#when it comes to john

[bluegiragi]

only one slasher's allowed in these woods…

early access + nsfw on patreon

[rusticfurnace]

GHOSTSOAP // "you sweet fucker" MINICOMIC!!!

[skeletood]

yeah, they're boyfriends

[jakejeffreyperalta]

sally jackson is literally the only person ever. she's so amazing. she's perfect. she's so kind it makes people cry. she listens to nirvana. she's beautiful. she fought a bull. she can cook. she's everyone's mother. she's a writer. she sings sad songs and applies them to her life and cries. she killed her abusive ex husband and sold him to get money for an apartment. she used to work at a candy store and bring percy samples of his favourite flavours. she shot a monster with a police gun in the middle of a war. she started making food blue because she's petty and she knew it would piss gabe off. she's an icon. she's the moment. no. 1 milf. no one's doing it like her.

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[koszmarnybudyn]

Monster John is something that can be so very special.

[b4kuch1n]

podcast people in my phone

[filmbroandy]

big thing about the terror is how it treats every single death as a massive tragedy. from the death of david young in the first episode through every horror that follows every death scene is given enormous weight in the narrative, it never once feels like anyone is expendable despite most of the cast really not mattering that much. it's such a good choice to make tonally in a show about how these people are simultaneously tools of british colonialism and victims of the indifferent imperial machine.

[hopelesslonelyghost]

has anyone seen those tiktoks where it goes “if i die don’t look for me i’ll come to you?” and it’s like a cat or a puppy….

yall know where this is going …..

:)

what if you spoke about that with your boys. just randomly one afternoon when all five of you are chilling in the living room watching a movie and you’re just like, “if i die i’ll come back as a cat” and they all just whip their heads towards you and you’re like “what?”

the only one who bites the bullet is simon, who snorts and asks, “wha’ type o’ cat would you be, love?” and price is lowkey highkey glaring at him because why the fuck is he encouraging this?

you just shrug, “i think maybe a black cat. i’ve always had a soft spot for them.” and that was the end of the conversation because the movie got to the good part and you shushed everyone.

what if you died on a mission. ambushed and shot dead in front of your squad. just like that, you’re gone.

what if one day a couple of months later when your boys are visiting your grave they’re all sat on the grass when all of a sudden a black kitty comes meowing up to kyle and immediately jumps in his lap and begins to purr and knead at his jeans.

what if all of them just freeze because they remembered that conversation you all had years ago about you coming back as a cat. a black cat.

what if kyle picks the kitten up, staring at it with tears in his eyes and just holds the tiny feline up to his face and whispers, “you really came back.”

what if they take the kitty home, bathe her and cuddle her until she falls asleep.

what if they all cry themselves to sleep that night because they just miss you so much but you really kept your word because even in the afterlife you’re right there in the form of a rambunctious kitten that loves to sun gaze just like you did. that loves to sit on their laps just like you did. that loves to nap at all hours of the day just like you did. that loves to sometimes spend time alone just like you did. that loves to leave wet kisses on their cheeks just like you did. that is just as clumsy just like you were.

what if one day they all come home to their fur baby staring at a framed picture they have of you. smiling and trying to cover your face from the camera. they remember you weren’t fast enough, and that flick of you is now one of their most precious memories.

what if the little void looks back at the boys and chirps a soft greeting. happy to see them back and running over to them and rubbing themselves against their feet, welcoming them back home.

WHAT IFFFFFFFFF

[ryssbelle]

Brozone reunion concepts for this little thing based on this ask

As stated in the ask idk fully how this moment would go, this concept was mostly building off the premise presented within the ask :D

Bonus:

[bluegiragi]

negotiations.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[cod-dump]

*Ghost and Alex having a conversation in the hall*

Farah while staring at Alex: I don’t know if he whimpers but I’ll make him either way

Soap & Gaz: *stare at her in shock*

Farah: … what?

Gaz: You did NOT just say that!

Farah: Please, Ghost says shit like that all the time

Soap: WE’RE USED TO HIM BEING THE WEIRDO

Price: Ignore them. You go bag that man

Farah: Yes, sir *marches off towards an oblivious Alex*

Gaz, quietly: Oh my god- This is a fever dream. It has to be. None of those words were just said-

[lemonwrap]

Ghost who watched his parents tear each other apart in a loveless marriage and now thinks marriage is a waste of time vs Soap who watched his parents flourish in a loving marriage and wants nothing more than to marry Ghost to show his devotion

[doriana-gray-games]

can we get a snippet of Dr Watson taking care of Sherlock? :>

“You were foolish—“

“Calculating—“

“Foolish!”

“I miscalculated,” you correct. “Or missed some variable. Being wrong, in some small way, is not the same as foolish. Truly Watson, to think you so against learning, improving oneself by accepting failures—“

“YOU BROKE YOUR TOES!”

“Just the one toe…”

“The important one.”

“I don’t discriminate on such things.”

Watson pushes you down to remain on the bed. “I need to bind it. How’s your pain?”

“Tolerable. Unless…”

“No—“

“Then do not ask.”

Your good doctor had kept you in bed, elevated foot and everything for far too long now. It had been nearly an hour.

There’s tea on your cupboard. Extra sugars. And the very best biscuits, the one Watson hoards for the longest of days.

“Watson?”

They hum a soft sound, an acknowledgment, as they bind your broken appendage with steady and careful hands.

“If I am forced to endure monotony, I shall demand you do it with me.”

Watson looks at you, over those steady shoulders. A small smile across their lips. “I shall remain by your side. For as long as… as you need me, Sherlock. I can promise you that.”

[bressynonym]

an apple a day 🍎

[s0fter-sin]

kneeling is a broad term for what ghost does with price

surrendering is slightly more accurate but even that doesn’t hope to touch the sheer desperation in the way he clutches at him; his body bowed low at his feet, his legs latched around one of his, hugging it so tightly to his chest his arms shake as he digs his face into his thigh

it’s only here that he can finally give in to the screaming; to the distant voice he strangles into silence every day of his life. the one who begs him to make himself as small as possible; do everything he can to hide from the ever encroaching demons growling and salivating at his heels

it’s only here, in the dark of price’s barracks, hidden by a bed at his back and a wall to his front, that he finally lets himself stop running; only between solid combat boots and worn fatigues does he let himself tremble and admit to the choking fear

he’d break open price’s chest if he could; crawl past his gushing viscera and curl up under his ribs, hidden in the warm dark

ghost clawed his way out of the grave with broken nails and gritted teeth but he wouldn’t mind being buried again if it meant being cradled in the safety of price’s insides. his warm blood and soft lungs would blanket him, mask the stench of his rotten flesh until he could even convince himself that, maybe, he too was still alive

he shifts, unnerved by his own longing, and price runs his hand over the crown of his mask the same way he’d card it through his hair until he settles once more

he grounds him over the long hours it takes for his white-knuckled grip to relax into a loose hold; for his face to stop grinding into the meat of his thigh and simply rest in his lap, his bracketing legs the only thing holding his lax body up as he floats, untethered by fear