#would have probably had him in it later

[the-real-aku]

Note: Before you read this please keep in mind it hasn't been edited and is incomplete and idk if I ever WILL finish it

Now, I present; Sometimes the Dead Still Walk

The holidays were always stressful for Soap, no, John. He was John while around his family.

The stressors he suffered from then were ones it felt like everyone had; what to get people, working off the meals, making it to family gatherings. Now he had to do all of that and remember how to be a normal person. John had to remember to be John, not the 141's Soap MacTavish, not a soldier. Worse, he had to remember not everyone could take 'classified'* as an answer.

But he always looked forward to coming home at least for a few days during this time of the year. This year was only a little different. One of his sisters had adopted her foster son! He hadn't gotten to meet the kid yet, any chances of leaving this year had been squashed until now. A well-deserved rest, Laswell had told all of them.

Parking his car, Johnny quickly marched up to the door and gave it a few rapt knocks. When it opened, the tension left his shoulders enough to ease some of the seemingly permanent achings he felt. It smelled just like he remembered. "Ma!" He yelled as he dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around the older woman.

"So, Joseph, how's settling into ma sister's home goin'? New friends?" When was the last time John had to talk to a child, not in an active war zone?

"S'okay...Can I ask you something?" The teen looked up at him. The lad had just the biggest eyes, right bonnie, and big lashes with how dark they were. They reminded him of Simon

"Ask away, kiddo-"

"Miss Marsha said you were in the military...Are you SAS?" John blinked slowly and opened his mouth before nodding slowly. He wasn't sure where this was going. "Cause my uncle was, or I guess maybe IS still in the SAS and I was wondering if you knew him..." Joseph's eyes glanced away. He was checking to see if anyone was watching or listening, that would be Soap's first move too.

"Maybe, but ye gotta tell me his name first, Joe. Plenty of people in the SAS, doesn't mean I'll know'em."

Joseph gently grabbed John's hand and stood up, giving the older man a small pull to follow. And follow John did, curious to see where this would go.

The boy chatted quietly as they walked down the hall, "I can't just tell you his name because it's like all the old people know his name. They just tell me he's gone and or hiding ‘coz he's a coward. But I know they're wrong, adults just don't listen to me. I hope you're different."

"Lad-"

“Uncle Simon was never a coward. I mean, sometimes he was but only in social situations where he had to talk. Dad wasn't the same, he could talk to anyone and anything. Come on, I have a photo in my suitcase lemme show you!"

Finally, John stumbled into said guest room that held Joseph's suitcase. The young teen quickly rummaged through a few books, old ones to that had faded sticky notes in them (clearly not written by him), before procuring a bent and aged photo. Wide eyes stared up at Soap with careful and hesitant hope as he handed over the folded-over photo. "His name’s Simon Riley... Sargent Riley, I think? I don't remember anymore. Like, his rank, not his name. Look, you’ve probably heard ‘bout my family but…please?"

John felt bile creep up his throat as he unfolded the photo. Even without the years of sleepless nights and pain plaguing the face of the man in the old family photo Soap knew who it was; the cropped, yet still shaggy blonde hair, the biggest bonnie brown eyes, the split in the man’s top lip near the corner, it had to be Ghost. "Aye...I do know him. You...that's-. Excuse me, Joseph. I need to make a few phone calls."

Johnny had nearly run out of the house while dialing the number Price had given him. “Common common common, Captain pick up the damn phone!” it took a few rings before Soap could breathe as he heard Price pick up.

“What’s the emergency, Sargent?”

“Well, it’s not exact-” John didn’t even finish the sentence before Price hang up. So, he did what anyone else would do.

“Soap, stop fuckin’ calling me if this is not an emergency. Five times now, so it better be worth my damn time.”

“Aye, sir, I promise. Just, I need ye to tell me the truth. Off the record, ‘course, did ye know Simon’s wee nephew is still kickin’?”

“What the fuck did you just ask me?”

“Captain, just, listen to me. Mah sister just took in this new kid from the system, he looks just like Ghost. Ignoring tha’, the kid just handed me a family photo that has Ghost in it lookin’ ten some years young and less like he fell into a blender.”....

END

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And then the clown stopped writing because they lost motivation. I still like the concept I just don't know how to execute it well.

[armenelols]

I don't recall the books ever specifying what weapons Elrond primarily fought with and while he is usually given a sword by both the movies and fandom, I think it would be incredibly hilarious if he came out with fucking Dramborleg. They are getting ready for battle and he brings out this huge ass axe his gramps once killed balrogs with. Sir, you were discussing poetry 10 minutes ago, where did that thing come from

[ducktracy]

there are a lot of evil people in the world and a lot of darkness in the world and so it’s very important for me to stress that now more than ever is the time to spread kindness and compassion. combat the evil by not only not partaking in it, but actively refuting it. destroy the notion that being compassionate or generous or kind to someone is uncool or embarrassing or even scary. be the change you want to see. start a chain reaction. positivity only breeds more positivity. do an act of kindness for someone so that that person who is too afraid to do it themselves can see you, realize that they’re not alone, and perhaps sheepishly follow your example. and then the next person who is too afraid but sees that person can do the same. when bad news comes out about bad people or horrible atrocities in the world it’s such an easy impulse to despair, and obviously it’s important to feel what you need to feel. grieve. be angry. be sorrowful. be empathetic. but dust off your pants and get up and be a part of a chain reaction that, no matter how small the scale, and spread compassion and love and care. all the reasons why you might not—“it’s hard! it’s scary! people will make fun of me! it’s useless because there’s too much evil!” are all grade A arguments as to why you should. you have no idea how many people you could inspire to do the same. even if it doesn’t get you anyway far, you can at least say you have the nobility of trying. please choose love and please choose life. you are worth loving and you are worth inspiring others to love

[canisalbus]

Ok ok hear me out: it could end in tragedy,, AND have a happy ending. The attempt(s) on Machete’s life force him to flee, he doesn’t even have the chance to find Vasco. Cue gay longing for at least a few years while Machete despairs over the loss of his love, his life, his status. He and Vasco only reunite (again) in their later years. Their relationship is forever flavored with loss and loneliness, but that only means they savor every moment that much more

I also I would like to see them as old men. Vasco would be so droopy :)

You gave me such old dog brainworms.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!

Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?

[ballpitwitch]

Keanu Reeves The House of Suntory presents The Nature and Spirit of Japan

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about how eddie munson probably has a ridiculous collection of guitar picks. little jars of them. some collected at shows, some he picked up for a nickel at the only local music shop he's ever trusted to do work on his Sweetheart, some he was gifted for free at his local record shop that he's been frequenting for years now. the little old man running the record shop even gets excited when new vinyls are sent out with promotional merch, and he knows it's a band or musician eddie is into. probably even called eddie in at times and handed him a handful of metallica themed pics, hardly worth much, but solely because "i knew you like them and will find a good use for these, son".

my point is, he's got a pick for every occasion. shitty plastic thin ones for just fucking around with. thicker, nicer ones that might have been proper holiday gifts to him. the kind that are meant to hook on his fingers like rings (he tried using them a few times, especially for rifts, but ended up saying he played better when he felt the strings against his skin instead while picking away). novelty ones, ones that just looked plain cool. so on and so forth.

and he's got his collection just sitting in little jars across his room. he used to keep them in other things, like old ash trays or tin cans he'd cut and mold to be good containers. but then he started dating you, and you insisted on lending him any empty jars you weren't using. you had your own collections in yours: pretty stones found down by the creek, bottle caps of the sodas you and eddie get every time you stop at the gas station right on the edge of town by lover's lake - you even had one of every single crumpled up note eddie had ever given you over your time of dating. a few jars of those, actually. so what was lending him a few spares? at this point, the jars were a collection in themselves, and... well... it was prettier to see his vast collection in those glass jars anyways. being able to pick out the vibrant tones of the guitar pick you'd been with him as he'd purchased two weeks prior, or the pick from the show you'd gotten him tickets to last christmas. it was nice. a cute reminder of time spent, of what made eddie munson tick.

the important thing is, eddie munson isn't blind. he sees the way you look at that collection, especially after he fills the jars with it.

how some days, he'll be strumming away on his guitar, softly humming, and you'll just grab a jar to pick through. interrupting his nonsensical playing to ask him where he got one you didn't recognize, sometimes asking for the stories behind ones he knew you already knew. he'd caught on to the way you just liked hearing him talk, especially about the things he cared most about.

you also really, really liked the pick he wore as a necklace. it was probably your favorite in his collection, and you knew it was his favorite too. giving it as a gift to you was never an option, because it had been given as a gift to him originally by his mom.

so he does the next best thing.

he figures out your favorite pick in his collection. the one you always go back to, the one you ask for the story behind on a nearly weekly basis. one similar to the one always resting against his collarbones. pearly sheen, marbled tones, a slow indent the shape of his thumb being worn into the old tortoiseshell. it's a little less red, a little bit brighter, and he can't even strum it against his strings anymore without thinking of you. it's somehow become his lucky pick - the pick he cherishes most aside the one from his mom.

and the one he chooses to turn into a necklace, for you.

does it all himself. carefully piercing a hole through the top just like his own, picks out a nice chain that costs two paychecks of his, takes an old pocket knife to it and spends weeks carving your initials into the shiny material. he's gentle as hell with it, finishing it off with some gold paint to fill in the carving that matches the chain and swirling tones of the picks.

a week before christmas he nearly backs out of the gift idea, and almost begs wayne to help him go to the mall and pick out some other basic but safe gift for you. a perfume/cologne, a nice sweater, anything. wayne refuses to let him, and the only thing the gentle old man will offer is a nice box for eddie to place that necklace born of love into.

the look on your face on christmas morning, sitting in the center of the munson's living room, on the verge of happy tears as you lift the homemade necklace so gently, soothes away every single doubt ever had about it all.

and the look on wayne's face is a simple, caring, stern vision of i told you so.

[hello-there]

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[whetstonefires]

You know, judging by how fast Wen Qing caved on Wen Ning's showing up in Yiling with wwx and jc, even though she was real mad about it, I bet he has been doing this to her for years.

Probably started by bringing her injured animals to doctor on as a kid. Later on, not necessarily a lot later, he started dragging in bullied disciples to patch up and hide from Wen Xu or somebody, and then probably he'd just kind of...fold a lot of them into his canonical personal retinue of loyal subordinates, however that worked exactly.

Wet kitten Wen Ning constantly dragging smaller wetter kittens back to his big sister to protect. She has tried all the arguments already. She knows there's no budging him.

Also lmaoooo hang on, Wen Ning had Wen Qing outnumbered a lot of the time, didn't he. She didn't have personal minions she could trust like that. These people just extracted a high-status prisoner from the custody of an erratic and violent superior pursuing a personal grudge without blinking, for their Wen-gongzi.

Wen Ning's ability to get up to shenanigans due to all the pathetic life-forms she'd allowed him to accumulate must have dawned on her with belated horror.

[beatcroc]

peppino "never tell the health inspector" spaghetti

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo]<- u are here [gerome] [noisette again]

[fatedroses]

Zenos viator Galvus and him trying to deal with actually feeling things for once (Even if he doesn't really understand how to handle the comfort he receives from others for it)

I am also giving this man a dad that actually cares, because this brainworm have gotten me and there is no saving me from them.

[wanderer-clarisse]

cousin bonding time (I like to imagine that Maedhros is the one who tied baby Finrod's hair!)

sorry for being suddenly inactive here lately, Things Happened and I haven't really had the time to sit down and draw until this week ;-; hope this little sketch can make up for it!

[swampybogg]

sketch Twin-Shadowed Knight spoiler

[dailyjevil]

hello!! hope you're having a good day :D

since you're doing the pride flag challenge, I hope you don't mind me requesting the lithromantic/sexual flag!

left is lithsexual and the right is lithromantic, idm which one you pick :]

(it means to feel romantic and/or sexual attraction to someone but doesn't want the feeling reciprocated or stops once it is :>)

Day 297 of posting Jevil every day

[lulu-the-bugaboo]

Seeing how neat Ace's handwriting is as a child (especially compared to Luffy lol) just makes me imagine how patient Sabo must have been with teaching him

He probably had to correct him several times, and when Ace eventually got frustrated and lost his patience, he would encourage him and compliment his progress

They make so soft

[dispotatorulzz]

Queen and Laz plus some little pages !!!

Lazarus looks kinda bald but there is like nothing I can do about it hes just built like that . ALSO !!! Lazarus is a bigger pony Queen is just an alicorn (big)

I hope we get to see some of grefgore destroying someone with that sword he was given what happened to it even

[venomgaia]

Guys that go bump in the night

(minorly inspired by @karniss-bg3 's response to this ask)