#Riley deserved better

[radicalredrasp]

-1990- The Huggs and Kisses family smile for the camera as they welcome and introduce their newly adopted daughter, Riley.

[reds-skull]

CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

[thebestever16]

Josh Washington x Reader Headcanons

Gender Neutral/For Everyone

He always calls you sexy or hottie and ONLY you that (his nickname for you tho is Honey)

He’s pretty romantic with was a shock to you

Has a whole separate camera just for you

Told Chris all about you after he met you (Chris told Ashley, she told Matt, he told Emily, she told Jessica, she told Mike, he told Sam, she told Hannah, Hannah told Beth)

At first, you told he was just play flirting since he’s like that with everyone so you were pretty shocked when he asked you a date (a real one)

Invites to all the parties/outings he’s been invited to (if you have no social life, you’re getting one now)

Can’t remember to take his pills but remembers every little thing you’ve done and said??

Always stares at your lips

Helps with your hair

Tries to keep from being flirty with other people if you’re uncomfortable with his flirty ways

Spoils you rotten (you want something, he’s buying it)

Not a jealous person but he’ll defend you so quickly if you look upset (most likely verbally)

If you’re a poc/black, Emily and Matt are really nice to you. Knowing how it feels to be the new poc/black person in the group

Thinks you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen

Love anything you wear. It could be baggy or tight it does not matter!)

Hannah and Beth adore you (they sometimes steal you away from Josh)

If you shorter than him (it doesn’t matter how short) he’ll call you so many nicknames based on your height

Before y’all had sex for the first time, he’d scare you to hear your screams/for you to hold onto him (he thinks that’s so hot)

He follows you like a dog (you’re don’t get a lot of alone time)

(This is my first time writing so please give me so feedback :))

[s0fter-sin]

(cw non-sexual kink, cis male tiddy sucking)

nikolai takes one look at ghost - at the stiffness he holds himself with, arms held rigidly at his sides as he glares ahead, each breath carefully measured to make himself unnoticed - and knows it’s been too long since he’s checked on his boy

all it takes is a single look, catching his bruised and tired eyes, and ghost all but slumps. nikolai turns, heading towards the 141’s private rec room and he doesn’t need to hear the near-silent footsteps to know ghost’s following. he pulls him down onto the couch, bringing him into the circle of his arms even as he weakly tries to pull away

“don’t need it, nik; don’t have time…” ghost argues but it’s hollow at best

“hush, sweet one,” he soothes his halfhearted protests and thumbs his mask up above his lips. “always so nervous; so lost...”

he tugs his shirt up, showing off his belly and the heavy swell of his hairy pecs; nipples already pebbled. he cups the back of ghost’s head, his thumb brushing over his exposed jaw and ghost is helpless to follow as he gently leads him to latch onto his breast

“i have you,” he promises

no matter how big he is, in presence or in stature, nikolai is bigger; encompassing his whole body in warmth and safety, the familiar scent of cologne and motor oil filling his senses just as the heat of his tit fills his mouth

ghost’s eyes roll back and he nuzzles deeper into his chest, sinking into him and lets his mind empty as he suckles

-

soap didn’t mean to. he didn’t mean to walk in on something not meant for his eyes. he just wanted to check on ghost; he’s been so distant lately, different from his usual bad days and he doesn’t know how to help him but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try

but he didn’t mean for this; for guilt and a heated, confused want to chase through him as he enters the rec room and realises nikolai got to ghost first

realises they’re not just necking on the couch; that ghost’s lips are pressed tight to nikolai’s furred breast and not moving away, a gentle hollow thinning his exposed cheeks as he sucks, his throat softly bobbing as he swallows

nikolai’s cupping the back of his head, fingers drifting through the blonde hair at the nape of his neck and he looks so fond; like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than on their broken in couch with ghost curled around his body, sucking what must be a deep ache into his tit.

then nikolai looks up at him, frozen in the doorway and soap-

soap runs

-

nikolai gives soap a few days before he tries to talk about it; gives him a chance to come to terms with what he's seen. it's almost adorable; how deep soap’s flush grows when he sees him, how he stumbles over his words and can’t quite make eye contact

but it also tugs at him that he feels the need to shrink, to brace himself from whatever punishment he thinks is headed his way; shoulders hunching in, arms wrapped almost defensively around his body before finding whatever excuse he can to run from him

run from himself

he wishes he could wait for soap to come to him but he knows lost boys and their fear of coming in from the cold

nikolai keeps himself gentle as he uses his bulk to corner soap; stopping him from running but also using it to show how easily he could hide in him if he just let himself give in. if he let him take care of him the same way he takes care of ghost

"but... but it's wrong," soap whispers, fingers tangling with a gold cross at the hollow of his throat (a cross so similar to one he’d melted down all those years ago), but he speaks with such clear longing; eyes wide where he stares up at him, all but begging to be told otherwise and it almost breaks nikolai's heart

"no, lovely boy," he denies softly and soap shudders as he cups his face and backs him up against the corner; hugged by both walls and nikolai himself. "there is nothing more natural."

he caresses soap's cheek. he feels him shake under his touch, his eyes already growing dewy, and chances drifting his fingers over his bottom lip. soap's breath hitches and he looks up at him with so much fear - so much trust - and hesitantly opens his mouth to let them sink inside

nikolai doesn't press them too deep, doesn't threaten his throat, but they are thick and wide; filling his mouth and comfortably weighing down his tongue

with a small, involuntary moan, soap closes his lips around his fingers and nikolai catches him with his body as he goes limp. he coos as he starts sucking; wrapping his other arm around his head and brings him into his body, hidden and safe and small

"my good, lovely boy," he whispers and soap lets out a cracked whimper. "you are not wrong."

he isn't ready yet, much the same way ghost wasn't ready at first. but feeling soap tremble and suckle at his fingers, nikolai knows he'll soon have another boy tucked safe to his breast

[wishfuldivine]

This is exactly the fucking reason as to WHY Gaz Nation is so defensive when THAT part of the fandom replaces Gaz. Keegan is NOT part of 141 and NEVER will be. He's on a SEPARATE game and a completely different universe. There's a difference if he's ADDED in stories and so on (which is fine), but canon? FUCKING NOT. It's so damn annoying to see.

[hello-nichya-here]

Every now and then I just remember how Riley was painted as the victim in his relationship with Buffy and it just makes me so mad. The writers keep telling us that she didn't appreciate him and his way of loving her, but we are SHOWN that it was actually the other way around.

Buffy was not perfect, and it's clear she first got attached to Riley because he was a normal dude and she very much needed something in her life to be normal - but when it turned out he also had a secret life, that he was also the "hero" of his group, she accept it. She continued to like him. She still wanted him around.

Riley meanwhile seemed to resent her for being the slayer, for being stronger than him, for having other stuff going on in her life, for having dated/being the object of affection of guys that were stronger than him.

His insecurity is ridiculous. He was literally willing to die just to be a very strong, but also very dead guy, instead of being a completely healthy dude with the strength of a regular dude. He even acts like him not being able to beat Buffy in a fight, even with the "power up" is what is causing her to be "distant" sometimes, not the fact that, like he said himself, she needs to prevent the end of the world every other week and that's kinda stressful and takes a lot of her free time.

He also complains about her asking him to take care of her younger sister, the most important thing in the world to her, so she doesn't have to worry about that while out killing vampires and demons - and he thinks of that as her "not letting her be useful", and then complains again when she gives him a bullshit role in the whole "stopping the doom of all of humanity", even though he just refused the thing that would make him actually useful. He also conveniently forgets things like Buffy asking HIM specifically to take care of her after she was wounded in a fight. He doesn't see any of that as her truly including him in her life and full on needing him like he wants her to - because it's not in the way that allows him to pretend he is THE hero, not the hero's boyfriend. Being important TO her doesn't actually matter, what he really wants is to feel superior, to be more important than her.

And even outside of the Slayer stuff: this dude really heard that his girlfriend's mother was potentially dying, and instead of thinking of how he can be there for her (something he CLAIMS he wants to do) all he can think about is "Why didn't she immediately call me? Why did she tell Spike first?" (I'm a spuffy fan, but come on, she only told Spike because he just happened to show up at the very second she was ready to open up about it and just needed a shoulder to cry on). Everything, even his girlfriend's struggle with the possibility of her parent dying and her needing to step up as a parent to her sibling, needs to be about HIM, his feelings, his wants and needs.

The fucker even has the nerve to cheat on her during all of this. Compare that to Angel going to Sunnydale to give her emotional support after Joyce died, or Spike comforting her before even knowing WHY she was crying and then sending flowers without a card to honor her mom and offer Buffy some compassion, but without disrespecting her very explicit "stay away from me, Spike." It's very clear which of these three guys never actually cared about her, even a little bit.

Hell, Riley is 100% sure that the only way for Buffy to "prove" her love is to suffer for him. Her sister tells him "I like you much more than her ex, you would never break her heart like he did" - and somehow, he doesn't take that as "Buffy and her family fully trust that I'm a good guy that would never do anything to hurt her" (something Buffy herself says to Angel's face in his show) but rather as a "Nothing I do would ever hurt her because she doesn't actually love me the way she loved Angel."

Not to mention: his assumption that Buffy was only ever attracted to Angel because he was a vampire, and thus any other vampire like Draculla or Spike could easily steal her from him, just shows how much he didn't understand her at all.

Buffy started crushing on Angel thinking he was just a normal human that knew about the supernatural and wanted to fight the good fight. She didn't find out about him being a vampire until he lost control for a second and went vamp-face after their first kiss, and it freaked her out.

She fangirled for a second meeting Dracula, but man, come on, OF COURSE the slayer will be excited to see the most popular vampire ever, and she was more than willing to kill him. The whole reason there were any flirty vibes between them was because the dude had literal mind-control powers.

Spike is the closest Buffy ever got to "dating a vampire because he is a vampire" and that was because she was literally craving death. Even then, she was horrified at her own attraction to him, AND there was a different side to their relationship, with Buffy liking Spike because he was the one person that wasn't disappointed and resenting her for being depressed.

For fuck's sake, she had a thing for PLENTY of normal guys - RILEY VERY MUCH INCLUDED!

He was the one that only cared about "who is stronger" and kept insisting that Buffy was the same even after overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

And for the show to then make HER go after him, make HER all sad when he is dating someone else, make one of her closest friends blame HER for everything that went wrong in their relationship, and then make HER basically claim he was right with bullshit lines like "I wasn't there for him like I was for Angel" is ridiculous - specially when, again, what made Buffy want to be with Riley in the first place was her trying to not fall into another unhealthy relationship like the one she had with Angel. They were codependent and when he left it nearly destroyed her. OF COURSE she's gonna try not being as obsessed with the next boyfriend (or with the one after him) because she knows that shit doesn't end well.

Again, say what will about both Angel and Spike, but at least Angel walked away after realizing their relationship was a dead-end that would never make Buffy truly happy, and Spike put himself through hellish torture to get his soul back and make sure he'd be a better man who would never make Buffy suffer.

RILEY being framed as "the perfect guy Buffy couldn't appreciate and let get away" is just insulting. Of all the guys Buffy has ever been with, he is the one that deserved her the least.

[jossamology]

beth washington - until dawn remake (2024)

( hd icons ) by @jossamology ❝ like or reblog if you used my icons!

make sure to credit me.

[acecroft]

SHAWN WEATHERLY as Jill Riley in Baywatch (1989 - 2001) Season 1

[userslayer]

that scene where the guys built a training room in the magic box and the second buffy enters to see the place riley tackles her to the ground out of nowhere???? and then proceeds to annoyingly fake punch her and antagonize her by saying she's afraid of fighting with him ???? when all she wanted to do was to check out the room and say thank you to all of them ???? and on top of it, he started behaving like this because he found he got way stronger so he thought he could finally match buffy's strength, so his first instinct was to hurt her?????

i hate when men

[sheepgirl3]

I’m falling deeper and deeper down the CoD rabbit hole and I’ve noticed something that has driven me bonkers.

TW: talk of canonical SA

+++

So I’ve read the Ghost comics, which for one thing show how incredibly fucked up basically every area of Simon’s life is and was. He never had a chance and honestly, it’s amazing he’s not more off the rails.

But before I read the Ghost comics, I had extensively studied the wikis for Simon and you know what they never mention?

The sexual assault he’s routinely put through.

Even the wiki for the comic where Pilar is named doesn’t put a name to it or mention the horror around her presence. Nor does it touch on the man who we see buttoning up his pants in the cell with Simon beyond the fact that he licked his (Simon’s) lips.

I barely see it mentioned anywhere and it’s sparsely mentioned by the fandom, from what I can tell. I’ve seen it in fanfics before, but sometimes I’m decently sure writers don’t know that it’s actually a canonical event.

And I feel so bad for Simon, ya know? But I also hate the general lack of acknowledgement of that area of his trauma.

There’s very little point to this post other than expressing frustration. I also wonder if others in the fandom feel the same way and how widely Simon’s canonical trauma is known. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was not super widely; I’ve not been able to find the physical copies of the Ghost comics anywhere and only read them online.

Anyhow, yes, this has in fact prompted me to start writing another Ghost fic. Nevermind that I have like three in the works already.

[darth-mortem]

Here is my another one fix-it COD fanfic translated by @g8se.

ATTENTION: This fic contains COD MW3 spoilers.

After Johnny's death, Simon loses his desire to live. Having avenged Makarov, he leaves the army but doesn't know where to go. It's then that Captain Price shows him the way. A long journey leads Simon to a remote island where he rediscovers the purpose of his life. 3455 words.

Post-canon, fix-it, angst, fluff, Ghost/Soap, love

I advise you to turn on this and this music while reading.

Simon stood at the deck of the ferry, leaning on the railing with his elbows, watching as ahead, through the dense morning fog hovering over the strait, emerged the outlines of his final destination - the isle of Islay. The cold wind stirred the waves, crashing against the ferry's blunt steel nose, seeping through clothing, making tears well in his eyes and leaving a salty taste on his lips. Seagulls circled above the ferry, their desperate, piercing cries making his heart squeeze in an indescribable yearning.

Simon smoked, with the edge of his ever-present balaclava lifted over his nose. He hadn't approved of this foolish habit before, but had picked it up after Johnny's death. At first, cigarettes disgusted him, but eventually he got hooked. The bitter smoke filling his lungs triggered memories of times when he could still feel happiness, when he could feel something other than the dull, oppressive pain that had now become his constant companion.

You can read on Ao3 or here:

The outlines of the island became clearer. The wind blew the fog away, the white-capped waves repeatedly clashed against the ferry's sides. Simon felt a kinship with the ever-restless sea, as now, just like the sea, he will never find peace while his tormented heart is still beating. After finishing his cigarette, he tossed the stub overboard and immediately fetched another from the pack. He had no plan, no aim, nothing except the enigmatic words of Captain Price, spoken during their, probably, last encounter.

...”I'm leaving,” Lieutenant Riley said, placing his resignation report on the captain's table.

Price took it, silently glanced over the papers, then raised his head to see Ghost, standing still and staring blankly somewhere past him.

It was over. Vengeance had been achieved; Makarov and all his henchmen were dead. Yet, it brought Simon no solace. He was utterly hollow, dead inside, and he no longer wanted nor could continue his service because he saw no sense in it.

“Where will you go?” Price asked, puffing on his cigar.

“I don't know,” Simon replied indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then allow me to give you a piece of advice,” the captain nodded towards the chair, and the lieutenant obediently sat down, putting his hands on his knees. “Head to Scotland. There's an island, Islay. Go there, to a small village on the coast, Port Ellen. There's a little pub right on the beach called 'Slice of Peace.' Find it, but don't rush. Observe before entering. Perhaps there, at last, you'll find peace for your soul. At least, that's what I would truly wish for.”...

The ferry arrived to Port Askaig right on schedule, but Simon didn't linger there. Port Ellen was situated almost on the other side of the island, about nineteen miles away. This distance could be covered by car in about forty minutes, but Simon didn't have a car. He had practically nothing except a small backpack with his belongings. Without much appetite, he ate a sandwich at the gas station, then left Port Askaig and, without any hurry, began walking along the road toward Port Ellen. Nineteen miles is a considerable distance for an average person, but not for a retired lieutenant. He understood that the journey would take him five to six hours, but that didn't daunt him. He was capable of walking without stopping for much longer if necessary, and right now, it was more necessary than ever.

About two hours into his journey, near Bridgend Woods, a farmer picked Simon up in a small truck. The truck bed was filled with sheep, and the driver was heading to Laggan Farm, but he offered to drop this strange, silent man in a balaclava off almost at Glendale. The good-natured and compassionate farmer could see that his passenger was consumed by profound sorrow, so he didn't pry into anything. As they bid farewell, he left his address and phone number, offering a visit if Mr. Riley needed a place to stay. Simon thanked him, but as soon as the truck disappeared from sight, he crumpled the piece of paper with the address and threw it away before continuing his way to Port Ellen.

Arriving at Port Ellen, Simon did as Captain Price had instructed him. Not because the retired lieutenant wanted to fulfil his commander's final order, no. Just on his first evening in Port Ellen, upon finding the pub mentioned, Simon saw Johnny there. He was as beautifully fit as ever but had let his hair grow a bit; now he had to tie back his mohawk to keep it from getting in the way when he’s working. John no longer wore military uniform or heavy gear. He was wearing jeans, a high-necked knitted sweater, and a bartender's apron with large pockets. The tattoo he got in the SAS were no longer on his hand, but he had visible scars on his temples.

For nearly a week Simon observed him from early morning until late at night. He didn't stay in the local hotel or anywhere else, spending the cold nights in the docks or in someone's unlocked barn. Simon watched and listened, and after a few days, he knew that John MacTavish had showed up around a year ago with a strange story of awakening in a hospital with no memories of his past life, but with documents and a certain sum of money in his account. After treatment and rehabilitation in Glasgow, MacTavish moved to the Isle of Islay, bought a small house on the coast. He opened a pub on the ground floor and arranged his dwelling on the first floor. Being a Scot, John was eventually accepted into the local community after a couple of months.

Of course, Simon Riley wasn't credulous. He observed and noted any matching characteristic - gestures, expressions, words, and body language that resembled Johnny's usual mannerisms. The retired lieutenant watched how MacTavish worked, solved work-related issues, and interacted with his pub's customers.

Simon really wanted to believe that this man was indeed Johnny. His Johnny, the one who once restored his ability to feel joy, happiness, love; his Johnny, with whom it was easy to work and spend leisure time; his Johnny, who managed to see beyond Ghost in his skull-faced mask, not just a soldier, a killing machine, but a human being. Injured, scarred, broken, but nonetheless - a human being. Simon Riley.

The final straw of these observations was an incident that occurred one evening at one of the tables by the pub, standing right on the sandy shore. John, as always, smiling, full of energy and life, brought four pints of beer to some grey-bearded fishermen. One of them was in the middle of telling a joke, and the cheerful pub owner naturally stopped to listen and laugh along with them.

“ Hey, John, how aboot sharin' a joke wi' us?” one of the fishermen asked, tipping his beer.

“Why no’?” MacTavish's lips lit up with his dazzling smile. “Well, for example... dae ye know what haes two legs an’ bleeds?”

“Mebe it's Lars whan he stabbed himsel' wi' the fishin' huke straicht in...” one of the fishermen started, but another one, the infamous Lars, jabbed him in the side with his fist.

“ Or mebbe it's yer wife on certain days o' the month?” he exclaimed in offense.

“Easy, lads,” the eldest among them thumped the table with his fist and looked at MacTavish. “Sae, whit's the craic, John?”

“Half a dog!” cheerfully replied the man and chuckled, but quickly fell silent, noticing no one echoed his response.

“That's a braw odd joke,” Lars said, shaking his head. “Whaur did ye hear that, John?”

“I... I don't know,” MacTavish said, bewildered, raising his hands. “Maybe it's somethin' from my past life that I don't remember.”

“Maybe it's fer the best tha ye dinnae remember,” the eldest fisherman shook his head. “ It's chilblaining tae picture how it wis wi these jokes.”

That evening, Simon quietly entered the empty pub just before closing. The bell above the door announced his arrival, and John peeked out from the kitchen - no longer wearing his apron, with his hair down, surprise in his remarkably bright blue eyes.

“We're ‘bout to close, sir,” he started, but then suddenly fell silent, catching the look of unspeakably sad brown eyes surrounded by long and blonde lashes. “But, ye know what? Come on in! Ye're not a local, right? Yer lookin' like ye seriously need to doon a few glasses o’ whiskey. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Simon hesitantly approached the bar counter and added, “I’d kill for some whiskey.”

Most of the lights in the room were already off, but the lamps over the bar were still lit, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise as he peered under the hood at the stranger with the skull-printed balaclava.

“What's the getup, sir?” he asked and cheerfully, amiably smiled. “Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite,” Simon replied automatically, and they both suddenly froze, looking at each other.

“I'm sorry,” John finally spoke, slowly pouring two glasses of whiskey; he placed one in front of the peculiar visitor and took the other one. “Have we met before? What's your name, sir?”

“Simon,” he replied, and in his hollow dead eyes, for perhaps the first time in a year, flickered faint sparks of hope. “Simon Riley.”

John looked curiously at the late visitor's face as he lifted the edge of his balaclava to take a sip of whiskey but averted his gaze upon realizing his curiosity was noticed. Swirling the glass in his hand, he took a sip and quietly asked:

“Ye're military, Simon Riley?”

“Retired,” he replied, tilting his head slightly. “Why do you think so?”

“I don't know,” John said, puzzled, and gave a shy smile, “it was just the first thing that came to mind.”

They sat in the dimly lit pub till the late hours of the night. Simon saw that Johnny was at ease in his company, feeling a sense of trust, although a person who didn’t remember anything from his past life would typically cast suspicion on the stranger in the skull mask. Eventually, the bottle was emptied. The pub owner poured the last drops of whiskey into their glasses and looked at Simon with a tinge of regret.

“So, where are you staying?” he asked, wanting to prolong the parting in every possible way.

“Nowhere, really,” Simon shrugged and let out a quiet yet deeply mournful sigh.

“Ye know,” Johnny spoke slowly, “ye might think I'm mad, but I have a comfortable sofa at home.”

“You're very kind, but I have no money at all,” Simon shook his head and smiled bitterly. “I can only hope what little I have left will cover paying you for this bottle.”

“Oh, no, leave tha’!” John protested, even his hair stood on end. “Ye've been great company, tae be honest, I havenae had a conversation like this with anyone for a long time... not like with you. So, I'm repeatin’ my offer, and as for the money... I wouldnae mind a hand in the pub. What do ye say?”

And Simon agreed.

Over the next few weeks, the retired lieutenant was learning how to live a civilian life. He quickly adapted to his new responsibilities and managed not only to assist John in the pub but also took care of him - preparing breakfast and coffee, tidying the house, buying groceries from local stores. However, Simon did all of this automatically, almost without thinking. The most important thing was that he was once again close to Johnny. Yes, the latter didn't remember him at all, but they spent a lot of time together, discussing everything under the sun. The only thing the retired lieutenant refused to talk about was his military service. However, John didn't insist. He saw the terrible scars on Simon's neck and face when he lifted the edge of his balaclava, perfectly understanding why he didn't want to talk about it.

One misty, cold morning before the pub opened, Simon and Johnny stood on the beach, smoking, watching the restless sea. Somewhere in the sky, seagulls circled, and their cries remained piercing and desperate, but they no longer held power over Simon Riley's soul. Johnny had just leaned against him, and Simon, in a familiar gesture, put his arm around his shoulders, shielding him from the gusts of cold wind that pierced to the bone, leaving a salty taste of the sea on their lips.

“Simon,” the retired lieutenant heard a quiet, bewildered voice and turned his head towards it, looking closely at Johnny, “We've met before, haven't we?”

Riley looked down, took a drag from his cigarette, and remained silent for almost a minute before replying:

“Yes.”

“I've thought so,” Johnny's voice held no anger or offense. “Ye knew what I liked for breakfast, what coffee I drink, which cigarettes I smoke. Ye knew I like my whiskey neat. Ye knew... a lo’ of things that I didn't notice right away.”

Simon fell silent, looking out to the sea once more. Johnny slowly rested his head on Simon's shoulder and felt his fingers rake through his mohawk, tousled by the wind. Raising his hand, MacTavish slowly touched the scar on his temple and spoke again.

“Was I military too?” He asked. “Did we serve together? Were we friends?”

Simon remained silent. The wind snatched the cigarette butt from his fingers, but he remained absolutely still, stare fixed straight ahead, and seemingly not even blinking. John lifted his head from Simon's shoulder, took a step forward to face him, and held his shoulders. His other hand rested on Simon's chest. Simon finally lowered his gaze, looking into MacTavish's eyes.

“Will ye be surprised if I tell ye I seem tae have fallen for you?” John said. “Tis madness ‘cause I've only known ye for a few weeks, but... I'm drawn to ye. From our very first meeting when ye walked into my pub. That's why I’ve invited ye over, not because I pure needed an assistant. Please, Simon, tell me something!”

“Let's go inside,” Simon finally spoke and very gently, carefully touched John's cheek with his fingers.

The pub should have opened by now, but at this hour there never were any customers, so MacTavish didn't change the sign “Closed” to “Open.” They sat at the bar facing each other, just as on that first night when Simon finally mustered the courage to enter. Johnny poured them a whiskey each, carefully and unsurely covering Simon's hand, laying on the counter, with his.

The retired lieutenant gulped down his drink and then reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out two photographs. In one of them was Johnny in his uniform and gear, with a rifle in hand and his ever-present smile. It was his last photo taken before that fateful day when, as Simon thought, Johnny was killed. The second photo was a group shot, displaying all members of Task Force 141. Gaz and Soap were smiling, the captain looked stern, and Ghost, as always, was in the background wearing his skull mask. Johnny stared at these photos for a long, intense moment before looking back at Simon.

“I never stopped loving you, Johnny,” he said quietly. “I was with you when you were shot in the head. I held you and saw the life fade from your eyes. I don't know anything about how you survived, where you were treated, or what happened to you after that day. I remained in service only as long as it took to find your killer and seek revenge. Then, when I brought the captain the report of my discharge, he told me how to find you. He didn't give any specifics, and I came here not knowing what to expect.”

“Why didn't ye tell me this straight away?” Johnny asked, gently stroking Simon's arm.

“You were so happy, not remembering the past,” Riley replied in the same quiet tone, wrapping his wrist around Johnny's fingers. “I didn't have the courage to tell you about our service. About everything we had to go through. About how that scumbag shot you in the stomach and head while you were trying to protect our captain.”

“But that's not all that happened,” MacTavish shook his head and looked into Simon's eyes again. “There was us, not just comrades-in-arms or friends, right?”

“Yes,” nodded the retired lieutenant. “Not just that.”

Johnny lowered his gaze back to the photographs, trying to comprehend that the tough guy in the bulletproof vest covered in gear was himself; trying to recall the features of the other two fighters. That one in the hat with fancy sideburns was probably Captain Price. The name of the young and cheerful black guy in the cap was not mentioned by Simon, but they were probably friends with Johnny at some point. MacTavish frowned, trying to remember something, trying to find even the smallest breadcrumbs of memories that could lead him to the rest of them, but... In vain.

Doctors told him that with such brain damage, especially in the frontal lobe, memory loss was the least of all possible consequences. They said that MacTavish was lucky to remain functional and mentally stable. Memories might eventually return, but it was more likely that they wouldn't. Johnny accepted all of this. He had started a new life and believed he was completely happy until a mysterious stranger in a skull-print balaclava appeared on the threshold of his pub.

“I can't remember,” Johnny finally said, sadly looking at Simon. “Those people in the photo... We were probably close, bu’ I don't remember. All I can say is that even without remembering ye, I've fallen in love with ye again. And I don't want ye to sleep on the couch or go somewhere... I don't know, where your home is?”

“My home is where you are,” Simon replied, lifting Johnny's hand and lightly kissing his knuckles. “So if you still need an assistant...”

“Actually, I need more of a partner,” Johnny said, openly and warmly smiling at the man he didn't remember but loved with all his heart.

Simon spent several more weeks delving into the intricacies of managing the pub - learning how to plan and manage purchases, make cocktails, froth milk, cook simple dishes from the menu, work the till, and more. The pub closed on Mondays, and on those days, they would head out to the sea on Johnny's boat - they would fish or just circle around the island. Simon no longer slept on the couch or was a guest in MacTavish's house; he became its rightful owner. Johnny felt completely happy, falling asleep in his strong and warm embrace, resting his head comfortably on his chest.

Simon was happy too. It was evident how he gradually became less reserved, started to communicate more with the pub's customers, and increasingly more wore his balaclava raised to his nose. This allowed a glimpse that the retired lieutenant began to smile, doing so more and more often.

On a cold morning when the first snowfall covered the island with a white blanket, Simon and Johnny stood on the beach, smoking, watching the restless sea. Wrapped in a single blanket over their shoulders, they embraced each other, their lips displaying serene and happy smiles.

“I wanted to propose to you,” Simon broke the silence, stating this as casually as if it were something utterly inconsequential.

Johnny coughed, choking on cigarette smoke, and looked at him in astonishment.

“Yes, I wanted to,” Simon confirmed, continuing to gaze at the sea. “I even bought a ring for you, but... I never dared to. I thought we would have more time. When you, as I thought then, passed away, I left the ring on your grave. The cemetery worker who found it was probably happy; it was quite expensive.”

“Simon,” Johnny started, but Simon shook his head, turned to him, and, discarding the cigarette, covered his lips with his fingers.

“I can't afford to buy you the ring you deserve,” continued the retired lieutenant. “But maybe you'll agree to this?”

He pulled a ring from the inner pocket of his jacket—not golden or silver, but clearly antique, finely crafted. Johnny raised his hand, and Simon put the ring on his finger. He then kissed Johnny, lowering his head, and the piercing salty wind no longer had power over them because their hearts burned with a fire hotter than the epicentre of a nuclear explosion.

“I still couldn't remember anything,” Johnny said as they returned to the pub and prepared for opening. “You must be sad because of it.”

Simon looked at him, then pulled off his balaclava, smiled openly and sincerely, and replied:

“Quite the opposite.”

[tubtoon]

7 year old me watching my brother playing cod and it's a mission with my favorite character just to watch ghost carry him back to the ship before both of them got shot and burned alive. (Roach and Ghost call of duty modern warfare 2.)

[dhampiravidi]

an Idea: based on that cartoon-y comic where Damian looks 5 & Jason’s deliciously gigantic…Jason wearing a face mask while in civvies, both to cover his scars & bc he’s trying to protect his ID given that he’s 1 of a handful of people w/that kind of hair. I’d like to think the Pit healed his scars for HIS sake, but if not, a face mask makes sense to me.

maybe I got this idea from Simon “Ghost” Riley, who I think would be in the same support group as Jason & possibly end up becoming friends w/him. They’ve got a lot in common:

horrifically tortured in the past

totally secretly (not secretly) dating their BFF

said BFF almost died (NO NOT REALLY)

big.

intimidating but tbh so kind

great w/guns & knives

probably like similar music & clothes

their de facto dad is an Older English Man

[daltonsnightmare]

MacGyver (2016) s3e7 Scavengers + Hard Drive + Dragonfly | Cold Open

[nonbinary-gaydonweaver]

I was gonna do an actual rendered drawing with these palettes but I couldn't get it to look normal so have the silly doodle versions of them instead (+ some nice colour palettes below)

[starlightsweetheart]

Some friendship... (also I'm fucking up past and present tenses, but idgaf)

You know I just realized how absolutely humongous a crock of shit the whole Maya turning into Riley because she's getting better grades thing is, and that Riley only was accusing her of that because of Lucas. I mean, I knew it was bullshit before, but I never really though of how gigantic a 💩 it was until today.

Girl Meets Father is the fourth episode of season one. In that episode, Cory gives Maya an F on her test. Maya gets upset that she failed the test.

Maya tells Riley that "sometimes, I'm not so proud of who I am".

Maya tells Riley and Cory that she "tried to write like I was smart", Riley responds that Maya is smart.

Cory corrects Maya on one answer of the test saying "it's a tiny difference but an important one. Because if you know it, Maya, you don't fail". Maya then replies "I want to not fail".

Riley was encouraging Maya, while Cory was quizzing her on the subject of the test.

Maya says to Cory: "I just don't wanna fail, Mr. Matthews.

We go from that (Riley encouraging Maya to grow and better herself) to season three, Girl Meets Triangle, where Riley accuses Maya that the person that Maya has grown into is not who she really is.

Riley tell the art teacher that "Maya's a rebel". That Maya dances on teachers' desks, is the queen of detention and the president of Mayaville.

Riley is saying that Maya needs to be fixed because "she's been getting good grades, she's behaving all over the place".

Maya tells Riley, "I'm me! I've always been me, I'm always gonna be me! Nothings going to change that!", Riley retorts with"you haven't stood on a teachers desk or been in detention for a long time. You sold your house in Mayaville and you moved to Rileytown."

No matter what Maya says, Riley keeps insisting that Maya turned into her, blah blah blah.

Riley goes on about how Maya's style has changed towards Riley's style.

So, in the beginning of the series Riley was encouraging Maya to grow and do better. Maya even told Riley that she's not proud of who she is. Maya does mature and grow...

THEN Riley finds out that Maya likes the same guy as her. That can't happen, she can't have Lucas choosing Maya; so she accuses Maya of becoming her and wants Maya to become that failure that Maya thought she was in the beginning of the series (plus telling Maya that while Riley will have one husband, Maya will go through 5 husbands and that Lucas won't be one of them). Riley accuses Maya pulling the fire alarm, of stealing from the cafe (for me, that kind of accusation is something that a friendship can never bounce back from) and she basically forces Maya to revert back to the person she wasn't proud of being, to believe that she doesn't deserve good things or good guys... all because they like the same guy.

Thus, by the end of the series; Riley destroyed all of Maya's growth and forced Maya's regression and Riley became a hypocrite.