#garrick family

[islandtarochips]

Tiala and Gaz’s Children

Ok. I know I haven’t make any love stories about Tiala and Gaz YET. But I couldn’t help but to think about of what their future children would look like! So here is what I’ve been thinking!

Tiala’s x Gaz’s Children: Features

Emelia (eh-meh-lee-ah) Garrick - Emelia is the eldest daughter of Mr. And Mrs. Garrick. She has Tiala’s face and her hair too. She also has Gaz’s skin color.

Jessie Garrick - Jessie is the 2nd eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Garrick. She has Gaz’s face and Tiala’s hair. She also has Tiala’s skin color.

Hōne (hoh-neh) Garrick - Hōne is the middle child. The son of Mr. and Mrs. Garrick. He has Gaz’s face and his hair. Same for his skin color too.

Tiana Garrick - Tiana is the 2nd youngest daughter of Mr. And Mrs. Garrick. She has Tiala’s face and skin color with Gaz’s nose and hair (but longer).

Sina (see-nah) Garrick - Sina is the youngest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Garrick. The baby girl has Tiala’s nose, hair and got Gaz’s face. She also got Gaz’s skin color.

Tiala x Gaz Children’s Personality and Facts Check:

Emelia Garrick:

- She has both of her father’s and mother’s hardworking personality. Since she’s the eldest. It’s her duty and responsibility to take the role as the older child.

- Smartness is her thing. Got that from her dad. She’s also an A+ student!

-Emelia always helped out most of the time at home and at her mother's bakery shop.

- She really enjoys watching Dr. Who with her dad and would talk nonstop about it with him too!

- She also loves to learn her mother’s native language. So her mom and grandma taught her most of it and she improves it very well!

- Emelia also enjoys hearing about her mother's ancestors and would use it for her presentation most of the time.

Jessie Garrick:

- Jessie has her competitive personality from her dad. Always up for the challenge.

- She enjoys playing sports with both of her parents. Even playing Rugby with her mom.

- She’s the Captain in both rugby and volleyball for girls.

-Jessie is also a rebel against some older folks when she was a little girl. But NEVER and I mean NEVER against her parents. (Tiala had taught her one way of NOT behaving like that)

- Her favorite Uncle is Kanoa and Soap.

Hōne Garrick:

- Named after his late Uncle, Hōne.

- He has his mom’s personality of being judgmental with every person he sees. (Only if he finds them suspicious or weird)

- He even has that protective personality from BOTH of his parents. Mostly being protective with his little sister.

- You’ll be surprised when he grows up he won’t even know why most girls always swoon for him. He didn’t know that he has his dad’s charming looks.

- He always ask his grandpa (Tiala’s dad) to tell him the time when he went in the military.

- Violence is always his answer. Unless it’s necessary. (He either gets scolded by his mom or got an approval from her. His dad approves it sometimes that depends if it's the right reason.)

-Hōne also likes to hang around with his Uncle Sami or Ghost.

Tiana Garrick:

- A mute child who could only respond by writing on her board or doing British Sign Language.

- She’s a bit shy and will always stay beside either with Emelia or Hōne. Whenever her parents aren't around.

- She always gets bully most of the time because of her not speaking (Hōne has dealt with them…he needs to stop hanging with his Uncle Sami and Ghost)

- Enjoys drawing. Was planning to become an artist or making a comic.

-Aunty Agnes and Uncle Soap are her favorite people. Since the two can draw and would LOVE to teach Tiana to know more about it!

- Doesn’t really enjoy loud noises. A bit sensitive to it so she wore her headphones most of the time.

Sina Garrick:

- A baby.

- An adorable little baby.

- Who enjoy naps and being fed.

- Always cry for her mommy.

- Everyone in the family will kill anyone if she’s ever HARMED.

So after of these two getting married. Tiala had retired from being the Captain of the Marines and leave the leading of the WTF to Captain Harrison (Who he was use to be the Lieutenant). While Gaz is still serving in the SAS which leaves Tiala taking care of their kids.

Tiala and Gaz decided to move into London after their honeymoon. Somewhere near the base is at since Gaz is still active on duty. And he was always been called in so he has like a short deployment. So he had tried to spend as much time with his kids and his wife before being departed back to the base.

Meanwhile, Tiala had opened a small bakery and could finally work in peace. That her hands can now use them for making things something wonderful instead of for destroying things. She wouldn't mind for her kids to hang around in her bakery while she works.

The two had finally made a life that they'll live together forever along with their wonderful children. And Tiala had finally found a man who truly love and cared for her dearly.

And that's all I got for now! I might edit it again if I needed too! Thank you guys for reading this far! Love ya, peles!

And now, I must tag these peeps!

@alypink @welldonekhushi @revnah1406 @kaitaiga

@sleepyconfusedpotato @justasmolbard @deeptrashwitch

@dirtfullofwork @imagoddamnonionmason @mutantthedark

@raresvtm @applbottmjeens

[sgt-tombstone]

Thinking about the 141 attending a formal military event—some high ranking officer getting a medal or retiring or some such; Johnny isn’t paying much attention—but their attendance is required (normally when shit like this happens, the 141 either is already out of the country on assignment or can quickly arrange to be).

Unfortunately, formal attendance means that regulations suddenly matter a bit more: dress uniforms, hair cuts, the whole nine yards. For Gaz, none of it is an issue; his default state is well within regs. For Ghost it just means taking his mask off, which he submits to with little fuss or fanfare. He doesn’t even really need to shave or cut his hair because he keeps both pretty short under his mask anyway. Price refuses to cut his sideburns or moustache and somehow gets away with it because… he’s Price and even the higher-ups who care about that kind of thing are willing to make an exception for Price.

Soap, though… Soap has to shave. He might be the youngest candidate to pass SAS selection, but that’s not enough to make the brass turn a blind eye to his carefully curated hairstyle and stubble, both horrendously out of regulation. His mohawk gets cut short, not short enough to stop being a mohawk altogether, but short enough to pass it off as a less conspicuous styling. His face, though, gets shaved completely clean. He complains about it the entire time, even though he’s alone in his bathroom, ranting to his own reflection in the mirror, and the moment he steps out, Ghost and Gaz absolutely lose it laughing, having to hold on to each other for support.

They petition Price to change Johnny’s callsign to “Babyface” and maintain for months that Price was this close to agreeing (the only reason he refused is because he knew that it would get shortened to “Baby” and he didn’t want to give Ghost an official way to flirt with his boyfriend over comms)

[3amfanfiction]

You know what one of my favorite tropes is?

When reader starts dating someone in the 141 and quickly finds out that they’re a package deal.

The first time you meet the rest of them (very early on) they’re hovering around the edges, just waiting to be let into the group, like a pack of shy dogs wanting attention and to be loved but scared of demanding it, scared of frightening you away.

And then you look at all of them, truly look—at this captain who always has to be right. If he’s not right 100% of the time then people he cares about get hurt.

At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.

At this handsome sergeant, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to follow in his captains footsteps, but the steps are so large he scrambles behind, always feeling like he’s never going to catch up.

At this energetic sergeant who has been shooed away again and again, never finding the person with the patience to deal with his attention. Always loud, always restless, looking forward to the next thing.

And you’re standing there looking at them—deciding if you want to let them into your home, into your life.

Because they are a unit, and you can pull one out for a short time but they will end up wound back into the twisted rope before the end.

So you do.

You let them in.

But they are dogs through and through. Pack animals to their core and you’re part of them now.

No going back from here.

[briarmoon1015]

Speedsters :)

[mikichko]

it’s gaz who gives you the nickname wisp. and it sticks. you’re not exactly sure where it came from or what it means but it could’ve been much worse.

but the 141 know exactly why.

gaz notices first, of course. how different versions of you rotate throughout the day depending on who you're talking to. there are moments where he notices pieces of the real you coming out. telltale sign is your shoulders dropping back, not in the rigid stance usually saved for attention but in relief. like someone's snapped the string that was holding you up. those moments don't last and it's not long before your shoulder's are rigid and pinched the way someone on high alert keeps them.

in his head ghost calls you cam. short for chameleon. just like gaz he notices how you shape and mold yourself to appeal to others. you're not blending in, he realizes, you're mirroring them. reading them and reacting just how they'd like. a quip here, a smile there, a joke about some one-off thing that you'd noticed made their eyes light up. he wonders what it's like to see the real you, what you'd be like if you were in front of your own mirror. he doesn't get to ponder too long, he can see you fading as you morph

you escape out of soap's grasp so many times he thinks his nickname should be yours instead. he thinks to himself one day that it must be natural for the two of you to miss each other. to be lucky enough some days to occupy some square footage of space before you disappear through a doorway, leaving him wanting. even when you're on the same base, hell same missions sometimes, you're never close enough to him. just out of his reach.

price happens to find you when you think you're alone. just like gaz he's privy to the relaxed state of your body, rigid lines becoming softer against the worn material of the couch. he watches the way your hand strokes the skin along your clavicle, thumb pressing down into the dip of your jugular notch. there's a cloudy look to your eyes as you continue to absentmindedly soothe yourself from whatever you're dissecting in your head. he watches for a while, trying to piece together what it is you're reliving. he knows it's time for him to take his leave when your shoulders straighten, even before your eyes blink away the clouds.

you're there for a moment, before you disappear, evading their grasp.

a/n: i got crazy writers block and was trying to force myself to write my wips but instead my brain cooked this up. everyone say thank you to @buttdumplin for making me brave enough to post <3

[arttuff]

thank you to @thrakaboom for donating to the DC gotcha for gaza fundraiser!! the prompt was for jay and bart shenanigans!

donations to the DC Gotcha For Gaza fundraiser ARE NOW CLOSED!!! thank you so much to everyone who helped out and donated to this amazing cause!

Find out more here: dcforgaza.carrd.com

[ftl-faster-than-life]

"Speedsters are boring, they're useless they just run fast."

Wrong! Jay Garrick can make sonic bombs by just hitting his helmet at the right frequency. Barry Allen can disassemble and reassemble himself molecule by molecule at will. Wally West can freeze a person in time by removing their potential kinetic energy. Bart Allen can trap entities between molecules. Eobard Thawne can age someone to dust with a touch. Literally any of them can throw a grain of sand with enough force to go through any armor you care to imagine. Speedster abilities are not only endlessly creative, they're horrifyingly OP.

[melonlthawne]

the chosen speedster

[remiebear]

They all care for Soap 🥺🥺

.

Idk why their head shapes looks weird today sorry 😞

[milkydough]

A growing family!

the names of the babies

[of-mice-and-idiots]

every time the dc universe resets its because one of those quick little bastards got the zoomies cause they forgot to take their adhd medication and ran so fast they crashed face first into the time stream and it fucked with everyones origin story again

[baohanhanesel]

Do you mean like fic recs to draw or just ideas?

For fic recs: The Road To Hell (Is Paved With Good Intentions) by @sunshowersanddandelionwine

And for ideas: Ghoap dancing in the rain!

Okay so I am forever grateful for you. I decided to just do both of your recs. Dragon Soap and his hoard. That fic is one of my favorites btw 😭 Hope @sunshowersanddandelionwine sees this 🤷

[knittingserpent]

One headcanon that I have is that Speedsters are really staticky, like they go to turn on the light and they get shocked by the switch or you bump into them and get shocked or maybe your hair stands on end around them

[oocdc-tweets]

Speedsters

may have worded stuff weirdly here but i could care less tbh

Masterpost

First | Prev | Next

[ranibra71]

IMPORTANT🚨

On top of all the oppression and suffering we are experiencing, we also face additional oppression and suffering from GoFundMe. They closed my campaign and returned the money to the donors, and I did not benefit from the campaign at all despite my great efforts. I am Rania from northern Gaza, and I have a family. I am unable to face life and provide the basic necessities for them. Life has changed in our eyes, and everything has changed.

We see death, suffering, and oppression before us every day. I am in dire need of your help. Every donation from you brings us safety, saves our lives, and helps us start anew. It will contribute to improving my mental state and that of my family.

We are very discouraged and displaced, and the situation is unbearable.

Every donation brings me hope and safety.

@el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @fairuzfan @fallahifag

DONATION LINK👇🏻

@newsfrom-theworld @nezreblogz @nightmimedreams @appsa @aces-and-angels @enchantingheavens @el-shab-hussein @witchywitchy @time-is-restored @totallynotcensorship @tsaricides @malcriada @mee-op @mores0 @palms-upturned @plomegranate @palipunk @olovelymoon @sayruq @sar-soor @soon-palestine @fairuzfan @blackpearlblast @commissions4aid-international

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Run Free

art by me!

Price, Gaz, and Ghost visits the MacTavish Estate baring the news.

Word Count: 2.1k words Warning: Major character death, angst and comfort. Note : I wrote this fic a few days after I finished the campaign. I've always thought it weird why the 141 boys had Soap's ashes when I've always seen Soap as someone with a family and a had good relationship with them, especially since it's canon that Soap's cousin brought him to the SAS base several times as a kid. Here's my interpretation of that fact, on how Soap's urn ended up with the boys.

Price, Gaz, and Ghost wore their dress uniforms from head to toe, finding themselves in front of the MacTavish Estate in Glasgow. It was… big, to say the least. Soap’s family was known not only because a number of people from the family are serving in the British Royal Armed Forces, but also the fact that they are 7th generation furniture company - MacTavish Furnitures. Lots of members of the family are veterans turned businessmen, carpenters, or woodworkers. It is a common cycle of life for them.

As Ghost and Gaz stood, Price climbed the stairs and wore his beige beret, breathing deeply through his nose before letting the air out to prepare himself, lifting his hand to knock on the wooden door. The captain heard faint noises of multiple footsteps from multiple people and some voices of heavy Scottish accent from inside the house. He waited for a moment, until the door finally opened, but he found no one in front of him. 

“Who are ya?”

A little voice spoke from under him, prompting Price to look down. He found a little girl with blonde hair no taller than his knees. She’s absolutely drenched from head to toe in a blue swimming attire and had to bend her neck so high to see him. He bent down to his knees to match her height, before saying,

“Hello. I’m… My name is John.” 

“John? Like Uncle Johnny?” Her little voice said, face gleaming with happiness at the name.

“Yes. Like Uncle Johnny.” Price smiled, chuckling lightly. The girl grinned at his smiling face. “May I see your dad? Or mum?”

“Phoebe MacTavish! Get your wee feet here before I pick your legs off of that floo–! Oh, Hello there.” A new voice came from in front of him, revealing herself to be an old woman with dark brown hair, though with white strands and the same quizzical brow that reminded Price of Soap. She looked strong, nonetheless, wearing a green shirt and knitted vest with a towel hanging from one of her shoulders, obviously to dry the little girl after a session of swimming in their estate’s pool. 

Price stood back up, greeting the lady. “Mrs. MacTavish.” 

The old woman looked at his attire up and down, and Price swore that he saw the gears rotating inside her mind. She looked down at the girl and gave her the white towel, “Phoebe. Go inside and dry yourself. Find your Da, Aunt Rachel, and Uncle Hugh, too. Tell them to meet me at the front door, yeah?” The little girl nodded and ran inside, disappearing into the house as Price heard a faint yelling from the same child, calling for the stated family members. 

Now, the lady in front of him walked closer to the doorway, face to face with him. She’s undoubtedly no taller than 5’7”, a height that might have been receding as time went by, but you could spot a proud MacTavish wherever you see one. Price offered his hand for a handshake as she accepted. “Captain John Price from the 22 SAS Regiment.” 

“Joan MacTavish.” She replied. Price noticed the name as the name on Soap’s file as his guardian, with the relation being marked with ‘Aunt’. “What brings you here, Captain?” Her face looked neutral like it wasn’t the first time a soldier with a full dress uniform knocked on this wooden door. 

Just before Price could say what he wanted to say, a deep voice called to her. “Mum?” One woman and two men with a frame similar to him showed up from inside the house. One man was around Ghost’s age, one was around his age, while the woman in a bun looked older than him, though looking very vibrant and professional. All of them had the same thick eyebrows – Family traits, he supposed – and clearly looked like honourable but firm Scottish people. Upon seeing Price, though, their faces changed from confusion to realization. 

Price remembered that Soap was not the first MacTavish in the SAS. In fact, there was another member of the family, Oliver MacTavish, who died in the line of duty a decade ago. Price remembered the way Soap had told the story of Ollie, his cousin, bringing his little arse to the SAS base  - however unpermitted it was – and how Price had busted Soap multiple times for applying with a fake age. 

“Rachel MacTavish.” The eldest one spoke.

“Hugh MacTavish.” The elder man said, followed by the younger.

“Scott MacTavish. That was my daughter, Phobe.” They all shook hands with Price. 

He repeated his greeting, before Rachel started,

“I've seen the likes of you before. I recognize that beret even from a mile away." She said firmly. "Out with it."

The captain's breath hitched as he cleared his throat, preparing himself to deliver the news. And so, he began.

"On November 21st, our target had placed an active bomb inside the underwater tunnel that connects the UK and France. During our attempt to defuse the bomb, the target sneaked from behind our line of sight…"

The whole family's face changed, Joan's eyes looked glassy with tears seeming like she knew of the incoming words.

"And I regret to inform you… that Sergeant John MacTavish has died in the line of duty."

Ghost, without his mask and black face paint around his eyes, and Gaz with their dress uniforms and beret could only stand from the base of the stairs, watching and hearing as Joan's cry of anguish tear through the morning sky. 

"Oh Lord. Johnny. Johnny. My baby, Johnny." Joan repeated his name like a chanting to the sky. "Why must You take him so soon? Why must he join Ollie so soon?"

The whole family hugged their mother as she wailed, her knees looked like it was giving up. Gaz gritted his teeth to strengthen himself, not wanting to break down to cry himself. 

As the family cried, Price could only stand still, letting the news sink in for the family. His job as the leader of the team was done, at that point. He delivered the news to his family. 

"The bomb…Did he defuse it?" Hugh questioned in the middle of his sobs. 

"He–" Price swallowed, remembering the way Makarov had killed him. "We were both defusing the bomb, John guiding me along the way as he was the demolition expert."

"He protected me, Sir. Our target was about to shoot me, before John stopped him - and got killed instead. The target ran away, but me and Sergeant Garrick managed to defuse the bomb thanks to his prior guidance, saving thousands of lives underneath the 30-mile underwater tunnel." Price answered as Rachel looked up at his face, anger and denial filling her in an instant. 

She raised her hand in such a way that Price knew that she was about to slap him. Price still opened his eyes, fully welcoming the slap before her hand stopped. 

Rachel bit her lips so hard that it might bleed, lowering her arm.

"...Why does it have to be Johnny? Why do you get to live and he doesn't?" She barely whispered in a shaky voice, going back to wiping her face again. “Why Johnny…?”

And Price asked that question every single hour ever since his death. 

Why Soap, and not him?

—

The MacTavishes requested for Soap's body to be sent to Scotland, where they held a memorial at the MacTavish estate to which they promptly honoured. The number of family members participating was not that many, considering only the immediate family attended. Price, Soap, and Ghost joined them, and even escorted the family as they travelled to the crematorium.

After the whole procession finished – that took the entire day – the family finally had possession of the urn containing Soap's ashes, and they invited the three back to the estate, where they now sit inside the guest room and tea in front of them with Joan and Rachel, his urn placed on a table beside Joan.

That was the day they learned that Soap was actually the son of Joan's late husband's younger sister. Soap's mother – her sister-in-law, died when she birthed Soap, while Soap's father died during an accident in a factory before his own birth. 

Soap had been raised by his uncle's family since his infancy, growing up in the MacTavish house as a strong and firm Scott under the wing of the eldest brother, Oliver. 

"He's always wanted to be like Ollie, that wee kid," Rachel told them after holding a photo album containing photos of Soap when he was a baby in his late uncle's arms, a photo of him and his older cousins playing with mud, photos of his graduations from school, and photos of him passing the test to be a part of SAS along with his cousin, Oliver. "Said he didn't want to go to school. Just visit the army base every day. It's what he dreamed of."

Ghost, still in his dress uniform, felt the most vulnerable in that room - Without his mask, in front of Johnny's family. He also had been in agony for the past day, because he'd failed to cover Johnny's back. He had one job at that time, and he failed, catastrophically. He only sat there with his hands joined in his lap, not daring to look at the family in the eyes. 

"We're very thankful for John's service with us. He was the best there is." Gaz spoke, "John's memory will live with us."

"Thank you, Sergeant Garrick." Joan smiled as she looked up. "I heard you share the same quarters with him in the barracks. I hope he wasn't too much of a naughty boy."

The sergeant chuckled lightly at that, "Well. Soap wasn't someone who could stay away from mischief too long, but I assure you that he's an absolute joy and inspiration to be around." Hearing Joan's laughter cured a little part in Gaz, as the only thing he'd heard from her was the sound of her cry. He could at least pride himself in knowing that he could share Soap's merry nature.

As they share memories, Price finished his tea before he stood up from the sofa, followed by the other two. "Well. We must take our leave, Ma'am. Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime." Joan spoke as the soldiers started to leave the sofa, heading towards the main room and front door. 

"Which one of ya’s is ‘LT’?"

Rachel’s voice stopped the men in their tracks, particularly Ghost’s. All three men turned around, finding the woman holding Soap’s urn in her hands. Price saw how Ghost's face turned to that of a deer in a spotlight, so he put his hand behind Ghost’s back to lightly push him towards Rachel, but Ghost’s hesitancy was apparent in the way he slowly walked. 

“...That would be me, Ma’am.” Ghost’s deep voice rumbled softly as he looked down to Rachel’s height. The lady herself observed him up and down with a negative face that she could convince him that he was standing there naked. 

“Yer tryin’ so hard to make yourself look small for such a big man. It’s almost dreading.” She started, her hips shifting. “I’ve been the CEO of MacTavish Furnitures since my da’ passed away and Ollie decided to go to the army, and I read people like a book. For someone whom Johnny admired the most – and repeatedly spoke about – you don’t look like the LT I heard from him.” Ghost was starstruck at the statement. Soap, talking about him to his family? “I expected you to be cocky and exude pride in your steps, but all I’m seein’ is just a pathetic, sad bloke.” 

Ghost stood still at those comments. No one practically had ever roasted him this badly in front of his teammates. He wondered if he showed up in his other attire, she’d dare to say all this. But then again, if someone got to do it, he was glad that it came from an honourable woman of the MacTavish bloodline. 

What caught him off guard was her hands stretching towards him, holding Soap’s urn in front of his chest. Ghost looked down at the metal container, looking confused as he looked up again to face Rachel. He thought the MacTavishes were going to hold on to Soap’s urn, and they get to keep Soap’s dog tags. However, clearly, the current head of the family had other wishes.

“Take Johnny with ya. Being trapped inside this urn for eternity in this old house would be the last thing he wanted.” The woman started with a shaky voice, her eyes starting to brim with tears again. Seeing Soap’s character, Ghost could understand that completely. 

“He’s… the proudest he could ever be when he’s with ya’s." Rachel continued. 

"So I ask you, as our brother’s comrades, to hold on to Johnny – and free him.” 

Ghost’s eyes opened wide in surprise, still couldn’t fathom how fondly Soap must've talked about his teammates, especially him, to his family that they’d give him his ashes. Ghost lifted his hands to carefully receive the urn. 

After breathing deeply, Ghost stood straight, holding Soap firmly. 

“We will, Ma’am.”

—

The three of them walked towards the car parked just outside the MacTavish estate with Ghost holding Soap’s urn in his hands. They all took off their berets and entered the car, Price the designated driver, Gaz riding shotgun, while Ghost sat in the backseat. 

“So what do we do with him, Sir?” Gaz rotated his body to look at Soap’s urn on Ghost’s hands, same as Price.

Ghost contemplated in his mind, staring at the metal urn, before speaking, “Where’s Johnny’s place of birth?” 

Price answered immediately as he’s the one who took care of Soap’s documents. “Isle of Skye.” 

“Soap said there’s a beautiful cliff where he and his cousins used to go to play. Endless sea where the eyes could see.” Gaz added.

“Then that’s where we’re goin’.” Ghost spoke with finality. “And then we’ll let Johnny go.”

Price and Gaz nodded to each other. "Alright, Soap. Let's get you home." The captain started the car and stepped on the gas, beginning their journey towards the Isle of Skye.

---

I'm not okay. Thank you for reading! (T_T) reblogs and comments of your thoughts are much appreciated!