#inside soap

[karin1027]

He's a star - Ryan Hawley

[foreverrhapsody]

I don't know the specifics, but I've heard ITV's not doing too great money-wise these days. Which. Yeah, they're a big multimedia corporation and Emmerdale is a national institution, but times are tough for all and we want to show that we care about Robert's return ways that matter.

I know fandom defaults to watching just Robron clips on Youtube, but it'll be very helpful to show your appreciation by watching or interacting with the show in ways that count.

Find a way to watch Emmerdale in a way that counts for advertisers, and watch full episodes! I think watching with a VPN on ITVX does count for ratings, but please someone correct me in the reblogs or notes if I'm wrong.

Get a Britbox subscription or add the Britbox subscription on Amazon Prime and watch full episodes! Even just leaving them running as you're doing other things helps.

Buy a subscription to one of the UK soap magazines, if you can. For example, folks in all (?) European countries can get a subscription to Inside Soap for a pretty good deal.

Give articles clicks, especially if they're for the platforms that are still putting out real journalism.

Post about the show on the big social media platforms - Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, or Tiktok. Maybe also post on the smaller platforms, like bsky? tbd on others

I've been out of the soap game for a while, so I'm not super hip to anything recent. Please reblog or comment on this post with other suggestions!

[rcbertsugden]

How fit x

[frary-us]

“i’ve never done a ghost story before...”

Till death do us part: Matt and Lisa are torn apart – but why?

3 MIN READ

PLATFORM 7 | ITVX THURSDAY 

This supernatural thriller – based on Louise Doughty’s 2019 novel of the same name – follows Lisa Evans, a young woman who frequents platform seven of a railway station. After witnessing a tragic event at the depot, Lisa’s blurred memories come into focus, unearthing a connection between that moment and her own life – and death. The four-parter stars Jasmine Jobson (Top Boy) as Lisa; Toby Regbo (A Discovery Of Witches) as her boyfriend Matt; Rhiannon Clements (Hollyoaks’ Summer Ranger) as Lisa’s best friend Izzy, and telly veteran Phil Davis as Edward – a man with an unearthly connection to Lisa. Here, Jasmine, and Toby tell Inside TV more… 

Hi, both! What appealed to you about this series?

Jasmine It has to be the supernatural thing. There’s something about being a spirit and being around people without their knowledge, and playing about with them when they’ve irritated you! And I hadn’t played anybody like Lisa before, so it was also about trying something new.

Toby This is the first modern piece I’ve done in ages. I seem to just do period dramas! So to make the switch towards psychological realism, I feel as though you can get away with more. And I’ve never done a ghost story before. 

The doctor will see you now: Matt and Lisa feel the chemistry

It must feel strange not acknowledging that the other actor is there? 

Jasmine Yeah, it definitely felt weird being in scenes yet not really being involved. I had to get used to not having anything to say! 

Toby Trying to pretend that somebody isn’t there is surprisingly difficult. It’s interesting how your body just responds to somebody being there, like trying to pass right beside someone without making any little movements that you naturally do to accommodate another human being. 

How was it playing those moments where Lisa walks through walls?

Jasmine So that took a while to figure out. I’d walk through open doors, and I accidentally pushed a door open once! But once we knew what we were doing, it was wicked. 

Toby, do you think that Matt believes in ghosts?

Toby No – I think, as a doctor, he’s a man of science. I don’t think he has any inkling that Lisa is standing behind him, nor that he has a sense thatt there’s life after death. Which is interesting in terms of where the story goes…

There’s also an important relationship between Edward and Lisa – Jasmine, what was it like working with Phil Davis? 

Jasmine Oh, Phil was absolutely amazing. He’s such a phenomenal actor. Our scenes together were very special. It was a delight to have him at the station playing Edward – who has quite an interesting secret of his own…

Do you believe in ghosts?

Jasmine I sometimes see spirits and I can tell if there’s a presence around me. One thing that I’ve always been aware of is you must never say hello to them if they’re in your home. You need sage and frankincense, and you need to bless your house. 

Toby I haven’t had any first-hand experiences with the supernatural and I’ve always tended to err on the side of the material. However, that doesn’t mean to say that when I’m staying at my friend’s place in the Dorset countryside, when the moon’s out and there are owls, that I don’t sprint across the lawn to get back inside the house! 

CHIEF in-spectre 

RHIANNON CLEMENTS TELLS US HOW HER ALTER EGO TURNS AMATEUR SLEUTH… 

When it comes to her best friend’s untimely passing, Rhiannon’s character is fixed on finding the truth… 

“The big thing for Izzy is that she doesn’t believe Lisa’s death was suicide,” she says. “She thinks that there’s something else to be uncovered – and won’t let it lie till she knows what.” 

As for believing in the supernatural, making the series led to a spooky coincidence for the star...

“Phil’s character has a dog, and in some scenes, it barks at what’s seemingly an empty space,” shares Rhiannon. “I recently moved into a Victorian house, and my dog has now started barking at empty spaces. It does leave me with chills!”

[freshlyblaked]

[jimhowickfan1]

[gloomwitchwrites]

Soap *staring at Ghost a little too long*

Gaz: What is it, mate?

Soap *with a deep sigh*: I'd be pregnant all the time.

Gaz: what the fuck

[captainpriceslilwife]

taking a break from actually writing to ponder the idea of trying to give johnny the silent treatment as punishment after an argument (not mature i know, i know, but i'll be honest...guilty, your honor) but he's being so annoying about it that you're actually just punishing yourself.

All dramatic sighs and longing looks as he corners you when you're about to leave for work. "Just one kiss, bonnie, please. Ah'll do anythin'. Please." With those stupid bright blue puppy eyes staring you down as you try to avoid his gaze. But he'll just tilt his head down to aim for your lips while saying, 'please' *failed kiss* 'please' *oh he managed to get your cheek there* 'please, sweet lass, c'mon.' until you just have to just give in and let him kiss you so you aren't late for work.

oh and while you're there, he'll send you flowers. the biggest flower arrangement he could order online. he had to put down a down payment.

and his desperation for you apparently has no reprieve, because just before you turn out the light on your bedside table so you can go to sleep in the tense silence you planned, his hand reaches over to grasp your arm and halt your movement.

"Ah ken ye dinnae feel like talkin', but we can still...ye know..." You shoot him a look as his hand begins to creep over to touch your thigh beneath the covers, and his eyes turn pleading as he continues "Ye don' even have te say anythin' durin' et! Just lemme-" *smack to his hand* "LASS, PLEASE"

[bi-writes]

the knock at his door is a ferocious one. it rattles the hinges, shakes the doorway. it is not a kind knock. it is the knock of anger, of impending terror, of death at his door, but he knows that if he doesn't answer, he will be even more sorry. (ghoap x curvy!fem!reader, 18+, smidge of dark)

johnny isn't happy. he yanks the door open, glaring, knowing who is on the other side. his superior, his lieutenant, the fucking tart that started this whole thing in the first place, the bastard that stands a few inches too tall, is that what she sees in him, too tall, is that much bigger than me, the fucking--

"dinnae want t'talk to ye, ye fuckin'--"

"'f y'know wot's fuckin' good f'ya, you'll shut y'r fuckin' mouth," ghost snaps. his accent is thick and gravelly. he moves over the threshold, pushing johnny back, his eyes dulling over as he presses an accusing finger against johnny's chest. "y'r gonna pick up the bloody phone, 'n y'r gonna call 'er."

"she's a right--"

ghost hisses, a heady growl coming out roughly as he grips johnny around the throat and slams him against the nearest wall. the entirety of it shakes, and the pictures there nearly fall, and johnny chokes as he tries to scramble, but ghost is too strong, too rough, too overpowering. there is something behind his movements, some purpose, and it makes something acidic bubble in johnny's throat.

"don't you fuckin' dare finish that sentence," ghost snarls. "don't care wot it is y'think y'feel, do y'really wanna have tha' on your conscious, y'fuckin' bastard, yeah? want her t'know tha' is the last thing y'called her?"

johnny sputters. he's gasping for air, but it's hard, and his eyes water. even though johnny hates him, even though he loathes the man he used to admire, he knows ghost is right. his lip trembles. it wouldn't be right to say it, it wouldn't be right to call you anything other than what you are, and that is beautiful, bonnie, the stars in the sky and the water in the soil and the dream he always has but cannot remember but one he knows is all he wants and more.

"ye took 'er from me," johnny gasps. "took her from me, and she's all i've ever wanted..."

"took nothin' from ya. now call 'er," ghost growls. "pick up the phone, and y'call her. she's hysterical. 'n i won't 'av it."

"ye won't 'av it? fuck off with ye!"

ghost tilts his head to the side, using his forearm now and pinning johnny to the wall. they meet eyes, and even though johnny pulls a brave face, he is staring at a man who clawed his way out of his grave. a man that endured days of torture and inexplicable horror, that knew the taste of his own blood from another's. johnny is strong-willed, but this is a battle he will not win.

"won't tell ya again," ghost mutters. "i mean tha'."

johnny's tired. he loathes. he hates. he feels sick. he wants to claw and kill and blow something up, but then ghost is letting him go, he's taking in full breaths, and there's a voice in his ear suddenly, an unfamiliar sound of a beautiful voice that he knows. she's crying.

"johnny? j-johnny, i-is that you?"

"mmmph," he coughs. "mmm..."

even riddled with sadness, you sound as pretty as always.

"johnny, i'm sorry," you whimper. he can picture your face, probably a gorgeous pout, tears gathering along your cheeks that normally are from the brunt of his cock, but now they're the proper response from your panic. "johnny, i'm...i'm so sorry--"

"'s..." he hums. "'s a'right, lovey. shhh. quiet."

"johnny, please--please come home, i-i...i can't stand this, i don't want to...i-i--"

"told ye to quiet," he murmurs. "quiet."

and you do, but he knows there's tears, he knows you're probably still there on the other side, your cries muffled into your hand. you probably still look so beautiful, probably sitting there in one of his jackets and nothing else, perched on the bed he shares with you and looking like an entire meal.

"ye lied to me, bonnie," johnny tuts, and ghost steps closer, into his space. watch it, his eyes say, and johnny glares. "why did ye lie?"

you whine, "i didn't know what to say...i...i just thought--"

"ye thought what?" johnny prods. "ye thought i would nae find out about it all? what did ye think, what the bloody fuckin' hell did ye--"

ghost walks forward, enough that johnny is pressed flat against the wall. ghost leans down, tilting his head, close enough that he feels the warmth of johnny's breath as they stare down each other.

"say y'love 'er, johnny," ghost mumbles in his ear. he comes closer, one thick thigh fitting between johnny's legs. "say it."

johnny swallows. "i love ye, bonnie."

a quiet whine, and then your soft voice, "i-i love you so much, johnny--"

"say y'want her, johnny," ghost encourages him, in that low voice that is starting to make johnny's head a little lighter.

"i miss ye," johnny whispers. "sorry for not having me head on right, love..." he hisses when ghost pinches him. "ahh--i want ye. want yer bonnie face...yer bonnie cunt...got to know it. got to know how much i want ye."

ghost shuts his eyes when he hears your breaths. desperate, a little emotional, that beautiful lilt that drew him in the first time.

"tell 'er ye want to eat 'er, johnny," ghost hums. "tell 'er she tastes like sweets." ghost comes closer, his pelvis against johnny's, and there is no space between them. johnny's blue eyes are bright, pupils dilated, and when ghost opens his eyes, they stare at each other, some kind of understanding that they have never had before.

they've been to the same place. they've seen the same eden. the love of the same woman, the taste of the same forbidden fruit, the kind of thing that men like them dream of having but give up for the sake of their sanity--

"want to eat ye, love..." johnny sighs, and his eyes flutter when ghost reaches up and smooths a gloved hand along his throat. his adam's apple bobs, he is so alive, and ghost tuts lowly as he speaks. "taste so good...think about it all the time...about getting under yer skirt," he sighs deeply when ghost's hand moves lower, against his chest, "cum so nice, bonnie, when ye sit on m'face..."

"j-johnny--" ghost grits his teeth when he hears you. pretty baby girl, probably squeezing your thick thighs together, maybe leaning over to show off your soft hips to no one in particular, tits pressed together because your hand is drifting low and circling against you because he knows you probably aren't wearing any fucking knickers, "anything for you, baby...you know i would, you know i'd do anything..."

"i know, my pretty," johnny coos. "will ye wait for me? will ye wait before ye get ahead of yerself, love? ye will, yer a good girl..."

"y-yes--" you whine. "y-yes, i'll wait for you...please come back...please--"

"should i bring back yer keeper?" johnny asks. blue eyes on dark ones, the look of a thousand words, the look of newness, of acceptance, of the power of two being so much greater than one.

two gloved fingers make their way down his throat. petting johnny's pink tongue, stuffing him full, reminding him of his place, where he truly is, where he belongs and where he is always meant to be. he relaxes his throat, and ghost snarls, satisfied, when johnny takes the girth of it easily. he touches the back of johnny's throat, and ghost's eyes flash when he hears your sweet voice on the other end.

"simon...i know you're there. be nice. or we won't get to play."

[karin1027]

Inside soap, week 25 2025

[ghouljams]

Soap begging for a turn with one of the other guys birds as if he can't get his own will forever be top tier

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about price putting his hat on the boys' heads

cw war guilt, self harm through working out

it's only happened once or twice with each of them, only when they're on the brink and safe enough for price to let himself soften

🧼

the first time it happens to soap is on his first demo mission as a corporal; the first time he's been in charge of the planning the rig and the first time he’s close enough to see the human fallout of the explosion he worked so hard on and realises how often it means a slow and messy death

he knows they're the enemy; knows if it wasn't them, it would be him, then the long line of civilians at his back that he stands so strong to protect. he knows that

but that doesn't stop the screaming echoing in his mind, doesn't rid the memory of burning bodies trying to crawl away from their signed deaths

signed by him

he's sitting on the concrete outside the barracks, trying to get the cold to leech the remnants of the fire from his blood that his ice cold shower couldn’t douse. he jumps at the feel of a leg pressing against his side and looks up at price as he leans back against the wall, his hands cupped around a cigarette

soap flinches at the sparks coming from his lighter and looks away, his knees creeping up tighter to his chest

"it gets easier," price rumbles above him, exhaling a long breath and the comforting acrid scent of smoke spills around him

he shifts uneasily and pretends it's not to get closer. "i don't think that makes me feel better, sir,” he admits

"never said it would," he shrugs with the ease of a man who's had this same conversation a hundred times and will have it a hundred more. "just that it does."

soap sniffles then growls at himself, harshly scraping his wrist over his face

a light weight drops on his head and he stifles a gasp as price's hat falls low over his reddened eyes, hiding him from the prying gaze of the world

"you'll be alright, son," he promises and soap's lips tremble. he presses them tight together and follows price's hand as he guides his face into the side of his knee, cupping his jaw and holding him close as he shakes apart

"you'll be alright."

🧢

gaz doesn't crave softness when he messes up; doesn't want forgiveness or assurance. he wants blood; blood shed for blood that shouldn't have been lost

the punching bag is shining by the time price walks into the gym; shining yet also muted where his blood’s had the time to dry and stain, his knuckles torn to shreds

gaz' fist almost slips off the bag and he clicks his tongue. "you gonna keep makin' that a biohazard or do you want to do something actually worthwhile?"

his lip kicks up in a snarl and he sends a glare over his shoulder. "what?"

"think medical's got enough bodies, don't you?" he asks and a dangerous stillness fills the air

gaz shoves off the bag, knuckles dripping onto the mats. "you wanna add one more?"

price quirks an eyebrow, so nonchalant that it just makes him angrier; blood boiling in his veins. "come on, then."

he stalks onto the sparring mats and price barely blinks before he's attacking; throwing wild punches, eyes a hundred miles away

back in beirut

where they had to pull their team out in pieces because gaz missed the suicide bomber launching himself out of the rubble

price dodges each desperate strike, loose and sloppy and nowhere near gaz’ usual level of skill. he doesn't hit back once and gaz' faces twists with each miss, sweat flying off him as his grunts turn into growls, turn into screams as he throws himself at him

price ducks and snatches his hat off his head, slapping it into gaz' face to blind him and drives him back into the mats

he gags as his lungs seize, his air is forced out of him; leaving him to heave harsh breaths that stick in the fabric of the hat. the humid dark closes in on him, forcing him to focus on his breaths so he doesn't throw up or pass out; forcing him to stay within his body instead of drowning in another country

price's hand is heavy behind it, keeping it trapped over his face. "are you done?" he asks, not even breathless

gaz pants, his whole body tingling, and his fingers dig harder into his face

"are you done?" he insists

he swallows dry, suddenly aware of the exhaustion sapping at his limbs, the pain in his hands, the tightness in his throat. "i'm done," he rasps

price relaxes but doesn't remove his hand or push him to get up. they sit on the mats for a while, price's weight and the dark anchoring gaz to the here and now

💀

contrary to popular belief, ghost doesn't hate family days

he doesn't glare at the droves of civilians entering the base, doesn't stand as a spectre of death and grief over the rookies running into the arms of their families on one of the most important days of their career. he doesn't begrudge the safety and love they feel from coddling mothers and embarrassingly proud fathers, from laughing siblings and sticky-fingered children

he remembers his own graduation too well to want to take it from them

he stands in his dress blues through the speeches, his neck gaiter hiding less than he'd like but at ease with the compromise he and price reached. he looks over the tearful family members as name after name gets called, takes careful note of the ones who are clapped for less than the others, and lines up with the other officers as they wait for the tap out

one by one, the graduates get released by their loved ones; no longer standing attention as a recruit but embracing them as a private

just as he's done every year, ghost checked their records to ensure they all had someone coming for them; he's never let a single one stand in the field waiting for someone who will never come. it's rare that his diligence is necessary but he's never let them feel any shame for it; telling them to keep their heads high as he pats their shoulder

he's not needed today and he watches as they're slowly released and disperse, all with a reminder of why they've worked so hard and who they’re here to protect

it's quiet on base that night; soldiers take any chance to celebrate and a graduation is nothing to sneeze at. ghost stands out in the field, out in the gentle quiet. his hands sit folded behind him as he looks up at the stars and he doesn't flinch as a voice sounds behind him

"been a long time since you could be called a rookie," price says, falling into place beside him

ghost hums. "longer for you, i’d say."

he huffs a laugh. "cheeky shite," he snickers. "that hasn't changed; bloody twig of a thing too big for his boots, angry at the world and ready to prove it wrong."

"plenty changed to make up for it," he huffs, his breath disturbing his gaiter

"lot more's stayed the same," price counters and steps in front of him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he squares his shoulders

"lieutenant riley," he starts and ghost almost rolls his eyes. "you've shown exemplary courage in the face of adversity, gone above and beyond the call of duty and expressed great leadership in your dedication to your team and the men in your charge. congratulations, soldier; you've earned it."

ghost swallows thickly and refuses to admit to the shine threatening his eyes. "thank you, sir."

price smiles and plucks his hat off his head, placing it on his and pats his head; brushing his thumb over his temple

"come on, son; you've waited long enough."

[nekrosmos]

I need Price to sit on Nikolai's lap while he shaves him with an old-timey razor.

The absolute trust Nik puts in his favorite captain's hands, his own palms resting on Price's thigh, gently stroking them as he watches him work with such affection in his dark eyes. Price is focused, pushing Nik's head back as he works on his neck, blade scrapping against his skin, a steady and precise hand.

When Nikolai gets too eager to touch him, unable to sit still, and the blade leaves a small cut into his neck, all he can do is smile, a short, teasing "oops" leaving his lips as he stares into Price's disapproving eyes.

With a brush of his thumb, John wipes away the small droplets of blood, but doesn't have time to clean his finger on the nearby towel, Nikolai instead grabbing his hand and his lips closing around his thumb, licking his own blood off of John's finger.

"Bloody animal." John says, an attempt at a frown failed by the affectionate crinkle of his eyes.

"You love it." Nikolai answers, letting go of John's hand, but not before placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

The soft humming that comes from John is enough of an answer, as the captain pushes Nik's head back, resuming his work.

[bleepyear]

Rays of Sunshine

I like to think that after a hard mission, these two cuddle up in the nook of Price's cluttered office and take a nap in the afternoon sunbeams, like two overgrown cats ❤️

Isn't it great that the mw3 campaign doesn't exist?

[boneless-loafcat]

“wow! since i write and read so much cod fanfic i’ll definitely remember how to spell lieutenant and sergeant!” i said with joys.

i was then shot 57 times.

[gomzdrawfr]

it's hard loving yourself