#bring John back

[chidichidibumbum]

What If..

Finn is Rey's first student in teaching the force and she learns how to discipline through him. Then, fifteen years later, they're both masters in the force and incredible Jedi. Rey has the academy that she trains padawan in but doing it alone can sometimes get overwhelming, that's why Finn is also there to teach at the academy and they are two Jedi masters together.

[bluegiragi]

slash n' clash.

full version on patreon

[disabled-femme]

labor psa: a scab is somebody who does struck work. a scab may be a union member or not—usually not, in many industries. if you are doing work that would ordinarily be done by a person on strike, you are a scab, even if you yourself are not part of a union whose members are striking

for example, an influencer who starts doing promo work for struck companies that would ordinarily be done by actors: that is a scab

regular person going to see a movie: not a scab

annoyed addition: customer going to coffee shop whose baristas are on strike to get a coffee made by a scab: not scabbing, but crossing the picket line

[potato-lord-but-not]

ARTHUR LESTER AND HIS THREE BOYFRIENDS DOODLES 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ okeay weell… half of them are just John and Oscar but w h a t ever

[furiosophie]

((zombie ghost this, zombie ghost that, what about eldritch!soap who came back wrong??))

[ringosmistress]

[boredth]

Do I look civilized to you?

[spooksicl-e]

he was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and i had become one of them… i was a whetstone for his mind. i stimulated him.

[cherrirui-official]

"You know... You didn't have to take that with you."

"But I promised him I'd take him out to see the ocean one day."

[s0fter-sin]

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

[frodolives]

I really enjoy the reactions that this clip gets so I made this

[butch--dean]

Spn revival (re this post): Dean doesn’t ever acknowledge Cas’s feelings but he does pointedly drink out of straws in front of him. Hoping that Cas will pick up the hint (he doesn’t). Dean sulks the entire time, but grows more and more physically affectionate with Cas, assuming he thinks they’re just no homo bro touches because he hasn’t said anything. This devastates him but he continues to let it happen. The season culminates in Dean and Cas standing under an umbrella together in the rain, drinking from the same glass of sweet tea together, each using their own straw. They’re standing outside of their newly purchased home. Their boots and shoulders touch. They never kiss

[badadboombadabing26]

Be the change you want to see in a Fandom that's been dead since the 2000's

[emmster]

Do you tan or burn LT?

An impeccable bronze Johnny

Tan lines around the eyes

Naturally

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell reader is being bothered by an uncomfortably friendly customer and tf141 handle it in their own ways.

warnings: female!reader (she/her pronouns) isn’t being overtly harassed but you know when a man is being too interested and too friendly? its that. egregious use of scots as inspired by still game, pet names “love”, “hen” and “bonnie girl” used to refer to f!reader.

word count: 1.5k

pairings: kyle garrick x reader, john mactavish x reader, simon riley x reader, john price x reader.

each reader x named character interaction should be read as a standalone but i stuck them all together as they were too short to post individually in my opinion.

- -

this customer is making you nervous as fuck. you don't think you've been inappropriate with him in any way, just polite and friendly as you sorted out his refund. the problem is that he's massive, easily taller than simon by a couple of inches and he keeps looming over you blaming his difficulty understanding english as to why he keeps getting closer and closer. he's practically mounting the customer service desk to peer down at you (and you have a horrible feeling he's trying to get a look down your polo top).

you're beginning to panic so you do the only thing you think to do (which admittedly is pretty stupid looking back on it) and make your excuses to leave the customer service desk to find one of your friends. or at least find a colleague who will act as a witness if this guy gets any creepier.

gaz handles it like a champ. as soon as he spots the creep following you around he's there. arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side at the kitchen consultant's desk. his customer service smile is fixed on his face and he refuses to even acknowledge this giant arsehole of a man, just keeps talking to you softly and shows you the kitchen he’s working on. kyle’s beautiful brown eyes only briefly leave your face so he can point out another favourite part of his design, he never once looks over at the creep. it works to soothe you, especially being so close to him. after ten minutes of being blatantly ignored, the creep walks off muttering under his breath. hopefully he’s left the store but unfortunately it’s around that time that kyle has a couple walk up to him asking him if he’s free for a drop in consultation. before he agrees he checks in with a gentle “you alright if i take this appointment, yeah? come straight back if that guy is still hanging around. i’ll deal with him.” he looks so serious you believe him. you reassure him that you’ll be fine and he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before you separate from his warmth already missing the slightly woody scent of his cologne. before you’re completely out of earshot you hear the couple cooing over how cute kyle was with you and his reply of “well, it’s not exactly hard when she’s one of my favourite colleagues…” and the fondness in his voice makes your cheeks heat up. 

-

johnny nearly trips over you as you’re crouched behind the paint desk. “steamin’ jesus, what’re ya daein’ under there hen?” you hush him quickly and silently with a finger raised to your lips. you don’t want to speak because you know the giant is still out there looking for you, you thought you’d given him the slip near the paint brushes but then he’d rounded the end of the aisle so you darted for the relative safety of the paint desk. johnny crouches down next to you and whispers “are we hidin’ from someone? is it simon?” you shake your head and go to answer him but then your blood runs cold as you hear that familiar accented voice. “excuse me? i was wondering if you might help, i’m looking for the fräulein who was helping me?” johnny shoots a look at you and you squish yourself further into the corner of the desk hoping against hope that johnny won’t give you away. thankfully, johnny straightens up from behind the desk with his most charming customer service grin “sorry pal, i’ve no’ seen her. ‘s only me on the desk the day.” the creep sounds nonplussed at johnny’s thick glaswegian accent (you’ve certainly never heard it ramped up like that in all the times you’ve spoken with him) and a little crestfallen when he starts to reply with “oh, perhaps you’d be good enough to -” johnny interrupts him, voice still pitched in a friendly manner but you can hear an undercurrent of tension “naw, sorry pal. i’m busy pitin’ the hems oan the tins. is there anythin’ i can dae fer ye mixin’ wise?” there’s a moment of silence and you watch johnny’s smile slowly slip off his face, his lips thinning into a stern line. “ah, um. no thank you. perhaps she will find me.” the creep sounds a little nervous now if the uncomfortable laugh he lets out is any indication. “aye right. well i’d best be lettin’ you get oan then eh?” johnny shifts on his feet slightly so his calf brushes up against your arm. after another tense moment you hear the lumbering footsteps of the giant move away from the desk. johnny looks down at you with a mischievous grin, “i’ve got to say bonnie girl, you look a right sight down there.” you only feel a little bit bad when you punch him lightly in the leg and he yelps in shock as the blush on your cheeks spreads down your neck. 

-

simon is less than impressed when you duck under the chain across the warehouse doors and flatten yourself against the noticeboard out of view from the shop floor. “you stupid? chains up which means the forklift is out so you need to be too.” he’s pissed off and thinking about how much paperwork he’ll have to fill out now because you didn’t bother to think about the cameras in your dash for safety. he takes a big step towards you before swerving off to the side to block the customer that has just appeared at the chain. “the fuck do you want?” he practically snarls. ‘this isn’t the fucking caff.” simon squares his shoulders and glares at the oversized dickhead that’s wasting his time. “well? can’t you fuckin’ read? staff access only. and you’re not staff so fuck off.” simon barks at the man, not letting him get a word in edgewise to start bitching about stock or whatever it is that he wants. simon couldn’t give a shit, he just wants the customer (and you) to fuck off promptly so he can start moving pallettes around. the customer just blinks and takes several steps back before turning away. you let out a shaky sigh and thank simon quietly. simon hums in acknowledgement and sweeps a critical eye down your lightly trembling form. “he botherin’ ya?” at your nod he hums again before jerking his head towards the back of the warehouse “go put a hi-vis on and sit in the office, i’ll come get you when i’m done on the ‘lift.”. when simon comes back into the office two paper cups of tea in hand thirty minutes later, you offer him a small smile and catch his lips twitch up briefly before he turns away to plunk his cup down on top of a cluttered filing cabinet. 

-

price practically walks into you as you come flying around the end of the plumbing aisle. it’s unusual to see you so far away from the customer service desk and looking so flustered. “alright, love?” his hand is on your elbow as he asks. you crane your neck round to look behind you, too worried about that customer to enjoy his large warm hand on your bare skin. price straightens up and drops his hand away from you when he spots a customer behind you, in his opinion the customer is moving a little too fast to be considered casual. price bristles slightly when he catches the dark look on the gentleman’s face. oh no, he doesn’t like the look of this one at all. especially when you look at price and mouth “help” quickly. price steps forward and puts you at his back, blocking the creep from getting any closer. “can i help you, mate?” his gruff voice is just shy of sounding friendly and you watch his back muscles shift under the black polo top he’s wearing. “no thank you, i wanted to speak with the little woman some more.” god the customer is weird, you shudder a little at being referred to as a “little woman”. price shifts to block the customer’s view of you more fully as he does you notice the back of price’s neck has gone a little red. “not possible. i need her for a job.” price’s words sound like they’re being ground out through gritted teeth in response. “i’m sure simon would be more than willing to help you.” you jolt a little when you spot simon at the customer’s shoulder. a man shouldn’t be able to move so silently in steel toed safety boots. you catch a brief wince flicker across the customer’s face when simon’s hand comes down on his shoulder, slightly too hard to be entirely polite. “ah, um, yes. perhaps that’s for the best.” simon leads the customer away and you step up beside price to thank him. he looks deadly serious when he turns to face you “any time love.” his stern blue stare softens slightly and you’re sure you catch his gaze flicker to your mouth briefly before he clears his throat and turns away “c’mon then. back to the returns desk with you.”. 

- -

AN: i have very much hidden from customers in the warehouse and behind the paint desk at B&Q. don’t be like reader (or me) and hide in the goods-in area, you will get shouted at for it. 

translation for johnny’s scots: “pitin’ the hems oan” = putting the hems on, meaning to put something in order or to restrain something/someone.

[asurrogateblog]

paul is dead trutherism isn't taking it far enough we need to invent even weirder conspiracies. suggestions include:

paul isn't dead because he never existed in the first place he's a symptom of mass hysteria and if we all just face reality and stop believing in him he'll finally disappear

paul did die in a car crash but the other three necromanced him back to life so it's basically a wash

paul did die in a car crash but after they hired billy shears to replace him they summoned paul's ghost and got billy possessed so it's basically a wash

paul is john's childhood imaginary friend that he imagined so vividly he came to life (this could also work in the reverse direction but john's current real-life occupation is already "paul's imaginary friend")

paul, john, george, and ringo are actually all the same guy who's in a closed-loop reincarnation situation as karmic punishment