#john bb

[sweetmapple]

These fake bitches

[potato-lord-but-not]

ME WHEN IM ILL ABOUT THESE TWO

[thetomorrowshow]

hello malevolent podcast fandom. i have listened to the first 6 episodes.

[captain-heartstrings]

All The Revamped FNF Ex-Souls AU Refs!!!

The Main Characters!!!

BF (Keith Muse -> Four Muse) (They/Them) The Way-too-lucky-for-his-own-good street rat rapper that takes on GF's Ex souls in his place.

and GF (Gabby Dearest -> Gabriel Muse) (He/Him) The Dearest's only child who runs away, starts out really self conscious and scared, grows into his own person overtime.

The Souls!!!

Garcello (2ed Ex) The second guy GF ever dated, had to leave after DD gave him a cursed cigarette pack that killed him eventually. His unfinished business was not getting to spend enough time with Annie.

Tabi (3rd Ex) The third guy GF ever dated, died in a raging fit of revenge after thinking GF was the one who asked her dad to curse him. His unfinished business is his raging anger management problems.

Senpai (1st Ex) The first guy GF ever dated, romantic sweethearts since highschool. Killed directly by DD. His unfinished business is that he never learned to live his life without needing someone else.

GF's Family!!!

Daddy Dearest The most toxically overbearing parent you'll ever meet, a murderer in every respect. The antagonist.

Mommy Dearest Really needs to divorce her husband. Genuinely a caring mother- too scared of DD to help GF when in the house.

The Newground's Family!!!

Pico (He/They) BF's highschool Ex, still cares very deeply for BF though he'll never outright admit it- starts hunting BF and GF down after DD convinces him that BF is being controlled by GF's Exs.

John Captain (Tankman) Pico's retired veteran Dad. Now drives a bus around town for a job. Almost stops BF and GF from leaving the city when DD holds his husband hostage.

Steve Captain Pico's OTHER retired veteran Dad. Much more retired than John- literally stay at home Dad. Lost his arm when DD held him hostage.

The Spooks!!!

Skid and Pump The little kids GF would babysit from time to time- actually able to see the spirits tied to BF. Offer's to let them stay in Skid's house for the night.

Lila Skid's mom, not able to see the spirits- but happy to let GF stay after hearing about the situation with DD.

Lemon Skid's step dad, able to see the spirits- unable to resist the urge to devour BF because of it- chases them and GF out of the house before morning comes.

BF's Family!!!

OB BF's Oldest Brother, lives outside the city limits on a farm to send money back for BB and BF to live in a decent apartment. BF and GF are running to get outside the city to live with him.

BB BF's Big Brother, lives in an apartment with BF in the city. Wasn't a Demon originally- but became one after DD revived him WAY to roughly- causing permanent injury to his body and soul. Can see the spirits in BF- but isn't told about them till they're out of the city because BF was afraid of giving him a heart attack.

Armaros BB's personal caretaker. Was an angel sent to fix the issue with the city itself- fell from grace for the sin of pride after a misunderstanding caused him to falsely target GF and kill BB on accident. Now lives with BB as a form of apology and helps take care of him.

That's everyone!!!!

Everyone important or semi-important anyway HAHA-

[arcade-blade]

The silverfish in my basement

[ricfreak]

Gone but not forgetten 💔

[starlightvld]

Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

--

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke. 

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

--

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 

--

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

--

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

--

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

[potato-lord-but-not]

Noel seems to be the one comforting people pretty often, I think he deserves a quick menty b (and some comfort from his boyfriends)

woagh ourthur comic be upon ye

Arthur probably spent 20 minutes trying to get this man to finally break for the night

[submissivekillers]

kinktober day 3 - public sex (john hancock)

very mild cw on this one for mention of needles/injection near the end, in the context of radaway use

It was never out of the ordinary to see John Hancock out on the balcony of the Old State House — at least for residents of Goodneighbor, who’d had plenty of time to get used to the sight of a ghoul in colonial garb getting stoned out of his mind. 

Especially on a cool, clear night like this - almost unreasonably pleasant for an evening in the nuclear wasteland - the citizens who hadn’t flocked to the Third Rail weren’t surprised to see their Mayor perched on the landing over their heads, elbows braced on the flag-draped railing and the cherry of a lit cig glowing amidst the street lamps. Some raised a hand or shouted in greeting as they passed, while others lingered, exchanging pleasantries or giving reports from the Neighborhood Watch. 

If Hancock’s answers came delayed, his voice notably quavering, no one thought much of it. And from their vantage point on the ground, no one could see how his hands gripped the rail, so tight that his knuckles would have been white beneath the radiation-damaged skin. 

All the better for you. 

“Shit, sunshine.”

Hancock hissed, barely audible. His thighs were shaking, the lean muscle flexing beneath your fingertips. You hummed, swallowing with an audible gulp, and heard the railing behind your head creak worryingly. 

Pulling off his cock with a sleazy gasp, you replaced your lips with a loose fist, clicking your tongue at John in mocking disapproval. “Careful baby, this is a historic building, remember?” 

“I’m gonna be history if you don’t stop teasing me, sweetheart,” he wheezed, hips twitching into your hand when you pressed your thumb into the dripping slit at his cockhead. You rolled your eyes fondly and chased the pump of your hand with a long, languid swipe of your tongue, flicking at the deepest ridge of his textured skin that you knew would make him whine around his cigarette. One of his hands released the rail and found its way to your hair instead, curling into a loose fist at your nape. 

You drew back and swiped at your mouth, cleaning some of the drool and come that had accumulated on your chin. “Okay, just try not to be too loud — mmph.”

In the same movement, his fist tugged your hair back and his hips pitched forward, sheathing himself in your open mouth. You whined through your nose as Hancock pressed deeper, bullying his way into your throat with little pumps of his hips. He paused, your throat tight and hot around him; you could feel him leaking steadily into you, the taste of his cum vaguely metallic on the back of your tongue. When he pulled out, a thick, glistening strand connected your mouth to his tip. 

“Deeper, baby,” you slurred, saliva dripping from your swollen lips.  “Don’t wanna waste a drop.”   

“Sunshine—” He rasped, and that was the only warning you got before he slid back into your throat in one smooth slide. Your nose pressed into his rough skin, the short, whimpering breaths you managed to huff through your nose heady with his scent, and your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a final groan around him. That was enough — Hancock came with a curse down your throat, one, two, three pulses before he pulled you back and let the rest trickle onto your outstretched tongue. You shivered, your head light and thighs wet. 

“Jesus,” you croaked, swaying as you rose unsteadily before he caught you by the waist, “You were a little backed up, huh?” 

“Your fault, leaving me behind so long,” he growled, hands sliding down your hips to give your ass a squeeze. You smiled, swiping the last drops of cum from your chin with your thumb and sucking it into your mouth. A low groan rumbled through him as he watched you, fingers flexing tighter against you. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.” 

You grinned. “But what a way to go, right?” 

His answering chuckle was muffled into your mouth as he leaned in to kiss you, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you through the door into the State House. “We should, uh, probably get some RadAway in you.”  

“Way ahead of you.” A familiar voice drifted from Hancock’s quarters. 

You locked eyes with John and laughed, a flush rising to your cheeks. Nick was lounging on one of the couches in his shirtsleeves, a prepped IV of Radaway beside him. He glanced up from the files in his hands when you stumbled through the door, a playful gleam in his yellow eyes.

“Sorry, Nick,” Hancock drawled, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “Hope ya didn’t wait long.” 

Nick scoffed, automatically reaching out to hold your waist as Hancock guided you to a comfortable seat, slumping on the armrest beside him. “Should’ve known better than to leave you two alone for ten minutes.” 

“Hey, at least nothing’s on fire this time.” 

The grey skin of his brow ridge quirked, his gentle hands holding your arm steady as Hancock slid the needle into the crook of your elbow. “Small miracles, I suppose.”  

You laughed again, then cut yourself off with a grimace as the RadAway started to take effect — it always gave you a killer headache, a pulsing in your temples making you wince and shut your eyes against the bright lights in Hancock’s quarters. Without waiting for your word, John was already up and moving to hit the lights, replacing the glare of the ceiling light with the dim glow of a table lamp you’d scrounged from Sanctuary (he’d teased you, as they all did, for picking up everything electronic that you could get your hands on, but had accepted the gift with pleasure all the same.) 

Nick’s hand on your chin, the cool plastic of a water bottle raised to your lips. You took a few eager gulps, then let yourself recline on the armrest again, breathing slowly.  

“John,” you called as his footsteps drew nearer. His palm cupped your cheek, warm and rough against your skin, and you nuzzled into the touch. “How d’you think we should apologize to Nick for making him wait?” 

A gravelly chuckle as he moved around you, then the cushions shifting beneath you, a soft grunt from Nick and the sound of a folder scattering on the floor. “I got a few ideas, sunshine.” 

“Get started without me, won’t you?” You sighed, blinking in the dim as you watched Hancock settle in Nick’s lap.  “I’ll just enjoy the show for a bit.”  

Nick chuckled, exasperated, but tilted his head all the same as Hancock bent to mouth at the ragged skin of his throat. “Don’t you two ever turn off?” 

“What, with you and sunshine? Never.”

[not-equippedforthis]

arthur lester laughed (35 healed 12 revived)

[maiiefizz]

If Johnlock has 1000 fans, I'm one of them.

If Johnlock has 100 fans, I'm one of them.

If Johnlock has 10 fans, I'm one of them.

If Johnlock has 1 fan, it's

Mary Morstan.

[shadowbonniett]

He’s so pretty, like what?

[space-morningstar]

"I don't have a favorite Green Lantern."

Also me:

[beatleswings]

THE BEATLES performing "Till There Was You" on THE ED SULLIVAN SHOW. February 9, 1964.

[thebookbutterfly]

I fear something is wrong with my brain chemistry, because I have a split lip and I feel like 10 times hotter right now