doll. Been having fun without me?" He had that normal smile on his face, like he always did. To any normal person, it would look like nothing was amiss...

But something was very wrong.. The fact that you were talking and smiling with somebody else. And the way he looked at you with those eyes- Shadow Milk Cookie absolutely despised it.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that." You would just smile awkwardly.

"Say... who exactly was he?" Shadow Milk would ask while taking your hand. He just started walking somewhere with you.

"Oh, just a guy I met today. He's pretty funny," you explained.

Shadow Milk nodded his head before quickly shoving both of you into a janitor closet.

"Ack, what are you-" Shadow Milk Cookie put a finger infront of your lips, promptly sushing you. His old smile was replaced with a more sinister and stern look.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He would take both of your hands and pin them above your head, and you could feel his breath on your neck as he moved closer to it.

"What is this for..?" You'd ask him, breath hitching as he sent butterfly kisses along the side of your neck.

"Doll, you're so oblivious that it hurts."

You could feel him begin to nip at the skin on your neck.

"You seriously didn't notice how he was looking at you?"

You would let out some quiet mewls before responding.

"I guess not-"

He bit down hard on your neck, to which you immediately whined at.

"Doll, you have to be quiet. I know you can take it~ And besides, you wouldn't want someone to hear us, right?" He would ask teasingly. You knew he had that shit-eating grin on his face.

You would shake your head and try your best to stay quiet.

"Struggling, are we? I don't see why. I've been much rougher with you before..."

He would continue sucking and biting at your neck, leaving you no time to rest.

"I guess it's entertaining though."

He moved his other free hand to slowly trail down your side, only stopping to be placed firmly around your waist. He pulled your bodies closer together, yet to him, it was never quiet close enough.

At this point, you were practically melted under his touch, and your legs were trembling.

He had told you time and time again to not be so loud... but it really couldn't be helped.

Purple and red bite marks were dotted all over you neck. There was no hiding all of them..

Shadow Milk would take his knee and nudge between your legs slightly.

"Dove, why don't we take this to the bedroom?

Fin ☆

Uh, if you guys want more, just request- 👀

[wearingaberetinparis]

When you write something that is so incredibly niche that you wonder if anyone will ever read it and then remember that, actually, you have to write for you as much as for other people, so you write it anyway, even if it is ridiculous to the extreme.

And you think I'm applying hyperbole here, but I am not. Genuinely, I am giggling so much and even if I never post this Jily AU, I'll remember all the fun I've had writing it.

[top-shelf-tender]

Everyone else watching Loser, Baby: yaaaaay, Huskerdust~!!

Me, watching Loser, Baby: haha, the dice literally say 69

[ineffablyruined]

Interrupting my regularly scheduled Michael Sheen microexpressions to cry over this.

HIS LIP TREMBLES.

Like actual, honest-to-somebody QUIVERS.

Look closer.

I'll just be over here crying in my corner.

[cafefoxtale]

Kat, the Barioth did WHAT?!?!

Not me slipping up while streaming 😭

[twingus-bingus]

Being genderfluid/agender/whatever the fuck I am is fucking wild because somehow I can manage to want to look like all of these characters at once.

[fanaticsnail]

Snail: "Finally, I have inspiration to write! I could do the chapter finale of Sapsorrow for Mihawk, maybe finish off the first chapter of Sapsorrow for the Donquixote brothers, finish off another silly "Hey Doc" series, finish mapping pollen for Ace and Mihawk and get a start on that, start on some ancient requests that have been in my WIPs forever. Things are finally looking up!"

Inner-Snail: "..."

Snail: "...don't. Please, don't."

Inner-Snail: "...but what about a yandere Rob Lucci that gets overcome with the animal instinct to hunt you down and make you his? The longer you elude him, the more he wants you. Half-shifting, biting, snarling, tracking, trailing..."

Snail:

[ladysparrow01]

"What was your favourite book this year?"

"Which film did you enjoy seeing?"

"What were your top songs from the year?"

Me, apparently unable to remember a single piece of media I experienced over the past 12 months:

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 2

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, implied soapghost cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet), MWIII spoilers

---

When Johnny died, a black hole swallowed Ghost whole, bones and blood crushed into numbness by an all-encompassing gravity. Work, duty, life went on, but even spreading Johnny's ashes in Scotland — a place they'd talked about visiting together during those rare moments when exhaustion-induced delirium held the cold voice of reason at bay — even that couldn't counter the gravity holding him suspended in a single moment, knees crashing into blood-soaked concrete and a choked voice calling out to a man who would never answer.

The longer they chase Makarov through his little puppet show, though, the more the numbness gives way to other feelings — pain, despair, rage — that grow more potent every day they fail to bring the bastard to justice.

They've searched for years, yet they're always two steps behind. 

And this bloodbath of an op is no different.

If he has to focus his rage on someone other than Makarov, though, he's glad it's Makarov's dog, dubbed Agent Zero by the task force generals, stalking his team's steps today. The demon appeared six months after their failure in the Channel Tunnel and has hounded the 141 ever since, denying them victories, decimating their support squads, and nearly killing each of the core members at least once. 

Zero seems to have it out for Ghost in particular, though. The agent has put him on medical leave more than a dozen times already, and today will be no different.

If he can escape with his life, that is.

Ghost controls his breathing and prepares for the coming fight the best he can with a bullet hole in his side. He's not bleeding out, so he'll take that as a win, even if the blood loss is making him woozy. Sunlight blazes down on him as he stands in the middle of the open area between warehouses and waits for Zero to catch up.

As if summoned, Zero stalks out from behind a building, thick body hidden behind layers of black tactical gear and a full helmet. Based on their build and the muffled growls he's heard in past confrontations, Ghost guesses Makarov's agent is a man, but the tinted glass of their helmet makes it impossible to know for sure.

It doesn't matter, though. Whoever they are, they have to die. The 141 will never catch Makarov while his dog is nipping at their heels.

The agent weaves through the detritus of dead Konni and SAS soldiers while scanning the area. Ghost has already ordered the remaining SAS support units to fall back, and all the Konni soldiers are dead, the last one lying at Ghost's feet, eyes staring unseeing at the blue sky.

It's just the two of them now.

Despite the sun's heat, a chill pebbles Ghost's skin. This will likely be the end for one of them. He hopes it's Zero, if only for his team's sake.

Ghost himself has nothing left to lose.

The pavement radiates the afternoon sunlight, the air blurred with shimmering waves. Sweat soaks into Ghost's mask and runs in rivulets down his back.

Zero's helmet turns his way.

The agent freezes for a split second... before breaking into a dead run, headed straight toward Ghost.

Feet pound on the pavement in time with Ghost's quickening heartbeat. And just like every other time they've clashed, a sinuous familiarity in the way Zero moves wraps around Ghost's senses, more an innate recognition of form than the identification of any specific action. He ponders the sensation as Zero barrels down on him, all terrifying focus and yet easy grace. If the agent weren't his sworn enemy, he thinks he could find beauty in those movements.

He waits until the last minute to dodge, using his own speed and Zero's momentum to push the agent away. Zero is expecting the move, however, and swings around to land a hard punch to Ghost's throat. Ghost twists, the blow glancing off his tac vest instead. They round on each other and dive in again. 

Attack. Deflect. Block.

So it goes for what seems like eternity, trading blows over blood-slick stones. And still, the movements haunt Ghost with that winding thread of familiarity.

A phantom ache builds in his chest, though he doesn't know why.

He dodges a fist to his injured side, and Zero pauses for a split second, helmet tipping down. Ghost uses the distraction to attempt a headlock but wheezes when an armored fist collides with his injury. In a haze of pain, Ghost grips Zero's neck harder, kicks the agent's feet out from under them, and slams them face-first into the ground. A crunching sound rings in Ghost's ears, and tempered glass fragments spill over the pavement.

The impact doesn't keep the devil down, though. Zero shoves Ghost away, using the momentum to scramble out of reach. Ghost lands on his back with a huff, the sharp pain in his side nearly blinding him.

He's getting too fucking old for this. 

Maybe tonight will prove it.

He lifts himself up on one elbow to get eyes on Zero, a little confused that he's not already fending off another attack. But... his enemy is standing stock still a few feet away.

More importantly, the broken visor leaves the helmet wide open to the sunny day, giving Ghost his first, full view of the person who's been terrorizing them for years.

A broken sound of confusion wheezes through Ghost's tight throat.

From inside the broken helmet, blue eyes flick down to meet his gaze — the exact same shade of blue that's haunted his dreams since the day he lost everything.

Or so he thought.

It can't be.

It can't.

And yet—

"Johnny?"

The name rips from his throat like a desperate prayer, mangled by panting breaths of overexertion. The man's glassy eyes go wide and... confused?

And then he drops the knife in his hand like it's burned him before falling to his knees at Ghost's side.

"Hells fuckin' bells, Lt. What happened? Are ye broken?"

Scars crisscross the man's face, puckered and vicious, but... Those eyes. That voice.

And yet—

Ghost scrambles back, his frozen body falling back on the familiarity of distrust. "Get the fuck away from me," he growls. "Dunno who you are, but... but you're not him. You can't be him."

"Lt..."

A note of sadness and desperation coats the word he's heard a thousand times from lips that look just like those. The man reaches out, but Ghost smacks his hand away.

"Don't touch me," he growls.

Because it's a trick. It has to be a trick. He's not this lucky. His life is made of tragedy, the highs only there to ensure a longer drop when everything crumbles to dust. Maybe that's what this is, then? A trick to raise him up so high that the drop finally shatters him?

Maybe he's lost his mind. Or maybe he's delirious from excessive blood loss. Regardless, he won't fall for whatever game Makarov is playing now.

He attempts to stand, but it seems his body has chosen this moment to finally betray him. He groans and presses a hand into his side. A vicious hiss leaves the man's mouth as blood seeps into Ghost's glove, turning the white paint red.

"Shite. Tha's bad. Ye need to call for med evac. Are the others here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. Makarov got you doing his interrogatin' now?"

"What? No, I'd never—"

"Never hunt the 141 for years on end. Never fuck up our missions right and left? Never ruthlessly kill soldiers without a hint of remorse? No. My Johnny would never. You, though? You've killed half of the people lying around us. Saw you do it with my scope. Now you expect me to believe you're... you're him?" Ghost shakes his head and bites back another groan of pain. "No. Johnny is dead. You're just one of Makarov's tricks."

The man's face twists into something close to panic. "Fuck. Ghost, I swear to ye... I don't... I don't remember any of tha'. What I can tell ye is I was never in tha' tunnel. Konni bastards grabbed me in Sibera and sent the 141 back with... some kind of replacement. Makarov would come see me and talk about a serum that did too good a job making them into me. Last thing I remember, I was tied to a chair in some backwater base being shot full of..."

The man trails off as he seems to realize the implications of what he's saying. All Ghost can think, though, is that even if the man is lying, the fact that he looks and sounds like Johnny means Makarov has access to far more advanced biotech than any of them suspected. 

As if to underscore the realization, a faint hiss reaches his ears as his breathing regulates. He grabs the man's vest and pulls him closer, turning his ear toward the helmet.

The hissing gets louder.

The man seems to realize what Ghost is doing and tries to pull off the helmet, but it's locked down. Zero's movements become more violent the longer he struggles, a low growl starting up deep in his chest. Ghost leans up—

And then hisses in pain as his side reminds him why that's a bad idea. His reaction seems to distract the man, though.

"Med evac, Ghost. Call it in. Ye've got nothing to fear from me."

As much as he hates to admit it, the man is right. His team is long gone with the exfil helo, so he's going to need to call in his own evac. With a shaking hand, Ghost flips on his comms.

"Ghost to Watcher-1 actual."

"Ghost, this is Watcher-1. Send traffic."

Laswell's voice soothes the frayed edges of Ghost's rapidly declining confidence in his sanity. He takes a deep breath.

"Agent Zero was waiting for us. Need med evac immediately."

"Shit. You broken?"

"Affirmative."

"Med evac already inbound. Price's doing. Hot zone?"

"Negative. All clear."

"Mission sitrep?"

"Mission FUBAR but..."

Ghost trails off, unsure of how to explain. He glances at Jo— at the man with Johnny's face and clicks off the comms.

"If you want me to believe you're Johnny," he growls, "you'll come with me and prove it."

"'Course I will, Simon," the man says in a sad tone so like Johnny's that Ghost seizes up.

Laswell's voice breaks him out of it. "Ghost, how copy?"

He clicks back into the comms and explains to Laswell that he's bringing an asset with him, the faint sound of helo blades echoing in the distance as he signs off. He stares at the man with Johnny's face, waiting for an attack. Waiting for the agent to reveal his game.

But the attack never comes. As the helo appears on the horizon, Makarov's agent just stares into space, his expression reminiscent of someone slipping into a dissociative state.

Ghost's heart makes itself known for the first time in years. Yearning, sharp as a dagger slipped between ribs, suffuses his chest. 

A stab in the back might be worth it just to feel the familiar weight in his arms, to let himself believe for a few precious seconds that his Johnny is back.

Ghost shakes away the feeling.

He can't afford to trust. Can't afford to believe.

Not yet.

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 >>

[sydcarmyfan]

Me: The Bear is back next week🥳💃🎉

Also me: THE BEAR IS BACK NEXT WEEK 😰🫣

[a-sad-mage]

Ever think about how one of the rooms in the Shane Hideout technically belongs to Will,

So, like when Eli first scoped out the place, he probably stood in what was once his dads room for a solid five or ten minutes, taking in the dust covered room and all its stuff before getting the gear Will had left him.

And then when Trixie, Kord and Pronto like officially moved in and where claiming rooms for themselves they also saw what was once Will Shane's room, and how Eli just kinda avoided it by sleeping on the couch.

(because I hc there are like four actual bedrooms in the Hideout.)

And it takes like, a month to get Eli to not only clean out what was once his dad's old room but actually move into it himself?

And lest not think about the potential box/album of photos Will probably kept under his bed or something like that, and how those photos were of him and his son. (As well as some other personal items)

Let's not think about how Eli probably had to go out back and have a little cry before mustering up the energy to finish cleaning, out the room that was once his dad's, and is now his.

Let's not think about how Eli probably had to hide a lot of his dad's things, not just because he didn't want his friends to find them, but because they where to painful to look at.

...

Welp, i'ma head on off to bed now, night night!

[ghosty-dsmp]

Ok i am so gonna be publicly honest here, and right im gonna say this as if you guys were my bestie (even tho some of you are already are) i am a disgusting being and im gonna explain why

My whole I've been in a battle of trying to act pure and kind when i actually don't care that much about people, in fact, i actually only care truly for only 3 people, my partner, another person, and one of my irl friends, my whole i've tried to have a good moral compass and be pure but but im sick and disgusting, and there will always be a fucked up part of me that find pleasure in people painand awful, terrible, indeemable things, and idk how to find enjoyment and joy in normal nice things except when they are from my partner or my 2 friends, its like im cursed for life ro be disgusting truly, i am a disgusting being, and idk how to help myself

Im sorry for being like this, i just can't help it

Sorry for the mood swing

Sorry for never telling this to incel or to my irl friend "m" or to tragedy, i just don't want to scare you guys away or hurt you guys