#i <3 simon fucking riley

[gazspookiebear]

Mmm, thinking about Ghost going on a date with reader after not having been in a proper relationship in years

He was never one for hookups, and he could never keep long-term relationships. Most lasted about a month at most before he backed out.

Fast forward to now, he's been invited out by you. He figures it'll be like most other dates, a quick dinner at a noisy restaurant before he gets overwhelmed and leaves.

To his surprise, it isn't. You kept his comfort in mind and suggested a walk by the bay instead.

When he walks beside you in silence, you don't seem to take offense. In fact, you don't seem to mind at all. You fill in his silence with easy conversation, keeping it focused on you and not trying to pry into his personal life.

You don't hesitate when he responds with one word answers, instead taking the opportunity to discuss an interest of your own. By the time it's long past dark out, you offer to take him home, apologizing for not acknowledging the time sooner. He didn't want to stop listening to your voice

When he declines your offer, you smile. You tell him to stay safe, to rest well, and to text you when he gets home.

At his apartment, he can't stop thinking about you. About how polite and kind you were. About how you actually cared about his feelings, how you weren't off put by him.

He glances at his phone.

You receive a text at 1 in the morning. A simple 'Back safe.'

[bluegiragi]

a night out on the town with the 141 <3 (get prints of these here)

gain early access to art + nsfw exclusives on my patreon

[furiosophie]

it's something sinister to love without regard for dear tomorrow

[cod-dump]

Just played some MWII (2009) last night, shot Soap in the ass by accident because I saw sudden movement.

And then I proceeded to get nailed by a snow mobile.

Captain MacTavish having to write a report on how he ended up with a bullet in the ass and why Roach got knocked into next week by a snow mobile. It’s funny now, looking back at it, but in that moment it was so fucking embarrassing having to take note what happened.

Ghost wouldn’t stop laughing when he got all the information on what happened, in tears because he’s laughing so hard. Best part (for Ghost) is that Soap isn’t even sitting properly yet, which just adds to the humor of it all.

It may have been embarrassing for the two of them, but at least someone got a much needed laugh.

[temeyes]

took the three of them to our outing today! the Bois had fun!

[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

[nachtart]

reaper

[yumethefrostypanda]

idk what i'm doing, but have it

he's just sculpted so well

[pippynsworld]

[the-palelady]

hi sirinn 💕

it’s been a rough week. was wondering’ if i could request some soft simon? maybe helping his so through a tough time?

love you bunches, hope you’re taking care of yourself!

i feel like this week has been rough for a lot of people. i hope you're resting, staying hydrated, and just taking care of yourself dear. i believe in you and so does simon of course ♡

you seemed to always hold a level head. it was rare for simon to see you falter, if at all. there was always a smile spread wide across your face, the apples of your cheeks pink, a sparkle in your eyes. your laughs would echo throughout your shared home whether it be from something simon had said, or something that you saw on the telly.

but today was not one of those days.

there was no sparkle in those eyes of yours, replaced with a tiredness that left dark bags under your eyes. you were slow moving when waking that morning, not putting much effort into your hair, and grabbing the first thing you found in your closet. your outfit was mismatched with khaki pants and a weird yellow blouse that simon had never seen you wear outside of the house.

your lips sat in a thin line, unmoving as you silently floated about your home like a phantom. there was no noise even as you packed your lunch for the day; not a peep as you slipped your shoes on and stepped out of the house.

and the second you left, simon got to work.

he knew you too well to know that you were just "fine", a word he had expected you to say if he had even dared approach you about the topic. he saw it in the way you slid along the house, slower than a snail as you got ready for work. he saw it in the dull look in your eyes, far too tired to even look up at him and whisper a simple "good morning".

it was late when you returned home. a later night than normal.

stepping inside of your home, you slipped off your shoes, placing them by the front door with a sigh, peeling away your armor piece by piece as you walked towards the living room.

you were met with the sight of a vase of flowers sitting front and center on the coffee table. white lilies to be exact. the smell of detergent hit your nostrils, and you noticed how clean the couch cushions looked from where you stood. the pillows were fluffed and placed in their respected corners.

the wood floors shined from being swept and mopped, reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. the tv played one of your favorite shows that you always turned on when you wanted some background noise or needed comfort. the bookshelves beside the entertainment center had clearly been dusted, yours and simon's books organized in alphabetical order. just how you liked them.

the subtle scent of garlic hit your senses after a moment, the smell and a voice breaking you from your thoughts.

"welcome home, love."

your widened eyes darted up to meet simon's pools of amber. the corner of his lips were upturned in a slight smile, one meant only for you.

"hungry?"

your mouth opened and closed as you tried to speak, but nothing came out.

truthfully, you were shocked. simon did do chores around the house. he was fairly organized, clean, a simple man who didn't own too much. he always kept his space tidy. but sometimes things got out of hand, and lately it had been hard for you to keep up with the mess. your workload had been tripled. you had personal issues going on in your life that were difficult to discuss, even to simon.

over the course of a few weeks, you felt like you had been backed into a corner. alone and afraid. it seemed like the world had caved in around you, dragging you into a dark abyss that you felt stuck in.

yet despite that darkness there was a light that shined through, and he stood right in front of you, flour dusting his pale cheeks and an apron much too small for him wrapped around his waist.

your lips quivered. your eyes watered so quickly you couldn't hold back the tears that broke through the dam you had built over time.

but before the tears could break through, simon was at your side, wrapping you in the warmth of his body.

you were stubborn. you were independent, believing you could handle anything that came at you alone. however, right now you had to admit to yourself that you did need a shoulder to lean on. even for just a moment. so you leaned into simon's sturdy chest, letting your tears fall freely after all the time you had kept them bottled up.

"shh, love. don't worry. i'm 'ere."

he wiped at your tears. his warm hands glided along the crown of your head, flattening out the strands of hair that had grown messy throughout the day. you were sure you looked a fright, but simon seemed to care less.

"'m sorry," you hiccupped, tears staining his t-shirt.

"the hell ya sorry for, angel?"

"i-i-i shouldn't be crying o-o-over something so st—"

"'nough of that, yeah?" his gruff voice cut you off, but there was no maliciousness behind it. he loosened his grip on you, looking down into your teary eyes with an expression you had never seen from him.

"sometimes we 'ave bad days. everyone. myself included. we can't act strong all the time. s'alright ta need a shoulder ta lean on. ya don't need ta handle this alone. ya always there for everyone. always takin' the punches for everyone else. now let someone else take those punches, hm?

you felt your bottom lip wobble again, and when you didn't say anything simon hummed, his head tilting closer towards you.

"s'alright to cry. doesn't make ya weak. only proves that ya human. so let out those tears, dove. i'll hold ya until there's not a single drop left."

[verdantcreek]

he was the best of us. | lyrics from fin by mustard service

[tojisun]

not like a hockey au but just overall camgirl idea of you and simon sitting through previous videos you’ve made and asking him which one he wants to recreate. and you’re sitting between his legs on the bed, with simon’s chin perched on your shoulder, and his arm thrown over your waist. and it’s such a casual conversation like the two of you are just talking about a bedroom catalogue of some sorts lol

(the video that the two of you make quickly becomes your most popular because the one simon chose? it’s the one where he gets pegged.)

[queermentaldisaster]

Ghoap flirting over comms, pt two

“No promises, Lt.” Soap’s voice came over the radio, and Simon rolled his eyes. “That’s an order, sergeant.” He responded, and hints of Ghost slipped into his voice. “Be careful.”

“Aye, Lt, ye got it.” They could hear Soap’s cocky grin from here. “Ah’m nae gonna make a peep, ye have mah word.” Simon smiled fondly, letting out a slightly bitter laugh. “Well you’re already failing, sergeant.”

Soap’s voice took on a more sensual tone. “Aye, well…maybe ye could…shut me up?”

[buttdumplin]

The boys ask you about your feelings on packers.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort word count: 1036

A/N: An immense thank you to @mikichko for having my back and encouraging me with this. Some shit got worked out and it couldn't have happened without her love and support <3

“It’s the potential for disappointment that scares me.”

You lay spread out on the couch in the living room and four sets of eyes turn to you. Simon and Kyle, already sitting nearby, inch closer and you welcome it. They’ve got your head propped up by the softness of Kyle’s thigh, your feet and lower legs resting on Simon’s lap, by the time Johnny and Price come in from the kitchen, lunch prep abandoned. Avoiding their unspoken pleas for eye contact, you turn your head and half bury your face in the warmth of Kyle’s belly. 

“What are we talking about here?” Johnny’s worry evident. 

“Packers,” Kyle explains softly, tracing your features with his fingers.

A little out of it, Johnny turns to Price for further explanation who simply grabs at his own crotch instead of speaking. Johnny nods, quickly back in the loop. He takes a seat on the couch arm, pressing close against Kyle. John settles on the floor, kneeling at your side. You all want to say something, move and offer your seat to him, to spare his knees, but the huff he gives warns that this is not the time.

“And what would the disappointment be?” he gets straight to it.

“I wouldn’t feel it.”

“You’d feel the heft of it, the pressure of your clothes,” Kyle offers.

Johnny follows up quickly, “Change the way you walk and sit too, feel the motions.”

“But I wouldn’t feel it. On me, sure. Against my body, yeah. It would change how I maneuver, but I wouldn’t be able to feel through it. I’m scared it will be a painful reminder of what isn’t.”

John gently cuts through, “Do you want what isn’t?”

You don’t have to deliberate over your response, “No, I’m happy with my growth.”

“So are we,” Kyle winks down at you, Johnny nodding along with a wicked grin.

You chuckle, easing open from the full-body curl you hid in, Simon’s hand squeezing your calf with encouragement. As much as concern might be pinching their faces, all the boys’ bodies are soft in that moment. They all lean towards you, engulfing you with their support, attentive gazes watching every move and response. It’s startling to think they can see so much of you, see through you, but it just envelops you in a nest of safety.

“Then it’s sensation,” John tries again. He eases back a bit when you nod, can’t help but feel a little successful as you open up.

Johnny’s eyebrows scrunch, “But you love the strap.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

“But you can’t feel that either.”

“I know that.”

The back and forth isn’t very long, but your rising frustration is evident. Just as you’re about to get up to take a break from the conversation, Simon speaks, big, brown eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability of his own.

“Is it because the packer would be specifically for you and not something to be directly used for someone else or their pleasure? Because it would be for you and how you feel and you’re worried how that might detract from any perception of the ‘usefulness’ of it, and that makes you feel selfish?”

Your tears answer him, your throat too choking full of emotion to do anything other than let them fall silently. Your fingers scramble across your body to take his hand, and he meets you with an almost terrifying force, his grip locking you into place as he bends closer to you. 

His eyes remain fixed to yours as he speaks, voice rumbling from his tears, “You deserve to have your needs met. All of them. They do not have to be convenient or in any way beneficial to others. They are your needs, and that makes them important. Doesn’t matter what they are, we will meet them.”

You pull him down against you as your breath finally breaks into a sob, drowning yourself in the warm weight of his body. You can hear him sniffle by your ear, his tears wet your temple. Wrapping your arms around him, comforting him with every little touch, you repeat thank you’s into his skin. 

Kyle stirs and you look up to see the other three boys. John’s face is serious as his speaks, wide shoulders set straight, eyes sharp. Kyle and Johnny take in every word, their posture rigid and familiar as they listen to their instructions. You can’t quite hear what they say over the roaring in your ears, but when John looks down at you with a smile, you know to trust their actions. 

After a couple of minutes of what must be questions and suggestions floating between the three, your breathing eases, as does Simon’s. He slowly peels himself from you, still staying within your reach, and you sit to properly clean yourself up with the tissues Kyle hands you. 

John turns to you, his tone firm, “You want to try.” You nod again and he smiles, shoulders dropping into a more relaxed pose, his voice softer this time, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I want to try.”

“Good. That’s all we need to know. Johnny will look into the packers and Kyle will find the appropriate wear for them. I know you’ve been wanting a jock strap for a while now,” there’s a hungry spark in his eyes and your face burns at his words. Trust him to remember that detail. Still, the fact that they’re willing to take on that work, to alleviate the stress and frustration and potential overwhelm of looking through options, makes your heart glow.

“They’ll bring you what they find so you can take your pick, at least this first time.”

You turn towards them and they meet you with smiles, eyebrow waggling in an excessive show of giddiness, but you can see a sincere eagerness to help clear on their faces. 

“Simon stays here, you two cozy up while I finish dinner. After we eat, we’ll come back here so the boys can show us their findings on the big screen.”

You startle a bit, “Oh, this is happening tonight?”

John shrugs, smile bright and wide, “Think of it as dessert.”

[restlesscrustacean]

oh i know this dumb thing makes the most pathetic noises when getting dicked down 🙂‍↕️

[leathfaic]

Simon Riley it turns out, doesn't have a taste in furniture.

It's not that he has objectively bad taste. He just has none at all.

Which he reckons in hindsight he should have anticipated. He never really furnished his own place after all. Always lived in cheap, outfitted places. Never homes, always just places to stay.

And now he's being confronted with a question he can't answer.

"What would ye like?"

Instinctively answered with "Whatever you'd want, don't really 'ave an opinion."

Only apparently that answer doesn't count.

Even as a kid it was second-hand furniture. The few times there was enough money to repaint something Simon as the big brother had to let Tommy pick first. He usually went with blue. No blues then, that's a start right? He doesn't need to give his brain ammunition to pull him back to his childhood. It has more than enough.

And Ghost has all the blue he'll ever need to see in his life in Soap's eyes.

Good thing he didn't say that sappy shit out loud.

Knowing what he doesn't want is a start but nothing prepared him for a vast store full of things. To make choices like "Which couch do you think will give you the least back pain when you can only test-sit them for a few minutes?"

The only thing he knows for sure is that these gigantic stores would make for a mean close-quarter training ground. He's half tempted to ask Price if they can find one that's about to close down and no one would mind getting shot to shit. It would be a fun challenge.

"Simon, ye with me love?"

Shaking his head to clear it and then giving Johnny a quick thumbs up he struggles up from the sofa he'd been sitting on and contemplating.

"Ye like tha' one? Went right to broodin' on there like ye felt all at home."

"Fuck off."

The defense comes instinctively but he has to admit Johnny is right. Giving the couch another cursory look, like it might jump up and bite him, he can't help but be a bit perplexed.

It's very large, definitely bigger than Soap's old couch. It's also very...red. Which isn't blue. But still it looks like someone spilled an intensiley dark wine all over the thing. Did he like red couches?

Apparently.

Simon Riley, it turns out, has a great taste in furniture. It just took him a moment to figure that out.

He picks sturdy things. Solid woods, iron fastenings, robust. Somewhere in the realm between industrial and old hand made styles.

Soap has been trailing him happily, barely saying a word because letting Ghost pick is easy, he almost always found himself agreeing. It wasn't always his first choice or even something that caught his eyes, but slowly and surely the flat was coming together.

It made him giddy, even knowing it would be a while until everything was delivered and assembled.

It would be lots of warm colours, light wood and dark iron in contrast. But most importantly it would be theirs. Something they'd make their home together. And wasn't that novel?

Two trained SAS operatives picking the carpet they found most cosy? Not plotting for tactical advantages but for a home to come back to. A place to share comfort and to share nightmares and panic attacks.

Because no matter how right they got it they would still be themselves, drenched in blood and now on an appropriately coloured sofa.

Johnny knew he should snap out of the line of thought he was barrelling down before it took him to darker places, but he was ensnared already.

Would one of them sit in that flat, drowning in grief when luck finally ran out for them? Would the signs the other left behind before deployment be a comfort or would they feel haunting?

Or would it just be Price and Gaz, lost in a place that had been a home and was just empty? Soulless. Ready to be emptied of all traces that could tell of secrets that better stayed hidden.

Would it just be one of Laswells people, burning the place without a care, just a precaution after a taskforce lost?

"So it's no' tha' one for sure."

Torn from his thoughts Soap looks up at Simon in confusion.

"Starte' broodin immediately. Can't 'ave you in a shit mood every time you hit the sack. 'ave too many plans for tha' place."

Soap finds himself snorting as he gets up from the bed he was testing.

"Fuck off." he throws back softly. Sees a warm smile spread behind the medical mask on Ghost's face.

"Ye're right though and ye need to tell me of these plans."

Part 1 //Part 3