Welp 

If you named your boys after biscuits instead of astronauts, what would they all be called?

“You asked for it…”

Biscotti:

Gingernut:

Coconut Cookie:

Party ring:

Baby Rusk:

And finally, Rich Mr T:

Is that a FOB tattoo I see? You know the way to a girls heart

My snapchat is very important today.

I saw him in Aldi and I was thinking about Pyrite Moon, which got me to Alan's stag do - in which Gordon dresses him up as a lamb.

I decided to name him Alan, @artisticrainey

Awwww :) he’s so cute!

Reblog for a smile ❤

I’m not nearly as good a writer as you (I read Bring Our Starman Home, and I cried like a baby), so here’s the idea I came up with.

John is forced to come home after Ghost Ship and spend some time on Earth to get checked over for injuries, and Scott goes to talk to him about his first mission (I know there was EOS, but that was on his own ship, saving himself. This is the first one we see that he saves people.)

I know it’s not much, but it’s something. :)

The official title this is saved under is ‘John post Spider Smashing V2′ but tbh it probably works for most John-gets-into-trouble-in-space/with-gravity/assorted-evils kind of things… I’d love to have someone give this a proper story so ideas are welcome XD xx

Console Jockey

The official title this is saved under is ‘John post Spider Smashing V2′ but tbh it probably works for most John-gets-into-trouble-in-space/with-gravity/assorted-evils kind of things… I’d love to have...

@lenle-g Here’s the fic. Sorry if I didn’t link right. Also, sorry if you don’t like the name. :)

   I hadn’t liked that he had gone to help Captain O’Bannon in the first place, but he had been so adamant about going. He was used to being a ‘console jockey’ as Alan had said, only participating in the ‘rescue’ part when he had to. Alan could’ve easily gone up in Thunderbirds 3, but John had insisted on going himself, even joked with our youngest brother.

   Did he feel like he had to prove himself to the rest of us? Cause if that was the case, we were going to be having words. He didn’t have to prove himself to anybody, especially not his family.

   And then, to make matters worse, his comms started cutting out; giving us only snippets of what was being said. Before they went out again, it sounded like they were in trouble.

   That’s when I sent Alan up. John only had his Exo-pod suit and whatever O’Bannon had on her, which I didn’t think was very much. At least there was equipment on board Thunderbird 3.

   So as soon as I lost communication with Alan, I regretted not going up with him. I knew the two of them were more than capable of looking after themselves – and each other – but not being able to reach them, talk to them, worried me. Anything could happen, and I’d have no idea.

   My pacing always annoyed my brothers, but it’s something I automatically did in times of trouble, and this was definitely one of those times.

   In my mind, the amount of time that had transpired without comms had been longer then it actually was. It had only been about half-an-hour, but it felt like hours.

   They were bickering about ghosts – and not telling Kayo or I about how they were scared – when I finally got an uninterrupted feed from the two of them. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I saw them, and release it.

   Even though holograms were amazing with sound and seeing people, I couldn’t tell if they had any injuries; major or minor.

   “We’re just gonna drop off our passengers, and then head home.” Alan told me, pushing a few buttons in his ‘bird, “Should be back within the hour, so no need to go all Smother Hen on us.”

   It was such a relief seeing them, that I didn’t even tell him off for using the nickname that John gave me years back.

   After they cut the link with the Island, my pacing resumed until the tell tale sound of Thunderbird 3 coming into land breached the otherwise quiet of our home. And when the smoke cleared from her landing, I knew it would only be a couple of minutes before they made their way back to the lounge.

   Sure enough, just as the last of the smoke disappeared, the seats from Thunderbirds 3 appeared from the floor. Alan seemed relatively okay, apart from the little wince he gave when the seats jolted into place. John was better at hiding his pain, but he couldn’t hide his visible injuries.

   He was wearing his worn NASA t-shirt and jeans; his pale skin marred with cuts on his cheek and newly forming bruises on his forearms, biceps, and hairline.

   “Before you ask, Scott, I’m fine. Just a bit banged up.” John said, getting up from the chair and walking over to me, holding out his arms, “See? Perfectly fine.”

   He couldn’t say anything else, because I almost leapt across the lounge before pulling him into a hug. I didn’t care if he was taller than me – damn gravity making him slightly taller after long periods in space. After a couple seconds of his awkward ‘what the hell do I do?’ he gently patted my back.

   “Oh, don’t mind me. I didn’t do anything, did I?” Alan huffed affrontedly, but he was smiling at the two of us.

   “Why did you do it Johnny? You could’ve let Alan go in your place.” I asked him, being as gentle as I could in my question and hug. I’d just caught sight of more bruises forming on his back.

   “I’ve been asking myself the same question, and I don’t know.” He didn’t even mention the fact that I used a nickname he hated.

   “Were you doing it to prove yourself?”

   “Probably not consciously.” He shrugged the best he could with me clinging onto him like my life depended on it, “I guess I could’ve been on some level, but I wasn’t meaning for it to look like that.”

   I held him out at arms length after a couple of minutes, taking every little detail about him in; from the slight bags under his eyes, to the way his shoulders slouched, to how he held himself.

   “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I can’t afford to be going grey at my age.”

   “Too late for that, Scotty.” Alan commented, wiggling his way between us, “You already have a few grey hairs.”

   We all started laughing, bringing each other in for another brief hug.

   “Alright you.” I pointed at John, “Time to get you looked at. And you’re Earth-bound until further notice.”

   “Come on, Scott.”

   “Don’t argue with me. When you’re healed up a bit, you can go back up, but until then, it’s time to stay on Earth for a while.”

   “Fine.”

   We started making our way down to the med-bay, when I just had to say one other thing to my immediate younger brother.

   “You know, you did pretty well for a console jockey.”

Probably a mix between John, Gordon and Alan. I’m most likely more like John though.

tag yourself i’m John

I know the struggle. I always find it hard to write as John.

Author problems: trying to write characters who are smarter than you are

You know me so well.

I LOVE  MCU-DCEU crossovers

Petition to have Tumblr actually do something about porn blog bots following users.

• It’s annoying. • It gives an imperfect metric for how many followers you have. (I would estimate about 25% of my “followers” are porn blogs run by bots). • It makes pulling up your activity page iffy even if you use Tumblr strictly for SFW content. • It’s problematic for individuals who have struggled with sex and/or pornography addictions, especially since many of the blog names are not obviously porn names, causing you to preview the blog. • It exposes minors to illegal and harmful content.

And to many of us: • It’s disgusting. • it’s degrading to human beings, especially women. • It makes Tumblr a less classy, less reputable place.

Please share this if you agree this is a serious problem.