#the ghost one is a favourite

[cod-thoughts]

So i answered this ask about silly NikPrice headcanons and for one of them i say that Nik collects little trinkets from people. Well i have a list of the trinkets lol i didnt think about sharing it in the ask but i still like this idea so im gonna share it anyway :O

Nikolai is a secret hoarder of little mementos from people he cares about, and his jacket pockets, desk drawers, and even the cockpit of his helicopter are filled with them. Each item has a story, and he wouldn’t part with any of them for the world.

Price: A crumpled scrap of paper with handwritten coordinates from one of their first missions together. Price scrawled them hastily when their comms went down, and Nik has kept it ever since. He claims it’s a reminder to “always be prepared,” but really, it’s because it was the first time Price trusted him with something classified and since then Nik has always been included no matter what.

Soap: A keychain of a tiny plastic haggis that Soap gifted him as a joke. Soap called it “a wee bit of Scotland for your chopper,” and while Nik pretended to scoff, it’s been dangling from his control panel ever since.

Gaz: A dog-eared football trading card that Gaz handed over during a long, boring stakeout. Gaz had found it in his jacket pocket, his nieces and nephews must have left it in there, and thought it might cheer Nik up too. Nik doesn’t even like football that much, but the gesture stuck with him. It's now laminated and sitting in his wallet. (along with a few photos of the team)

Ghost: A single, slightly dented bullet that Ghost handed him after a mission where Nik’s flying had saved them all from being overrun. “One less I had to use,” Ghost had said gruffly, his tone matter-of-fact. Nik knew it wasn’t meant to be sentimental—just a blunt statement of the truth. But he kept the bullet anyway, tucking it away as a quiet reminder of that moment. To Nik, it wasn’t just about saving ammunition; it was about making sure Ghost never had to fire more bullets than absolutely necessary. Because every bullet fired meant Simon was one step closer to not coming back. And if Simon didn’t come back, Nik knew there’d be one less bright smile on Price’s face—and that was a cost Nik wasn’t willing to let them pay.

Laswell: A coffee mug from Laswell that says Best Pilot in the World in bold letters. She sent it to him as a joke after a mission where he barely avoided crashing into the side of a mountain. It has a small chip on the rim now, but he still uses it religiously.

Farah: A woven bracelet from Farah, made by a child in her village. Nik helped transport supplies during a particularly rough time, and she gave it to him as thanks "I was told to give this to the 'big loud man' as thanks". He keeps it in the pocket of his flight jacket, though he wears it sometimes during long flights. He hopes he never stretches it out

Alex: A small, polished stone Alex picked up in the desert during an op. An unlikely place to find such a stone so it must be special. “For luck,” Alex had said with a grin. Nik had laughed but tucked it into his pocket, and it’s still there to this day.

Rudy: A wooden charm in the shape of a Vaquero’s hat that Rudy carved himself. He gave it to Nik after a particularly tense mission, calling it a “thank you for not dropping us out of the sky.” Nik keeps it on a string near the controls of his helicopter next to the frankly horrifying haggis keychain.

Alejandro: A neatly folded piece of cloth embroidered with the Vaqueros’ insignia. Alejandro handed it to Nik as a sign of gratitude after Nik extracted him and Rudy from a particularly sticky situation. Nik uses it to polish his aviators, though he’s careful not to fray it.

Nik knows the team would absolutely take the mickey if they found out how sentimental he gets over these things, so he keeps them tucked away and out of sight. But during long flights or quiet moments, he’ll pull one out and run his thumb over it, letting the memories ground him. It’s his way of holding onto the people he values most, even when they’re scattered across the world.

[heavenbarnes]

not being able to find older bf!simon around the house and while you’re looking for him, you catch something out the window-

nearly all the women in your neighbourhood gathered at the end of your driveway

you come outside to investigate only to find them with their attention glued to the front of your car, it’s not till you walk around the front you find the lower half of simon sticking out from under it

on his back, knees bent, massive boots planted into the concrete, bare arm occasionally stretching out to find another tool

“you alright, si?”

you hear him grunt before he’s calling out to you

“yeah, i’m right sweet’art- sortin’ out that bit thas’ been givin’ y’grief”

breaking your gaze from his massive thighs flexing under his jeans, you scan back over the crowd that’d formed

all of them married, all of them a good ten years older than even he was- you couldn’t really blame them really, you had eyes

you could hear him shuffling out from under the car before he suddenly straightened to full height, wiping greasy hands on the front of his old-white-singlet

he pulled up the bottom of it to swipe his forehead and you think you heard someone gasp

wrapping a firm arm around you, he gives your backside a pat before he kisses the top of your head

“got t’keep y’safe, y’know?”

“thank you, baby- now be polite and say hello to your audience”

oblivious as ever to anything other than you, simon threw a look over his shoulder before he followed you back into the house

“oh, ‘ello ladies”

(someone throws a street barbecue and you force simon to talk to the other men around the burner and multiple husbands request him to start “doing that shit” in the garage with the door shut, please)

[bluegiragi]

stuck between a rock and a hard place...

(this piece was not so subtly inspired by the fic Where Moonlight Meets the Sea by MildLimerence! Leave a kudos and a nice comment if you enjoyed her writing!!)

[montyfinchirl]

A dead boy with a cricket bat and a magic backpack: if you wanna get to him you have to go through me!

Another dead boy who spent over 70 years in hell AND clawed his way out of it, is an insanely skilled magic user, doesn’t even notice when he’s burnt by iron, and got up and started walking around like he was in barely any pain after being trapped in a machine for half an hour that evaporates other ghosts in SECONDS: :3

[queruloustea]

a critter wandering greenpath :]

[ghcstao3]

joseph who runs a popular tiktok account not for his own content but for the videos of the completely unhinged things that his uncles say and do. he’s got a whole repertoire of candid and non candid videos of ghost and soap and they have no idea they’re tiktok famous

(sometimes there’s also bonus footage of ghost and tommy arguing over something petty and the camera will just pan to beth who looks so, so tired)

[laswells-ashtray]

John never thinks too hard about his childhood, he thinks he's past it. Drunken dad who died when he was a teen, mum who died the day he was born. No point wasting time on that and he thinks he's outgrown that point in his life. Maybe Dad was a bit heavy-handed with the belt but that was more acceptable back then, no need to fuss, and when he compares it to the stories Simon let slip when they both went a little too hard with the drink, he has nothing to complain about.

He never shares any family stories, yeah, Soap will share a story about how he was named after his dad and it sparks a conversation, Kyle will explain the origin of his name proudly, Simon will offer a sparse answer and none of them will ask for any further context. John will offer some half-assed explanation about being named after his old man's old man, someone he never met and never thinks about. Kyle asks him about his mother with a gentleness that can only mean he's noticed that John never talks about her, he offers the classic "never knew her" and it isn't a lie. It isn't. Because he didn't know her, she left earth the same day he made his appearance on it, the value of his life has always been at the cost of another, it's why he makes such a good captain. And he's sick of hearing "oh, I'm sorry" whenever he mentions that he's dead. He's a grown man, he can only hear so many apologies before they become just pointless words that hold no value.

So, it doesn't bother him. Two people he knew are dead, they started the list of countless other names that he doesn't bother thinking about.

And then he comes back from a mission one day, it was a shitshow. Nothing went to plan because their intel was fucked and everyone is frustrated. Ghost had to get stitches in a wound on his arm, isn't the end of the world but it was avoidable. Gaz, the poor fucker is concussed and Soap has the fun job of waking him up every two hours to check on him, a job he was assigned by a medic after they pulled the glass out of his hand. John is almost certain his ankle is sprained, his entire body is a bruise, he lost a good fucking cigar and he snapped at Laswell over comms so he owes an apology that he's planning in advance.

He wants Nik, it might be juvenile but he's tired in a way he can feel in his bones and he wants his pilot.

He finds Nik, he doesn't have to say anything as they head back to his room. Nik knows, Nik always knows. There's the briefest of exchanges as he strips out of his kit and he heads to the shower with the slightest relief knowing that his night is going to end in lazy sex and being stuck under the warm blanket of the Russian bear of a man.

He walks out with damp hair in a pair of boxers and socks because the floor is fucking cold with the constant draft and all but collapses face-first onto his bed. He'll offer Nik a murmured apology later for being selfish but he just isn't sure he can form the words right now.

He can hear Nik kicking off his boots behind him with little care as to where they land, it's a familiar sound from nights like this. He's as relaxed as he's going to get until he hears it, the sound of someone fumbling with their belt buckle. For years it's been just a noise but for the briefest of moments he tenses up in preparation, shoulders raised instinctively to try and block the leather from catching the back of his neck. He's not sure if he's breathing and he can smell whisky, the old fucker must've lobbed the bottle at the wall again and the last dredges of Johnnie Walker red label are soaking into the carpet again. If he doesn't remember to clean it before he goes up to bed then he's fucked, the old drunk will wring his fucking neck just like last time when he-

"John?" The hand on his back is warm as it lands between his shoulder blades, it should be comforting and he should relax into it. He doesn't. He's ashamed of the way he flinches, kicking out a leg as he tries to push himself up the bed and away from it hits him. It's Nikolai. The hand belongs to Nik.

He turns to face the other man, lying on his side and propped up with an elbow. He isn't sure if the sheer mortification he feels is obvious, or the tremors in his hands. He hasn't reacted like that since he was a boy.

"Fuck, Nik. Sorry, just lost in my own fucking head- Sorry, give me a sec and we can get to it." It's humiliating, he's the one who asked for sex and a fucking belt sends him over the edge.

"No, no `getting to it`. We shall continue another night." And there he's gone and done it, his fucking inability to keep his composure has just put a dampener on their sex life.

The cautious way Nikolai reaches out for him hurts, he's being treated like some scared animal. The large hand on his shoulder does act as a source of comfort when he knows who's behind it. "John, перестань. Talk to me, captain."

"I don't- I don't know, just give me a moment." How long can he spend pleading for just a little more time before Nikolai gets sick of it.

"The belt."

He looks up at the Russian with wide eyes, mouth open as he tries to form a denial of some kind, waiting for words that won't form.

Nikolai stares down at him with a look so gentle he has to look away, he can hear the faint sigh of resignation and the following mutter of something Russian that he isn't paying enough attention to in order to translate it in his head.

He sits in silence as the other man joins him in the bed, leaving a gap between that and offering John the chance to cross it on his own time. He shifts over and plaster himself against his partner's side, face buried in his neck.

"I assumed the scars down your back were from torture, just not the military kind."

"From years ago, don't matter much now do they? Taken a lot worse than a belt since then." His body was covered in scars of varying sizes, from anywhere to the scar on his hand from slicing a bagel to the silver band wrapped around part of his left thigh from a bastard with a blade that damn near nicked an artery. He'd stuck that poor sod's blade through his own throat and left him to gurgle on his blood.

"I assume your father is dead?" The fact that Nikolai sounds hopeful isn't lost on him.

"Drank himself into oblivion years ago." John had always thought it would've been his liver that did him in, would've bet money on it. Would've lost too. The old man had asphyxiated on his own vomit, silly prick.

"Good."

[kana7o]

[I used to know my place was the spot next to you]

[drgnflyteabox]

Has anyone thought of single mom reader on Halloween night, walking door to door with her child in a homemade costume, who comes upon a super dark house :O

Where you try to discourage them from running up but the temptation for candy is too strong and they drag you with them up the steps towards the bowl, balanced on the knee of a frankly giant skeleton decoration...

Only for Simon to have been sat all night waiting to scare people, especially pretty girls like you, and hey- you kids laughing while Simon drops a huge handful of treats in their pumpkin-shaped basket, already thinking about how he's gonna become the dad that stepped up... and how easy it is to find out where you live by following you home :')

[mspaint-flower]

could you draw ghost miku, from deco*27?

thanks!

👻

[copia]

endless ghifs 3/? ⛧ source — "Through the spillways of your soul!"

[bunnyreaper]

welder!ghost au

After taking so many welding lessons from Simon and developing a crush, you decide to make him a little something to show your appreciation.

(f!reader, simon is a fucking weirdo, jealousy)

As soon as you'd set your mind to the idea, it wouldn't leave you.

Just like everything to do with Simon, it's buried its way into your brain and taken up residence there, gnawing away until you decide to do something about it.

How you're going to do it is something different, though. There's no way in hell you could get away with making something secret in Simon's workshop, right under his nose like that. That man is far too observant to let something like that slip by, and the surprise is part of the fun.

You want to show him everything you've learned from him, every moment that you've hung off of his every word and listened to everything he has to say, every time you've watched him work and absorbed his expertise.

You settle on a bracelet, braided stainless steel, each step made by your loving hands. Hopefully, he'll wear it, and hopefully, you can guess his wrist size properly--fucking massive isn't exactly a precise measurement.

It should take too long, not with everything he's taught you, and you can be back to working in his shop again instead of the one across the city with the guys he doesn't like. You wouldn't go there under any other circumstances, were the situation not desperate. And when you get there, you understand Simon's judgement completely, not that you ever doubted it to begin with. The guys are creepy, and they stare, as well as make comments that are misogynistic, flirtatious, or an outrageous mix of both.

You're on high alert almost the entire time you work, but you try to push it out of your mind in favour of making everything perfect for Simon. Each weld, each sand, each polish, has to be perfect for him because anything else would be doing his tutelage a disservice. You've seen the disappointed looks he's given some members of the classes when his mask is flipped up, but you'd never been on the receiving end--always so eager to please and impress. That won't change now. You won't allow it.

You braid the steel wire with a drill and a vice, cut the pieces you need, sand the ends and get to work on welding them together. It's delicate work, and your mind only slightly drifts to some of your lessons where Simon had lurked behind you, the heat of his body so close to yours as you worked.

You finish the edges and bend the metal to the desired shape, trying to imagine Simon's wrists as you work--which is surprisingly easy considering how much you've stared at that sleeve of his.

The second you finish, you bolt out of that horrid workshop, off in search of a nice box and some wrapping to finish off the gift. You had a session with Simon the following Monday, and it's then you'll present it to him--if you're feeling brave enough.

Monday rolls round, and the workshop is empty when you arrive, save for Simon working away in the corner. You can tell by the way his posture stiffens that he knows someone has entered, even over the noise of his work, because he's always so perceptive.

The box is in your hand, and your palms are starting to sweat as you call out to him. "Hey Si."

He finishes up what he's doing and makes his way over, setting his welding mask down and revealing his handsome features. "Just us tonight." His comment seems fairly inconsequential, but honestly, you preferred it that way, getting to be the sole focus of his attention.

You nod in response, knowing you should just get the gift giving out of the way so you can both get to work, but your stomach twists with worry. What if he hates it? What if he never wears it?

"What's that?" He asks, eyes flickering down and clocking the box and the source of your troubles immediately.

You thrust it at him, almost as if the box burns to touch. "A gift, for you, it's silly really, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything..."

For the lessons, for his attention, for never treating you as lesser.

He rips off his gloves before he gets to work on the wrapping paper, and peels open the jewellery box to see the steel band inside.

"If you hate it, it's fine. It's just a little token of my appreciation." You rush out your words--damage control.

His dark eyes flicker between you and the bracelet, his expression unreadable before he pulls it from the box and places it around his tattooed wrist. The fit is perfect, but his reaction isn't as his expression sours. "Where did you make this?"

"Huh?" You startle, as that wasn't what you expected to come from his mouth at all.

His eyes narrow, and you swear he takes a step closer. "You didn't make this in my shop. Where did you make it?"

Oh fuck, you think, realising you have to admit to stepping foot in that other shop. You avert your gaze as a sheepish expression overtakes your features. "Uh, PK's shop, I wanted to surprise you so, I went there..."

His hand grips your chin, forcing you to look him right in those stormy eyes. "You wanna make something for me? You make it in my shop, yeah? My student, my shop."

The possessive words make you shiver, make you want to fall for your knees, and beg for forgiveness for the unknowing betrayal.

"Yeah, okay, of course... I mean I hated it there, I swear, they gave me the absolute creeps." You try to laugh away the swirling guilt and discomfort you feel. "Left as soon as I was done, and even gave them a 1 star review. But, I'll never go back, I promise."

Your eyes shine up at Simon's, waiting for him to relax.

"That's my girl." Finally, his touch releases and he steps away, grabbing his gloves. "Let me finish up what I'm working on real quick, yeah?"

"Of course." You nod quietly, watching as he walks away as your stomach starts to sink. At least he didn't take it off. "Do you... like it?"

He stops still, checking out where it sits on his wrist. His expression doesn't change, but you can hear the sincerity in his words. "Love it."

And a week or two later, when Simon asks you to come by the shop one night outside of your sessions, you're not entirely sure what to expect.

He explains he's trying something new, and needs your help, and doesn't explain anything further. But it's Simon, so of course you comply, of course you trust him.

It's only when he brings out a micro welder and a small length of gold chain that you realise what's happening. The intense look in his eyes before he gets to work leaves no room for argument, and you silently accept your fate as he permanently attaches that little bracelet to your wrist--a dainty little 'S' charm hanging from the middle.

[venomous-qwille]

My first stab at drawing Sol from Ghost in the Machine AU. Sol is my ('definitely not got the virus nope no virus here' 'Moon? Never heard of him' 'everything is absolutely fine ha ha ha') version of Sun introduced in the first arc of GITM! Soleil was one of the Daycare Attendants at the only Freddy's location in Canada, where he worked without incident until the company's liquidation in 20XX. As you can see, he is perfectly fine :) Ghost in the Machine AU is a DCAverse style AU set in the future, where an eccentric collector of Superstar Daycare memorabilia hoards the rarest and most elusive of treasures from the (long defunct) Fazbear Entertainment Company: the Daycare Attendant animatronic line. The story of the AU follows this motley group of DCA animatronics brought together from all over the world, as they try and figure out what living looks like. [ID: a digital drawing of Sol from Ghost in the Machine AU. He is standing hands clasped together, smiling at the viewer. He is mostly in shadow, giving a sinister edge to his expression. He wears a dress shirt, an apron embroidered with rays and clouds and two tone striped pants. There is a long yellow evening glove covering his right arm. /End ID]

[bluegiragi]

konig is very good for ghost and soap in the soapbox saga finale <3

read the full comic (29 pages) on patreon!

[pyuisi]

headcanon:

roach is a huge one direction fan. he loves how simple the lyrics are and how pure love sounds in their songs.

everyone in tf 141 finds it endearing that whenever they have to go in any vehicle with a radio, roach fights for the shotgun seat to play one of their songs. he mouths out the lyrics and bops his head like he’s in a concert.

before he lost his voice, he’d sing the songs 24/7. that was before he joined 141 though, so no one knew until price found him sitting on the kitchen counter one night at 4 am and singing to “little things” playing on his phone at minimum volume.

roach’s voice was a whisper, which was all he could force out of his throat. price didn’t make a big deal out of it, but roach did and freaked out when price showed up. but price didn’t say anything, just leaned against the counter beside roach and handed him a cup of hot chocolate because price thought roach’s throat would hurt from forcing his voice out like that.

roach told him that night that he almost gave up listening to the band because it reminded him of his lost voice and he didn’t want to panic in front of the team. price just hugged his shoulder and listened with a sad expression while roach sobbed silently against him.

couple days later in another mission, soap beat roach to the shotgun seat and just when roach was about to sulk, soap played “18” and sang obnoxiously on top of his lungs, making up lyrics in parts he didn’t know.

roach had startled into a laugh. soap lit up at that laugh. “this one’s for you, gare,” soap said afterwards. roach blushed so hard after that.

laswell gave him a signed autograph for his birthday. when he signed at her with barely contained tears to ask how she got it, she lied through her teeth that her daughter accidentally got two of them during a fan sign event. she has no daughter and they all know it. roach had no idea how she could’ve found a way to get an autograph in their line of work but he didn’t ask.

gaz asked roach about the band and was successfully converted into a fan. the two of them would take one earbud each and listen to the songs together when off-duty. gaz told roach that his voice sounded nice, when roach dared to whisper-sing one time.

ghost didn’t do anything in particular and tolerated soap’s singing. but he was always staring when roach listened to the music, face uncharacteristically soft. roach would tease him for it.

[i’ve never heard you sing before], roach would sign.

ghost would shake his head. “i’m a really bad singer.”

roach would bother him for a bit before giving up, and settle with just curling over ghost’s shoulder and listen to soap sing while humming along.

after roach died, gaz stopped listening to the songs much like how roach was after losing his voice: the memories were too painful to remember. price would get up randomly at 4 am and play “little things” while drinking hot chocolate and leaning against the counter. he always made two cups. soap stopped suggesting they have karaoke nights, but he’d still listen to the music from time to time, preferring to keep his memory of roach alive. he found himself looping through “something great” and “if i could fly” all too often. ghost would remember that he’d refused to sing for gary and tear himself apart with regret, but even after learning the lyrics to roach’s favourite songs, he couldn’t get his throat to work, even when he was alone.

in an alternate reality (the only one i’ll accept), ghost gives in and sings for roach. hes not a bad singer at all, and because it makes roach happy to sing he does it more and more often. soap is absolutely delighted to have a singing partner and at one point ghost will become comfortable enough that he’ll randomly start shouting lyrics mid-mission into the comms when things are peaceful. ghost and soap play finish the lyrics during the alone mission in mw2, and roach scares the shit out of them when his voice appears out of nowhere and starts whispering along too. when the three of them rendezvous at the church and ghost snatches the car, soap slides into the shotgun seat, fiddles with the radio to get it to play music while they’re being shot at, and him and ghost scream the lyrics to “no control” as ghost drives like a madman. roach almost dies wheezing at the backseat.

price finds the three of them at 4 am one night ballroom dancing to “little things” playing through roach’s phone. they don’t have anything formal, but they’re dressed in their nicest casual clothes (simon in a plain black hoodie, soap in a crumpled up polo shirt, roach in a warm jumper). they’re not singing, but there are plenty of sounds: johnny’s aborted curses when he almost steps on roach’s bare feet, gary’s giggles when simon twirls him in a circle, simon sighing contently into soap’s shoulder.

price looks down at the two cups of hot chocolate he’s holding, frowns, and returns after five minutes with a tray of four cups in total. he makes his presence known and smiles fondly when his three grown special forces children who are among the most dangerous soldiers in the world immediately abandon their activities to grab his hot chocolate and argue over whose mug has more of it.

god, he loves his sons.

[nebulatrifid]

Sometimes Shane and Ryan's investigation skills are the equivalent of if your laptop got stolen and in order to figure out who took it, you put out a second laptop in the same place and waited to see if the person who stole the first laptop steals the second one too.